Here we go again - I'm counting down 30 things I should have/do before I turn 30 on June 30th. We're getting dangerously close to the 30th and I still have 20 more of these to write - so let's double our pleasure.
Things I should have: The ability to ask for directions / A great road map when there's no one to ask
Was this list written in 1862? Do they think I have to find Pocahontas every time I need to find the grocery store? I have an iPhone. I ask Siri for directions and carry Google Maps around in my pocket. It's a great map because after I find directions I can listen to the Spin Doctors.
Things I should do: Make love in open water / Build a fence
Wait, what?
Who wrote this list that they had those two consecutive thoughts? "Alright. Top things to do before turning 30. Well, doing it in water HAS to be in the top ten, for obvious reasons. And...ya know it's not quite top ten, but you gotta build a fence. That's real important. Fence building. Can't turn 30 without that."
And the weirdest part is that you have to do these in this order. If you build a fence in the water and then 'make love' in the water, you're no longer in the 'open water.' And after making love, it'd be pretty awkward to be like, "Alright, wanna help me throw this fence up real quick?"
The best is the description: "Under a waterfall or on a sun drenched beach, it’s every woman’s dream and every guys duty."
Having sand in my ass crack is never and will never be a 'dream.' Especially when you then talk about my doodie.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
30 for 30 on the 30th Parts 8 & 9
I'm turning 30 on the 30th, and to celebrate I'm going down a list of 30 things I should have or do before the big day. Though this being parts 8 & 9, I'm guessing you are well aware of these points. You'll have to excuse me, old age does funny things to a memory.
Things I should have: Enough clean underwear to last a week / Independence from his mama
As much as I promote the idea of dissolving the traditional gender roles in households, my wife and I fit them to a tee. She makes dinner, I mow the lawn. She sweeps the floors, I fix the light switch. She does the laundry goes to the grocery makes the baby's food calls the doctor pays the bills balances the check book buys my clothes and manages our schedule, I take out the trash. Sometimes. And complain about it the entire time when I do.
So I have clean underwear for a week, and independence from my mama. But only because I rely on a different mama now.
Things I should do: High dive into water / Catch, kill and cook your own dinner
More "MAN!" stuff on the list. I grew up in the country - of course I've caught, killed and cooked my own dinner. Of course, I didn't jump off a high dive to catch it. So subtract a few points there.
As for the high dive thing. I'm not much of a thrill seeker. I'm sure jumping out of planes is super fun and everything, but so is a record player and a glass of whiskey. I'm just in the "being terrified is fun" group.
Besides, jumping out of a plane would probably kill that whole, "clean underwear for a week" thing.
Things I should have: Enough clean underwear to last a week / Independence from his mama
As much as I promote the idea of dissolving the traditional gender roles in households, my wife and I fit them to a tee. She makes dinner, I mow the lawn. She sweeps the floors, I fix the light switch. She does the laundry goes to the grocery makes the baby's food calls the doctor pays the bills balances the check book buys my clothes and manages our schedule, I take out the trash. Sometimes. And complain about it the entire time when I do.
So I have clean underwear for a week, and independence from my mama. But only because I rely on a different mama now.
Things I should do: High dive into water / Catch, kill and cook your own dinner
More "MAN!" stuff on the list. I grew up in the country - of course I've caught, killed and cooked my own dinner. Of course, I didn't jump off a high dive to catch it. So subtract a few points there.
As for the high dive thing. I'm not much of a thrill seeker. I'm sure jumping out of planes is super fun and everything, but so is a record player and a glass of whiskey. I'm just in the "being terrified is fun" group.
Besides, jumping out of a plane would probably kill that whole, "clean underwear for a week" thing.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
30 for 30 on the 30th Part 7
We're getting dangerously close to my 30th birthday and having to come up with a term for the male version of a cougar. Gone will be my boyish good looks, replaced with the salt and pepper wisdom that comes with age. I wouldn't say I'm getting better looking - I'd saying I'm continuing to be incredible looking in a new way.
So here are the things society (or two random articles my wife found) tells me I need to have and do before I turn 30.
Thing I should have: A toolbox that includes: a hammer, screwdriver, wrench, nails, work gloves.
I enjoy that the person who wrote this article very likely does not have a toolbox. Why is hammer listed 3 items before nails? Who really uses nails very often, anyways? "OH NOES THE SINK BROKE, WHERE ARE MY NAILS?"
