"Pratically Perfect in Every Way"

Out to dinner  tonight, the wife -- whom I call Squanto! -- returned to the table from the restroom and, well, let's say the headlights were on. High beams.

"Wow," I said. "Are you cold?"

She nodded and held up an arm covered with gooseflesh to underscore the point.

"I guess you are. What did you order for dinner?" I asked hoping she was getting something that would warm her up.

"Pulled pork," she said, "We'll see if it's any good." (It was.)

"You can put on some hotsauce." I pointed at the bottle of Fred's Lime n' Spicy on the table. "In fact, maybe you should just drink some."

"Uh... no."

"Just a spoonful. You know, a spoonful of hot sauce helps the goosebumps stay down. Mary Poppins said that."

"Then she was one twisted bitch."

My Philosophy on Raising Children

Last night I got an email from a woman named Angela. I've never met her, but she found the Squished Frog site by googling the term "Irish Twins." That's the term for siblings born within less than a year of each other, which was the case with my brother and me. She wanted to ask me how to handle the fact that two of her kids are also 10.5 months apart in age -- they could start Kindergarten together if she wanted.

Here's most of what I said to her:

Angela:

I'm probably not much of an expert. In fact, I probably know more about quantum physics. But that's never stopped me...

The way it worked for my brother and me (10.5 months apart, I'm older), was that mom always said she could have put us in the same grade, but was afraid it would mean undo competition between us. That probably would not have been true, because I was brilliant and he was a numbskull (those conditions have since reversed for both of us in many ways)...

Just resign yourself to your children hating each other's guts until they're in their very late teens or early 20s. No matter what grades they are in. After that, they'll either be bestest friends forever (like I am with my Bro) or never talk  except at holidays. By that time it's out of your hands. Just hope they'll agree long enough to pick out a fantastic nursing home for you when the time comes.

Hope this helps. Tho I'm sure it does not.

Eric G.

Showertime 2: The Geekening

The phone rand just as my wife was about to join me in the shower this morning. When she did, she said it was my dad, calling to thank me for a pencil sharpener I bought him for Xmas that runs on a drill.

"He was also asking me about the painters. It's probably some kind of sacrilege," she said. Probably true -- my family tends not to let any professionals come in the way of them and a household project, but the HELOC has my head filled with dreams of being surrounded by pros (get your heads out of the gutter.)

"How'd he even know we hired painters?" I wondered aloud, not remembering having mentioned it.

"He probably read it on the blog."

"Yeah... I hope he didn't read what I wrote last night, or he's shaking his head in disgust."

"What?"

I explained how I got up at midnight and wasted precious hours of my life writing out a plot for a Fantastic Four sequel.

"Yeah, even I'm shaking my head in disgust at that," she said. "How do you even know that they're making another?"

"Oh, they are, everyone's signed except for Christian Troy. They don't want to do Doctor Doom two movies in a row. There's only one bad guy they could use though."

She misunderstood my statement and thought I meant the FF only have one good bad guy, and said, "Doctor Doom?"

"No, no, there is one other."

"Who?"

"C'mon, you know this. Don't you?"

"Who?"

"The Eater of Worlds." She was silent, probably thought that was his name. "You know. Big guy. Has the Silver Surfer as his herald?" She shook her head, getting soap on my face. "Your nephew has a big action figure of him." Still nothing. I finally caved and said, "Galactus!"

"Never heard of him."

"That's just sad. You make me want to weep. I thought I had you fully nerded."

"More than I want to admit," she said.

"But your geekening is not complete! You should read some more comic books."

Trying not to be insulting, she put on a serious look and said, "There's a lot of important things I should be doing with my time."

"You name one thing more important than reading Stan Lee and Jack Kirby's run on the Fantastic Four and then we'll talk."

Without much though, she said, "I could learn Italian."

The Wedding Bully

So it's been a relatively rough week at Casa de Griffith. (I say relatively, because it's not like our home was flooded with sewage and we came home to find our electronics looted and our fridge filled with rotted meat. But as things go for an upper-middle-class white couple in a liberal town, well, we've had better.)

There was one shining light though, and it turns out to be a wedding. Which is pretty surprising, because usually, I just dread them.

I don't know why, I always have a very, very good time at weddings, especially the last few I've been too. That's likely because they managed to be mini-reunions of friends as well.

Sometimes I think I'll never be at another wedding until my nephews knock up their girlfriends. When I think to myself, who's left? Really, just who do I know that isn't already hitched? I usually come up blank.

Even among my friends who aren't married, at least I know if I'm getting an invite, it won't be to wear a tux or carry a ring or have any responsibility other than to eat their food and cake.

That is true for almost all my friends except one: Joe.

You have all heard me talk about Joe. My best friend of the last decade plus, we met at the start of my real, actual adult life out of school at my first job. We've been in constant contact since, even though the closest we've ever lived to each other was at best a three hour drive. Now he lives eight states way, in the land of white pants and Geritol, the great state of Florida. But we still talk just about every day, play weekly games on the Xbox, and try to see each other once or twice a year. In fact, the wife and I plan to spend our wedding anniversary next month down in Florida hanging out with him and his lovely fiance, Andrea.

So imagine my surprise when our mutual friend Lauren tells me via instant messages last week that our boy Joseph is getting himself officially wed at the end of October... three days after the wife and I leave!

Good thing I talk to him just about every day.

