Cats.

Lately I've noticed a lot of anti-cat "studies" and videos and such.  I can't believe that people would look at the bad part of cats only and not look at the good stuff.

Cats have pride.  If you kick a dog they will put their tails between their legs and beg your forgiveness.  Cats, on the other hand, will say (meow) "Screw you, I'm packing up my Little Friskies and you can kiss my fuzzy butt goodbye".  Point to cats.

Cats have a lot of respect for Gandhi.  No one ever puts two cats in a ring and fights them.  You know why?  They'll just meow and lay there, can you say non confrontational?  Or they will bitch about the service at this new day spa.  Point to cats.

Hybrids.  If you breed a male lion and a tigress you can end up with a liger.  That picture is Hercules, all 992 pounds of him.  If you crossbreed dogs you get labradoodles.  Point to cats.

Sane.  Dogs are dependent on us and we are enablers.  Cats don't need us and will remind us whenever they can.  Point to cats.

I guess the bottom line is:  Would you want to be reborn as a liger or as a labradoodle?

A hero of mine.

Driving home today I noticed that all of the grass on the side of the road and in the neighboring lawns was brown and dormant.  When I arrived home I looked at our grass and was pleased that it was greener than our neighbors.  That's a Texas thing, you might not understand.  Then I checked out our backyard.  That was pretty much the same except for one spot maybe a square foot in size.

That spot was GREEN and still growing.  Why has it not bowed down to the inevitable?  Why has it said "Screw you Mr. Winter, I'm mean and I'm green"?  No freaking clue because grass doesn't think in any way that we can measure or imagine.

I'm proud of that little spot of grass though.  When (and in the words of my wife "if") I grow up I want to be like that spot of grass.

Young people have it easy. Part 2.

I wrote a post awhile ago, read it here, about how easy young people have it.  That was based on something I wrote while working at Applebee's while on hold with some system repair person; that was a fun night.  This is the original piece that I wrote and I found it recently.

You young people in your teens and twenties couldn't handle getting older.  Sure, you can party all night and get up the next day after a nap and go to work without a problem, big deal.  I work all day, pick up my kids, cook dinner, clean the house, bathe the kids, read them a story and maybe then they can go to sleep.  I on the other hand am looking at what needs to be done before I can go to bed.  If I can go to bed, sometimes one of my children is sick or teething and I'll stay up with them; nothing against Team Edward but that is the only time an adult should be lurking in a child's bedroom watching them sleep.

Why am I posting this tonight?  I have a sick two year old and I've already checked on the kid twice in the past 90 minutes.

A simple view on promotions.

I have things to do so I'm going to copy and paste (and tweak) a letter I sent to a former GM in hopes that he could use 

these ideas to help the company.

While I was working at Applebee's we did numerous promotions to get the customers in.   Unfortunately, the company 

thought that the best way to get a new customer was to reduce the prices.  In some ways that can be a viable idea, I 

think they went to far with the concept by having numerous promotions on and basically being permanent.

This is the letter:

Please tell me what you think and don't worry about being harsh.  If you want to use 
any of this for your own purposes feel free, give me verbal credit at least.  Thank you.

In Sam Walton's book about turning a little five and dime into a major powerhouse 
he used loss leaders to get customers into his company.  However, he stopped using that 
sales trick once his customers were in the habit of going to his business.

 At Applebee's we are still paying our customers to come in.  I believe that if we 
stop doing that we will increase our check average and average per customer, reduce our 
costs, and, most importantly, increase profits.  

 How do we do this?  We go back to the basics.  We need to cater to the customer we 
want not the customer we have.  If we remove the $1 draft some customers won't like it 
and won't come back.  Some will order a soft drink or a different beer.  The customers 
that order a different product are spending more money and need not be discussed anymore. 
 The customers that leave because we don't have a $1 draft are no loss at all.  The 
majority of our problems are with the customers that just want a cheap drink.  With less 
of these customers we might not need an armed security guard on weekends that we pay over 
$20 an hour for.  Admittedly there will be less half price appetizers sold but that might 
not be much of a loss either considering that there will be less force thawing which 
means less water usage and less chance of a foodborne illness originating at our store.  
This will also free up seats for higher spenders and reducing wait times during peak 
times.  

Once we discontinue the value draft we will have taps available to tempt our better 
customers.  We could put in a cider, heavier stout, premium import or domestic, or even 
try some local craft brew such as Rahr.  True some of these kegs are more expensive but 
we would sell them for more money of course.  In fact, a keg we buy for $120 and sell for 
$4 a draft would be a better profit maker than a $1 draft keg we bought at $60.

The dollar draft promotion was great to get customers into the stores, but now that 
the customers are here we need to make a profit on them and not pay them to come in.

Batteries.

Christmas is over yet the gifts aren't.  Some of my kids got things that took batteries.  Most of the batteries we already had, some we did not.

Went to the store today and bought I don't know how many dozens of batteries.  Do the toy companies purposely make their things take six AA batteries instead of one or two D?  Does it make a difference in efficiency?  If it did then I would have know problem with a toy taking one 9 volt and two AA (my kids have one like that) or are they just doing it because they have some back room deal worked out with the toy makers?

If it's for the sake of efficiency then tell us.  If it's a plot to make more money by screwing us then remember that we can take those batteries and a sock to make one hell of reason to not screw us over.

Feeding the Bitch.

The title is a reference to "Kitchen Confidential" by Anthony Bourdain.  In his book one of his cooks calls in sick and asks the chef to "feed the bitch".  It's a reference to bread starter.  My wife loves sourdough bread so I've been making it.  I'm bored with it and I want to experiment so I started researching different recipes.

I'm a pretty smart guy, I can hold my own with chemistry and engineering even quantum physics is understandable (as much as a sane person can understand it).  Then I started looking at some of these sourdough bread recipes.  I feel like a moron now.  They were written in English but that's all I could really be sure of.

Some of these recipes used metric and they went insane with the precision that could had with that system.  One recipe called for 282 mg of water.  Personally I've always used ml with liquid but maybe mg's are easier to measure.  Fine, but another called for four different types of flour.  Maybe you could tell a difference but I don't think I could.  Some called for making a different type of starter.  That gave me ideas.

For the most part, these recipes assumed that you could rock in a kitchen and just wanted to add sourdough to your repertoire.  I'm not at that level.  My scientific side wanted hard facts and precise measurements (standard not metric) for variations on the basic sourdough recipe.  Nope, not going to find that.

Fine, just fine.  My artistic side is thinking that the starter is basically flour, water, and yeast.  It won't be expensive or difficult to experiment with that.  I've already started with one and am going to start a few more in a few days.

In a few days my wife will come home to a group of glasses in the kitchen filled with starter with a 3x5 card describing what's in it.

Christmas Day.

I made sourdough pancakes from scratch today.  My wife apparently loves them.  I am that awesome of a husband.  It was a pretty good Christmas for us.

Not everyone has a good Christmas, if you can do something to help someone else, can you?  More importantly, will you?

Christmas Eve.

Kids are finally in bed.  Evidence of Santa's visit is set.  Toys are assembled.  Lots of work and lots of headaches.  I'll gladly do it again next year just for the look on my kids faces.

Appearances.

I was looking for inspiration on Facebook today and I saw this ad with a biker, it was actually a beer commercial but I still like it.

Working in the bars I've dealt with a lot of bikers.  And because of a lady I used to date I have a lot of respect for bikers.  Of course, anytime you have a large group of people some are going to be assholes but for the most part bikers are just people that want to ride a motorcycle.  I've had numerous waitresses get worried when a couple of local bikers come into the clubs because the only thing they know about bikers is what they've "learned" from movies.

Au contraire.  As I would tell these ladies a biker is someone that must have a decent job because he rides his bike for fun but when he takes his family out he gets into his car.  How many people do you know that have two personal vehicles?  Most bikers know that mainstream society looks down on them so they will not be the cause of any problems in a bar.  Very rarely will you see a biker get drunk because they know that when they drive home they don't have a cage (car) around them for the extra security.  Someone that comes in and doesn't cause problems and won't over drink?  Can I get more of those customers?

Whenever a biker would come in I would go out and look at their bikes then go and introduce myself to them.  I never had a problem with any bikers, once some other table was causing problems and when the main instigator decided to get belligerent all of a sudden he got quiet and his whole table left without a problem.  Then I turned around and saw the two tables of bikers that had stood up and moved behind me.

As I told my employees, don't judge the person on how they look.

Crowdsourcing.

Someone I know wants to open a niche restaurant/pub place and I said that he could ask me questions.  When he found out that I was a stay at home dad he offered me the manager job.  Nope.  He offered again later on.  Nope.  He tried to sweeten the deal with various incentives but, no.  I'm out of that industry.

I did offer to help him with ideas and such though.  He created a Facebook private group for people to bounce ideas off of their peers, give him information and for him to disseminate information to the people that will be starting it (except me).  You're giving me a forum to pontificate about something I know quite a bit about?  Sweet.

