The End of Summer Out Here in Utah

In a previous post, I mentioned how much fun it is to have to talk about weather all the time at work. Well, it reached a new low pressure system the other day, when a Sales Guy called from some provider of some valuable service which is guaranteed to provide valuable value, boost ROI, improve logistical flow-through, and make my Mother proud. These Sales Guys really need to tone down their rhetoric by the way. Anyhoo, after identifying himself as Sales Guy from Illinois, he signs off the voice mail with, "Hope the weather out there in Utah is treating you well. Take care."

Those were his exact last words before hanging up; I was so impressed with them I backed up the message and wrote them down as I listened a second and third time. This Sales Guy, endlessly pressured for new accounts, wants money I don't have in the budget for his magical wonderservice, and he leaves me with a comforting wish that atmospheric phenomena are treating me, personally, with kindness. This is what he must want me to remember then, right? You start and end your sales pitch with things that last, everyone knows that. What better than a weather well wishing? But not just a generic "Hope you have a sunshiney day", no! Give it to them in a more personal way so they will relate to you!

One of the things I'm thankful for in my career is I haven't had to cold call, ever. I was technically a salesperson right out of college, but I was never selling a brand new thing to a brand new account. Actually, I never really sold an old thing to an old account, either (ha ha!). What I'm saying is, I'm lucky the previous marketing administration quit, because I'm not very good at sales.

I had a fun adventure last night. I went shopping with Zoey for a birthday gift for her friend from school. Zoey is 8. When I suggested we get the girl, who invited her over not only for the 6pm party but directly from school today so she doesn't have to go to daycare (awesome!), a birthday gift for her troubles, Zoey rattled off the list of things Emma is dying for: "makeup, like lip gloss and those little kid makeup sets, and she loves loves loves perfume, and she also wants new necklaces like the peace sign ones I have...". Huh, alright. I didn't even know who Emma was until yesterday, but you apparently know everything about her. Anyway, we went to the superstore for last minute gifts, Walmart, and I spent a good 10 minutes in a makeup aisle fending off adult-shade lip and cheek applications and encouraging she get "up to 3 or 4" of the $0.89 tubes of pink glittery stuff. We settled on some fake nails, and I let her get a set, too. Emma is going to be thrilled with the little flowers on the tips, ohmygosh!

We also got the kid a Hoops & Yoyo birthday card--have you seen these things? My family has begun making them a tradition, and they are often hilarious. These little recorded voices come out of the card giggling hysterically and subtly insulting the recipient. You have to listen to them 3 or 4 times to get everything, but it's worth it. The one I got on my birthday will be opened no less than 100 times over the next week, and by then I will want to strangle Hoops with his Yoyo. But they're funny.

Last weekend was my big sports/birthday trip, and it did not disappoint. Below are a couple photos. Everyone who matters knows about Michigan's big win by now, and looks forward to their HUGE crosstown rivalry game with the mighty, uh, Emus? of Eastern Michigan University. EMU is located in the hipster village of Ypsilanti, a town so famous due to its name, that when you ask locals where they're from they simply reply "Ann Arbor". Except my friend Charlie, he's really proud of "Ypsi"; perhaps because they use really clever puns in their advertising. You "auto" see it!

Happy end of summer. :( <-- Sad face.

My 31st Year: What Have I Done?

I stole that title from a previous post I wrote, and I like it because you can read it one of two ways (just in case you can't hear the inflection in my text):

"Hmm. What HAVE I done, anyway? Let's reflect..."; or,

"OH MY GOSH WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

I'm reflecting, frantically, because next Saturday is my birthday. The big 3-1. No longer just 30 which, let's be honest, simply meant "not in my 20s anymore"--a surprisingly harsh reality that was difficult to accept, and even difficulter to get up from after crouching for any more than four or five seconds. When did a physical act as simple as "the crouch" become something you must truly question whether to attempt or not? Do I have a nearby wall with which to brace myself? Will my trick knee decide to flare up, causing me to groan inappropriately loud as I rise? Do I have enough give in the seat of my pants? Years back, the crouch was an afterthought; a simple and necessary tool for several sporting positions, also known as a "stance". My favorite was the "three point stance" in basketball. This clever device allows one the leverage to either pass, dribble, or shoot the basketball. Ha ha! You'll never know silly defender! Only they knew with me. If I was in the three point stance, one of my two signature moves was imminent: the "sit back down on the bench", or the "ankle sprain". At least then I had the will and joint lubrication to spring right back up.

Also, I don't really have a "trick knee". I just like the sound of it. Maybe if I spent 20 years workin' on the railroad I could get away with that sort of embellishment. So, sorry about that, railroadmen. I didn't mean to demean your 2nd favorite ailment behind "spike-through-hand".

I'm celebrating my 31st birthday by doing what any responsibly maturing man would: flying across the country to watch sports. And I'm dragging my wife! We'll be popping into Detroit for a Tigers game on Friday with Brad and Andrea, staying there that night, then meeting my parents in Ann Arbor for Michigan and Notre Dame. A birthday treat worthy of former president Gerald Ford and The Pope! It's been almost 3 years since I visited the Big House, and despite all the program's efforts to become a horrible football team the past two years, I'm stoked to go back, and maybe more stoked to have my wife go with me. She'll finally understand just a smidgen more of my personality and my tendency for withdrawal on fall Saturdays. I don't know that she'll understand why the Michigan Wolverines are "Champions of the West", nor why we sing the words so heartily, but then again, nobody really does. We just do it because it's college football.

This time of year always feels new because school sessions are starting. But even as a workin' man, it makes me feel I should work a little harder and "think about my future". So, in a clear sign of advancement, I'm thinking about taking a class. At a college. I considered enrolling in High School Government class just to relive the fun, but they didn't like my voting record. Instead, I'm going to take a class called "Toolbox Basics". No no, it's not a lecture on how to become a tool. I'd be in a much more advanced class than "Basics" for such a topic. It's a class to help me learn how to write. I'm not sure what I want to write yet, but at the least I'm moving closer to my goal of wearing jeans or corduroy pants and a sweater every day, not shaving, developing neurotic quirks, and having everyone accept those things for the sake of art. Wish me luck! And...I have to say it...GO BLUE!