Once my jaw was reattached—I used duct tape and rubber bands—I picked up the phone for the scoop. The upside is, he's following the advice I have given freely for a decade to every single person I've known getting married: Elope! He's calling it more of a "localope," because he's not running off. They're simply eschewing all the family folderol and expense that would come with long distance planning, large families, etc. God bless him for it, (even if his mother will probably never forgive him... he says she wouldn't be happy with anything less than a Princess Di style wedding). I wish the Wife and I had eloped. Oh the money it would have saved. Though it was worth it to walk into the reception to the theme from Deep Space Nine.

Still, much as I admire what he's doing, we must remember I am essentially a selfish prick. I wasted no time telling my chum that he's a nincompoop—I'm sure I was that polite about it—for not saying anything. He didn't think about it, he said—it never occurred to him. Apparently, I'm required to ask him specific, pointed questions each day about any life changes he's got planned. "Planning a sex change operation soon?" "Having any dialysis just for fun?" "Think you'll be voting republican next election? That Katherine Harris is a hottie..."

Most of all, I stressed that if he scheduled his wedding one week earlier, not only would it be on his own birthday, meaning he'd always remember when his anniversary is, a gift any male should appreciate, he's also have me around.

Here's why I'm selfish: Joe stood up with me at my wedding years ago, and I always kinda sorta secretly believed that maybe, just maybe, when he got married someday... he'd ask me to be his best man. I don't know that he would have done so even if he'd been having the wedding of the century and I would think no less of him if he didn't. I'm sure I'd have forgiven him once I stopped sobbing into a roll of toilet paper. But with my brother married, most of my other friends married, my days of being in a wedding party, let alone a best man, are done. Usually this would fill me with no small amount of glee, but I wanted to be part of this, and I'm not above bullying my way in. Not that I expected anything to come of my barbs. Joe is immune to my wit, having been ridiculed by me for years, probably starting with the time my co-workers and I found the New York Daily News picture of one of the 1993 terrorist bombers at the World Trade Center (the one's who did a shit job compared to 2001) looked a lot like him. It hung in my cubicle for months and he didn't mind. Much.

But lo and behold... Joe and Andrea talked it over and moved the date! The nuptials are now set for Oct. 21 and the attendees at this justice of the peace ceremony will be me, my wife, and... No one else. I am the de facto best man.

It has made me startlingly happy all god-damn week, despite all the other crap going on.

Of course there are worries—Squanto doesn't know what to wear, and I need to get them a killer wedding present and haven't a clue what to get... but we'll figure it out.

The next day, Oct. 22, is my 11th wedding anniversary. We newlyweds and old-married-folks plan to spend it riding roller coasters at Busch Gardens. If I hadn't spent last October on the island of Maui* it might be the best vacation plan I've ever heard.

*I'm required by the law decreed by the Wife to always make the Maui disclaimer as Best. Vacation. Ever. But seriously... ROLLER COASTERS.

Kernel of Love

The following conversation took place Saturday night in our bathroom, as we prepared for bed after a very long, hot day of installing wood flooring...

Bon: I'm going to take a shower.

Me: Not me, I'll take one in the morning.

Bon: Ew, you're going to bed like that, all sweaty and salty?

Me: The sweat has dried, so I'm just salty. Besides, you love salt. You put lots of it on your popcorn.

Bon: So?

ME: Just think of me as your "kernel of love," baby.

Bon: [Laughs in my face.]

The Sound of Music

I was singing good-bye to the carpet in the living room this morning, to the tune of a song from The Sound of Music, and the wife wanted me to post this lyric...

So Long, Farwell,
Auf Wiedersehen, Adeiu.
We hate carpet,
We'd rather sleep in poo.

How to Count Small Amounts

Talking to Joe today in IMs about this Reuters headline, "Men spend more on video games than music," he agreed with the research therein and stated:

"I can count the number of times i bought music in the last 12 months on my dick and balls."

My Date with the "Doctor"

Last night, for the first time in years really, I got an instant message out of the blue from someone I didn't know -- and it wasn't a spam troll looking to get me on a pr0n site. What follows is the full transcript of my over 75 minute conversation. The name of the object of my ridicule has been changed, but nothing else.

Here's a highlight:

XtraLargeGoodies (6:47:48 PM):OKAY SOO HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO THE SCREEN NAME .... YANKEESFAN AND SOME NUMBERS AFTER IT
ECGriffith (6:48:09 PM):hey, hey, relax, no need to yell.
XtraLargeGoodies (6:48:18 PM):IM NOT I JUST LIKE CAPS .. LOL
ECGriffith (6:48:35 PM):all caps is considering yelling in most online circles.
XtraLargeGoodies (6:48:59 PM):OKAY BUT CAN I JUST WRITE IN IT FOR NOW?
ECGriffith (6:49:25 PM):Yes, I suppose I'll just pretend your caps lock key is broken.
XtraLargeGoodies (6:49:30 PM):SO HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO THEM OR HAVE YOU PLAYED A GAME WITH THEM , LIKE SOME KIND OF ONLINE GAME BEFORE?
ECGriffith (6:50:03 PM):Yankeesfan, yankeesfan... I dunno, what were the numbers after the name?
ECGriffith (6:50:14 PM):there are a lot of yankeesfans out there, after all.
XtraLargeGoodies (6:50:20 PM):1888
ECGriffith (6:50:30 PM):1888! that bastard!
ECGriffith (6:50:36 PM):He owes me money!
XtraLargeGoodies (6:50:37 PM):WHAT HAPPENED?
XtraLargeGoodies (6:50:45 PM):WHY?

Read the full transcript here