I was putting stuff on this puppy once a day like clockwork in addition to posting to this blog.  I was getting tired.  It's easy to bang on a keyboard but the whole creating on demand is a completely different animal.  It got to the point that I was the only person posting anything.  I thought that the group was for open dialogues not just for me to teach you about the F&B industry.  Then I wondered.

I wondered what would happen if I just posted something silly, like a stream of consciousness word vomit thing.  I did it.  That post started off with a normal bit about something (math) and had some actual ideas and concerns then it went sideways.  Fluffy bunnies dancing in the moonlight singing sha na na na was mentioned.

One person (the owner) noticed and commented but no one else.  I did another 30 something posts after that and then since the well was getting dry I asked for requests, none came so I stopped.

One person wanted to crowdsource a business plan but only one person was trying.  Think about that the next time you ask someone for help.

Having fun at work.

My wife went out with the kids so I could stay at home and do errands and wrap presents.  It was awesome.  She hates to wrap presents so I told her that if she put my presents in boxes I would wrap my own.  She did, and she signed the tape to make sure I didn't peek at them.

I wrapped all of these presents and I started getting a little delirious and a little tired of putting just a name on the gifts.  I decided to change it up with my presents.  One is labeled "To my awesome husband".  I would put something risque on them but some of my kids can read now.

I should have done this years ago.

The definition of death.

There is a controversy about when life "starts".  Some say it starts at conception and others believe it begins at birth.  If I remember correctly I already mentioned my beliefs about that but this post is about the other controversy... death.

One of my brothers is having problems with either dementia or Alzheimer's and it's getting pretty bad.  In the medical world the body can be fine but if there is no brain activity then they say the person is "brain dead".  What if there is brain activity yet that activity is diminished compared to the past?  If my brother's body survives past his mind and he doesn't recognize any of us then is "he" still alive?  I know he's "alive" but if his personality is gone and everyday is being rewritten I don't know what to do.

Yes, I do.  I love him and deal with it.

Studying.

I'm studying and I think I'm forgetting more than I'm remembering.  I haven't studied zoology in decades yet I can still rattle off odd little bits about animals.  Why was the zebra never domesticated?  I know.  I'm forgetting more and more of this though.

This will be a quickie because I need to hit the books again.  The picture is from "Clueless" which was inspired by "Emma".  In both the main character knew a lot but didn't know what really mattered.

'Tis the Season.

In my family we would give a present to our teachers for Christmas.  Since we were pretty much always broke we would give them some jewelry that my father never sold.  My father used to sell Indian jewelry and artifacts as an auctioneer so we had a lot of it around the house.

Keep in mind that this was in the '70's so turquoise, silver, and coral were pretty cheap.  Looking at the prices now will almost make me cry.  We would give teachers presents because this person was responsible for the safety of my parent's greatest accomplishment...my siblings and I.

I've kept up the tradition.  I'm not giving out jewelry.  I'm making bread with chocolate and Kahlua and walnuts and appreciation for taking care of my greatest achievements.

Other side, about odd ideas.

Check it out here.

Complaining.

Both of my parents worked but it was my mothers "job" to cook all the meals.  No matter what my mother made my father would complain about it.  Even his compliments were complaints and that's why she stopped caring about the cooking.

She would get home from work and cook/burn/whatever was on sale at the store.  That taught me two things:  food quality was much better when my father was out of town and hunger makes things taste better.  I told my children that I don't like them saying they don't like something before they try it (and once even before I decided what I was going to make).  If they kept it up I would stop trying and just make the stuff I like and if it was burned... then tough, you'll eat when you get hungry enough.

The complaints have slowed down, they are learning.

Other side, about "The masses".

Check it out here.

Fitness Goals.

I was talking to my wife today about her calorie count for the day, she's dropping it soon.  I want to be fit but if I can't eat the good stuff then what's the point?

I see these fitness people trying to drop those last few inches so they restrict their diet to broiled chicken and rice cakes.  I don't understand that.  What's the point of looking like an Adonis or Aphrodite if you only eat boring and tasteless stuff?

Am I ever going to look like some Greek god?  I'm not betting on it.  I'm getting into the working out part but if I can't eat a cheeseburger or cheesecake periodically then have I really gained anything?

Business Image on the other side.

 About Image, check it out here.

"Perfection"

I am intrigued with the Japanese culture.  It is so rich in their language and history.  Even their artwork is intriguing.  There is an art called kintsugi or kintsukoroi, the picture is one example, where broken pottery is repaired with gold or silver lacquer.  The piece was pretty before but the imperfection, and the very noticeable repair, made it prettier.

Couldn't you say the same about parenting?  My parents weren't the best yet they managed to raise five pretty good kids.  I know I'm not a perfect parent but I try my best; you could even say that my minions bring out the best in me.

The "imperfections" in us and our children are what make us so unique.  We don't have a neat little Japanese name to describe it but I just call us human.

Confession time.

You know why I'm overweight?  A lot of reasons actually but one I remember vividly is due to my employees from one of the topless bars I managed.

I was a pretty "cool" manager.  If someone was running a few minutes late I wasn't that worried about it.  They would call and tell me so I could prepare, no sweat.  Then a bartender called me and said she would be a little late (five minutes, I asked) because she didn't eat breakfast and she was going to hit up McDonald's before she came in.  Then she asked me if I wanted anything, her treat.  I was raised poor so if someone offered me something for free I accepted and said "Thank you".

That was the beginning of the end.  One $1 cheeseburger from McDonald's that day became two then three then I don't know how many my ladies were giving me.  I never noticed how much junk food these ladies ate until I saw how much they were giving me.  I also brought my lunch with me.  I had to eat that as well because you just can't waste food, my mother would smack me up the back of the head if she knew.

Anywhere from zero to six (I think six was the most) cheeseburgers and fries plus the lunch I brought to work and I wonder why my pants are tight.  I don't eat like that anymore (I sure as hell try not to) but now I'm paying the price in sweat.  I know that I put on that weight one cheeseburger and one bite at a time and I know that I'm taking it off one rep and one minute at a time.

I don't know the lady in the picture but I have to keep thinking about that quote.

Trying.

I have big legs, partly genetic and partly when I was in my formative teen years I did a lot with my legs.  Walking four or five miles a day and martial arts can really tone those calves and thighs.  When I go to the gym I look forward to leg day, unlike most guys.  When I do legs I start with a basic leg press and do over 700 pounds, when I can do over a 1000 I'll stop working on bulk.  Upper body is a different story however.

If you see me you don't think I have any muscle, I'm your typical overweight, pale, hairy white guy.  My arms are so weak that putting the weights on the bar for leg presses doubles as an arm workout.  But I'm trying.

Today I did chest and my max is under a hundred pounds.  But I'm trying.  That's why when you see me in a puddle of sweat and straining it's because I'm trying and not because I'm pushing a lot of weight.

Why the picture?  I like it and it's a metaphor for life in many ways.  What I (and she) considers easy with legs is what most people struggle to do.  What I consider a struggle some other people consider a warm-up.  Much like life, I sit at this keyboard and struggle sometimes for a way to say something and then you have some people that sit and bang away without a concern.  I can make a hell of martini or Bloody Mary but please don't ask me to make a loaf of bread without using my bread machine.

Everyone has some things they excel at and some things they struggle with, all we can do is keep trying.

One perk.

I'm getting dinner ready and I realized something.  For the first time in years (closer to decades actually) I don't have to work on Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Mother's Day, or Super Bowl Sunday.

I don't have to deal with the customers that say it's terrible how the company makes us work on those days, they don't tell us before or after...they tell us that day, think about it.  I don't have to figure out where to eat (when I worked in the clubs it was tough finding a place open at 4 am on Thanksgiving or Christmas) after work.  I don't have to get home after shift then take a shower and change before going to my parents for Christmas morning and then taking a nap before going to work.

The most pressing concern I have is to not go to the grocery store on Super Bowl Sunday (I don't watch football).  Another perk to being a stay at home dad.

Special kind of crazy.

I've often mentioned that someone or something is crazy or a special kind of crazy.  Let me try to describe crazy to you in my mind.

With a tip of the hat to Edwin Abbott Abbott picture a point in nothingness.  That point is you.  Now imagine a line extending out from your outstretched arms.  Along that line is more people.  Now imagine a line extending vertically through your body with, you guessed it, more people.  That's only two dimensions, let's add a third, so now we have a line of people in front of you and a line of people behind you.  Truthfully, I think that this model would work best if we could think in more dimensions than three (or four if you include time), but we will stick with three.  The farther away from you the more crazy they seem to you.  Pretty simple isn't it?  Take it to the next step, you're not the center.  There is no "center" because the lines of people (aka behavior and belief) are infinite.

If there is no center then there can't be a "standard" for sanity.  You could say that there is a "societal" standard for sanity however since it is all based on behavior and beliefs then that could change in a generation or even as a fad.

What does all of this mean to me?  Everyone is a little crazy.  Cops here gunfire and run towards it.  Makes sense to me.  Firefighters run into burning buildings.  They are crazy.  Both of those are examples of "special" kind of crazy.  We need those people that do things that someone else considers "crazy", without them we wouldn't have so much.  All of the first responders are a little crazy.  One could argue that entrepreneurs are a little crazy as well as artists.

