I Was Off Like a Prom Dress

            I was on the dance floor flapping my arms like a wounded bird.

            I looked around at all the other people who were doing the same thing. We looked like mental patients. I think everyone was having fun.  At least they were smiling. There were no spring chickens in the whole group. I am pretty sure everyone there was going through some sort of mid-life crisis.

            I did not care that I looked like an epileptic crack head. I was having a great time and knew I had to do something to make fodder for my column. Besides, I was in a whole different state surrounded by people who had no idea who I was.

            The bad thing is I cannot dance. There is a disconnect somewhere between my brain and my feet. I remember having dance lessons at the local recreation center back home when I was much younger. The instructor would do a move and I would only have to copy it. Simple, right?

            After only a few sessions, the instructor recommended I take art class.

            How did I end up in rural Oklahoma at a Czech dance hall in Garth Brooks’ hometown? Garth was probably just as puzzled as I was.

            My sister in law decided she was going to throw herself a prom for her birthday. The theme was “enchantment under the sea” like in the movie Back to the Future. I am not going to say how old she turned. 

            Someone once told me asking a woman’s age, or telling, it is rude and bad manners. I think she might take offense to having complete strangers knowing it was her fortieth.

             My lips are sealed.

            My wife was excited when she found out there would be a prom. She was finally going to get the thing she always wanted- having me step on her toes. When she and I were dating (in the Paleozoic Era) I opted not to go to my senior prom. That disappointed her. It was to be the first of many from me in the years to come.

            At that time I was “too cool” for that. I really did not feel like going through all the trouble of renting a tuxedo, making dinner reservations, and taking a shower. I felt it was all so superficial for an iconoclastic hipster like me. I was too busy being a non-conformist with all of the other non-conformists.

            After many years and three kids later, I saw this as a chance to rewrite history. So I took time off from work to go to the prom.

            I needed to rent a tuxedo. I have only worn a tuxedo on a handful of occasions and each time the tuxedo was over-sized  I looked like a shrunken James Bond without all the cool gadgets. Since my wife wore a black, “spicy” dress that made her look like Rita Hayworth I had to wear something comparable.

            Lucky for me they had a zoot suit that matched. A “zoot suit” is an over-sized suit that was very popular in the forties among the Latino set. Imagine my surprise when the guy was measuring my inseam for a suit that purposely does not fit!

            My tux was nice. The shoes were made for a dwarf. So, I ordered a new pair and the correct ones arrived without incident. My wife and I showed up at the party looking like Rita Hayworth and Al Capone.

            Everyone else wore retro clothing from the early 80’s. There were mullets and high-sprayed Aqua Net bangs everywhere. We were the only ones who went an additional forty years earlier. It was not so bad since the venue had not changed since the thirties.

            On the night, I only knocked my wife down one time. I think I may have done the moonwalk. I had come full circle. Of the things on the “woulda-coulda-shoulda” list I can cross off going to the prom. I did it. We had such a great time.

            In a hundred years when my progeny lay flowers on my grave, I hope this article explains my epitaph.

“Dance? Nay.”         

                        

Life's Journey

Great games like this only come along once and awhile.

I can't remember the last time I was emotionally moved to the extent that Journey has made me.

This game has simple controls, beautiful HD graphics (which are simple), and a musical score that is on par with Mozart's The Magic Flute.

What is it that makes this game so great and revolutionary?

Quite simply... life. I won't go into too much detail, because to do so would spoil the game and ruin the emotional aspect of the game. However, if you finish this game with dry eyes, then you have no soul.

Author's note: I would like to thank Austin Wintory (@awintory), Journey's composer, for being incredibly accessible to fans of this game and just a great guy!

...generation gap.

     I was shocked when my Juvenile Units, all three of them, bailed on me.

     I was so happy to see that Netflix had added this fine gem of a movie (Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band)  to their streaming library. It was one of my favorite's growing up as a kid. It has everything a kid could want: bright colors, great music, and corny special effects. Sadly, it had NOTHING of what critics wanted and was (and probably still is) regarded as a box office "flop". 

     Nevertheless, I wanted them to watch it and get the same nostalgic feeling I get when I see George Burns singing "Fixing A Hole". I was ready to share with them a piece of my history.

     What I got from them was the same revulsion as when I tried to make them watch "Xanadu". It turns out they were not at all interested in seeing Peter Frampton, the Bee Gees, or Steve Martin performing the Beatles' songs. They actually had the audacity to go downstairs and read books! 

     So, there I was. The cheese stands alone.

     I guess the younger generation will always have a distaste for the things their parents liked. 

    That's okay. 

