The Slow Healing Process

The road back to normal can be long and windy--full of bumps and detours. It's never as easy as we hope to climb back to how things used to be. That's the lesson all of us here in my office are learning. We all celebrated when Red Fez came home after his sudden departure. We welcomed him back with open arms. We were happy our prodigal monkey was back.

But it hasn't all been that easy. Red Fez has come back with some new ideas, painful experiences and bad habits to work through. For instance, one of the other fez monkeys (Blue? Yellow?) caught this on film this week:

While in New York, living the fancy high fashion life, Red Fez picked up a smoking habit. And while there's little funnier than a smoking monkey, I'm trying not to encourage it. There are worse vices than somking for a monkey, but I guess things were at a dangerous level. Frankly, Red Fez just couldn't quite get the hang of the whole process of lighting the cigarette.

Here's the picture that most frightened all of us:

Poor guy's gonna lose his eyebrows.

The other Fez Monkeys have staged an intervention and I think we're all making progress on this slow road to recovery.

I Love My Job

Last week, our magazine had a staff retreat to choose articles we will use next year. My boss Chris always brings toys and candy for us during this day-long meeting. Tough job I have, I know. Well, he bought these new Tic-Tacs called "Tic-Tac BOLD! Fruit."

I like Tic-Tacs, so I tried one. I wasn't very happy about it.

There's several waves of taste in this Tic-Tac:

Wave 1: "Oh, Tic Tac flavor."

Wave 2: "Fruity. Kinda Fruit Punch."

Wave 3: "Here comes the BOLD! Sour."

Wave 4: "Rotten bold fruit."

Wave 4: "Butt."

Seriously, the final wave and resulting aftertaste were horrible. Nasty. It's biting and pungent.

And so yesterday, I walk into Chris' office and he's eating some Tic-Tac BOLD! He offers me some.

"No thanks," I said. "I thought they were kinda gross."

Chris eats another. And then replies, "Yah, they are horrible."

Me: "But why do you keep eating them?"

Chris: "I don't know."

Me: "If you don't like them..."

Chris: "You know what they taste like? Kitty Litter."

Me: "I've never eaten Kitty Litter."

Chris: "They taste like how Kitty Litter smells."

Me: "Huh."

Chris: "Try it."

I did. And the man is right. The 5th Wave is exactly the flavor of Kitty Litter Smell.

Chris: "It's fascinating. I keep eating them because I think that the next one will taste better. But they never do."

______________

Oddly, this wasn't the strangest interaction that occurred on our staff yesterday.

Designer Doug stopped by my office. As he was talking, he winced. And placed his hand on his stomach. I asked him if he was OK. He said he was but was feeling "Irritable."

And then, about 1.5 seconds later, I had a sharp pain in the side of my stomach. I winced and placed my hand on my stomach.

Doug said, "Are you OK? It's contagious!"

I think it may have been sympathy pains.

Turkey Watch

This was a good weekend. I got to relax, I got to eat Salt Creek BBQ, The Intended had her first Wedding Shower (one down, 14 to go), I got to see my mom and grandma, and I fit in some bowling with the youth group.

Here's my favorite story of the weekend:

I was driving from the bowling alley to the church with one youth group kid, Colin. We were following another leader, my friend Laura (hi, Laura!). On a small residential street, she slowed down and stuck her head out the window and pointed off to the left. I didn't see anything. A little bit later, she did the same again--and seemed to be yelling at two older people standing on the sidewalk.

If she was trying to tell me something, I wasn't getting it. So I called her. She said, "Didn't you see the wild turkey walking down the street?"

I admitted I did not. Colin didn't either. We are boys and not very observant. But a wild turkey in dowtown Hinsdale would be an odd sight. (And I'm betting that if he's in Hinsdale, even that turkey makes more money than I do.)

Anyway, Laura continued: "And then those two people seemed like they were looking for something so I yelled to them, 'Are you looking for the turkey? It's down that way!'

We're not exactly sure the couple had indeed seen the turkey, but in a way I hope they hadn't--just because I think it'd be funny if they were just on a walk when someone in a car started yelling at them about a turkey.

The PTOIT Poster Awards Continued!

Funniest Random Comment
"Oh, I like the Belgians! They make good Waffles!" by The Intended (then known as The LadyFriend.)

The Charles Barkley Award
The Winner is The Gat for this gem: "We used to tackle people in mascot costumes in malls. we found out that most people who put on those costumes are college kids or old retired guys. I am not a role model."

The Most Literal Commenter Award
When I wrote, "While I'm wearing my Reviewing Shoes, I thought I'd point out a few things," DoubleM responded with, "You have a pair of shoes you wear just when going to review a movie? Man, you journalists are weird."

Best Logic Award
When I discussed some people's problem with keeping cookies in a drawer next to office supplies, The Gat made this astute call: "By LT's reasoning, shouldn't the cookie inherit the flavor of the material it is wrapped in? So, what about tin foil? Or plastic wrap? The only way to get around this is to wrap the cookies in... cookies. You should line the inside of the Cookie Drawer with cookies. I am wrapping things in bacon as we speak. Mmmm."

Best Use of Bacon in a Comment
See above.

Most Inappropriate Comment Award...
Goes to the Derfman. You know why.

Best Witty Retort to Another Commenter Award
This was easily won by the Dreamer who saw one of the Derfman's inappropriate comments about my sister and reponded with, "I'm thinking 'the derfman watch' has taken on a whole new meaning."

Best Witty Retort to The Todd Award
Sweeping the "Best Witty Retort" category is The Dreamer. When I discussed the difficulties of drafting fantasy football players, The Dreamer repeated my line of "If there's studs on the table I am going to go with them" and added dryly, "Me too, Todd. Me too."

The "Doug No Talking" Award
This award can only be given to one man. And he earned it. When I innocently asked what I should do with my giant R2 pepsi cooler after I'm married, Doug suggested this: "Only because everybody is expecting me to say it . . . . Todd you could "pop" out of R2 on your first night together."

The Most Sweet and Innocent Award
In stark contrast, Lil Sis responded to a blog about Missy Elliot by saying, "Hmm, this is a lot of booty talk for my lil' ears."

The Most Serious-Sounding Argument About Why Monkeys Are Neat
When I proposed that monkeys were cool because they wear people clothes, fight stuff and hit things with sticks, The Intended made an argument to the contrary. "I'd argue monkeys are at their BEST when they show their humane sides...research has proven that time and time again! Look at Jane Goodall, Koko the Gorilla, etc. Entertaining as they can be when they fight dinosaurs they are BEST when they are tender and nuturing and remind us of our more humane, loving instincts...not our savage ones!"

The Social Watchdog Award
HopefulSW did a great community service by warning us all of a dangerous conspiracy: "McDonalds has always been into kid trickery. The majority of people I know are afraid of clowns. I think Ronald McDonald was a massive campaign to trick people into liking a clown."

And now...

My Favorite Comment Post of the Year
Coming from Chadaddy, this comment post about marriage still makes me laugh aloud every time I read it. Enjoy:

"Here is a little 'What I learned in the first year of marriage' advice from someone who had to learn the hard way:

1) Never forget your first anniversary.
2) Flowers are still required even after you are married.
3) Never ask her on January 13th, when her birthday is because you think it is coming up (oh, yeah it was the 12th of January).
4) It is not called "Baby Sitting" when it is your child.
5) Never say "Just pick out your own present for your birthday dear," it will cost you much more.