This was cooler than it reads

Something very strange happened today. With kids at their Grandma's and wife working late, I packed up my gym bag this morning for a post-work workout, making sure I set 'record' on the Tigers/Pale Sox game since I would likely miss several innings. Work was work-like, and not strange at all. Lunch was entirely normal. My drive to the gym? Smooth sailing, and had an excellent discussion (on the bluetooth - safety first) with Murray, who, with his doctorly knowledge and triathlete's body awareness, dropped some advice on how to control my recent hamstring aggravation. 

Lately, gym visits seem difficult to come by, so I've adopted a policy of staying a minimum of 1.5 hours, oftentimes 2, to make it worthwhile. Let's say I haven't been much of a workout freak in my life. Playing sporting games and jogging now and again? Yes. But working out for fitness' sake? Not so much. Until I turned 30. The impetus being fear of physically breaking down and losing my incredibly manly psychological edge over children. What in Insecurities' name am I rambling about?

So 1.5 hours seems plenty for me at the gym, and I make it work by cross-training. And by cross-training, I mean casually shooting basket hoops for a good hour, then doing 8 curls, then jogging for 10 minutes on some sort of futuristic moving floor apparatus, then hitting the hot tub and sauna for as much time as I can stand without shriveling up or becoming that creepy guy that is just ALWAYS in there.

Today, I started my workout like I often do, in the basketball courts. The gym I frequent is not your pick-up game type place. The court is used for local high school lacrosse practice more than basketball, but I relish the isolation at times. I still LOVE shooting. It's not because I think I'm going to become a rec-league All Star, it's because I love the rhythm and the sounds and the satisfaction of still being reasonably good at something athletic. And I don't just play H-O-R-S-E with myself, I do shooting drills. Really. I have to make 10 of 10 alternating right-then-left hand layups from under the basket (harder than you think, especially for those who played intramurals with me at GVSU and remember that 2 year period where I had layup mental block), then 8 of 10 free throws, then 6 of 10 3-pointers going back and forth from the corners of the arc to the top of the key. If I miss my goal in a given drill, I finish the 10, then start that drill over until I get them all. In between, it's just normal dribbling and shooting and imagining I actually get to take my warmups off this time- wait, that was high school. Super lame, right?

After totally sucking at free throws today, I finally hit my 80% mark, then decided it would be a good idea to test the hammies and see if a dunk was possible. Upon smashing the ball into the front of the rim, I realized another benefit of having, essentially, my own gym: lack of witnesses. This fact, however, would prove to be somewhat disappointing in a few minutes. That is, of course, because the strange event was about to happen.

Standing in the right corner, I watch the wall clock for the seconds to wind up to 0 again, knowing my 10 threes routine takes about 90 seconds. At 5:28 I loft my first shot: CLANK. Rebound, opposite corner, nail it. Retrieve ball, move back across but a bit further off the baseline, bury another. This continues until I hit my 6th trey, in 7 attempts. Nice, I'm at my goal with 3 shots to go. With minimal effort and my form locked in, I can 3 more in a row. 9 of 10 - as good as I've ever done! In my movements, I was cutting the lines a little shallow and never got to the very top of the key, straight away from the hoop. So I sauntered there and threw up another shot for good measure. Swish. 10 of 11. What the hell, I think, let's start over. Corner - boom. Opposite - boom. At 14 of 15 shots it hits me: I missed my first shot. That's 14 in a row. At this point I am starting to giggle a little bit as each shot falls. The meat heads doing lat pull downs outside the court door are probably thinking, "What's with Grinny McSkinny?" I continue my circuit and finish again at the left wing with #19 going down easy. At the top of the key I hoist again and it finally, belligerently, rattles out. 19 of 21 is sweet, but more freakishly, those 19 successfully scoring in order. 

83% of you (basically, everyone who didn't play IM hoops with me) are waiting for a point, a different tangent, a horrifying ankle sprain to spice things up. But that was it. I made 19 straight 3-pointers today, and have no witnesses to corroborate my story. I considered leaving the gym immediately and rushing to Energy Solutions Arena to apply for a job as Kyle Korver's understudy (clarification for non-Utahans: that dude can shoot and has dreamy good looks. What?), but decided instead to do strenuous actions with heavy things for a bit before calling it a workout.

I am a man, I'm 30, and I still think it's important to be good at some sort of sport. Even if 'good' means able to make shots I've practiced a jillion times, without defenders, in an empty gym. It's my world, and you're all just not witnesses.

What up

So TheStepDude.com is on hold. I have nary the time for this little blog/journal/column as it is, much less one with much deeper contrivances. I'm giving myself 10- no, 12 sentences to summarize the past month.

1. Our family vacation to greater San Diego with my parents was filled with memorable moments like swimming, sailing, Sea World, a wife's 30-ish birthday, boardwalking, pizza, bad college hoops, an uncle and aunt, 2 cousins, one traumatic kid injury, 3 nights of hacking coughs keeping me awake, fantastic downtown Del Mar restaurants, adjoining rooms with said parents (which we survived...and had fun!), Coronado Island, and a recommended Double Tree in Del Mar.

2. Zoey has recently transformed into a mega-diva thanks to an upcoming dance recital, the recital's costume, the recital's makeup, glitter and hair requirements, the rehearsals, the theme park locale of recital #1, and her natural self confidence.

3. A new fun thing we do is put this hair net, required by Zoey's dance troupe for the uncomfortably tight bun-style hairdo, on Disco Kitty's head while singing, "sloppy joe, slop-sloppy joe".

4. A certain someone who pursues athletic endeavors to combat aging has played two (co-ed lower-tier rec league) softball games, producing several hits and catches and throws and very few trick hamstring developments.

5. A certain Preston in my house has played three soccer games, resulting in many shouts to "run!" and "kick it" and "no really, run!" whilst congratulating him on his new coordinating accessories gear, which includes fancy shin guards and new cleats, which he'll grow out of by Thursday.

6. A certain wife of mine deftly stayed out of my way while I attempted to install the new, "easy self installation" bathroom flooring we purchased from the Home (Cash) Depot-sitory in order to avoid me taking out all my defeatist frustration on her.

7. The floor looks amateurish and less than perfectly square, but constitutes a huge improvement over the state of the floor immediately prior featuring remnant paper backing from the ripped out linoleum.

8. Was that "Home (Cash) Depot-sitory" line a reach?

9. I purchased the MLB subscription from Comcast for $199, justifying, "$25 per sports bar visit to catch out of market game times anything over 8 visits over a 162 game season equals 'it pays for itself!'"

