Just hold it...

Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. That's all I keep hearing from my wife, my doctor, my mother... you name it. And it's true. Often times when I feel run-down, lethargic, or just have a simple head-ache, a few bottles of water is all it takes to get me back on the right side of feeling swell. But there is a dark side to hydration. A wicked side with a nasty sense of humor.

How many of you in blog-country have been right on time for a meeting at work, with no wiggle room for a bathroom break? You can already feel it coming on and you hope that the meeting, scheduled for an hour is only going to go thirty minutes because that may be all your bladder can handle. So you sit in the meeting. You take notes, you participate, you listen and you watch as the momentum of said meeting goes well beyond your window of opportunity. Now you're holding on for dear life. You'd prefer not to get up and leave the room, drawing attention to the fact that you are gong to pee-pee and you think that maybe the meeting could wrap up in just a few minutes. The time ticks away and you are no longer able to concentrate on the content of the meeting because the pain in your bladder is blocking out all other sensation.

A few minutes earlier you were chiming in with great ideas and interesting observations. Now every person in the room that says, "Have we discussed this option yet?" becomes your mortal enemy and you curse the day that they were born because you now know that it would one day lead to them setting in this f-ing meeting and forcing you to risk pissing your pants!

You begin to squirm ever so slightly because it is all you can do to hold back the tide of urine that is now dangerously close to spilling forth! You think to yourself, I can't wait any longer! I must excuse myself from the meeting. But you're paranoid now. Worried that someone may have noticed your change in demeanor long ago and will know that for the last thirty minutes you've been thinking of nothing but unzipping your pants!

But then the meeting ends! Thank the Gods! relief at last. You stand up and prepare to file out the door of the conference room. You're home free! The toilet is just a few yards away and you can almost feel that sweet relief. It's the most precious thing in the world at this point and you would trade away your first born child just for the chance to let it fly!

You step one foot out of the conference room and in that very moment your boss stops you and says, "Say, cyberman. Have a seat for a few minutes while I go over this other project with you."

Normally you'd have the right words to explain your situation. You'd say something like, "I'm sorry, boss. I need to run to the restroom really quickly and I'll be right back." Unfortunately all sanity has left you at this point and you only manage to blurt out, "Pampers" because that's what you'll need if you're not careful.

Bed Time Guilt

My wife and I have really been putting the screws down on bed time with our two year old. He still cries (or whines) every night when we tell him it is bed-time. One small success has been that while he is crying he is (of his own accord) walking back to his bedroom on his own.

We've been playing hard ball for two reasons. 1) We are prepping for the arrival of this baby and we'd like at least one child to have a regular sleep cycle. 2) We actually enjoy the quality time together weather that is watching a TV-show, doing dishes, or just catching up with each other as a couple.

Once back in the bedroom we still have to read stories, do a few puzzles, and generally corral his but into bed. But once we say "night-night" it's lights out and that's it. He has his good days and bad days. The bad ones usually consist of 2-3 minutes of crying after we leave the room. The good ones, including the last few nights, have been him repeating the phrase "night-night" back to us.

Last night we wrapped things up and turned off the light. His response to me was "night-night, Daddy. Have fun."

I found that his innocent statement that I "have fun" struck in me a pang of guilt that still lingers this morning... because that was exactly what I was anticipating doing after I left his room. I was going to go out and "have fun"... whatever that meant. What must he think we do after he goes to bed? Break out the cake and ice-cream? Call up Curious George and Clifford the Big Red Dog so they can all come over and watch Disney movies until sun-up? What's next? When I drop him off at school in a few years will he say things like, "Don't worry about me dad. I'm sure I can dodge the school bully long enough to get my daily spanking from my evil teacher before being shuffled off to the cafeteria to eat gruel that isn't nearly as delicious as the food we eat at home." I think my next cyber-implant is going to replace my tender-heart with something that more resembles cast-iron.

What was I thinking?

In preparation for the upcoming cyber-tot, Mrs. Cyber and I were going through old photos and attempting to organize, as new babies always bring with it a flood of pictures. We got sidetracked going through some old albums. My goodness how fads change over time. Do you remember ankle rolled blue-jeans? Here's a picture of some of my favorite "looks" from the past!



My god, what was I thinking doing my hair like that. Oh well, it was the eighties! And look at those pants. How embarrassing! But I know you guys still love me, if you can't share the soft underbelly of your past with blog-country, who can you share with?

Drew is Back...

...with a special editorial. If you like the ramblings of the burger-loving gunslinger that was wrongfully jerked from his starting position, then check out one of his recent articles. He talks about the retirement of Bill Parcels.

Once more unto the breach!