Wow... Reading thru this list I am amazed I am still married. Honey if you are reading this, I love you."

And with that, here's to another year of fun reader interaction!

The PTOIT Poster Awards!

Well, today actually marks one year since I started Putting the Odd in Todd (or PTOIT). We've seen a lot happen in a year. I conquered an addiction to Chai Tea, my Red Fez Monkey disappeared and then returned, I got engaged and I've killed off about 4 regular features like Fun with Google.

To celebrate, I thought I'd post some of my favorite entries from the comment boards. Not everyone looks at them, and there's been some fun stuff. So, I give out the First Annual PTOIT POSTER AWARDS.

The Champion of the Free Press Award
In reaction to my UPS blog, DoubleM wrote, "Look at that - you can't even last 2 weeks and you're already trying to sell out. Long live the independent press...er blogs!"

The Glass-Is-Half-Full Award
In reaction to my entry about holing up in the nearby IKEA after the eventual apocalypse, The Gat wrote, "That IKEA is only 30 min away. sweet. you could come sleep over."

The Realism Award
In reaction to the IKEA blog, "Steve" wrote, "The key to survive a post-Apocalyptic future is to have 'real' skills like farming or carpentry. Wordsmiths, lawyers, economists, directors of research at executive recruiting firms, and radio news broadcasters need not apply.The other useful thing to have is a gun, not a spoon."

The Glass-Is-Half-Full Award II
When I worried that robots would soon take over, The Derfman wrote, "I, for one, welcome our new Robot overlords. Did I say 'overlords'? I meant 'protectors.'"

The Mr. Rogers Award
This one goes to "Steve" for helping us realize an important life lesson. "Moral to the missing monkey story: Cherish every moment you have with your monkey. You never know when it will be gone."

The Full Disclosure Award
When I wrote about my history of illness, RJCraig stole this award with a brilliant entry:

"Having once employed the author of this blog, I can confirm that the man's hypochondria is long-standing. The following is a list of ailments he complained about in 1999.
* Nausea and dizziness (3/7 approx 2:30)
* Hurt toe - Run over by chair, weird bump (3/23 2:49 p.m.)
*Headache, ankles ache (3/27 1:51 p.m.)
* “My eyeballs itch.”...later spreads to entire body (3/29 3:05 p.m.)
* Suddenly lost hearing in right ear (4/5 11:46 a.m.)
* Nose bleed (4/7 2:10 p.m.)
* A general malaise, “mushy” head (4/10)
* Face feels red, warm (5/16 3:54 p.m.)
* Chest pains...but only in heart (5/30 12:41 p.m.)
* Intense ringing in ears...deafness except for buzzing (6/27 10:30 a.m.)
* Right eye socket hurts upon blinking: “...a shooting kind of numb pain.”
* Sudden, crippling pain in kneecap (8/9 afternoon)
* Same as 5/30 but on other side (9/7 10:49 a.m.)
* Seems like left temple is generating “a lot of heat.” (11/1 11:10 a.m.)
* A sharp poking right in the kneecap. (11/14 4 p.m.)
* Bad shock and pain in one tooth from a piece of cheese (11/29 11:49 a.m.) The cheese “chilled my tooth to a painful point...To the point where there was a shock.” Cheese may have created "electricity."
* Throbbing pain in kneecap (12/4 2 p.m.)
* Hip just went out (3/8 2:35 p.m.)
* Legs very weak; gets exhausted just thinking about standing (4/20 10:02 a.m.)

You know, I am enjoying these awards so much that I will continue them tomorrow...when I will award several more including My Favorite Comment Post of the Year.

Fear Not! The Juice is Back!

I know there was a lot of panic, tears and protest recently when I warned that Aldi may have stopped carrying THE BEST JUICE IN THE WORLD. But I am happy to announce that it was a false alarm. I went back last night, and the juice was back. Apparently, they were just sold out that night. Whew.

To avoid any crisis like that happening again, I stocked up. I bought 9 tubes of the concentrated delight.

On the way home, I realized that people may soon be visiting my home to purchase it. I think it will be funny when they find 4 Tupperware jugs of cereal in one cabinet, 3 giant 32 oz bags of unopened cereal in another cabinet and then 9 cans of the same juice in the freezer. With all that horded cereal and juice, they will assume an Obsessive Compulsive lives there.

Or a third grader.

Of Smoking Clowns and Green Beverages

I was driving on Route 20 Saturday afternoon behind a black pickup truck. All over the truck were advertisements for a special events company: "Clowns! Animals! Table Magic! Balloon Tricks!" As I drove behind him, I wondered if maybe there would indeed be a clown driving. So, I passed him to see.

Sure enough, there was a clown driving--with full make-up, the big red nose and a ball cap on instead of his wig. I chuckled.

And then the best part--I noticed he was smoking. There's just something funny about a clown who smokes. It was like seeing a real-life Krusty the Clown going to work.

________________________

I finally had that Shamrock Shake on Saturday. Oh, sweet joy. One of my youth group kids competes with a friend every year to see who can drink more. Last year, I kept pace with him. This year, I didn't even try because I want to keep my girlish figure. Turns out he had 13 in 10 days before giving up because the other kid was so far ahead.

While the Shamrock was wonderful, I noted as I drank it that it really just made me crave an Arctic Orange Shake.
_________________________

I'm not a big beer drinker. But My Intended and I went to see my high school friend Eric play at a bar on Saturday and got a pitcher of Miller Lite. It was colored bright green. The funny thing? I swear it tasted better green.

_________________________

Speaking of all these things I drank this weekend, I also bought a new combined fruit juice at Aldi to make up for the lack of The Best Juice in the World. This one was White Grape and Peach. As I drank it for the first time Saturday, I literally did a double-take because I thought I was drinking wine. It tastes just like a sweet, white wine.

It's good. But with cereal in the morning, it's a little weird.

_________________________

At youth group, we played Broomball for the first time in over a year.

The game (think floor hockey with a kickball and brooms) used to be a staple of our group. We played all the time. The kids even had their own custom brooms. But when the church renovated, we lost our good Broomball room. We gained a big new basement that the pastor told us we good play in, but there have been problems with it. First of all, it is way to0 big. So when you mark out boundaries, you end up chasing the ball way too much when it goes out of bounds. Secondly, the one time we tried to play down there, we kicked up so much dust that one kid left with an asthma attack. Thirdly, once the room got cleaned up, it kept being used for weddings and resales. So we had nowhere to go.

Last night, a few of us discovered that the new basement is now largely empty and unused again. There were also about 20 lightweight folding tables just sitting there from the resale. So, we used them to build a nice Broomball rink. The tables were used as the sides of the playing field all the way around. It was awesome.

We really had fun and bonded over our blood, sweat and tears. It was pretty hardcore and aggressive. Many of us left with several bruises. By the end, I was so exhausted, I could barely swing my broom.

Dream Log:
(March 18, 2007)
I was in a Jeep with Designer Doug. He was in the passenger seat. I was in the backseat. I think we were waiting for the driver because we were sitting in the parking lot of a bank. As we sit, we see another Jeep pull in. There's is red. 5 big, burly guys get out. They talk and then four go into the bank.