10. If the Tigers don't have a successful season to redeem my dreadful home-team sports year, then I will be forced to pretend I love hockey.

11. Every time I saw the words "Double Tree" at the hotel, I immediately though of

12. I want to full-fist punch that bathroom right in the throat.

Christmas2Christmas Review

Many writers, bloggers, and entertainment news shows do a Year In Review, which I'm essentially doing now. But since I really need to start at last Christmas to get the big story in, I'm doing a year in review from NOW. This is no 2008 calendar review. And so I present my first annual Christmas2Christmas Review!

I'm calling it the Christmas2Christmas Review because I really wanted to use a title incorporating a number which acts as a word. See, the "2" acts as "to" and connects last Christmas to this Christmas in a really neat way. Additionally it gives me a little visual trick - I can use the 2 with no spaces around it. If I tried it with the word, it would look like ChristmastoChristmas, and then people would ask me if I'm celebrating the new Greek holiday "Christmasto" (kris-MAS-toh) and that would be uncomfortable. My other title ideas were "52 Week Pickup", which is a takeoff on an hilarious card game my parents used to trick us with when we were kids; "My 30th Year: What Have I Done?", which has a more reflective quality and a cute double meaning; and my last choice was "Read My Last 33 Posts", which is just rude.

LAST CHRISTMAS I GAVE YOU MY HEART...
Let's start there. It's been one year since I proposed (SBBEYAS nominee), and in that time you could say...I've been busy. I maintained the engagement, got married, and now have two wonderful children, 9 and 7. It took some real parenting to raise rapidly aging kids in just one year, but we did fine and they seem to have a well adjusted life. After the new year, we're shopping for colleges!

Weddings were a theme of the past year, and they helped me rack up the frequent flier miles: Matt Murray's wedding in Northampton, MA in March; Josh Pepper's wedding in June back home in G.R., which ended with a lost wallet (SBBEYAS nominee); my cousin Beth Ann's wedding in G.R. a few weeks later over the 4th of July weekend, which gave Annie and me our only cottage trip of the year; and finally, our wedding in Chicago. Of the 4 weddings, mine was the best because I got to go on the Honeymoon.

We visited Chicago multiple times this year, including an early wedding planning session in January where we tried to get some amateur engagement photos. Problem was, it was -93 degrees (with the windchill) that weekend and smiling for pictures meant your face would freeze that way. But we picked our reception site and surveyed a couple other locations. We also hit Chicago in May, in August for our wedding, and at the end of October for a mini-vacation with Annie, after I finished nearly 3 straight weeks of travel for work, which included a stop in Chicago.

I turned 30 this year (5 months and 5 days after my wife did). In related stories, my company went bankrupt and emerged, and our house started falling apart. Seriously, as I'm writing this, I'm waiting for the plumber to come to fix our 2nd faulty shower of the year. The past two nights I spent time Gorilla Gluing pieces of our stone tile countertop back together, which involved moving the dishwasher out - not something I do every day. Last week I spider-bombed our basement, and in order to safely fill your basement with toxic fog blasters, you have to turn off things called "pilots". Apparently, both our water heater and furnace have them. Luckily I read that instruction before I did the fog thingy, so our house didn't explode. I have to admit though, that whole process caused me incredible anxiety. First, I had to deal with the fear that I would improperly stop/start the gas pilot functions. They put very strong wording on those labels that say "IF YOU SMELL ANY GAS WHATSOEVER IMMEDIATELY LEAVE THE PREMISES AND DO NOT LIGHT A MATCH LIKE YOU DO WHEN YOU SMELL GAS IN YOUR BATHROOM". Secondly, my brain envisioned legions of spiders sensing their impending doom and scrambling from all corners and cracks in the basement to jump on my head and neck as I ran upstairs to let the killer fog do its work. Blessedly, I saw not a single arachnid and haven't since. In summary, turning 30 for me meant a lot more housework, and our house is certainly obliging. My body actually feels fine, and I'm in decent shape after spending more time in the gym the past 2 months than I had in the past year. That's not a cry for help, right? "Hey, after 29 years without a single shred of desire to lift heavy metal bars, I think I'll start lifting heavy metal bars and grunting more!"

ARE YOU GOING TO TALK ABOUT SPORTS?
Well, duh. The best moment was clearly Lloyd Carr's final game with Michigan. A high scoring battle with Florida, a bowl win, lots of winged helmets in the air - a great way to start 2008! Little did we know it would be the only positive Michigan football story of the entire year, and maybe the next few. I made my first attempt at a Super Bowl ad review on my blog in February, revealing the fact that since I never have a team to care about in the Super Bowl, I'm now in that group of people that finds the commercials more interesting than the game. The Pistons won a whole bunch of games again, and ran out of gas in the playoffs again. They seem to be poised to repeat the feat this season, even with the addition of Allen "Practice?" Iverson, who is the reason Detroit traded my favorite dude of this era, Chauncey Billups. I'm further ticked because I have a t-shirt with Chauncey's name/# on it, and I don't want to have to buy new team gear for those days when I really, really need to show how much I love my home teams by wearing shirts. What if we showed our loyalty to, say, hair care products in the same way? "Dude, nice Suave shirt. You jumping off the Dep bandwagon?"

Let's see, what else? The Tigers added a bunch of dudes you've sort of heard of, then did much, much worse. I'm pretty sure the Wings won the Stanley "Stan" Cup but I maybe watched 2 periods of hockey all year, and they were the last 2 periods of the Cup-clinching game. Some fan! If you're in Michigan, the cold and prevalence of ponds just sort of makes you watch more hockey. Here in Utah, hockey takes a major backseat to skiing, the Jazz, and producing children. And back around to Michigan Football which, as we all know, lost to their 3 major rivals (Utah, Toledo, Northwestern) during their worst season EVER. But hey, the basketball team is back, baby! We owe West Virginia half a thank you.