Good, we need more "special" kind of crazy in the world.  I try to add my part.

Explorers.

I think explorers are crazy and cool.  All of  the explorers from the past were just that.  Maybe I don't like what some of them did in life but for the most part they all thought:  "What's over there?  I hope I'm the first to find out."  That kind of attitude is awesome.

Do I have some of the explorers traits?  Hell yes.  If NASA were to call me up and say they need me to go into outer space for some reason I will be packing as I'm on the phone.  However, unless we meet some alien race of topless dancers I don't think they'll need my help.  Of course, NASA does all sorts of tests before they light that candle so the danger is quite a bit less than you think.  I would bet money that it's safer to go into outer space then it was to sail across the Atlantic in a Viking longboat.  Makes you wonder about those Vikings.

The explorers that I really wonder about are the spelunkers.  I look up at the stars and wonder what is out there.  Some people look at the ocean and wonder what's under the waves.  These people see a hole in the ground and do their best to squeeze into it.  Read up on caving and cavers and you start to think that they are the repository of the exploring gene.

I think that they are a special kind of crazy and maybe we need some more special kind of crazy in our world.

A quickie about fetishes.

A friend posted on Facebook how a customer said she wasn't hot because she didn't have tattoos or "mods".  She thought it odd that people with tats say they don't "need approval" but they think she does.  One of her friends posted how he did think you were hot just not his fetish.

Interesting way to look at "body mods", I know a fair bit about fetishes and I guess that not wanting to date a woman because she didn't have the "right" look could qualify as a fetish.  Like most people, I have my own desires and of course like most people I think they are perfectly normal.

That's the key, the person with that fetish doesn't think of them as a fetish.  They don't understand why you don't have the same desires.  The last I heard the most common fetish (in heterosexual men) in the US was stockings on women.  Obviously the definition of "fetish" isn't that extreme.

One person might like tattoos and piercings on people and some people might like for their significant other to wear a particular color.  And again, if the two or more people are all consenting adults then whatever I or anyone else thinks about their particular fetish don't really matter.

Literary tastes.

I read a wide variety of books, magazines, articles, and about anything I can see.  What I go out of my way to read is quite often based on my mood.

When my parents were in the hospital I read a lot of Richard Stark.  Remember the Mel Gibson movie "Payback"?  That was based on one of his books and they had to make him nicer for the film.  That should tell you what the main character is like.

It's been a rough day, I don't have employees to take it out on and I didn't have time to hit the gym today so I'm bottling it up.  I want to take a break from reading the necessary stuff and have a little fun.

The question of the day is what to read?  Something frivolous and silly?  Nope.  Some weighty piece of philosophical drama?  Hell no.  Serial killer fiction.

That's the ticket, nothing to take your mind off of problems like reading about a person that doesn't want to be a serial killer.  Check out the series by Dan Wells, I'm starting the third in the series in a few minutes and I hope it lives up to the first two.

Quickie Again.

I have a big test tomorrow so I'm going to give you a joke I don't understand.  Why don't I understand it?  I don't know, it's a drummer joke and the drummers I've told it to always laugh and then they say you need to be a drummer to understand it.  Here it goes:

How can you tell who's the drummer in a band?  He's the one that drools out of both sides of his mouth evenly.

As I said, I don't get it.  Ask a drummer, if they can explain it please tell me.

Background Music.

I'm riding my bike today and I took some different trails than normal.  Some of them were a piece of cake, some a rice cake sprinkled with LSD.  I don't know what that means but it sounds disturbing, much like some of those trails.  For the record, when I say disturbing I mean too muddy to attempt.  I'm not a mountain bike rider, those people are crazy.

As I'm looking at one stretch of dirt I had a thought:  If this was a movie what would be the background music?  Would it be some uplifting piece that means that I can do it, a dark and foreboding piece to show the danger or would it simply be Taps?  It was the uplifting piece.

That made me realize how much easier life would be if it had theme music and we could hear it.  You go on a date and the background music is '70's porn, you know you're getting laid.  Is the background music "Close to You" by the Carpenters, could be a relationship based on more than sex.  When your boss wants to talk to you think about what the background music could tell you.  You're walking into his (or her) office and you hear Vader's theme song, might be really bad.  If the '70's porn music comes on then you might have to work for that raise again.

I'm not a big fan of music but I think I could handle some background music in my life.

Learning.

I love learning.  I've learned so much just by listening to other people.  Is all of it correct?  Probably not, but that's why I keep an open mind and keep on learning.

One of the clubs I worked at had male dancers and female customers, most of these guys were body builders/personal trainers/martial artists/military/dancers/entertainers.  We had a small gym in one of the dressing rooms (big club with three dressing rooms) where most of the employees and I would work out.  I learned a lot about nutrition from them (one was a personal trainer with a degree in nutrition and kinesiology), a lot about fitness and one very down to earth nugget of wisdom that has helped me so much in my battle with weight.

Because of my fascination with learning I've even studied learning to a degree.  People learn in different ways and sometimes even the people that learn the same way need a different approach to it.  As an example, tonight I was helping my eldest with some extra homework I had given them.  It was 30 questions of varying degrees of difficulty (all multiplication, ranging from 1x3 to 5x12, kid is in the 2nd grade) and the kid was having some issues with it.  I tried various methods of looking at the numbers (4x7 is really the same as 2x7+2x7) and various "tricks" (5 times anything is either going to end in 0 or 5).  It all started clicking after awhile and all of the problems were figured out correctly without my help.

I'm a firm believer in the day I stop learning is the day I die.  Now I'm learning about mortgages, still learning about writing and I'm even learning about police work just by asking my wife about her day.  Who knows what I will learn tomorrow.

The little nugget of wisdom about weight control?  How long did it take you to put on the weight?  Decades.  Then what makes you think you can lose it in a few months?

A realization.

I've been thinking about something and I'm even thinking about making a song about it.  The differences between customers, clients and guests.

Clients are the bread and butter of any company.  They come in, they spend money, and they don't cause problems.  Piece of cake.  Unfortunately, people come in a spectrum of attitudes.  Some are okay, some are awesome, and just to keep the bell curve going the rest are scum sucking bastards.

Customers are those that you wonder if their money is worth the hassle.  Clients are the normal people and guests are the ones that you feel bad about taking their money.  You do because you know they want you to have it and they would be offended if you refused it.

The song I'm thinking should be from the point of view of a waiter.  The genre should be punk or death metal.  Possibly J-Pop.

Cogito Ergo Sum.

I'm a thinker.  I can't stop doing it.  I have insomnia and most of it is because I can't stop thinking.  When I was about 15 I figured out that my parents couldn't/wouldn't help me with my sleeping problems so one of the methods I looked into was biofeedback aka self-hypnosis.

What does this have to do with anything?  My background is business so when I'm in a business I'm wondering what their profit margin is, what are their hidden revenue streams, what can they do to increase profitability, and of course the ever popular etc.

Since I'm going to a gym more often lately I'm observing it and how it works.  How a business works and runs is fascinating to me, a well run business is very much a living and breathing organism.  A bad employee is very much a virus that you hope doesn't infect the others; I assume you can think of the other analogies.

I have one major problem with watching this gym and wondering how it could be improved; I have no clue about the business side of it.  I don't know much about lifting weights but I know more about that than how a gym operates on the business side.  I've been going there enough that I don't mind saying "Hi" and such to the people there (I'm really pretty shy) and I have to restrain myself to not pump them for information about the business model and numbers.

Today I saw something that my background was screaming to be wrong.  All of the personal trainers had a picture of themselves on the wall with information about them (I couldn't read it because of the distance) that I assume was things like where they got their training and such.  One of the trainers is a young and attractive lady, the picture had her full name.  I know that topless bars are a bit different and stalkers are a bit more common there but all I could think of was the possible danger.  In the clubs we encouraged the dancers to use a stage name and when the customer asked them for their real name to give a different fake one.  I know that businesses in the real world look at things differently but is the full name (for any of the trainers) really needed?

Something to scare yourself with.

I remember the day I closed on my second property, that gave my partner and I a total of six rental units.  I was working nights at that club and I clearly remember walking in, sitting down, and telling a day shift manager that I was barely 30 and in debt to the tune of a quarter million.

Now, close on a house, buy a car, spend thousands on something in a day and I don't even blink.  Partly that is numbness and partly that is maturity.  Will it help if I start hyperventilating?  Nope, so why should I?

Want to have fun?  Find an old payroll stub or check register, old as in a decade ago or more.  Look at the numbers and either figure out how you survived on that money then.  Or if your income hasn't gone up scare yourself with trying to figure out why.

Holiday Hours on the business side.

Business post about holiday hours, check it out here.

Another bar story.

The reason why I don't expect or not expect a tip from a customer based on their appearance is because I learned a long time ago that you can't judge a book by it's cover.