The fifth, a weaselly, Gary Sinese-looking guy, gets back into the Jeep, pulls out of his parking space near ours and moves to the far side of the parking lot from the bank doors. He gets out again, opens the back hatch and starts to arrange a bunch of blankets and plastic tubs. I watch him and see he has a gun tucked into his pants and a large knife hanging from his leg. I tell Doug that I think something's up.

We look into the glass doors of the bank and can't really tell if anything's going on. It seems calm. There's still a security cop standing his post.

Then the dream turns into a movie or show I am watching. Specifically, it's LOST. Inside the bank, the four burly guys go upstairs to a big exquisite lobby. As they walk in, Sawyer jumps them. They easily over power him. They beat him to the ground and tell him to stay. The guys search the lobby and finally find Kate in a corner. She says that she won't tell them where Jack is and that their plan to rob the bank won't work.

A lot of other stuff happens, but the rest is a blur.

Where Are You, Juice? Where Are You?

I am not prone to easily panic, but I want to let everyone know that there's a troubling situation brewing that could build into an outright catastrophe.

Aldi may be no longer carrying THE BEST JUICE IN THE WORLD.

A couple years ago, I discovered a frozen concentrate juice at Aldi called "Pineapple-Orange-Apple." I gave it a try because I like juice. In fact, I love juice. And to me, the best juices are those that combine fruits. I mean, God gave every fruit it's own juice and they are lovely in their own gifts. I love apple juice. And grape juice. But when fruit juices truly shine--like the body of the church--is when they combine their gifts. When cranberry or apple or lime or orange lend their talents to other fruits, that's when we see special, magical things happen in juice.

And the culmination of this was Aldi's Pineapple-Orange-Juice. It was less of a juice and more of a taste explosion. An event.

And last night, Aldi didn't have any of it. Totally gone. Now, I do maintain hope that they were just sold out. Could be. But Aldi does have a habit of cycling product in and out. It could be gone forever. We can only hope
that THE BEST JUICE IN THE WORLD is still out there.

If not, my mouth will be in mourning for a long, long time.

Hair Crisis Avoided

I have to say it: I like my hair today. I liked it yesterday too. The new style has taken some time for me to get used to, but it's going well now.

And that says a lot given the despair of Hair Crisis 2007. How'd I go from those dark days to now being happy with longer hair?

It all started with young Becca. She's a student at the local Tricoci University. I went there (as part of the disaster reaction plan) to get my first styling ever. I normally clip it myself or go to a barber. But I tried Tricoci U (Are they in the Final Four? What's their mascot?) because I figgered I wanted someone young and hip to do something new--and not the old man barber who charged me $13 two years ago to box my ears and taper the back of my hairline.

Tricoci U was hip. In fact, I'm not cool enough to be there really. All the workers wore black, with New York hair and most of the girls looked like they hang around with Paris Hilton. Or like they were in that Devil Wears Prada movie.

But I liked the way Becca cut my hairs, gave me layers and shaped it all a bit. All for just $8. A few things that were interesting:

1) I've never had a woman shampoo my hair before (or a man actually) since my mom probably did when I was but a todd-ler. That was kinda weird. I'm not creeped out easily by touch or anything (though the thought of anyone but The Intended giving me a back massage really freaks me out) but it was odd having this young girl lathering up my scalp. And yet, oddly calming.

2) During the cut, Becca parted my hair down the middle. She joked that she didn't understand why guys would do that and how silly it looked. When she was done cutting my hair, she styled it with the part down the middle. Wha? That didn't stay long.

3) In styling my hair, Becca used this stuff called Fiber. The application of it required her to -- literally -- clap her hands above my head and let these little strings of goop flutter onto my head. When I told Camerin about it, she said that it may have been some strange marriage ceremony or witchcraft.

So anyway, my hair is now different than I've ever done it. It's just all messy and down over my forehead. I like it. I won't keep this style for too long. But for now, it's cool.

And the best part is that I get no rashes from the hair product I'm using. Whew.

Kiss My Blarney Stone

For weeks I've heard radio commercials declaring, "Shamrock Shakes are back!" And so the familiar urges returned from my past addiction to Shamrock Shakes. I kept waiting until the perfect time to have my first one of the season....

And I decided Sunday afternoon was the time. It was warm out. I was going to youth group. It was time to Shamrock.

So, I stopped at this real fancy-dancy McDonald's near my church. And when I say "fancy-dancy," I ain't kidding. It's Hinsdale after all. This place has nice woodwork, paintings and looks like an old two-story brick house from the outside.

But you know what happened?

They had NO SHAMROCK SHAKES! How can this be? They have 7-foot murals of countrysides but not a cup of green shakiness? This McDonald's has it's priorities all mixed up.

When I asked for one, the kid said, "We don't have those." I said, "You don't have Shamrock Shakes?" He answered, "No. We don't have the mix yet."

"But St. Patrick's Day is next week."

"I know. But we don't carry it."

I was dismayed. And shakeless.

De-Toddified!

Well, the De-Toddifying of my home is over. After a few weeks of packing, moving, sanding, painting and cleaning, the condo is now ready to go on the market this week. It feels very bright, very big and ... well, not me. But that's the point. Thanks to everyone who helped with all the painting and cleaning.

Now, I want to share the results of the De-Toddification process:

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE
AFTER

BEFORE

What this "Before" photo of the bathroom fails to show is that I had a big purple stripe running at the top of each wall--like on the top of a monopoly card. But, no more...

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER
Another Bedroom View

BEFORE

AFTER

Unfortunately, I don't have "Before" photos for two rooms. And the first is the room that's seen the most dramatic change. If you've been to my house, you may remember the dining room with it's dark, dark blue walls. Well, no more...

My kitchen's defining characteristics were old metal advertising signs all over the walls. But now...

So, that's it.

Now, I just have to keep it clean and hope for buyers. Please pray that this thing sells in God's time--whatever that may be. I'd really like it to sell before June to not have two mortgages. But if it sells too soon, I may live in my truck. So, I need to just trust God that he'll time it right and use whatever happens.

Let Them Eat Cake! (And I'll have my cookie.)

WEDDING WEDNESDAY
After months of discussion, negotiations with bakeries and assorted trials, it looks like we will be having a cookie cake after all--in addition to a regular cake.

It didn't look good there for awhile because apparently my vision for a wedding cookie--looking like a wedding cake with layers of big cookies separated by cake pillars--is impossible. So, we decided to change our plan and have an actual, traditional wedding cake. That's great, but I still wanted cookies. I was intent on finding a way.

And it looks like it may just happen! A friend has discovered a neat free standing cake stand in storage at her family's bakery that will support three teirs of big cookie. Whoo! So, everyone at the reception can have their cake and eat it too... while I partake in my cookie.

In other reception news...

I'm not saying, I am just saying.

UPDATE: Marc dreamt of my wedding last night. And it's weird. Check it out here.

The Return of the Prodigal Monkey

Late last night, a ship sailing the oceans for the last several months arrived again in my office. And on that tiny wooden replica of the Santa Maria sat my own prodigal son, The Red Fez Monkey.

He has returned. Fill the streets with songs of joy.

There is much rejoicing here in the office. There's been so much excitement that I haven't quite gotten all the details yet. But let me fill you in with what I know.