STIZL, WE REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT WORDS AND PHRASES YOU WISH WOULD DIE, SINCE NO OTHER PEOPLE THINK TO WRITE ABOUT THAT
Actually, a surprising few columns were available on this subject. Lake Superior Sate University apparently has this topic locked up. Really? We can't do better than that? Harvard, Yale, and Davenport were too busy to put one of these together? [Note: When I researched this, LSSU had their 2008 word list - today, it shows the 2007 version...not sure why. Check back maybe.] Anyway, a few phrases have been bugging the crap out of me, so now I will talk about them, proliferating their existence on the interweb for eternity:

1. "We overcame a lot of adversity" Alternate misuse: "We've had lots of adversity" (generally in sports): Athletes and media love to talk about the momentous hurdles facing teams and individuals in sport, like "the opponent also likes to win" and "sometimes you get owies". I heard a QB from a football-factory powerhouse, who was 11-1 at the time, talk about the "great adversities" they "overcame" to "get to where they were at". Aside from the poor grammar, what great adversity did you face? Losing one game? Injury? Those things affect every single team/individual in all sports in all corners of the earth for all time. Those things are normal, not unusually challenging or contrary or even unlucky!

2. "From Wall Street to Main Street" (politics/media): Uh, yeah - let's go ahead and group all companies, all people, all communities into two convenient groups (which happen to make a clever, poetic phrase). On one hand, "Wall Street" - an actual place, but the idea of which has become completely un-relatable and, frankly, disreputable to most Americans; and on the other hand, "Main Street" - a quaint reference to small town, middle-American communities which is myopic if not condescending. Thanks for this one, Economy!

And the best one of the bunch from LSSU's 2008 list:
3. "It is what it is": This vague phrase is often used when someone totally under qualified is asked to comment on a very specific issue. I'd explain it further but it's just, well, it is...

STIZL'S BLOG BLOG ENTRY OF THE YEAR AS AWARDED BY STIZL
Thanks to all those who commented on their favorite posts, lines, or topics this year. I received over 3 suggestions for the SBBEYAS, a new record! Several posts discussed pants, and those seemed popular. But the runaway winner, and the reason to start this review at Christmas, is...

Ring A Ling.

(wild applause, awwwws from the ladies, groans from the guys...)

WHAT HAVE I LEARNED?
Don't invite Sue to a surprise party.

Also, you absolutely do NOT have to enter microwave times in :05 increments! I don't know why this unwritten law seems to control our actions, but it does. And you don't even have to use only :15 or :30 multiples either. What, like if your oatmeal is set for 1:30 it will be perfect, but 1:26 it's lukewarm soup, and at 1:48 it's burning oat-paste? And think about this: Every time you enter, say, ":30" on the microwave, you waste a ton of energy by moving your finger from the 3 at the top to the 0 at the bottom. Next time, just try hitting ":33". If you're not big into saving fractions of seconds on finger motions, then just do random #s that are near enough to your target time - :47 to reheat your coffee, maybe. It's fun - trust me, you'll feel like you're doing something naughty. And we all know, in today's depressing economy, we need to find elements of fun in the little things, like microwaving or putting on seatbelts (SBBEYAS nominee).

Speaking of the depressing economy, hope you had a Merry Christmas!

Big Tuesday Part II

As I sped south down I-15, the valley was growing ever darker and foggier - I couldn't tell if it was a mixture of dust and gray clouds, or actual rain. You can always see weather systems coming and going in this valley, but it was hard to figure this one out. Turns out the wind was the only real concern. The games prior to mine were still being played in what appeared to be a desert sand tornado. The burly outfielders in the "Men's League" were shielding their eyes and turning their backs to the action, just to survive. I kept looking back into the wind to see if there were any church steeples or renegade snowboards hurtling toward me (the Utah version of the movie Twister), but fortunately I was safe. I thought there was no way we'd even get to our game. But I waited it out, and right around 8:00 PM, the winds calmed down, no rain came, and we took the field.

Even now, my throbbing left shoulder and scabby left knee remind me of how I wish the rains would have come, the winds would have persisted, a snowboard missile would have threatened my well-being.

I'm like a lot of dudes in that I think I'm awesome at sports. All of them. Forget actual experience or skill or ability. I've never before played cricket, but if you put me on a field I imagine I'd be a tremendous wicket-keeper or silly mid-on. Since I ran track in Jr. High & High School, I didn't play baseball beyond little league. But in recent years, I've really come to enjoy recreational softball. Co-ed leagues are relaxed and fun, and normally I feel like a 'good' player simply because I'm a reasonably able athlete who is not afraid of getting struck by the ball. I wear a "MTA Pro" ball glove that I found at a park, probably in 5th or 6th grade. It still fits my hand and hasn't fallen apart yet so I don't worry about a new one. I don myself in cleats and batting gloves, as they make me feel cool. The combination of theater and competition in organized sports leads me to exert more effort than my talent or body is willing to support. In softball reality, I'm a terrible hitter, but a pretty good left-fielder (this week). But more than anything, I play really hard. In co-ed softball, for nothing.

My first at bat on Tuesday, I tapped a grounder down the 3rd base line, and sprinted toward first like my hair was on fire. This is normal for me. Since I can barely hit it out of the infield, my best chance at getting on base is to scare the crap out of the girl/guy at first so she/he drops it. This time it was a she. I either beat the throw or she dropped it, can't quite remember, but I made the boneheaded error of turning in toward the infield after I heard "Safe!", which I immediately realized made me a live base runner. I looked, and the girl had the ball, not quite sure what to do. I knew I couldn't return to 1st so I feigned a jog, stopped, looked to see if she would throw or chase, took two small steps, then broke into a full-on bull rush toward second. I gave the 2nd basewoman a crazy-person glare and slid - hard - coming to rest with my left hip on the bag. Safe! I tried to pop up, but my left shoulder wouldn't cooperate. When I slid, left hand down, my weight dropping back must have torqued my arm back and up. I could immediately tell I had aggravated an injury I got about 3 years ago...playing softball. And sliding always has another consequence for me - leg damage. I just can't do it right. I even wear pants in order to avoid major dirt-filled gouges, but sure enough, I could feel my knee had taken a pretty good beating. A couple batters later I scored, and I played the entire game in left, making a number of solid catches and no errors. This pleased me, but by the time I woke up Wednesday morning, I realized why most professional athletes peak around ages 26-30. I'm 29. I'm nearing the end.