One restaurant I worked at the bar stayed open while the restaurant closed between 2 and 5 everyday.  Right before 2 a waiter comes up to me asks me to take this couple because he "knows" that they will be there for hours and they probably won't tip anyway so could I get them.

This waiter was from the Middle East and pretty set in his ways, I didn't want to rock the boat (I was the FNG) so I said sure.  Even if he doesn't tip I'm still making drinks.  It was still fun back then.

This was almost 20 years ago and I still remember what he drank (Grand Marnier in a snifter, neat of course) I don't remember what the lady drank but that didn't matter because he never brought in the same lady twice.  He was also from England.  He's black and from England, all of the waitstaff thought he didn't tip for either of those reasons.  I wasn't sweating the tip, I was just having fun with the couple.  Guess how the story ends.  He tipped so very well I remember his face, his drink, and his wife almost 20 years later.

Every time he came in I would try to wait on him, and his lady (always a white lady) of the day.  Once he came in with a black lady and while she goes into the restroom he stops me and tells me that he's never been here before.  No sweat.  I remember that tip very clearly.

Blogs.

Their is a blog I read periodically called http://thebitchywaiter.com/, he's awesome.  Blogs and comics I ignore and then get caught up on on a monthly basis or so.  I've ignored Bitchy for awhile and skimmed through for a bit.  I noticed that he has a group of blogs either that he reads or he just likes.

For the most part they all deal with the F&B industry.  Oddly enough, I do miss the... rush... insanity?  I don't know what to call it really.  Reading some of these blogs will let me vicariously live in the restaurants again.  Truly I would like to find a nightclub or topless bar blog to really sink my teeth into but I haven't yet.  Of course I haven't really tried that hard.

Hearing about some blogger complaining about a customer just makes my day complete or something.  Here's a story from when I worked in a restaurant.

A lot of servers have superstitions about who will and who will not tip.  When you actually listen to the servers you realize that many of them say everyone except older white businessmen don't tip.  I learned early on in my "career" that is not true but some people don't want to learn.  Anyway, one restaurant wasn't in the greatest area and my servers were playing their version of "Bingo".

A waiter (white guy) came up to me and said he was the first to have bingo for the night and his shift only started ten minutes ago.  What's bingo mean?  When a whole table is full of black people.  If we weren't on the floor I probably would have yelled at him.  I didn't yell, I just told him that he can't do that.  My reasons were simple:

1.  It's wrong.
2.  Some people tip, some don't.  If you expect them to not tip then they probably won't.
3.  Probably illegal.
4.  This company will fire your ass for something like this.

While I'm telling him this a waitress (black lady) comes up and says that she has "Blackout Bingo" already.  What the hell is "Blackout Bingo"?  That's when every seat at every table has a black person in it.  That's when I felt the headache starting.  I told both servers that I don't want to hear anymore about the game and walked away from them.

The waiter was a pretty good one but I wouldn't trust him with a shiny quarter.  The waitress was pretty bad but I actually miss her, she had a sense of humor like mine.  If you're an attractive woman you can say things that I can't.

Marketing.

I'm fascinated with marketing.  Not the typical radio/print/tv stuff but the low-cost high return stuff.  We get up today and we have no hot water.  Not good.  I call a plumber and his receptionist asks details about the problem and where I live.

She calls the plumber and explains to him the problem and she calls me back.  She says that in our subdivision he's seen that problem come up quite a bit and here's how you fix it (hit the hidden reset button).  I did and it works.  Did he charge us?  Nope.  Could he have come out and charged us for an hour of labor to fix it?  Yepper.

Who do you think I'll call for a real problem?  He lost whatever his hourly fee is but he gained a customer.  Would you spend up to $100 for a customer?  That's what most marketing projects do.  Maybe the print/tv/radio people say it works because if they say it enough then people will believe it.

Oh, Crappydoodle.

It's Sunday and as everyone knows the kids go back to school on Monday.  I tell my kids to get their clothes ready for school tomorrow.  Tomorrow's not a school day says the oldest.  Pardon?  I check in the little calender that I don't really pay attention to.  Son of a Bitch.  The kids are off the whole week.

What the hell am I going to do with three kids?  I'm going to go freaking insane.  The temperature is in the thirties for most of the week so we can't go on much of a bike ride.  I'm printing out some worksheets for them to have some "homework" so they don't lose their "edge".  Elementary school is pretty hardcore in our house.

The gym I go to has a daycare with a two hour limit.  If I go for two hours and drive around the block can I go back for another two hours?  Supposedly we are going to have sleet and freezing rain manana, I don't care.  I'm getting out of this house and that daycare worker at the gym doesn't know what's going to hit her.

Weddings.

My post yesterday was about weddings and I thought that it might be nice to expand on that topic.  When I worked at the hotel I probably worked close to two hundred weddings.  I've been to a few as either guest, groomsman or groom also.  Some of the things I've learned are pretty basic and some are more profound.

The wedding is designed by people and it has people in it, it will NOT be perfect.  Deal with it.  The saying is the more things wrong with your wedding then the longer you will be married.  Additionally, it's "your day", that means the focus should be on the bride; that does not mean that you can be a spoiled little princess.  Again, deal with it.

Some do's and don'ts:  If you schedule the wedding around a meal time then you should feed the guests.  No matter what time you schedule it put in the invitation what will be there to eat (buffet, appetizers, plated, etc.).  Expect the unexpected; it will rain, there will be mud.  Groomsmen have it somewhat easy, we rent a tux or suit and show up sober, then we get to hang out with some attractive lady that wants to get out of an ugly dress.  The bridesmaids on the other hand seem to be cursed with crap.  Rare are the attractive bridesmaid dresses.  These dresses are bought not rented; pick out a dress that can be used again.  If the bride is short and doesn't want to be the shortest lady there have them wear ballet slippers, not be barefoot (seen that, that bride was spoiled little princess bitch).  Don't expect your bridesmaid to cover a tattoo just because it's your wedding; if she's enough of your friend for you to ask then you shouldn't mind her ink.  Do have fun.

For you parents, it's not your wedding.  Even if you're paying for everything it's still not your wedding.  If the bride or groom wants to do something then do it.  If you think that your child isn't mature enough to make the right decision for their wedding then maybe you didn't raise them right.  Deal with it, let them do their own thing and if you want to pick up the tab do it.  If not then you need to let them know in advance.

There are so many other things I've seen but they don't really matter.  It's a day, one day.  Your marriage is supposed to be for eternity.  Do the wedding and save your energy for the marriage.

What to do on a Friday night.

7:30 PM Friday night it's about 35 degrees Fahrenheit and the wind is blowing the rain into our faces.  What are we doing?  We're going to a wedding, of course.  I used to work in a hotel that did wedding quite often and including the ones I've worked the number of weddings I've been to could be measured in the hundreds.  Because of this I've learned some things about weddings and receptions.  Maybe I'll write about that tomorrow.

There is a bit of "old wives tales" that say the more things wrong at your wedding means the longer you will be married.  If that's true then my wife and I should be married for quite a bit.  I didn't notice anything wrong at this wedding, but I wasn't given a BEO (Banquet Event Order, common in the catering/banquet industry) to verify that.

Bad luck or not, congratulations to the bride and groom.

Shoes.

I'm rough on shoes, very rough.  My wife and I are at the gym and she sees my shoes and tells me I need to buy some more.  I don't really think I need more shoes but then I can relegate these to "lawn" shoes and get some better ones for bike riding or in the gym.  There's an outlet mall near us so I bundle up a minion and we go.

Three stores that sell shoes.  You know what size I wear?  10.5 triple wide.  Just give me the damn box and paint it black.  At one store it only had dress shoes, something to keep in mind but not what I'm looking for now.  One didn't have any wide or extra wide widths; they did but the guy that worked there said to not get them if I plan on using them instead of just looking cool.  The third store had wide shoes but they were not something I would wear.  I dress rather...somber, professional, basic.  Those are all good descriptions of my style, except for ties though.

I have a friend that always has problems getting cute bras that fit her.  She is some bigger size like 32DD or 34GG or some big combination of letters and numbers and I remember her complaining (on more than one occasion) about the lack of bra selection in her size.  I have the same problem in shoes, if I find shoes that fit then they look like a crackhead on acid painted them.

A little bit of truth.

I'm in the gym today and I'm talking to a couple of ladies.  One asks me what I do for a living and I tell her I'm a stay at home dad.  How many children?  Three.  How old?  I tell her and she says she's impressed that I can still form complete sentences.

I told her I don't use the big words anymore.  It's true, my brain cells are not getting the workout they need.  When I ride my bike I talk to myself because I need the practice talking to an adult.  Is being a stay at home dad fun?  Hell yes.  Is it scary as hell and a bit mind numbing at times?  Even more so.

To all you stay at home parents, have a shot (alcohol or caffeine) and think of me.  You have to make it quick because you know that one of your kids is destroying something as soon as you turn around.

Good weather again.

I went to the gym to lift weights and to do that damn cardio when I see a guy jogging.  That made me realize that the weather is nice enough to ride and it hasn't rained lately so I should be able to go riding on the trails.