As we last heard, Purple Fez monkey was in New York searching for his missing brother, who'd apparently left my office with no notice in order to become a model. Purple Fez never wrote to me after his first day in New York so I had no idea what had happened. But after about a week there, he met a fashion cross-stitcher who'd used Red Fez as a model. When asked about Red Fez's whereabouts, this man told Purple Fez, "He was not made for the concrete jungle. And so, he returned to his native land, The Fez Jungle, to be with all the other Fez Monkeys."

With the first great lead of his epic search, Purple Fez set sail for the Fez Jungle of South America.

One dark night, Purple Fez was tired of searching and set up camp. As he was searching for food, he heard a noise. A twig snapped. Thick jungle growth shook with movement. A predator was on the hunt. He did whatever monkeys do when threatened; I'm not sure what that is. It may have involved throwing feces. Anyway, out of the thick vegetation walked...RED FEZ MONKEY!

The brothers embraced. After such a long search, Purple Fez was triumphant--he'd found his brother.

"Why didn't you come home after you left New York and modeling behind you?" Purple Fez asked.

"Because I was afraid I'd brought shame on you in not having what it took to be a model," Red Fez admitted. "With the way I left, I didn't feel like I could just come back."

"But of course you can!" Exclaimed Purple Fez. "We are family. You should have never felt ashamed of your desire to be a model--or that you had to keep that ambition secret. You should have never felt ashamed to admit your failure. We've missed you and searched for you! You are always a part of Todd's office decor!"

They embraced more. They picked bugs from each other's back. But then, strange sounds came again from the trees. Purple Fez braced for an attack from an unseen jungle attacker.

"Don't be afraid," said Red Fez. "They are with me."

With that, three Fez Monkeys swung from vines and joined the reunited brothers.

"They have no real home or family," Red Fez said. "They are Fez Monkeys with no office to decorate. Perhaps they can come live with us."

And so, a ship full of 5 Fez Monkeys arrived to my office this morning. Indeed, I may have lost one for a brief time. But I now have gained 3 new Fez Monkeys.

And my dear sweet Red Fez is back!

The Remnants of a Weekend

I was 10 minutes late for work this morning. Now, I don't need an excuse because no one really cares (and I was still the 2nd person in my area to get here). But, being late is abnormal for me. And I think I have a decent excuse. I had no idea what time it really was. I was lucky I was here before sundown.

Because my family and friends came to paint the condo on Saturday, everything got unplugged. Clocks apparently either didn't get set or got set wrong. It was a different time in every room of my house this morning. When I left the house, it was 7:30 in my bedroom, 7:15 in the kitchen, 9:15 in the living room, and 6:30 in the dining room. Plus, my watch is missing again and my cell phone, the only real source of actual time in my life, wasn't recharged last night.

I do have some battery-run clocks. But, as The Intended would attest, they never tell the right time anyway--and they were the ones furthest off today. In fact, as she pointed out just last week, my house always seems to have different time zones per room. So, really Saturday's work may not be the cause at all. I just have a general time gap in my house. Maybe this condo is like a time machine and some rooms transport you into the past or the future. That'd be cool. And should help in the selling of the property. I wonder if my realtor will list "possible time-bending powers" as one of the attributes after "newly painted."

As a work update on the house, it is fully painted now. I only have some minor touch-ups and caulking before moving to Phase 3: The Heavy Cleaning. (Phase 1 was Extraneous Stuff Removal. Phase 2 was De-Toddifying the Walls with lots and lots of off-white. Phase 4 is apparently Synchronize Clocks.) The place looks a lot brighter and bigger now with the light paint. I don't like it. But it looks bigger and brighter. The kitchen is almost blinding.

We had a really really fun day Saturday. It's bad to gather all the Hertz's in a small confined space. And The Sister's Boyfriend may have gone away mortified. I'm really not sure what all happened, but I just remember at one point yelling, "I poop in a bag!" And that was before the giant Olive Garden bottle of wine. Things got worse from there.

Dream Log
(2/23/07)
My high school friend John and I were in college together. Or it may have been some camp. But we were in a large group of young people and staying in a dorm-like commune. John and I began to individually get visited by this strange guy who would just pop out of nowhere. He said he was time traveling and needed our help.

He'd only visit me for minutes at a time, but John told me the visitor popped into his closet for 2 hours one night. "Did you ask him what was going on?" I asked. John said no. "Did you ask him how we can help him or where he came from?" John said no.

Eventually, John and I learned that time travel didn't need a machine or any devices. It was a mental state. We learned to bend time and space with our minds. It was great.

My Disaster Reaction Plan

Since I last posted, my life has been defined by what I like to call Hair Crisis 2007. My hair is out of control and I can't do much with it. I've tried different things and this long hair thing is just not happening. The biggest problem is that darned Hair Putty I bought.

There are two problems with The Hair Putty:

1) It's not doing for my hair what I need it to. I bought it because my Crystal Wax ran out. And once I had it, I decided to do a more messy look. This Hair Putty is not made for the messy look. My hair just ended up being floofy. It also made my hair clumpy. Clumpy and floofy together is just weird.

2) I'm apparently allergic to The Hair Putty. It's made me all red, itchy and splotchy. I'm telling ya: Somebody tampered with it. It was poisoned with some sort of Splotchy Sauce.

So, not one to just suffer in silence, I am taking action to end Hair Crisis 2007. My Disaster Relief Plan has two prongs:

1) Get new product. This phase is completed. I bought something called "Out of Bed" last night. This product seems to be more along the lines of what I need--designed to make your hair "peicey and messy." And no one's fingerprint was in it.

2) Get styled. This is a major step for me. But desperate times mean desperate actions. Normally, I would just get out my clippers and go back to my default short, spiky hair. But I believe in the Todd Long Messy Hair Dream. So, I will lay aside my allegiance to self-haircuts and go to a stylist. I need some shaping. Some layering, perhaps.

With these two action steps, I believe, a new better haircut will rise out of the ashes.

Get Your Finger Out of That!

For a while now, I've been using this stuff called "crystal wax" in my hair. I think the name makes it sound more exciting and mysterious than it really is. I like to imagine orcs harvesting crystals in dark mines. Once collected, warlocks with purple cloaks crush the crystals to a fine wax--just so I can have spikey hair.

But now, I am not spiking my hair. It's gotten long and so I am now trying "the messy look." It seems to me that those hip guys who can pull off the messy look go to a lot of work to make it look like they don't go to any work at all. It's not just waking up and coming to work like I'd hoped. You actually have to do stuff with it. Having had 1/8 inch hair for the last 7 years, this is weird. Long hair also takes new hair products--leaving all those warlocks jobless, no doubt.

Anyway, I had to go to the store and get new hair product. I found some stuff called "Hair Putty." It's not just a clever name. It's actually spacle for your hair. At least, it looks like it. And because I am doing a lot of work on my walls at home, I am afraid I'll get confused and end up with spacle in my hair.

Anyway, the Hair Putty comes in a little canister with a screw-on top. Well, yesterday morning when I opened it for the first time, there was a finger mark in my new hair putty. It was quite evident that someone had poked their finger right into the middle. I can just imagine some dude stabbing his finger into my hair putty and then working it in for the messy look--in the aisle of Dominicks.

Hmmm, either that or he poisoned it.

Big Day for C-Dog

Hey exciting news: Family Force 5 has now posted Charissa's FF5 cartoon on their offical myspace page and in their fan e-bulletin. Cool, huh? It's now been watched by 9,000 people on YouTube.com.