The leg damage has been much worse in the past, and actually reminds me of a funny story. In my first year of co-ed, with my old church in Kentwood, MI, I slid into 2nd in shorts - again after getting caught in a base running predicament - leaving my skin behind from mid-shin to knee. I consulted with my mother, a trained nurse and, well, my mom, who recommended soaking the leg in epsom salts to help it heal faster. At the time I was living in this groovy tri-level that I rented with 3 buddies (Houseman!) which had a tub in the upper bathroom. The tub butted up against a dividing wall about 3' high, the toilet on the other side. The tub was never used, and thus had no curtain or door. Wearing a swimsuit, I soaked and soaked, and sloughed off dead skin and dirt and somehow didn't pass out. Standing at the divider end of the tub, with bandage and washcloth in each hand and my left leg propped on the edge, I began dressing my wound. Predictably, my foot slipped off the edge and with no hands free to brace myself, my forehead stopped my forward momentum on the countertop of the divider. So I'm standing there, soaking wet, leg like raw meat, forehead split and bleeding. I looked at myself in the mirror and found comfort in the fact that I had both bandages and a washcloth in my hands, and now had something to take my mind off my searing leg pain.

Anyway, I'm not really that clumsy or injury prone - except for when I fall going UP stairs (Murray will laugh at that one) - but I probably need to slow down at times.

I was going to write a Big Tuesday Part III, which was going to be about the Pistons game I watched on DVR. But they lost - and now they've won Game 2 which was awesome. So that's all I have to say about that.

Big Tuesday Part I

It was Tuesday. A big day. A big night, really. After sending off the boss at work, it was soccer game for the kid, softball game for me, Pistons-Celtics game on DVR. New wrinkle for soccer: Coach out for the game, Annie volunteered in. Annie technically in, Steve actually in. Annie brought snacks, and really good ones. Preston's 1st-2nd grade league allows 6 players on the field at a time including the goalie. Normally, 7 or 8 kids show up for each game. Tuesday night, however, was a big night. An eleven kid night. Eleven kids for 6 positions. Eleven kids who want to play the three "forward" positions. For those disinclined to the beautiful game, forwards get to kick it toward the goal more than the rest.

We were there first. Preston. Then Kaitlyn. Cade and Rhett arrived together. "Hi guys, Preston's mom is the coach tonight, she's over there. I'm Steve."

"I wanna play forward! I always play forward!"

William and Colin arrive - that's six! We got a team, baby! Let's start Preston in goal, and then we'll - wait, here come two more girls. You're Julia? I'm Steve. Preston's mom is the coach tonight. And you're Kendall? Are you even on this team? You play forward?

"Can I start at forward?"

So Preston in goal, Kaitlyn and Julia and William up front, Rhett and Cade can start on defense. I know, Kaitlyn. Wait, there's another Kaitlyn? Oh, hey. Preston's mom is coaching tonight. You wanna play - yeah, I'll get you in there later. Hey, where's that really good kid, the one that scores all the goals? Oh - Clayton, there he is, he's their best forward. Sheesh - that's ten kids, we're going to have to sub a lot, keep these parents happy. Who's that red head? Is he on the team, too? His name is Colton - are you serious? I'm going to put him on defense.

"I play forward the whole 4th quarter, and don't take me out."

Cute freckles kid. Let me get this straight: Cade, Colin, Colton, Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn, Kendall, Clayton? Needless to say, Preston, Rhett, William and Julia are starting, with Cade and Kaitlyn.

The rest of you - wait until I call out a name, like "Cloytlin", and then just run in there for someone.

Well, the game went great - Preston was strong in goal and got a good 2 minute stint in the forward rotation. I stopped the game at least 5 times to shift kids around and move 2 of the 5 forwards to defense for one possession. Cloytlin scored like 8 goals and we rolled. First coaching experience, Great Success! Oh, and Annie played her part - the kids loved the oranges and Creamies. If you're from Michigan, "Creamies" might not ring a bell. For a minute I thought they were eating Coffee-mate on a stick or something. Turns out they're just what we midwesterners call fudgesicles or ice cream pops.

On the way to the softball field, a storm was a-brewin...

Being all growed up

Life is swarming all around right now. It hasn't stung me directly, but it's constantly shifting shapes and actually seems to be taking little stabs at family and friends in a lot of ways. At the same time, I'm finding lots of opportunities for change and new challenges amid the chaos.

First the fun. Let's see, I joined a softball team with some co-workers. We lost both games I played in, while they won the first game I missed. So I'm obviously having a huge impact. It's a co-ed team, and my friend Kimberly is playing with us since Annie finds softball about as interesting as she finds, well, sport. The first grounder I got at shortstop was hit by a dude, and kid was getting up the line quick. I thought I had a chance so I whizzed one over to first - to Kimberly - but the throw was low and somehow eluded her glove. It did manage to find her tibia, however, and made a thud the left fielder could hear. Kimberly bravely shook it off, but I saw her a couple days later and the bruise was pretty much from foot to knee. Glad she's my fiance's bff, because otherwise I'd probably have to pay her medical bills or something. I followed that up with 2 more fielding errors, while making maybe 2 putouts. In a related story, I played left field in the next game.

Preston is in soccer this summer, and the improvement from last fall is amazing. He's scored two goals already - in the two games I missed - and is quite the goalie as well. Zoey decided to call it a career, since last fall her involvement in soccer was a mix of chasing a boy named Noah and asking out of the game so she could snuggle with Mom on the sideline. At least she knew to walk away while she was at the top of her game.

At work, on the same day I found out my marketing coordinator was not returning from maternity leave, I found out my boss was leaving. She is a super dynamic businesswoman, a great leader, and I learned a lot from her. She's taking a job with a company that sells skincare products - a brand Annie happens to love, too, so she's on the list for free samples already. The question most people have is "do you get her job?", to which I respond "they wouldn't offer it to me, and who needs that kind of pain anyway?" It will leave a gap for a while, but I'm excited to work directly under our President, who has major marketing savvy developed under some big name brands.

Annie has an exciting potential opportunity that would involve us moving across the country if they offer her the job (they will) and if we accept (we'll see). My initial reaction to a change like that was my standard hemming and hawing and general skepticism. But the more we talk about it in realistic terms, the more used to the idea I become. I mean, I did pick up and move across the country once, it should be that much easier if we do it as a family, right? Yikes. Speaking of family, I'll be excited to finally see them in about a month when I head back to G.R. for Jr. P's wedding. I miss my nephews! I heard them on the phone a few days ago, and they sound like they're growing so fast. I think the oldest has a beard now.