I go to the gym and do calves and arms then I go home and get ready for the ride.  I take the trailer off the bike, check the tires, and jump on my bike.  It's a half mile to the trails and I'm loosening up on the way over there, stretching and zig zagging on the road to limber up.  Then I hit the dirt, I go through some of the dips and depressions left over from where trucks got stuck in the mud and then it's my first downhill flight.

WOOHOO.

If you don't ride, you might not understand.  Let's just say it was a blast.  When I'm going downhill I still pedal because I need that speed to go back uphill; unfortunately, a lot of the downhill parts do a hairpin turn to go uphill.  Fun choice, brake and lose speed or go full tilt and possibly lose control and break something important.

As the mountain bike people put it "Chicks think scars are sexy."  I know what I'm going to start doing from now on.

I was punked today.

I went to the gym today so I could show some racks of iron that I was their boss.  I have big calves and I like doing legs so I was doing calf raises.

I don't know what my maximum is but last week I started with 90 pounds so I figured I would start with 130 pounds today.  I do declining ladders; that means that I did ten reps and dropped ten pounds and did 12 reps dropped ten more and did 14 all the way down to 70 pounds.  My calves are shaking and I decided to give them a break and do some arms for awhile.

I'm doing my declining ladder on arms and I see a guy doing leg lifts and then calf raises with 270 pounds.  My eyes aren't the greatest so I finished my set and waited for him to finish his.  I struck up a conversation with about calf raises.

He seems to be in his 70's, then he said that he had a grandson who was almost my age.  I'm 43, does that mean that this guy is pushing 80?  Son of a bitch.  This 80 year old guy just punked me out by doing almost 300 pounds in calf raises.  Son of a bitch, he was doing twice what I was doing.

I have a new goal.  And a competitor.

Another Quickie.

Yesterday I went to a class for my new career.  Today I took the last 10 hours of it.  I have no background in the banking or finance industry so there is a lot "What?"  "What reg of what act?".  I'm learning stuff but I feel like these other people are talking a different language.

I was in real estate sales for a very short time so that training does help when talking about some things, but a lot of it is a completely new world to me.  The learning stuff is a blast but the second guessing part bites.  

One of the chapters in the textbook deals with mathematics.  No sweat, the business deals with numbers a lot so that makes sense.  Then I actually looked at the stuff they were teaching, how to convert a decimal to a percentage.  Okay, someone might have been taught change and not convert so the difference in teaching styles could make a difference.  I understand there could be an issue there, but why do they have to teach adults how to add or subtract decimals?  Remember, we're talking about money mainly, 0.568-0.236 is typical of the math in this section.  

Actually, now that I think about it, the fact that a remedial lesson was needed is okay.  The groans of some people (because they couldn't wrap their head around it) with this remedial math was my major issue.

Quickie Commercial.

This will be fast because I'm in school and I need to go to sleep.

Picture this, two kids are playing "Guitar Hero".  It's a nice house and the kids are really getting into it.  Very competitive as only preteen kids can be.  The kids get into an argument about who is better, then it goes to the my father can beat your father stage.  One father comes in to find out what the arguing is about.  The kids tell him and he says that he wouldn't mind a competition between the two dads.  The next day the kid brings over his father, who is some 50 year old guy with long hair in a pony tail.  The two fathers play and the long haired guy wins without a problem.  The losing father says it was "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Malsteen".  Then they start talking about the fun of raising kids while the kids go back to playing the game.

Subtle.  Rockers and guitarists would get it.

Story of my Father.

Years ago my parents went to an auction.  They didn't know the auctioneer, they just wanted to look at some piece of furniture.  For them that could have been a date night.  We were all old enough that they could have stayed out late if they wanted to.  They didn't.

My mother didn't say the auctioneer was bad and my father didn't say he was good so that implies that he was just average.  At the end of the auction the auctioneer asked the crowd if anyone wanted to sell a piece.  One person put his hand in the air, my father.  For those of you that don't know, he was an auctioneer and he was a better than average one.

He goes up to the front and he starts slow, ten dollars here fifteen dollars here.  He does that for less than five minutes and then he goes into his "rattle".  From what I was told the crowd kind of jumped, he went from slow and halting to machine gun fast in a few seconds.  He sold a few items for fun and they left.

Being an auctioneer was fun for my father, it even supported his family of seven.  My earliest fun memories are doing the auctions when I was young.  And yes, I do often think about learning how to do the rattle.

Business side. About using what you have.

Other side tonight, check it out here.

Frivolity.

Like the title says , this will be a frivolous posting.  I do think that sometimes we need a little silliness.  Walking is optional on that.

My two year old loves Babar (the elephant tv show), so periodically it is on the tv.  Yeah, simpering and well meaning crap.  At least Emily the Strange has a really catchy theme song.  If I want to watch something (when the kids are in bed) I'll go for a comedy; lately I've been watching "How I met your Mother".  I can't stand Ted but the show is great anyway.

Watching the two shows so close to each other has made me realize something.  Simply put, before Babar left the city he used to hang out with Barney.  Consider the evidence:

1.  Barney needed a wingman, which is how he met Ted, because I believe that Babar had to quickly leave the city.
2.  Only in New York would an elephant go unnoticed for so long.
3.  Only in New York could you find a tailor that could dress an elephant.
3a. Okay, and Thailand.
4.  Babar always wears a suit.
5.  When Babar came into the city he found an older (slim and rather attractive if you go for the dowager look) wealthy woman to support him.  Quite possibly using a play from the "Playbook".
6.  Babar used his crown to marry a hottie (by elephant standards).
7.  Ted isn't up to Babar's skill level which is why Barney is always disappointed.
8.  Barney uses his royal contacts (Babar) to keep his job.
9.  Barney's fear of guns is because of the story of how Babar's mother died, it was that moving.
10. When the tailor tried to sell Babar an ugly suit it's the only time you see the elephant get annoyed.
11. When Babar has problems with the rhinos he always has a plan.  Just like Barney.

You may think this is odd but I'm willing to bet that some of you are thinking that it makes sense.  And it's frivolous.  And Awesome.

Pride.

One child is seven and is a reader.  I'm so proud of that.  This kid wants to create a detective club (I'm Secret Agent Squirrel) so my wife passed out a criminal behavior text book.

The book is not really well liked.  Can you blame the kid?  It's a text book dealing with a lot of psychology about criminals.  Pretty damn boring.  This child will ask me what a word means, and that is done after the glossary is checked in the back of the book.

Today the kid is writing a story.  Used a story that they used in kindergarten, just needed to add more stuff to it.  When we were talking about the text book the word "boring" was used quite a bit.  That made me remember something, a book about criminals and the scene of the crime.  It was written for writers not cops.  Much easier to read and the word boring is not needed in the description of it.

I explain what the book is for and this kid is excited to read it.  My kid is seven and has plans to be a writer and a business owner.  You can not believe how proud I am.

Veterans Day.

As my faithful reader(s) should know, I am a very proud supporter of our military.  I was wondering what to write about veterans that I haven't written before and then I had lunch with one of my brothers.

Seeing him reminded me of something he did a few months ago.  He's in a cigar shop (smoking a cigar of course) and a gentleman comes in wearing his fatigues/bdu's/whatever the name is this week and gets a handful of different cigars.  When he's about to pay for them my brother tells the cashier the cigars in his hand are on me.  He goes up and pays for them and thanks the kid (this brother is in his 50's) for his service.  He told me about it because the other guys there told him that he made them look bad.

He said he spent $6 and change, how do you think that kid felt?  Can you afford to buy a cup of coffee for a stranger the next time you're in a coffee shop?  I used to work at Applebee's and on Veterans Day we would give a free meal to vets.  I'm not asking you to go that far (unless you can afford it) but can you afford a few bucks?  Can you afford the time when a serviceman (or woman) is in line behind you to let them go before you?

At the very least you can afford to just say "Thank you".

The Left Hand.

SETTING:  THE OVAL OFFICE, NIGHT TIME.  A GENTLEMAN IN A CHAIR IN SHADOW.  DRESSED IN A MILITARY UNIFORM.