Charissa got an e-mail from a band rep who said that they all love it. They gather around the computer and watch it over and over--and have shown it to the other bands they are touring with.

Congrats, Charissa.

My Badge of Pain

On Saturday night, My Intended and I were out at a progressive dinner. While I was progressing to eat 150,000 calories, the snow and ice were also progressing. While the roads weren't really bad at all on the way to the first house, the storm picked up considerably while we were there.

As we were going to the final house, I noticed that everyone else could drive faster than me in the snowy-icy conditions. That's normal with my rear-wheel drive pickup truck, of course, but I have weight in the back so I thought it should be better.

My Intended mentioned that the problem could be the weight distribution. She had a point. Because I've been moving all my old friends out of my house, I've moved the sand bags to the very front of the bed to make room. Without them centered above the wheel mounts, the weight wasn't helping much.

So, when we arrived to the final house for dessert (shout out to loyal reader Megan!), I told My Intended to go inside while I arranged the weight bags. Well, what happened after that no one knew.

The back of my truck bed has a hard fiberglass lid on it. It easy lifts up--and normally stays up. But with a couple inches of ice and snow, it was very heavy. Wile I could lift it up, it wouldn't stay open on its own. Instead of doing the smart thing of finding someone to hold the lid open for me, I lifted the lid enough to get the tailgate down, lowered the lid and crawled in. I can do it myself!

Imagine with me, if you will: It's dark. The truck bed is filled with bags of Goodwill clothes and other boxes. The lid is down. And I am crawling around on my belly with about a foot-and-a-half clearance. While tugging 50-pound bags to the center of the truck.

It actually all went pretty well. When I was ready to get out, I noticed that I could kind of crawl out--and push the bed lid up with my back. This was easier that slithering backward. It was also stupid. As I was about the get out, I lost hold of the ice-covered and heavy lid being supported by my back. It slammed down on the back of my head--and knocked my forehead into a hard plastic crate I use to haul stuff.

At first, I was sure I had a concussion. I kind of stumbled around a bit in the snow. Neighbors probably gathered at their warm windows to watch the clumsy drunk man cavorting in the snow. Eventually, I pulled myself together and went inside. I am pretty sure that I was a little "slow" once I got inside. I just stayed quiet and when I tried to have conversations, I am pretty sure some of my sentences didn't make much sense.

A little while later, I had a little red mark on my forehead as a badge of stupidity. My Intended called it my Harry Potter scar. That was pretty accurate--it was shaped like the corner of the box I landed on so had a bit of a zig-zag effect to it. My mark is gone now. And it's too bad because it would tingle when I was around Voldemort.

But anyway, the good news about the story is that I took the blow to the head--where not much further damage can really be done.

Welcome, Old Friend

Well, let the mocking begin. I've brought R2-D2 into the office. I think he looks cool in here. And that makes two robots in our department. Let's see Resources beat that!

Anyway, three comments on R2 already:

"Throw some clothes on the floor, and it's a 12-year-old's closet." -
Designer Doug

"Boy, it's every high school boy's dream come true." -Marilyn

"Oh, it's a soda cooler? I thought it was a urinal." - Designer Doug

Well, at least the condo is quickly clearing out. The Intended and I have taken three peices of furniture to her house and several tubs and boxes to Jeff's basement. I've thrown away over 10 bags of garbage. And now R2 is in his new home. So, just about everything that had to be out of the condo before showing it is out. I've now begun a lot of the wall work--just sanding, caulking, and filling cracks and nail-holes. Painting will begin soon.

My Intended walked in a few nights ago and said the place looks a lot different already. It does. It seems a lot bigger. And more bare. It's not me anymore...but it looks nice. When I get the painting done, I will be proud to show it. It should look good.

As I've been doing work around the house these two weeks, my talking to myself has increased. I'm not sure why that is. I guess there's more to say when you are working than just sitting around. I've noticed trends in how I talk to myself. A friend of mine recently told me that she discovered that whenever talking to herself she somehow adopts an accent. I don't talk any differently, but I do talk in the plural. And my favorite phrase that I always say aloud to myself has always been, "Okay, now we have to..."

However, as I've been moving and packing, I've discovered a new favorite talking-to-myself line. Last night I found myself picking up a piece of furniture and saying to it, "Well, old friend..." I realized that I've been calling a lot of my possessions "old friend" recently.

That's kinda weird.

Income = One Sandwich

Wedding Wednesday
Tonight, My Intended and I have our big premarital counseling session to talk about money and budgets. From our mentor couple and other married folk around us, we've long heard many horror stories about money fights and shocking realizations of how fast money goes when you are a couple. Still, we got quite the shock last Friday night when we did our first combined budget.

Using records we kept of our expenses through January, we made a monthly budget considering everything--from DVD rentals to band-aids. We considered all income--her salary, tax returns, Dominick's coupons, freelance work, everything. We even included my salary. Since I'm a non-profit journalist, we just wrote "one sandwich" on the line for my yearly income.

Of course, it's not quite that bad. I kid. But still, when it was all said and done, we found that we were $600 in the hole PER MONTH. We were really depressed. And confused. How can we both be currently paying mortgages separately but yet together we can't afford one? I decided the problem was too many DVD rentals and new clothes. I was worried we'd never be able to afford children. I was concerned about never eating Salt Creek again. But really, I just couldn't believe that all the Chicken Little warnings from wedding books about how quickly money disappears in a marriage were true. Well, at least we thought they were for about 12 hours.

On Saturday morning, My Intended ran all the numbers again. It turns out that we had entered my paycheck as my monthly income. However, I get paid TWICE a month. We were chopping my salary in half and that solved the whole budgeting problem.

I tell ya, that half of sandwich makes a big difference.

I've Got Theories.

There was a time when I'd put Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce on anything. Well, like food. I wouldn't just lather it on my shoes or anything. Designer Doug and I even keep a bottle in the fridge in our department.

But today, it's not working for me. I am eating a leftover skillet meal from a Greek place. There's a lot of hash browns. I want ketchup for it. Since I have none I tried Sweet Baby Ray's. I'm not a fan. I guess that shoots my theory that SBR's can make any food better. But that's OK, my other two life-ruling theories remain intact:

1) The Kuleta Monkey Theory. According to this discipline founded by my old college roommate, there is a monkey somewhere on TV at all times. It is testable by slowly flipping through your channels. Before you get back to the channel you started on, you will see a monkey 90% of the time. It's so true. I've only had this NOT work once when demonstrating for crowds of people.

2) The Theory of Chocolate Fountain Supremacy. This theory is all mine. I developed it in many, many experiments of serious scholarship. The theory is simple: You can stick any food product in a chocolate fountain and not be disappointed. I began my research at a party in Nashville when I first beheld the magic of the chocolate fountain. I tried nachos. Buns. Pizza. Anything. It all becomes better. Besides that, any chocolate will taste better if run through a fountain. It's just true.

____________________________________________

The theory that rock music only gets better with dragons continues to be upheld.

This weekend, Charissa posted her Family Force 5 video onto YouTube and is getting mucho attention for it. You should check it out. It runs much smoother and quicker now. And even after dozens of views, it's still wonderful.

It's been viewed over 800 times. Family Force 5 has seen it and commented on their audio blog this weekend. They called it "hilarious."