As a new (almost) stepdad to school age kids, I have a bond with them that grows and grows, but obviously lacks the depth that must come from your own blood and the experiences of having a newborn. A number of friends and my sister have at least given me a vicarious glimpse of that bond. It saddens me then that I've received news in the past month from no less than 4 friends or family involving struggles with newborns. From miscarriage to genetic disorder to infant trauma and pregnancy risk - it's just a flood of reality checks for one who still imagines having his own children someday. My own family had unique experiences with my autistic sister and some of her complications as a newborn. It's amazing how frequently families face these types of situations. Does anything have a greater risk/reward dichotomy than pending childbirth? The comfort is found in witnessing these families rally around each other, as they face their challenges with love and selflessness. I need reminders at times that life is not only delicate, but precious - something to be enjoyed as much as possible while we are lucky enough to breathe.

Sorry for the dramatic tone! I do funny better than reflective, but it's what's on my mind. Quickly, then, I switch to sports: Go Pistons! Those of us who have followed the NBA for the past 20+ years think Detroit-Boston playoffs and drool. The chowder eaters have an abundance of championships lately between the Pats and Sawx (plus I heard they got a no hitter tonight - from a dude who beat cancer, no less!). Motown has a lot of almosts and inflated expectations lately (not to mention a thug-mayor scandal), but no "'Ships", as 'Sheed would say. If the Pistons and Wings both make their leagues' finals, I may have to fly to Michigan just to sit in a BW's on one of those nights they both play and get my fanhood on. Where have those days gone, boys? Oh well, at least I have a little thing called "DVR". Soccer game? Softball? Neighborhood kid scooter drama? No problem. Just don't text me and spoil the ending, Parents. That's right - my folks are texting like pros, LOL.

Super Bowl XLII ad review

Well, the Pats disappointed, but not nearly as bad as the ad world. Does Hollywood's writers' strike somehow affect Madison Avenue? Seriously, I've seen better overall creativity in those local ads on cable - you know, the family tire store ad where the barely literate daughter of the owner is reading a line about quality and service, and then gives a toothy grin and thumbs up? We've all seen it.

If you want a truly professional ad review, read Bob Garfield's on Adage.com - he's the best. It's raw, opinionated, and fairly jaded by his years in the business. I'll put the link below (and link to the ads themselves), but first, try and stomach my amateurish thoughts.

Let's start with the perennial overblown contributor: Bud Light. While not particularly original, the fire breather was funny, and the neanderthal-tire spot was okay too. I don't understand why they drop in the 2-second final scene after the logo/tagline - the scene is generally worse than the main ad and leaves me with a bitter beer taste. Best laugh: Will Ferrell as Jackie Moon. How long will his modified Ron Burgundy voice and personality keep us laughing? It still works for me.

Nice to see that CocaCola can still make warm fuzzy ads. Who'd-a-thunk Charlie Brown would star in this year's ads? I enjoyed trying to verbalize Stewie the balloon's thoughts as he fought for the Coke with Underdog; "Blast it all, you mangy mutt!" The political-pundit ad was lost on me, but why do I find two guys on Segways so amusing? (Aside): Yesterday, at SLC airport, we saw two cops rolling around on Segways near the baggage claim. Their machines had custom side-mounted storage bins and "POLICE" stickers all over them. Ooh - menacing. My guess is they filed a boredom complaint (it's the SLC airport) and were given the scooting podiums for amusement. Bonus! It's the citizens who are most amused! I compare this phenomenon to the fat twins on mopeds from the Guinness Book. Remember?

Dell, which has done some memorable ads, had a major flop. It was embarrassing actually - they're partnered with the (PRODUCT)RED campaign which supports the fight against AIDS in Africa, and the best they can do is a guy being worshipped for carrying his Dell laptop around town? Huh? Also, the Bridgestone ads with people/animals/Richard Simmons getting in the way were idiotic.

The ad that created the most visceral response for me was the Godfather-inspired Audi R8 ad. The cut from the front-end-in-the-bed scene to the firing engine and futuristic headlights of the new R8 was exhilarating. That car looks awesome. Bonus props for using the phrase "put on notice".

Enough with GoDaddy's sex sells pitches. Yes they're direct, but we get it already. I'm disappointed that Danica Patrick goes along with this stuff - I thought she'd stick closer to her sport. Instead, she's going the way of Kournikova.

Best line: Cars.com's "Plan B" spot with the stone circle death match: "You should definitely step outside the circle..."

Babies are cute, we know. Somehow, E*Trade still got it right with their baby videos. It makes the point well (ease of use), makes us laugh, and capitalizes on the recent trend of YouTube baby clips being emailed around by your aunt. Also, acknowledging clown creepiness never hurts.

The FedEx carrier pigeons were a good sight gag and that's about it. "Here's a great new (absurd) idea! No? Okay maybe not." Sort of the same concept as the Bud Light fire breather / flying ads. Bob Garfield calls it "the 'what if/never mind' comedy genre", which sums it up best.

Memo to Doritos: At $2.7 Million per :30 spot, you might want to re-think putting half your spend on a girl with a guitar named Kina Grannis. Good luck measuring that ROI. I'm sure she'll really stand out from the other refreshing, folksy, granola-eating ladies cramming that genre. And notice what they eat: granola, not Doritos chips.

On to the other beverage behemoth, Pepsi. I hate admitting it, but the Justin Timberlake spot was one of the better all-around ads of the show, complete with a clever gimmick, interactive website, call to action for free MP3s, and an Andy Samberg cameo to boot. "Multimedeoric" if you will. I should coin that term, whatever that means. Diet Pepsi Max must be doing some effective advertising in general, because I knew that would be the product featured in the head nodding/bobbing ad before we actually saw it. In this case, however, the "celebrity" appearances - Chris Kattan the only exception - were cheap and unnecessary.

One of, if not the best ad was the "Silence the Stain" spot from Tide. The sheer annoyance you felt watching and listening means it was effective. Watch it again, and tell me the stain's blabbering is not reminiscent of Steve Carell's anchorman character toward the end of this Bruce Almighty clip.

All of the vitamin/life/flavored water ads are generally weird. Once you accept that, you can enjoy the Thriller-dance lizards for SoBe Life Water. Come on, we all wish we could do that entire dance in our living rooms, and although we often try, we can never get the shimmy-shimmy / feet together / clap overhead part right. I'm talking about other people, not me. But this ad begs one question: Does Naomi Campbell really matter anymore? Really? Nao- forget it.