THE LEFT HAND:  (CALM) Hello, Mr. President.
MR PRESIDENT:  (STARTLED) Who are you?  How did you even get in here?  (MOVING TOWARDS A PARTICULAR SPOT ON HIS DESK)
THE LEFT HAND:  Don't bother, the alarm has been disabled for this meeting.  My name doesn't matter.  No one knows it, but I do work for you.  I'm your left hand...
MR. PRESIDENT:  (SITTING IN HIS CHAIR, HAS GIVEN UP ON PRESSING AN UNSEEN BUTTON) Left hand?  Which means?
THE LEFT HAND:  Little joke from before our time, your right hand is your helper that the public can know about.  I'm the helper that the public had better not ever knowing about.  We started with JFK, he was a bad boy in ways that the public still doesn't know about, we had to clean up that mess.  The conspiracy crazies are correct, he was killed by a conspiracy in the highest levels of our government; oddly enough, Johnson wasn't involved at all until he had my original predecessor tasked with uncovering the conspiracy.  Johnson thought that the truth would hurt the US too much so he had us created.  If something is just too terrible for normal channels you can contact us.  We will do things that the public doesn't need to know about, kind of like that saying about sausages and laws.
MR. PRESIDENT:  (NODDING, FAR OFF LOOK IN HIS EYES) Could be useful, if used sparingly.
 How do I contact you?  And your name?
THE LEFT HAND:  I've watched you for awhile, your "trigger" is simple.  If you need to contact me just wait until you have a meal and wipe your mouth with a napkin that's in your left hand.  It was different for your predecessor and it will be different for whoever replaces you.  Don't worry about the name, it's for our safety if you can't track me down.
MR. PRESIDENT:  (CONFUSED/QUESTIONING) "Our" safety?
THE LEFT HAND:  (GETTING UP AND PREPARING TO LEAVE) Three people know of "The Left Hand".  You, me and my second, if anything happens to me then he will take over.  (AT THE DOOR AND OVER HIS SHOULDER)  Something I need to clarify, if you do anything that can harm the US then YOU are my target.  Legend has it that Johnson himself told the original Left Hand to kill him if he did something as bad as JFK.  Please think about that before you contact the governor you were planning on meeting with tomorrow.

My latest stab at dialogue from a play/film perspective.

After the workout day.

It's the day after I really worked out in years.  Am I sore?  Some, but I need to work out again so that next time I'm not as sore.  Weird little tidbit about fitness.

Before I go to the gym today I made pretzel bread, apparently my wife really likes pretzel bread.  Of course I'll be making it again.  That got me to thinking.  I need chocolate in my bread.  I'm spending more calories via working out therefore I can eat more chocolate.  That makes so much sense to me.

Anytime someone puts chocolate chips in a bread recipe it doesn't seem to work out like in the pictures.  The chips just melt so you have chocolate bread.  Chocolate bread would be fine if it wasn't so wimpy.  Then I thought about M&M's, the sugar coating should protect the chocolate from melting.  Only one thing to do.  It's called experimentation.  Maybe Monday will be the first batch of M&M bread.

When I make it I'll tell you about it.

Just life.

I'm losing weight.  I like riding my bike but that's not the most fun when it's raining, cold and dark.  Add in a trailer with a kid or two and it becomes a Soviet bloc torture technique.  Today I joined a gym.

They have a kids area which was the make or break aspect of this one.  The kid part was clean and the lady working there seemed nice.  Worked out for an hour and when we were ready to go home did our child want to go?  Nope.

I need to work on legs.  Way back when I was a teenager I could almost push 400.  I tried but I could never hit that number.  What can I do today?  I could do a few reps of 220, son of a bitch.  This aging gig sucks.

The Fall and Rise of Crybaby. Part 2.

A chop shop.  You've brought me to a house of horrors for my kind.  How dare you.  You had your first kiss in my backseat and this is how you pay me back.  Someone is looking at my engine and I can hear his voice getting excited.  It's disgusting the glee he's showing at my imminent demise.  And you, I thought we were family and all you can talk about is removing the A/C, I loathe you now.  Both of you disgust me, caressing me as you plan my dismemberment.

Hang on, I just heard you say "tune up" and "flame paint job".  You want to get me new tires and clean me up?  Did I just hear a host of angels sing?  You're laughing because my driver gave me to you and you think he didn't know that I have a 351 Windsor in me.  The jokes on you.  He knew and our racing paid for most of your clothes when you were a baby.  You want to race?  Let's get that A/C out and you better get a job for gas, tires, and oil.  We'll race and we'll show them what a Cougar can do.

VROOM, VROOM, VROOM, VROOM, VROOOOOM!

Little Johnny might not like Elvis like my driver does but he's learning how to race.  I can't wait for his father to find out that Little Johnny is just like him.  One behind the wheel and the other training, we can't lose.  Just watch.

The Fall and Rise of Crybaby. Part 1.

My name is Crybaby, I'm a car, a Mercury Cougar XR7 to be exact.  I have the name because my plates had TER in it and my driver thought that Tear or Tears wasn't quite right for me.  We've been through a lot together.  I brought him to work day in and day out.  I brought him to his wedding and to his honeymoon.  I was there for him when he went to a funeral.  I was even there when he conceived his son.  Maybe he wasn't conceived on my seat but I know that they tried often enough.

Lately though I feel like my driver has forgotten what we've been through.  He doesn't wash me as much and we don't go on rides to the country as a family anymore.  He's even bought a "sporty" SUV (notice how she doesn't have a name? I noticed) for his wife that they take out on the town.  I hope they don't think I care though, after all I don't tip over.  I've noticed that Little Johnny has taken an interest in me though.  He's even washed me a few times.  He didn't do that great of a job but he did more than my driver has recently.

My driver used to tell Little Johnny that he would teach him how to drive in me.  I guess he forgot.  He uses me to bring Little Johnny to some driving class but even then he takes the SUV more often than not.  All of those little sports cars, Little Johnny was almost drooling when he first saw them.  Look again Little Johnny, they all have two brakes and no bench seat.  You might not be here if I didn't have a bench seat.

Lately we've been going to car dealers.  I'm surprised that my driver is going to buy Little Johnny a new car.  Makes sense though.  I was new when my driver picked me and I've stood (you know what I mean) with him through thick and thin.  My driver has finally picked one for Little Johnny.  He must be worried that Little Johnny is going to wreck his new car before he gets him home; he's driving the new one and Little Johnny is driving me home.

Hang on, my driver is parking the new car in my spot.  MY spot.  Little Johnny is parking ME in the street?  What is going on here?  Little Johnny is thanking my driver?  What do you mean you're going out to see some friends?  Why is my driver going inside?  Why is Little Johnny getting back in?

Okay, it's not so bad.  He's driving okay.  Hasn't hit anything.  Isn't going to fast or slow.  Nice and easy, just the way it should be.  Wait a minute, I can't see the house anymore and we're going faster.  Really fast now.  We're going so fast, we're going to crash!  That light is yellow, DID YOU HEAR ME?  YELLOW!  THAT DOES NOT MEAN TO GO FASTER!  THIS NEXT LIGHT IS RED!  THAT MEANS TO STOP!  NOW, NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!

Okay, he's slowed down.  What's this?  He's bringing me to a garage?  I've heard about these places, he's brought me to a chop shop.  Son of a bitch.  I brought you home from the hospital and this is how you treat me?

Being a stay at home dad.

As many of you know, I used to manage topless bars.  What you might not know is that I mainly worked in the redneck/barrio/rougher low end ones.  Oddly enough, there is more money and less drama in them than the "upscale" ones.  Rougher as in I used to carry two guns, my Glock 17 and my back-up was a Steyr.  They were both in level 0 holsters; for those that don't know, a level 0 means that gravity and some friction are holding the pistol in place.  But, they are fast and that's what I wanted.  In all my time in the clubs I almost drew on someone once.  I was taught that you don't draw unless you're willing to shoot and don't shoot unless you're willing to kill.  Anyone that draws and just waves it around is a bit of an idiot.  I even have a variety of club t-shirts because sometimes blood would get on my work shirt and I needed a replacement.  All that being said, this whole being a stay at home dad (sahd) is so much harder.

I'm getting better though.  Shopping today, various errands, cleaning, cooked dinner (entree and a side), even figured out a preliminary menu for the rest of the week.  It's taken me awhile but I'm finally starting to figure it all out.

Some times I miss the simplicity of working in clubs.  There the only thing I had to worry about was some crackhead trying to stab me.  Now, that seems like the "good old days".  I know it's not; but damn, this is a freaking crapload of work.  I can't wait to go back to work.

The Play. Act. 4.

I'm somewhat lost about this play.  Lot's of ideas but trying to put them in the format of a play is harder than I thought.  I'm looking at it like poetry, the dialogue is smaller than a novel therefore each word needs to have a bit more punch than usual.  Describing the action is easier because I can write it as directions to actors not as prose.

ACT 4.  SCENE 1.

SETTING:  NIGHTTIME ON A PORCH, THE REVEREND IS DRESSED IN A ROBE OVER PAJAMAS.  HE'S KNOCKING ON THE DOOR AND SHOUTS AND BREAKAGE CAN BE SEEN ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR.  THE DOOR IS VIOLENTLY OPENED AND MR. QUINN ANSWERS.  SCENE IS FROM THE SIDE, BEHIND THE NEIGHBOR IS A LADY SITTING ON A SOFA.