    Twenty years from now, I'll have the last laugh when my grandchildren will be hiding in the bushes to keep from having to watch Sponge Bob Square Pants.

Clue.

I was making a joke about Col. Mustard on Facebook when it occurred to me that we don't have the game Clue here at our house. I used to play that game ad naseum and it's solely responsible for my career in law enforcement. It's a very basic "if-then" game of applying logic. I used to be pretty good at it. Especially when I peeked at the cards before putting them in the little envelope.
I would always wonder what crime took place in the mansion. Was it rape? Murder? Pirating DVDs? Either way it was up to me to pin it on one of the characters.
Mrs. White, Miss Scarlett, Mrs. Peacock, Mr. Green, Prof. Plum, and Col. Mustard were all guilty of something.
I would like to get this game to play with my kids but I'm afraid that updates to modernize the game may have ruined it. For example, instead of solving a crime you have to try and determine who is Miss Scarlett's "baby daddy". Or, perhaps charging one of the characters with a crime kicks off a very long, secondary game called "Due Process".
Regardless, it's way more funner than "Scrabble".

textbooks.

     I can't think of a better way to spend my hard earned money than to buy a textbook. They're so heavy and jam packed with such great information, I plan on giving them out as Christmas gifts. When I went back to school to get my master's degree I bristled with joy at the prospect of spending $300 dollars on a book about organizational structure. 

     Even though they instantly depreciate in value they still hold their value as a domestic chock block. I'm proud of my library of out-of-date, scholarly information that is stored in my shed collecting dust. I know the silverfish love it too! I'm certain that I'll need my COBALT Made Easy book from my computer programming course from the early 1990s. I regularly use my Principles of Child Psychology, 3rd Edition, to make the baby's booster seat a little taller at the table. 

     Recently, I bought my current textbook on Kindle. However, it's just not the same. It's WAAY too easy to press a button and go from strategic human resources management to 1001 awesomely great fart jokes. I hope, in spite of technological advances, overpriced textbooks stay around for a long time. At least, I hope they are still around when I publish mine...

no noise.

Listen.
Do you hear that? 
Silence.
If it's not golden, it certainly has a nice shiny color that attracts monkeys.
As I type this post it's quiet here except for the rhythmic tapping of my keyboard keys and gentle whirring of my computer fan.
My tympanic membranes are overly stimulated with music, people talking, kids screaming, cell phones ringing, and the list goes on.
It's nice when it all just suddenly vanishes and I can finally sit here with that tiny little voice in my head. It's the voice that says, "Does it make sense that your toothbrushes are less than a foot away from where everyone drops 'wolf-bait'?"
This must be what Buddha felt like when he was in his bodhi spot.
That is, until someone disturbed him by trying to rub his round belly for good luck. Still, it's nice to have a few moments just to sit in repose.
Ah, peace and quiet.

<Note: No sooner had I written this last sentence when my cell phone blasted an alert which scared the crap out of me!>

unionization.

I received the above note from my son, Juvenile Unit One, who was obviously upset with my oppressive demand that he wear pants. The weather was cold outside and I was only looking out for his best interest while also proactively keeping child protective services from having to do any extra work on my account. I'm good like that.
Needless to say, I was shocked.
A strike? Who does this kid think he is? Norma Rae? I had no idea that he had joined a union. I also knew that he didn't know the state of Texas is a right-to-work state which makes me an at-will parent. Still, a work stoppage meant that pets wouldn't get fed, vegetables would go uneaten, and little nubbin' teeth would grow fuzz from neglect. As the CEO, CFO, and ASS of the Corley Family, LLC., I had to act.
I made a compromise: he would wear pants and I wouldn't kill him.
Even a child knows the power, impact, and necessity of making a stand to correct the wrongs of the world. In his mind this note was a binding, legal document in full force and effect... and I had been served. Of course, this is the same kid that laps up salsa straight from the bowl like a puppy.

babysitting.

Whether it's a family member, friend, or complete stranger, the need to look after the safety and well being of an underdeveloped human being will be thrust upon you. Should you find yourself in this situation remember the cardinal rule of babysitting:

Don't KILL the child.

Sadly, the news reports are cluttered with stories of negligent caregivers whose actions meant doom for those in their care. If you plan ahead you can avoid many of the pitfalls that arise when babysitting.

For example, the word "NO" is the easiest and most effective way to avoid babysitting. In fact, the very same word can be used to avoid many different types of situations from giving people rides to staying out of time share programs.

Children are like gremlins. You mustn't get them wet, expose them to direct sunlight, and never feed them after midnight.

Adhering to this simple principle should make babysitting a breeze. Of course, if all else fails, there's plenty of day laborers who are ready, willing, and able. Good luck!