And I need A screwdriver? Just one? You don't have to be Bob Vila to know that you need a flat head and a Phillips head screwdriver in your toolbox.
UNLESS YOU ARE A TOOLBOX - AMIRITE!!!!
Thing I should do: Take a road trip. Destination anywhere. Nothing booked along the way but finding lodging where lady luck dictates.
This is everyone's favorite 'rite of passage' for men. It's like Jack Kerouac poisoned the water supply and even people who haven't read On The Road believe in it unconditionally.
I've never taken a road trip to nowhere. Because it's unrealistic. Instead of taking the summer off to road trip across the country to some mystical drug-fueled orgy, I took summer classes and worked. Then I got a job. And now I'm married with a kid.
So according to this list - my office job, house in the suburbs, wife, and kid are preventing me from ever maturing.
I'll take it.
So here are the things society (or two random articles my wife found) tells me I need to have and do before I turn 30.
Thing I should have: A toolbox that includes: a hammer, screwdriver, wrench, nails, work gloves.
I enjoy that the person who wrote this article very likely does not have a toolbox. Why is hammer listed 3 items before nails? Who really uses nails very often, anyways? "OH NOES THE SINK BROKE, WHERE ARE MY NAILS?"
And I need A screwdriver? Just one? You don't have to be Bob Vila to know that you need a flat head and a Phillips head screwdriver in your toolbox.
UNLESS YOU ARE A TOOLBOX - AMIRITE!!!!
Thing I should do: Take a road trip. Destination anywhere. Nothing booked along the way but finding lodging where lady luck dictates.
This is everyone's favorite 'rite of passage' for men. It's like Jack Kerouac poisoned the water supply and even people who haven't read On The Road believe in it unconditionally.
I've never taken a road trip to nowhere. Because it's unrealistic. Instead of taking the summer off to road trip across the country to some mystical drug-fueled orgy, I took summer classes and worked. Then I got a job. And now I'm married with a kid.
So according to this list - my office job, house in the suburbs, wife, and kid are preventing me from ever maturing.
I'll take it.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
30 for 30 on the 30th Part 5 & 6
Continuing our (my?) list of 30 things I need to do / have before I turn 30 on June 30th today and combining the next two as both are related. I'm efficient, people!
Thing I should have: At least one friend who gives honest fashion advice. / A tailored suit.
I have a wife that does this. Now where on the list does it say, "at least one friend who can make you feel better after your wife trashes your fashion sense."
I also have a tailored suit from our wedding - a suit I purchased 2 months before the wedding that I somehow got too fat to wear a week before the Big Day. I spent the last week before our wedding having the suit let out and walking on a treadmill. A TREADMILL! Marriage is tough, you guys.
Thing I should do: Score the winner. / Invent a cocktail.
Man stuff!
I think we can officially agree these lists are less an honest critique of milestones a man should reach before he turns 30, and more a menu of things women look for in their metro-sexually dressed, yet rugged-acting, yet romantic/sweet dream guy. That being the case - this entire exercise feels like a waste since I already fit all of the criteria, but I'll indulge.
So have I scored the winner or invented a cocktail?
Probably.
I played a lot of sports as a kid - I'm sure at some point I was responsible for a win. Does it count if I was also responsible for all of the losses? Do they cancel each other out? Or does a 'winner' count if it's a really great comeback to some troll on an online sports message board? No? What if there was a great .gif, too?
As for a cocktail - it's pretty hard to invent a cocktail that is just straight whiskey. Maybe I'll throw a splash of water in it and call it the "Shut Up and Leave Me To My Whiskey." It should be ordered neat.
It'll be a real winner.
Thing I should have: At least one friend who gives honest fashion advice. / A tailored suit.
I have a wife that does this. Now where on the list does it say, "at least one friend who can make you feel better after your wife trashes your fashion sense."
I also have a tailored suit from our wedding - a suit I purchased 2 months before the wedding that I somehow got too fat to wear a week before the Big Day. I spent the last week before our wedding having the suit let out and walking on a treadmill. A TREADMILL! Marriage is tough, you guys.
Thing I should do: Score the winner. / Invent a cocktail.
Man stuff!
I think we can officially agree these lists are less an honest critique of milestones a man should reach before he turns 30, and more a menu of things women look for in their metro-sexually dressed, yet rugged-acting, yet romantic/sweet dream guy. That being the case - this entire exercise feels like a waste since I already fit all of the criteria, but I'll indulge.