MR. QUINN:  (YELLING AND ANGRY) What do you want?
THE REVEREND:  (CALM AND PEACEFUL)  Hi, I'm your new neighbor (puts out hand to shake) and I'm trying to sleep, work to do in the morning, and your party is a bit noisy.  I wouldn't be surprised to hear that some neighbor called the police already.
MR. QUINN:  (ANGRY)  You called the police on me?  You little punk, I oughta...
THE REVEREND:  (CUTTING HIM OFF)  You oughta not do a damn thing.  Whatever you and your wife are doing, just stop and go to sleep.
MR. QUINN:  (ANGRY BUT QUIETER)  I know you, you're that new preacher down at the church.  I'm not a little boy, you don't scare me.  What I do to my wife is none of your damn business.  Now get off my property.
THE REVEREND:  (STILL CALM BUT NOW MENACING)  Have you ever heard of Romans 13:4?  It's a big verse about how I am a servant of Mr. G and I will pound you into next week for him.  (PUSHES MR. QUINN DOWN VIOLENTLY.  POSSIBLY A SWEEP OR AN ARM BAR.  STEPPING INTO THE HOUSE AND POINTING AT THE WIFE) You, any kids?
MRS. QUINN:  (FRIGHTENED, LOOKING DOWN) No...
THE REVEREND:  (ALMOST BARKING)  Pack a bag.  Anything you don't want him to destroy take with you...Now.
MRS. QUINN LEAVES.

ACT 4.  SCENE 2.

SETTING:  THE REVERENDS LIVING ROOM.  THE REVEREND IS STILL IN HIS ROBE AND PAJAMAS, MRS. QUINN IS IN A ROBE WITH A SUITCASE AND A PILLOWCASE FULL OF WHATEVER.

THE REVEREND:  Before anything else happens, are you going to go back to him?  If so, do it now.
MRS. QUINN:  (STILL FRIGHTENED, STILL LOOKING DOWN) No, he'd kill me for sure then.  (QUIETLY) The last time I left he beat me so hard...
THE REVEREND:  You don't have to worry about this time, just keep Galatians 5:1 in your heart and you'll do fine.
MRS. QUINN:  (COCKS HER HEAD AND ALMOST LOOKS AT HIM FOR AN EXPLANATION)...
THE REVEREND:  You don't know Galatians?  (SMILING AND JOKING) What is this world coming to?  It basically says that you're free and don't let yourself be a slave again.  (POINTING) The couch is pretty comfy, I'll get you a blanket and such.  Bathroom is over there, kitchen is there (YELLING FROM OUTSIDE) That should be the cops talking to your husband.  If you have any family you can call you might as well wait for the morning to tell them that you've left him.  You can call the police then also to press charges.  (LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW) I wonder if the boys in blue saw the bumper sticker on your husbands truck.
MRS. QUINN:  (QUIZZICAL) My husband...he doesn't have a bumper sticker on his truck.
THE REVEREND:  (SMILING) That's funny, I know I saw one on his truck.  That's why it took me so long to knock on your door, I had to take the time to read it.  It was rather a rude tasteless joke about cops.  You might want to look at it before you tell the police about his hatred of the police, I can't repeat it you, (SMUG SMILE) I'm a Reverend after all.

Rags.

Driving today and I'm thinking about a character.  I'm not really sure what made me think of this person but I'm going to tell you and get it out of my head.  Maybe I'll do something with it later, maybe not.  I haven't decided yet.

I'm thinking this should be done as a comic book, probably online.  This idea just screams for a comic book.  Simple, the story doesn't need to be cluttered with too much detail.  And the comic book format lets you do super hero (and villain) stuff for a lot less money than a play or film.

Here's the basic premise.  A guy has his career as a vice-principal in a rougher school.  He's sees all of the damage that not having enough food can do to a kid.  He wants to do more but other than spending what little free time he has volunteering at various places there isn't much he can do.

Then the accident happens.  Something happens that's dramatic yet confined to a small group of people;  my first thought is a meteor hits nearby and the "cosmic radiation" changes some people.  The main character and his eventual love interest are affected, some others that can range from hoods to normal people.  Depending on how the plot goes.

The main character gets the typical super hero package (super strength, dexterity, speed, improved toughness, and maybe something else) and of course being a nice guy he uses it to help people.  He stops muggings, runs into burning buildings to save someone, that kind of stuff.  But he still sees "his" kids at school everyday needing help.

Then he sees an opportunity, a bank has money put into the atm every week.  He decides to steal it and give it to the people that need it.  He doesn't want to lose his job so he knows he'll need a disguise, he gets his inspiration from a homeless guy in the alley near the bank.  He hits the thrift stores and buys some cheap clothes; so they (and he) don't look out of place as a homeless person he puts them in the garden, wipes his car engine with them, pours stuff on them to give them the proper lived in look.

He hides in a cardboard box and waits.  He steals the money and makes anonymous donations to various local charities, especially ones that will help his kids.  Because he was dressed up like a homeless person the news reporters call him "Rags", possibly they wanted to call him "Ragamuffin" but that was shortened to Rags.  Also because he was dressed as a homeless person the city starts aggressively removing the homeless from the city and vigilante groups eventually start attacking the homeless.

He's successful from his first job so he does more.  Eventually, a hero try's to stop him.  They pound away on each other for awhile but since he's not trying to hurt her he eventually runs off.  The hero (Super Love Interest) is part of a group of supers that were all affected by the meteor.  They've banded together to protect their city from the likes of Rags and other criminal elements.  SLI is a social worker that's putting her money and time into a charity that helps people get jobs, go to school, etc.  They recently started getting a large number of anonymous donations.

Eventually Rags and SLI will meet in a non-costume way and have a date.  They have some chemistry but the dates are a bit off because they are both hiding something.  I'm thinking that after they've been beating on each other for awhile (in costume) they have a date later on and neither one wants to do anything that would expose their bruises and contusions.  Or alternatively, someone else who knows both of them realizes the truth and possibly uses that to their own ends.

Eventually Rags will cross the line from robber to murderer.  The victim is either an accident or very corrupt.  Either way he crosses a line and SLI and her group really start looking for him.

Business Books.

New post on the other side, check it out here.

A very weird cult.

My wife and I went out to Dallas for a little lunch at the Galleria.  For those of you who don't know, the Galleria is a mall that's a bit on the high end side.  For example, there is quite a bit of valet parking at this place.  It does have some of the usual suspects for food and retail but then it gets a little pricey for a mall.  Some very expensive and exclusive stores, the restaurant we went to was good but I don't think we could justify going there too much.

After lunch we popped into an American Girl store because my wife had heard that they were a bit crazy so we decided to check out the insanity.  It's a cult.  If a kid wants a doll I have no problem with that.  If they want to wear the same outfit as the doll then I'm still okay with that.  If the kid wants the doll that is like them (pick eye color, hair color and texture, pick skin tone) then I still have no problem.  Then I saw the price tags.  $110 for the basic doll.  The doll does have an outfit or you can buy more.  While you're getting the extra outfits you can get accessories like glasses, retainers, hearing aids, pajamas, furniture, pets, and even doll care items.  On a side note I was impressed with the furniture, the ladderback chairs with the rabbit ears and woven seats was something I've worked on in the past and the Duncan Phyfe chairs look like the ones I've repaired and swore over.  Even the roll top desk was workable.  I was really impressed with the furniture if you couldn't tell.

But no matter how much I was impressed with the furniture I still think it's a cult.  Then I thought about the truth of the marketing.  The kid might want it but it's the parents that whip out the cash.  Then I started wondering how many women and couples have a miscarriage or still birth and get one of these as a physical object of their grief.  That I can accept.

More about Scientists.

I have the utmost respect for scientists.  I do think that some of them need to get their head out of their ass at times.  What do I mean?  Back in the 1980's some scientist said that bumble bees shouldn't be able to fly.  They even referenced it in the "Bee" movie starring Jerry Seinfeld.  This scientist was basing the theory on how bees are nothing at all like airplanes for aerodynamics to produce lift.  I was a teenage kid when I heard this and thought he was an idiot because the bees obviously fly so what's wrong with the theory?  Later on it came out that the aerodynamics of bees is more like a helicopter than an airplane.  Fine, he made a mistake.  The saying is to "publish or perish", that's not literal.  He shouldn't have published any findings until he had a reason why bees could fly.

Because of that and some other experiences I still have respect for scientists but I also will question them more.  Especially if the academic in question seems to be out of the real world loop.  What's the real world loop?  I am 5'8" and weigh about 228.  On the BMI (Body Mass Index) that puts me in the obese area.  My waist is at approximately 37" right now.  What does all of this mean?  According to the BMI I should weigh between 120 and 158 pounds to be in the "normal" range.  If my waist were to get down to a 34" I would be pretty happy, but I have too much muscle to be in the 158 area.

My calves are about 18.5", when I managed a male topless bar (female customers and male dancers) I had the biggest calves and I weighed more than these bodybuilders.  For those of you that don't know, muscle weighs more than fat.  Why did I weigh more?  Are my bones denser?  Possibly a combination of density and muscle.  I have no idea.

According to the BMI I need to lose about 33% of my total weight to be in the "normal" range and that's just barely in the spectrum.  I don't know if I could lose 70 pounds.  No matter how much fat I lose I will still have a lot of muscle.  If I become a complete couch potato then would I lose some muscle?  Sure, but I don't think it will be that much.