Glory Glory Hallelujah!

Shhh, do you hear that sound? In the distance?

It's the popping of a ball in a glove. Oh sweet glory, baseball is back. Spring Training is beginning and it feels so good. A peek at my windows weather widget tells me it's -4 degrees out. But just knowing that somewhere out there someone is playing baseball brings the sun out in my heart.

Do you know how we know it's time for baseball season? Hands are permanently chapped and red because the Illinois winter has been so cold for so long. Sunflower seeds begin to litter the ground. The White Sox unveil new catchphrases. The Coop mixes up a new bag of magic. Random old players are signed to minor league deals. Barry Bonds speculation fills 3/4 of sports radio airplay again. And of course, Kerry Wood gets hurt.

Speaking of that, I really got into the baseball spirit this morning by reading this article about weird baseball injuries. My favorite? "Back in the 1920s, Red Sox pitcher Clarence Blethen had a fondness for taking out his false teeth while he pitched. One day, he forgot to put them back in his mouth when batting. After getting on base, he tried to break up a double play at second base and he landed so hard on his butt that his own teeth bit him."

Only in baseball.

Quotes of the Week

"Your genes came with a longer inseam." -My sister.

"I love the sun." -My sister.

Boys Are Stupid

So I was at the flower shop last night getting flowers. You know, it's Valentine's Day. And it's 4:30. So I had ordered my flowers on Saturday. I am glad I did because I get there and there's like 7 guys in line asking for arrangements on the spot. I couldn't believe they show up at the end of the day and just expect to get flowers made up quickly. But I guess that's what men do.

Anyway, my favorite guy there was this kid barely out of his teens. He was the kind of guy who always got picked first in P.E. kickball--tough and cool, but not a scholastic star. He stands there in line for at least 15 minutes--watching as people leave with roses and the florists make arrangements with roses--and when he gets to the counter he says, "Uh, do you have roses?"

I think maybe he thought roses were some exotic flower that only his lady wanted--but most stores don't carry.

The cashier, who is holding a bunch for a customer, says, "Yes."

And then the guy says, "Do you have some I can buy?"

I wanted the cashier to say, "No, but I can rent you these. Just bring them back."

But she was polite to him and he blew like $90 on a dozen roses. Whoa. This same store sells roses for $1 each any other week of the year.

To continue the boys are stupid theme, I then went to Jewel at like 11:00 last night. I lost my gloves. So, I bought a pair of gloves for 34 cents. yah: 34 CENTS. Surprisingly, they aren't so hot. Or warm. Or fit very well. So my frugality has bit me in the bum. But the good news is that I came to work today and found my gloves. Now, the 34 cent pair is unneeded after all.

Speaking of my frugality...

Cereal update
After one month, I am now on my 5th bag of cereal from that 11 bag purchase. Oh yah, I am flying through these bags. I told ya, I eat a lot of cereal--32 ounces a week it seems. There were those who doubted I could eat 352 ounces of cereal before I move out in June. Or before it goes bad. But I will. Oh yes. The cereal's going down.

The End of An Era

I've lived in my condo since September 2004. Last Thursday, I met with a realtor to begin the end of that era.

It's an exciting time. I look forward to moving in with my future wife. But it's always an interesting process to be closing a chapter in order to open a new one. This was the first home that was "mine"--not just in terms of owning it but also that I lived by myself. I decorated it. I took care of it. I cleaned it all--or it didn't get cleaned. It was my home. In a way, it was me.

And still is, but now I am hurriedly readying it to go on the market. That means staging the unit as very neutral and impersonal. Wall hangings go down. Shelves get cleaned out. Knick-knacks go away. That also means painting over all walls that aren't neutral colors. That means goodbye Monopoly-themed bathroom. Goodbye very-blue dining room. Goodbye Sci Fi Living Room. Goodbye White Sox corner. Goodbye homemade Star Wars endtable.

It's weird to be packing up to move about 4 months before I will actually move. I am packing up some things in boxes that won't be opened until July or later. Other boxes will be things I do need before the wedding--but that need to be out of the unit for showing. Some stuff I need everyday. One thing is for sure, when I am done preparing this unit to go on the market in March it will look and feel like a very different place than the one I've come to call my home. (I plan to show lots of before and after pics here soon).

As I am packing up, I am doing a lot of sorting and organization. I've filled 7 garbage bags in less than a week. I am also doing a lot of reminiscing--both about times in that condo and about stuff I am finding in all my horded belongings. I found a Smurf button last night. And notes for a screenplay. And lots of silly lists that my old boss Randy and I used to keep--like one of all the names I used to call some guy because I could never remember his real name. (It was something like Rufus Hoover. Or Reggie Honus. Or something.)

One good thing about the timing of selling the condo is that it now has heat for the first time in 3 winters. Seriously. And I never realized it. The thing is, my condo is on the third floor and it's HOT all the time. Thanks to heat rising, it's always been just fine in the winter. Until last week when temps went down to -11. Then, for the first time I realized, "Hmmm, the heat doesn't seem to be doing much..."

The End of Todd Super Week

Todd's Super Week (TM) has come to an end with a bang. My Birthday Party was seeing Wicked and eating at the Italian Village in Chicago. First of all, Wicked really rocks. I was impressed. Several people who came with had seen the show 2 to 4 times. But now I understand why they'd come back. It's a great story with catchy tunes and really great set design--including a giant smoking dragon!

We then barely made it to the Italian Village thanks to a tricky closed sidewalk that lured us to walk about 2 blocks out of our way and ended in a dead end. We had to go all the way back and start again. If we were lemmings, we'd be all gone now. We just followed each other through this little tunnel and didn't even question the giant sign that said "CLOSED SIDEWALK." How can 11 people miss the same sign? I don't know. I know my excuse. I saw the sign but instead of reading it, I just thought about pretending to run into it. Anywho, we managed to overcome this setback and get there without being hit by any cars. Which is good because Todd Super Week would have really suffered had the Bears lost AND I got hit by a bus.

Since no one was hit by a bus and the Bears didn't have to play the Colts again, the day was the perfect capper to a truly super Todd Super Week. When it was all said and done, one-forth of my gifts had to do with monkeys. The rest were all related to either Star Wars, the White Sox, Mister Rogers or the Nation's First Ladies. Of course. I may be the only 30-year man who has ever been given a First Ladies Word Search book as a gift. I wear that honor like a badge.

One of my favorite parts of the day was when the waiter tried to lead my party in singing Happy Birthday. After he got them all started, he decided to stop them for some reason. I believe my candle was not lit yet. The problem tho was that the waiter was no conductor. He didn't know the sign for "cut" and just repeatedly waved downward. Of course, my musicically gifted party recognized this as the sign to decrease in volume. So it became like a round of "A little bit softer now, A little bit softer now" until the man finally stopped them. Then, my spumoni with a candle stuck in it was put in front of me. The song started all over. I was so excited that I just sang along. When I realized that I was the guest of honor, I stopped. But man, I can't resist a good sing-a-long.

Everything Smells Like Balloons

OK, so my friends need hobbies. Seriously.

They pranked me again. My office was stuffed with balloons floor to ceiling this morning. This turning 30 thing stinks. When I turn 40, I am moving.