So have I scored the winner or invented a cocktail?
Probably.
I played a lot of sports as a kid - I'm sure at some point I was responsible for a win. Does it count if I was also responsible for all of the losses? Do they cancel each other out? Or does a 'winner' count if it's a really great comeback to some troll on an online sports message board? No? What if there was a great .gif, too?
As for a cocktail - it's pretty hard to invent a cocktail that is just straight whiskey. Maybe I'll throw a splash of water in it and call it the "Shut Up and Leave Me To My Whiskey." It should be ordered neat.
It'll be a real winner.
Friday, May 3, 2013
30 for 30 on the 30th Part 4
Counting down until my 30th birthday on June 30th with a 30 part series of random things some writer somewhere decided were important tests of my manhood.
Today's items:
Thing I should have: At least four good pairs of shoes: dressy, business casual, casual, exercise.
The sad thing about my shoes is that they accurately describe my entire wardrobe: dress clothes, clothes that aren't dressy but I pretend that they are, a bunch of gray casual shirts, and a bunch of older gray casual shirts I use for anything that takes physical activity (for the record the last 2 pairs of Chucks are actually from two different pairs).
Thing I should do: Ride a horse.
In 5th grade my class went on a trip to Camp High Hope. At camp we did all the usual campy things, highlighted by the fact that this was the first time all the boys had to shower in a public shower together. It being 5th grade, this was really one of our first pubic showers, as well. Gross.
One of the activities at camp was to brush and ride a horse. The camp guide led me to the steed, handed me a brush and told me to start using it. No problem. I've brushed things. It's not that hard.
WHAM!
That fucker kicked me. Right in the thigh next to the parts I had exposed to my friends in the shower for the first time earlier that day. A horse kicking you hurts exactly as much as you would think. Like hell.
But it was camp and it was about learning lessons. They stood me up, made sure my reproductive parts were still attached and marched me back up to that horse. Brush in hand, I reached out to begin brushing again...
WHAM!
This time it was an attempted head shot that I narrowly ducked and took in the shoulder. I literally had a hoof-print bruise on my shoulder for two weeks. It looked like I got the Colts' log tattooed on my back. It was awful. I was a 5th grader getting my ass beat by a goddamn horse in front of my entire class. You think bullies and wedgies are bad? Imagine if a horse was the one shoving you in a locker. With his legs. By kicking you. Maybe this visual didn't work like I expected.
Anyways, the camp counselors again made me approach the horse and eventually ride him. So I have ridden a stupid horse. I hope you're happy now, stupid list of things I need to do to impress you.
Today's items:
Thing I should have: At least four good pairs of shoes: dressy, business casual, casual, exercise.
 |
| Dressy, Biz casual, Casual, Exercise |
The sad thing about my shoes is that they accurately describe my entire wardrobe: dress clothes, clothes that aren't dressy but I pretend that they are, a bunch of gray casual shirts, and a bunch of older gray casual shirts I use for anything that takes physical activity (for the record the last 2 pairs of Chucks are actually from two different pairs).
Thing I should do: Ride a horse.
In 5th grade my class went on a trip to Camp High Hope. At camp we did all the usual campy things, highlighted by the fact that this was the first time all the boys had to shower in a public shower together. It being 5th grade, this was really one of our first pubic showers, as well. Gross.
One of the activities at camp was to brush and ride a horse. The camp guide led me to the steed, handed me a brush and told me to start using it. No problem. I've brushed things. It's not that hard.
WHAM!
That fucker kicked me. Right in the thigh next to the parts I had exposed to my friends in the shower for the first time earlier that day. A horse kicking you hurts exactly as much as you would think. Like hell.
But it was camp and it was about learning lessons. They stood me up, made sure my reproductive parts were still attached and marched me back up to that horse. Brush in hand, I reached out to begin brushing again...
WHAM!
This time it was an attempted head shot that I narrowly ducked and took in the shoulder. I literally had a hoof-print bruise on my shoulder for two weeks. It looked like I got the Colts' log tattooed on my back. It was awful. I was a 5th grader getting my ass beat by a goddamn horse in front of my entire class. You think bullies and wedgies are bad? Imagine if a horse was the one shoving you in a locker. With his legs. By kicking you. Maybe this visual didn't work like I expected.
Anyways, the camp counselors again made me approach the horse and eventually ride him. So I have ridden a stupid horse. I hope you're happy now, stupid list of things I need to do to impress you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)