And finally (we hope), the culmination (we hope) of the Charles Barkley + Dwyane Wade "Fave 5" ads gave me some chuckles. Two points: He really spells it "Dwyane", that is not a misprint. And "Chuckles" is a nickname often used for Charles Barkley, so... The best moment of the ad was seeing Chuckles in front of the double-wide refrigerator. For those hip to the sports scene, Mr. Barkley is generally regarded as not slim. And Mr. Wade should keep his day job, which is flopping all over the ground drawing cheap whistles, while scoring lots of meaningless points for the worst team in the NBA.

The rest of the ads were either too idiotic to mention (SalesGenie.com), or I did not see them (___). For a professional and well researched take on the ads, see Bob Garfield's column here. If you missed any or all of the ads, be thankful, but feel free to watch them here.

So my woman took me to the doctor...

The Michigan - Ohio State game literally made me sick. I happened to be in Foster City, CA with my lovely pals Bradfo and Megs on Saturday, watched the "game", and immediately felt a prickly flu-like pain, fever, and a bit of a sore throat. No biggie right? With just a few hours left with my friends, I stuck it out for a late lunch before driving down to San Jose for the flight home. Sitting in the SJC, I chugged Odwalla (from Half Moon Bay!) and prayed I wouldn't pass out. My head was in a sickly cloud and my body was screaming at me to sleep. I finally made it home to SLC around 10:45 PM MST (via LAS), took some ibuprofin, and passed out. Woke up around 3 AM, t-shirt soaked with sweat and throat swollen and sore.

Thankfully, my attentive and concerned (sick of me whining) girlfriend practically forced me to an urgent care center by Sunday afternoon, where the doctor took all of 3 nanoseconds to declare, "You have strep - who gave it to ya?"

Deftly, I replied, "I don't know, evil throat gnomes from Columbus, OH?" I did not say that, exactly. More like, "Oun no." (I don't know.)

Anyhoo, I'm finally recovered-ish. Only missed 1 day of work due to continued pain, night sweats, and potential contagiousness. The night sweats thing is weird. Sort of an adult bed-wetting, if you think about it. Oh - Brad & Megs - if you get a sore throat, sorry, and go to the doc.

I'm just at lunch right now, trying to work the last day before Thanksgiving. I have some amazing rants brewing about the stupidity of people and my distaste for retail environments, and a great slide show/recap of our Hawaii trip that's long overdue, so I hope to be back soon.

Quickly: My Dad sent me a text message that I thought was amusing enough to share. I don't know if he heard this somewhere, or is just a master of wordplay. Some of you will get this, some won't. Don't worry about it. Upon leaving the UM-OSU game:
"Worst game ever... Need New Carr, Les Miles"

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Musings from the ORD

Oh wow - I'm in a hotel room again, big shock. This time a plush Comfort Inn within range of approaching 747s just outside of O'Hare airport, or ORD as we travellers like to say. Annie and I take unusual pride in our knowledge of 3-letter airport codes and use them frequently to refer to cities, even when the airport has no bearing. LIH baby! It's like text message codes for grownups, LOL.

Work doesn't provide me a laptop yet, so I decided to take Annie's home laptop for this trip to get some work done, and it was the best decision ever. Not only can I get work done, but I can download recent episodes of Rescue Me, write this, and watch Monday Night Football all from the relative Comfort of my Inn. I'm always late to embrace the convenience of certain technologies, but I always really appreciate them once I do.

It seems like I write about sports in just about every blog...well, it ain't changing here. The kids are on a parks & rec soccer team, and I've been able to see several of their games. They're in that 6-8 age group so they either follow the ball around in a confusing mob, or stand in one place because someone told them to play a 'position'. It's fun. I can't sit still during these games. I want to coach them up with my limited knowledge of soccer (2 yrs in H.S., woo-hoo!) but they're not ready for skill-specific coaching yet. I want to encourage them to 'compete' and 'win', but they don't really care yet. And I want to yell at the team parent-coach sometimes because the assigned parent-coach doesn't do any coaching. Parent-coach's strength is in choosing who brings snacks each game. I don't have much of a point to this paragraph yet, so... I should probably coach one of the kids' sports someday.

I miss home and especially my core group of guy friends a lot lately. Fall is the best in Michigan, and I always looked forward to busting out the hoodies and jeans and sweaters, going to tailgates at GVSU and watching the Wolverines every Saturday. I can do most of that stuff here (hoodies are outlawed), but not with the same friends. Fall is the time where we always find more excuses to get together with friends, I think because from childhood through college we're accustomed to a new school year starting and it feels like a sort of reunion. I haven't gone to school in 6 years, but I still get that feeling. Anyway, friends: A shout-out to you, and you know who you are. My inner circle of testosterone-laden, bad joke making, mini-muffin tossing, horrible poker playing buds. The Dudes. You're all fatter, balder, and uglier than last time I saw you, but I still love ya just the same.

I finished reading High Fidelity, and I'll give it 2.5 out of 4. I never could separate the characters from their Hollywood film counterparts. Imagine a quasi-British John Cusack, drifting in and out of accent with sometimes moppy black hair and other times spiky blonde hair and ruddy complexion. It doesn't quite work. I'm reading non-fiction again, Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer. Where religion goes wrong, and how! It's actually not funny, and rather disturbing. Speaking of, I was reminded of the power of religious emotion and selfish extremism when my company was accused of "banning" Christmas by a powerful political action group. Not caring that their claim was false, many of my colleagues and I received hateful emails and voice mails from people around the country claiming to be Christians and patriotic Americans. I don't want to tell the story here, but call or email me and I'll fill you in and send some entertaining links. I also received some understanding and thoughtful emails from others whom I personally know to be Christians - we're not all nutty, arrogant judgers - whew! Either way, it reminded me that as humans, we all fail miserably and frequently, but I have a lot of respect for people who maintain religious faith and do so with class and perception and grace.

How did I get on that topic? Anyway, I'm tired and this laptop is burning my legs through my dungarees. Good night now!

Dad - we can talk now

It's been 5 days since the Michigan loss to Apple State, and I'm finally over it. I literally haven't spoken to my Dad since about the time Michigan scored to take the lead late in that game on Saturday. Dad - we can talk now.

Some truths: 1. Michigan Football matters - otherwise this would just be another college upset in a game where upsets happen weekly - not the BIGGEST UPSET EVER, as some "journalists" are claiming. 2. Michigan's defense is really bad. I started naming off their top playmakers from last year - they're all gone. This is not a surprise, but we like to pretend a flashy offense will always carry the day. 3. Chad Henne is only as good as his line and receivers - who were not very good. He is not a "get on my back I'll take us to the promised land" type of QB. 4. Mike Hart is a freak - he almost brought them back double-leggedly (get it?).