Whoever created the BMI should have factored in people with muscle.  To me the BMI is useless and only makes scientists look bad.  Maybe they should get out of the lab and into the real world a little more.

The Play. Act Three Scene Two.

ACT THREE SCENE TWO.

SETTING:  AFTER THE SERVICE GROUPS EATING DONUTS AND COFFEE/JUICE.

LADY ALPHA:  (MIFFED) Who would do such a thing?  My granddaughter is paying her way through college waiting tables and how is she supposed to pay her rent with one of these?  (WAVES A TRACT)

GENTLEMAN 1:  We shouldn't have to tip the servers, maybe the companies should pay a decent wage.

LADY ALPHA:  So you're one of those.  The company pays crap because you are supposed to tip.  If you can't afford to tip then don't go to a restaurant.  

GENTLEMAN 1:  It's not that simple, the companies want us, the customers, to subsidize their employees.  Why should we do that?

LADY ALPHA:  If you don't "subsidize" their employees then the cost of a meal would go through the roof.

GENTLEMAN 1:  Again, why should we subsidize the employees?  If they don't like the pay then they can get another job.  

LADY ALPHA:  And again you've proven that you're an idiot.  When you don't tip then they lose the good employees and you're stuck with the ones that'll put up with you for a dollar.  Although, I guess that describes your marriage.

The Play. Act Two. Scene Two.

Act Two.  Scene Two.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, DIFFERENT GROUP OF PEOPLE.  SOME ARE POPPING UP THEIR HEADS TO WATCH THE REVEREND.

LADY 1:  He is cute.
LADY 2:  Yes he is.  But he seems a little off.  Whenever he's talking to you he's always looking around.  I'm used to guys talking to my chest but he'll look at my hands a lot and over my shoulders.  I'm not used to guys not looking at my chest.
GENTLEMAN 2:  Sweetie, I've known you for years, most women talk to your chest also.

LADY 1:  I know what you mean.  When I was working in the church office I heard him talking to some plumber for the church, and when the plumber said he had to raise the estimate the Reverend's voice got real quiet, so quiet I couldn't really hear what he said.  The plumber I could hear and he wasn't joking like before, said it was his mistake and he would fix it on the original estimate and he would do it right then instead of the next day.  I do wonder what he said to that plumber.

GENTLEMAN 2:  (SCOFFING AND A LITTLE CONDESCENDING)  Please, do you think he threatened him?  He probably just asked about giving the church a discount.  And he was embarrassed so he whispered it.

ACT TWO. SCENE THREE.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, BACK TO THE REVEREND'S GROUP.

REVEREND:  (JOKING AND HAVING FUN LIKE THE REST OF HIS GROUP)  As everyone knows, I've recently moved here.  Any places I should avoid?  Any restaurants I must try, or try to avoid?

The woes of Halloween.

I'm tired and writing short stories is so much harder and more time consuming than what I normally write.  I call it "zen writing" because the fingers know what to type.  That's a reference to zen archers who don't aim like normal people, they do say that the arrow knows where to go, though.  I'm going to give you some random thoughts, slam down a shot of Nykill (I spell it like that because I hate the taste of the vile green crap) and go to sleep.

I love my kids.  I really do love them so much it takes my breath away.  Not so much around Halloween though, especially not when I'm trying to watch what I eat.

It's not even Halloween yet and the city has done a trick or treat thing in the park already.  Because of that there is four bags of candy hidden in the hall closet.  Why four you ask since I only have three minions?  Simple, I go through the bags and get the propaganda, opened candy, and trash out then I go through the remains and take out the good stuff that my wife and I like.

I put an initial on the kids bags so they don't fight over whose bag is whose and the green bag is ours.  We slowly dole out the candy as dessert.  What ever the kids don't want or is around the house too long is given to someone in an office, they always have a bowl available to throw candy in.

I, on the other hand, walk by the closet and thinks, those chocolates are small, I can easily have two pieces and it won't mess up my diet.   However, I walk by the closet I don't know how many times in a day.

The Play. Act 3.

I'm going to jump around on the play because I can't figure out how to do the welcoming party, just a bit of a blind spot for the moment.  This will be something that is near and dear to my heart.  Tipping.

ACT 3.  SCENE 1.

SETTING:  THE CHURCH.  THE REVEREND IS IN THE BACKGROUND FACING THE AUDIENCE AND THE CONGREGATION IS IN THE FOREGROUND FACING HIM.

REVEREND:  I was looking for inspiration for the sermon today and I found this letter.  (HOLDS LETTER UP AND WAVES IT.)  It's about giving.  I'm all about giving; I love Christmas, I think of the gift giving as a puzzle.  Anyone can give a person a nice present but it's a real challenge to get them something really special.  When the next year you hear complaints because your gift last year was just so perfect, that's when you know you did it right.  I'm sorry, I lied to you.  This letter isn't about giving it's about not giving.  When you donate to a church you shouldn't give more than you can afford.  In fact if you give more than you can afford then you haven't been listening.  Mr. G upstairs wants you to take care of yourself and your family before you give to this or any church.  If all you can afford is a nickel then we're happy.  Talk to me about how to manage your money better but we're still okay with whatever you can afford to give.  On the other hand though...when you go to a restaurant then you should tip.  If the service was bad let the manager know and tip accordingly.  If the service was good, or hopefully, great then tip accordingly.  If you're not sure then a simple trick is a dollar for every 5 or 6 dollars on the tab.  What prompted this sermon and this letter?  (STARTING TO GET ANGRY)  The waiter who wrote this letter said that his table of six people from my church didn't tip him, instead they said they would pray for him and left him some literature from my church.  Now if you want to make yourself look cheap then go ahead and do it.  If you want to make me and my church look cheap, I'm an adult I can handle it.  But when you want to make my church and Mr G look cheap then you've got another thing coming.  (CALMING DOWN) These waiters are making nothing on their paycheck, they live off of tips.  They live off of the kindness of strangers, much like our Savior.  Maybe we should act like our Savior more and remember that he filled their bellies before he even thought about filling their souls.  Think about that the next time you go out to eat.

END OF SCENE 1

I've been wanting to get that out of my system for awhile now.  When I was a server and a bartender I did get those religious tracts more often than you think.  Some were pretty basic telling about Gods will and how this church can be there for you.  Then some were rather crappy.  One that I received looked like a ten dollar bill on one side and on the other side it said that I was tricked much like Satan tricks us all the time.  If you're going to stiff me on my pay do you really have to make a joke about it?  This sermon started because I wanted to write a letter to the churches that I had collected the tracts from and tell them what kind of reputation they have.

The Play. Act Two.

Act Two.  Scene One.

SETTING: A PARTY IN A LIVING ROOM, COUCH, BIG CHAIR, TV, DINNER TABLE (SMALLER), KITCHEN CHAIRS AND EXTRA MISMATCHED CHAIRS.  THE MOBSTER IS NOW DRESSED IN A BLACK SUIT LIKE A REVEREND/MINISTER.  EVERYONE IS IN GROUPS TALKING AND SNACKING.  THE REVEREND IS TALKING TO A GROUP OF PEOPLE AND A SERIOUS LOOKING OLDER LADY PUSHES HER WAY THROUGH.

LADY ALPHA:  Pardon me Reverend, I've heard the rumors and scuttlebutt and now I want you to tell me how you heard the call.
REVEREND (FORMER MOBSTER):  I was wondering who would ask me first.  It's really simple actually, after high school I thought about the clergy but decided to see the world so I went into the Army...
GENTLEMAN 1:  What did you...
REVEREND:  11 Bravo, First to go last to know.  Our Uncle Sam taught me a lot of things but it really taught me to love God.  After the Army I used the GI Bill to go to college, I majored in Religious History with a minor in Accounting, by the way.  While in college I did some work for friends of the family, when I finally graduated the company I worked for "made me an offer I couldn't refuse", to use a quote I despise.  I worked for them for years, did rather well if I say so myself, but then the company changed and I didn't change with it.  So there I am, adrift, not sure what to do and I got a phone call than changed my world.  My mother had died.  Things happened pretty fast after that, I got my act together, well my spiritual act that is and realized that everything in my past was to make me a better shepherd of my flock.  I was raised Catholic but the Catholic church and I don't see eye to eye on everything, I started looking around at the "competition", I remember some of the priests calling the non-Catholics that, and I liked this one, it just fit me like a good suit.

Act Two.  Scene Two.

SETTING:  SAME LIVING ROOM, DIFFERENT GROUP OF PEOPLE.  SOME ARE POPPING UP THEIR HEADS TO WATCH THE REVEREND.

LADY 1:  He is cute.
LADY 2:  Yes he is.  But he seems a little off.  Whenever he's talking to you he's always looking around.  I'm used to guys talking to my chest but he'll look at my hands a lot and over my shoulders.  I'm not used to guys not looking at my chest.
GENTLEMAN 2:  Sweetie, I've known you for years, most women talk to your chest also.

That's it for the night.  I'm not too sure about the last two speaking parts for act 2 scene 2.  I want the gossipy feel but I would also like to avoid the whole bust part.