Pictures will come later. The good thing about all this is that I've become a Master Balloon Popper. I swung my scissors like a machete. One poor lady came into the office and thought someone had a machine gun. The best part though was having the company's CEO help me pop balloons. What a company! We had the office cleaned out in 15 minutes this morning! But I've left a bunch of balloons that are magically floating on the ceiling. It's like a rave in here.

My favorite part of this morning was when one of The Pranksters had to return to the scene of the crime because she left her cell phone here. Haha. Almost as good was one Prankster referring to the air compressor they used as "The Inflato Machine."

Well done, gang. I know they invested a lot of time and money into this--and bloodied fingers. So I appreciate it. Besides, I deserve it for all I've done to them.

_____________________________________

I think 30 is the legal age to begin doing the "I remember when" game. You know, when you take stock of the world changes you've witnessed. 30 years isn't long. I mean, my grandmother (hey, grandma!) has seen so much change in her life--she's gone from the Depression to reading her grandson's silly blog on the internet. I can't compete.

But even just in 30 years, I too have seen our world change. I decided to make a list this week. There were lots of technological changes (i.e. Beta to DVD). But fittingly, almost everything else I came up with this week was sports.

You know, I remember The Houston Oilers.

I remember the first years of the Florida Marlins and the Colorado Rockies.

I remember going to a Chicago Sting game.

I remember when the Boston Celtics were a respectable franchise.

And I remember when people cared about the Chicago Blackhawks. Well, sort of. Not really.

Quote of the Week
"I forgot we were brother and sister." -My sister.

I Am 30.

Two years ago, I walked into work on my 28th birthday to find my office door shut. "Strange," I thought. I peeked through the window to see odd light reflections. I couldn't figure out what was going on in there. I opened the door to find the office waist-high in black balloons.

I thought, "If I get this for 28, what's gonna happen on my 30th Birthday?"

Last night, I found out.

Now, I was innocent that first birthday when I was pranked. Now, I am not so much. Since the Black Balloon Incident, there have been tinfoilings, strung offices and offices completely emptied. Since I have many people out for revenge, I knew I was gonna get hit hard. Add that to this "milestone birthday" and the sum is trouble.

Thus, I knew some prank was going to happen. I've been very suspicious for about 2 weeks of anything that was said or done out of the ordinary. I've thought through so many scenarios and ideas that I probably could have said, "I thought maybe this is what you'd do" to about anything they did. Not that I knew what they were gonna do, but I had considered lots of possibilities. I even had fleeting thoughts that maybe they'd strike my truck or my home, so I moved the truck around the parking lot often and kept the bed-lid locked. I've booby-trapped the office at night. I also thought maybe they'd do something in the hallway of my condo. But I was counting on them not being able to get into the building, much less my condo.

I went to dinner with The Intended last night. Driving home, I didn't even think that maybe the Pranksters had gotten into my house. I wasn't thinking that anything was out of the ordinary. I wasn't expecting anything until this morning. In fact, I considered stopping by the office on my way home last night to see if the Pranksters were there and surprise them. But I wanted to get home. When I did, my bedroom door was almost completely shut. "Oh no," I thought. I opened the door to find my bedroom filled with nearly 1,000 balloons. They hit me at my home. And they got me good.
It's all come full circle. The balloons were back. But this time they are colorful with celebration--and not black with aging regret. Very nice. The Pranksters deserve credit. This was hard work. They have raw and bloody fingers. They have no oxygen left. They didn't have flavored balloons to make the work more pleasant. And they struck me unaware. I tip my cap. And feel celebrated.

After jumping into the colorful mass and playing in the balloons, I began the long work of popping enough to go to bed. There's still a lot in there. Designer Doug said this morning: "Did you feel like you were sleeping in a music video or a political rally?"

My sister thinks it would have more funny if they filled my bedroom with balloons while I was sleeping. That would have been a feat...but then again, I may have suffocated on latex.

You know, I love birthdays. And I love Todd Super Week. And this is a good one so far (except for that Bears thing). Turning 30 seems like a big deal. It's a big milestone, but increasingly I am learning with every birthday that you never really think of yourself as an adult. You never feel older. I can't believe that as this age my dad was supporting a family with a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old. I am no adult. Am I? Could I do that?

People pointed out to me yesterday that it was the last day of my 20s. Again, that seems significant. But what does it really mean? And how do you celebrate that? Go do something stupid one last time? I don't know. But I did have a beer at dinner and got really goofy off it. That told me that I am definitely not in my 20s anymore. I just don't drink much anymore...and have no tolerance at all.

Anyway, I am now 30 in body. But about 12 in mind. And I'll probably stay that way. I can't wait until my friends fill my room at the nursing home with balloons. Then too, they will have to work around all my Star Wars toys...

Clothe Me in Glory

As many know--especially given my favorite recent gifts--I love funny T-shirts. So, I want to share some faves. Anyway, here's another Top 30:

Todd's Favorite 30 T-shirt Slogans

30. Chicago White Sox: 2005 World Champions. - Let's just get this out of the way. I love that I have a shirt with this "slogan" on it.

29. Authentic Left Coast Punk – Because I am so punk, I love my MxPx shirt.

28. I Heart Hitting People – I like it because of a little heart sign instead of the word ‘love.’

27. Jesus: Cooler Than Nature – All hail the genius of Randomshirts.com.

26. Sorry Ladies, I’m Taken

25. ‘I Want my Rib Back’ –Adam – I laughed aloud when I saw this one.

24. Anchorage Fire Dept. – Who else has one of these? Alaskan fire fighters. And me. I got it in Alaska because a guy in our work group was a fireman. Sweet.

23. The Decepticon Symbol – Not a slogan, no. But a picture of evil says a thousand and one words.

22. Fetchez la Vache – My Spamalot shirt with flipping cows.

21. Calvinism: This Shirt Chose Me. Arminianism: I Chose This Shirt. –My boss has this shirt. It’s smart funny!

20. See Your History Die – I wasn’t really in love with my Staple shirt when I bought it. I just wanted a Staple shirt. But this slogan has really come to mean a lot to me.


19. Too Close for Missiles. I’m Switching to Guns. – I couldn’t pull off this muscle shirt (because my muscles are too big), but it makes me giggle.


18. Jesus is my Muffin man. Do You Know the Muffin Man? – This was the first winner of our magazine’s T-Shirt Slogan Contest.


17. I Am a Whosoever! –John 3:16- This was last year’s T-Shirt Slogan Winner. I thought it was so clever.


16. Push Button. Get Bacon. -I will never wash my hands again…without thinking of bacon.


15. Robot Reading Coloring Book –I love the online description, "If you ever wondered what a robot going through a Relient K coloring book looks like, well, this is it."


14. Predator- This was a gift from a high school friend because I watched the movie almost weekly.

13. I Do All My Own Stunts - A gift from Marc to celebrate my style of sports play--that I have no style but just dive around and "do my own stunts."

12. I Wish I Didn’t Do all My Own Stunts - hahaha.

11. Mexcellent!

10. Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Game - Funny for me to wear because of how "playa" I am.

9. "Have You Ever Heard of Five Iron Frenzy?" "Yeah, They Owe Me a Dollar."



8. Hip Hop Tour 1984 - A cool retro shirt I found at marshall's for $8! It makes the Top 10 for the line, "Where the Hip-Hop Don’t Stop Till the Breaka—Breaka Dawn."