On Sunday, I forced myself to wear a Michigan t-shirt, to somehow prove I'm not a fair-weather fan. Granted, out here in Utah it's easier to avoid ridicule because not that many people care. Here, a big college football matchup is BYU-Wyoming. So...

Michigan dropped from #5 in the polls to OUT of the polls. Who does this reflect more on: A) The team; or B) The idiot, reactionary pollsters who ranked them too high in the first place, then dropped them out to try and somehow prove a point? (B).

Reflecting on all of this, I'm glad to be a Michigan fan because they matter, and they're generally better than average. They don't have losing seasons (Sparty) and they don't have barbarians for fans (Bucknuts). Although, that losing season part may be in Jeopardy!

"Obvious Sports Takes for $500, Alex."
"Michigan may risk a losing season if they don't patch up their THIS..."
"What is their slow-to-react defense against spread offenses, which is the same thing they've struggled with for, oh, 8 years or so?"
"That is correct."

Update

Fiddler's Elbow: great place to watch football.

Michigan's football team: embarrassed by a j.v. squad. This one takes the wind out of the entire season's sails.

The Prediction

Michigan 49 Appalachian State 17

Thanks to my lack of DirecTV, I'm off to an establishment called "The Fiddler's Elbow" to watch the game. Mountain Time Zone + Utah bars open at 11am = not good for college football watching. Alas...

Crap Crap Crap

Say what you will about cable service, but at least you don't need to install a dish. And apparently, our house is not conducive to DirecTV satellite installation, HD-specific wiring, nor GIVING ME THE NETWORK I SIGNED UP FOR AND PURCHASED AN HDTV FOR!!!

Ahem. Anyway, after I ask the neighbor if she doesn't mind 10 3" lag bolts being drilled into her roof, 4 cables running the length of our 2-unit building (townhomes) and then make sure all this is approved by the HOA, I might be able to get it installed next week... when the opening weekend of college football is long gone. So tell me why they don't ask you these questions before you spend 45 minutes signing up for your package?

Good thing I took half a day off work today for this.

For the love of programming!

Whew! I just ordered a DirecTV package. Has some good sports programming (FSN Detroit & Big Ten Network), HD channels, and movies. It was really stressful ordering the right package and hardware - I'm not really an electronics guy.

Now, just need to get an HD TV by Friday...

Update: USA vs. Japan

The mighty Chestnut has set the stage by topping Kobayashi in the Nathan's hot dog eating contest, with a world record at that! http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=2925803

If Jimmy can do it, Jeremy can too! Vote for Bonderman! Uncle Sam wants YOU... to vote.

http://www.mlb.com/mlb/events/all_star/y2007/fv/ballot.html

Be patriotic... Vote for Bonderman!

http://www.mlb.com/mlb/events/all_star/y2007/fv/ballot.html

Hideki Okajima is leading the vote. He's from Japan. Jeremy Bonderman is a Detroit pitcher, and he's from the United States of America. It's our DUTY on this holiday to get Bondo into the All-Star Game! Vote over and over!

USA!

Whew.

I'm whipped. Back to working full time +, had my first Mrs Fields, um, field trip last week in Chicago, and just spent the evening taking Z & P swimming, getting them fed, doing laundry, helping them pack for their weekend with Grandma at the cabin, getting them to bed, paying bills, and providing some smalltime business consulting for a friend. It's 10:00 and finally peaceful. Annie and I have a nice reprieve this weekend - Sat and Sun are her first consecutive days off since about April - and we're going to enjoy some Utah outdoors, although I haven't revealed our secret destination yet.

Michigan sports fans: How weird is it that the Tigers are so good still? Chris Berman on Baseball Tonight yesterday said something like "...and the Tigers, who are always so fun to watch with their great young pitching..." Step back in time with me, just 15 months ago, and imagine any respectable analyst saying that sentence. You'd either assume he was being a sarcastic jerk, or you'd recommend his transfer to ESPN7.

One thing I love about my first spring/summer in Utah is this:






I'm trying to think of some witty and wise anecdotes to share but it's not going to happen. I remember when a 'bed time' of 10:30 was laughable. Now it's a necessity. I'm nearly 29, after all.

Amazing Moments

Nothing too topical here. Just some random thoughts from the past week.

I can't believe how quickly a 5 year old can make a mess. Of anything. At light-speed. Seriously, I can be looking right at her while she's eating some lunch, say a bowl of noodles. I look away for a nanosecond, and when I look back, there is Ramen on the chair, floor, and pink sticky stuff all over the counter. She's not even drinking anything! Where does the pink stuff come from? And why is it always pink?

Kids don't really care what they do yet. They just want to do what the other kid is doing. We had the kids' cousins over to Annie's (yes, I used her name, I'm so over the paranoia) house Saturday night, 2 boys. Ages 2 and 5 maybe. And 2 neighbor friends, maybe 6 and 8 or so. So 6 little monkeys of varying age. From the 2 yr old to the 8 yr old, it didn't matter. Someone grabs a piece of paper and a marker and starts drawing? They all want to draw. They're all drawing stuff within minutes. Someone wants to watch Flushed Away? They all want to watch. Within minutes, they're gazing in awe at the animated British rats. (This lasts for, oh, 18 seconds. Then they're back to drawing and spilling pink stuff, even the boys.)

Did you see Rasheed Wallace's 3/4-court shot last night? I didn't either. Until hours later on SportsCenter. The cable network "Altitude", presumably out of Denver, showed clearly on the cable menu "Denver Nuggets at Detroit Pistons, 5:30 PM (that's Mountain Time, yo)" - Hooray! Steve finally gets to see a game! Only what was being shown instead? COLLEGE HOCKEY. And get this little nugget of irony: It was coverage of the regional tournament games being played at Van Andel Arena... that's in Grand Rapids, MI for those who don't know. Which is near sea level. So why is it on Altitude anyway, hmmmmmm?

I'm working again. For Grabber, the same company, as a part-time "consultant". I used those "quotation" "marks" because I don't really consult, I just read emails and review files and look for spelling errors or misplaced logos. It's good work if you can get it. And the best part: I can wear anything I want. That's right baby, it's no pants necessary! A smart pair of khaki shorts does just fine. Sickos.