7. Fact: Clowns Eat People - This shirt gets lots of reaction. Mainly because it is indeed a fact. They do. Actually, this shirt generates conversation because so many people just want to tell me about how scared they are of clowns.


6. Fact: Ninjas Hate Pirates - I love this shirt, but honestly if forced to pick sides, I am going Pirates. Yah, they might lose but they have sing-a-longs. Do ninjas?


5. Meat is Neat! - The perfect storm of a shirt. I love meat. I like to use the word "Neat" a lot. And, it is educational! Want to know your cuts of beef, just look at my torso! And that, my friends, is also a nice cut of beef.


4. Have a Whale of a Day! - This is the second greatest T-shirt my sister has given me. It's just very Todd. And what's great is that it's like a puzzle. I love watching people trying to figure it out.


3. I Am Very Excited to Be Here - This shirt is meant to be a sarcastic comment. But with me, it is true. All the time. Wherever I am, you can bet I am exicted about it. I am like a puppy.


2. I Am Incredible! - Tru dat.

1. Mayor of Awesomeville - My favorite shirt. And it's original. Which is fitting because Awesomeville can only have one mayor.

We Aren't Who We Thought We Were

Well, that wasn't so good. I'm not going to do any analysis or complaining. We all know what happened. The worse part, really, is that my self-dubbed "Todd Super Week" is off to a crummy start.

First, the Bears lose. And then we have the coldest morning in 11 years.

What's "Todd Super Week"? Well, it was to start with the Bears winning the Super Bowl, extend to my 30th Birthday on Wednesday, include about 7 Birthday trips to Salt Creek BBQ and end with Wicked and yummy Italian food on Sunday. But the Bears didn't win. And 11 years ago, I would have been young and spy enough to survive the cold. Now, I am brittle.

But really, what marks Todd Super Week isn't really about victory or not freezing to death. It's about people. And in the next couple of weeks I'll be surrounded by, pranked by and generally celebrated by my friends and family. And that's my favorite part of my birthday. That and Designer Doug's promise to do an interpretive dance of my birth.

Yesterday began the fellowship of Super Week. While the Bears' loss was disappointing, watching the game with my family was awesome. I don't think I will forget one moment in particular.

The game had just begun and my Dad, Chad and I were all on our feet, arms flailing, yelling, "Go Devin GO!," "Hester, Hester, Hester!" and "TOUCHDOWN!" And then we see that 4-month-old Landon is scared out of his mind. He's screaming and crying and scared by what these three men just started doing.

Poor kid. But wait until Super Bowl XLII. He'll be cheering for the Bears with us.

Update: Here's another funny Slate column about commercials. It's a good digest of the Super Bowl Ads, even though this just isn't an event anymore. They were pretty much the same ads you'd see anytime.

I love the Slate article's comment about Tostitos and the Civil Rights movement. He has some clever turns of phrase. However, unlike that writer, I liked both the "Paper. Rock. Scissors" and the sad dejected robot commercial. (But maybe I just like robots too much.) Also, I don't think the Slate guy realized that the Coke Grand Theft Auto Ad has been airing for months.

Anyway, The Intended also read the Slate article and responded: "The Slate column is good, but he didn't mention Blockbuster's Gerbil and Mouse commerical or the Wedding Auctioner...my two personal faves..." Great points. The sound effects alone of the mouse commercial killed me.

Another Top 30!

I saw my old boss (as in he used to be my boss, not that he is eldery) this week for lunch. Seeing Randy reminded me of our many lists. One of those incomplete lists was of the coolest celebrities of all time. So, I thought I'd complete it. So now, another Top 30...

My Top 30 Coolest Celebrities

The criteria is really untangible. These celebrities just have "it:" a calculated cool, a smooth sauve, a allure of attitude. They are just cool. They define cool. You'll notice that it my definition of cool, it apparently helps to be black or British. And I am taking Jesus out of the running from the get-go. We all know he's cool.

So who are my Favorite 30 Cool Celebs?

30. Bruce Lee

29. Tiger Woods

28. Bruce Willis

27. Jennifer Connelly

26. Michael Jordan

25. Angela Bassett

24. Telly Savalas

23. Eric Clapton

22. Terrance Stamp

21. Jack Nicholson

20. Robert Mitchum

19. Robert DeNiro

18. Anthony Hopkins

17. Humphrey Bogart

16. Kiefer Sutherland

15. Barry White

14. Judi Dench

13. Lee Marvin

12. Marlon Brando

11. Billy Dee Williams

10. Aretha Franklin

9. B.B. King

8. James Brown

7. Clint Eastwood

6. Sean Connery

5. James Dean

4. Denzel Washington

3. Frank Sinatra

2. Richard Roundtree

1. Samuel L. Jackson

The Honorable Mentions: Xzibit, Carl Weathers, Beck, Jermaine Dye, Ozzie Smith, Chow Yun-Fat, Derek Jeter, Will Smith, Morgan Freeman, Mike Singletary, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Ving Rhames, Jimi Hendrix, Edward Norton, Douglas MacArthur, LeBron James, Jada Pinkett Smith, Jet Li, Lauryn Hill, Bono, Tina Turner, and Harrison Ford (who is added after Marc's IM campaign for him. I left him off because though he is cool, that whole 60-year-old with an ear ring thing really tarnished him in my eyes).

Quotes of the Week

"You know, this weekend a lot of people's motto will be 'Go Bears.' Mine will be 'Go Bare.'" -Designer Doug

"That's a pathetic banner." -Marilyn about my Bears rally towel.

"Them's boots are made for dancin'!" - Marc, about a drawing of a weird smoking buccaneer turtle.

"Wow, you put your hand clear through Pablo." -My Intended talking to toddler Lydia about a favorite toy.

"An apple without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze." -Marshall at a company party.

"You're like our own Nipsey Russell." -Ed to Marshall.

Quotes Note:There were many quotes from last Sunday's get together. And, of course, I forgot them. But Marc, Emily, Charissa: Please send them in if you remember.

So Many Pockets

I've had the same coat for about 3 or 4 winters. This morning, I made an exciting discovery about it. I found a new pocket that I never knew was there. That brings the total to ten. Ten! In one coat.

The Newly Found Pocket is this little slip of pocket on the inside, underneath another pocket. I'm not sure yet what I will put in the Newly Found Pocket. But I like knowing it's there, because I've always had a good feeling about clothes with lots of pockets. It's not that I carry around a lot of stuff, but I know that if I had to, I could.

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In a few weeks, I will be reviewing a movie called The Number 23. In it, a man (Jim Carrey) finds a book called The Number 23. He becomes obsessed because he realizes everything in his life (the letters in his name, his address, etc.) can be connected to the number 23. The idea behind this comes from some long-standing numerology idea called the "23 Enigma." This is a belief that all incidents and events are directly connected to the number 23--given enough ingenuity on the part of the interpreter.

Earlier this week, a friend asked me for some headline ideas for a project she was working on. I brainstormed several and sent them off. And it cracked me up to go back later and realize that two or three of them had the number 46 in them. For some reason, that number just became my default number any time I wanted one.

And shockingly, 46 divided by 2 is 23!

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So, my Overenthusiastic Switchfoot Fan has now sent me a total of 400 contest enteries. Either she's set up an automatic web tool to submit entries or this girl is just getting no school work done.

Luckily, 400 is not evenly divided by 23. Or else that would be creepy.