There's a reason that a vast majority of children are born more than two years apart from each other in a single family. It's because it takes that long for parents to forget all the crappy parts of raising an infant. Don't get me wrong, I love my son and there isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't fill my spirit with a joy that lacks compare, but he was one difficult baby!

Spit-up, diapers, colic, and sleepless nights are just some of the things one expects as they face parenting for the first time. It's only after you've experienced the joys of caring for a baby that you become fully aware of the highest highs and the lowest lows of that physical, mental, and emotional roller-coaster.

And now upon the eve of the birth of my second son my wife and I are reminded of (not the specific challenges because time has wiped those from our memory but) the battle of bringing a new life into the world. We are steeling our resolve, marshaling our resources, tapping into our reserves, and mustering the militia. Lil' Higgins will soon be on his way.

Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!

Caught in Bermuda

In case blog-country hasn't figured it out: Dagromm, Q, and I live in and around the same metro-area and we have all been friends for many years now. Dagromm and I knew each other first but after he moved further away, the Q and I began hanging out with even more frequency. Now we all live about one hour's drive distance from each other and our friendships have become largely phone conversations with the occasional lunch get-together.

But an unsettling trend is occurring in this sacred triangle of love. The last few days I have noticed that when I place my daily call into either one of these dear friends their phones always go to voice mail. I then call the other and that phone is goes to voice mail. When I happen to be talking to one, they always have to jump off the phone to take another call and then when I call the other they aren't available to visit. It turns out that the Q and Dagromm are visiting with greater frequency and they have been each ignoring their caller IDs when my call comes through. Of course no one person in the triumvirate is more important than another but as the most important and influential member of the group, I worry for their eternal souls as their friendship drifts away from the moral compass that is me. To make matters worse I have now come to find out that they are planning a weekend tryst together! Of course they both have clumsily invited me to tag along after I unearthed their secret. Can you believe the audacity? I've had it with this love triangle! I'll not play second fiddle to anyone!

My solution: Gyuss, move to our metro-area and become my best friend! Short of that I have recently priced the cost of a stun-gun, a circle-saw, and a trash bag.

Skirting the Edge

If you're a regular reader of this blog then you already know I'm a huge game-geek. I'm not as high-tech as Q and Gyuss but I do love me a good table-top war game when I have time to play. Lately I've really gotten into the Axis and Allies Miniatures game. It's a fast paced, and fun war game with historical routes making it (perhaps) one of the least geeky of war games I have ever played. There are a few problems with the game, one being that a particular unit (namely the SS-Panzergrenadiers) is under priced and overly powerful... I digress.

In graduate school I took a class on starting a business and we were allowed to work on a project of our own design. I chose the Collectible Card Game market (or CCG for short). I had many discussions with fellow game-geek and project partner about which franchises would make good material for a CCG and we debated why certain games haven't already been made. Like why is there no CCG for the Indiana Jones property? One would think it would be a viable franchise to build a collectible card game around. One of our early theories was that perhaps the backdrop of the Nazi's as major characters in the franchise might make the game just a little too politically charged for someone to be willing to touch it.

Fast forward to today and the Axis and Allies Miniatures game. Now Axis and Allies has been around a long time as a board game but the recent development of a collectible miniatures game has brought with it all the trappings of the on-line fandom community including a forums section on the Avalon Hill AAM main page. Now everyone knows that membership in a forum requires a really cool avatar and fans of the AAM have chosen many an interesting avatar to depict their on-line persona. I was recently lurking around the forums and came across one thread that was initially started about a rules question but turned into a debate about one members avatar being a Nazi flag.

Out of the woodwork pop everyone with an opinion from mild-mannered level headed folks to the idiocy of what can only be pimply faced thirteen year olds spouting "free-speech" and "don't deny history!" Vomit! Like a car crash I was riveted and couldn't wait to see how long the moderators would allow this argument to continue. For a game that does involve Nazi Germany Avalon Hill shrewdly created a code of conduct that included no use of Nazi symbols and no political discussions allowed. Seams easy enough to respect. But there is always someone that believes the rules don't apply to them. This one guy whose member handle is "Himmler" and his avatar the swastika, actually felt like he wasn't doing anything wrong. What a jack-ass! I couldn't believe this guy actually thought he was in the right. And everyone that attempted to calmly and gently suggest he change his avatar and handle got flamed like you wouldn't believe! I was stunned. Eventually the moderator stepped in and explained to the group that the political discussion needed to cease and desist and return the thread to a gaming discussion. What followed was a series of posts resulting in quite possibly the funniest Nazi humor I have ever read.



MODERATOR: The political discussion is very definately out of place here, so please avoid that.

MEMBER X: Yikes, how did this just happen. Let's go back to complaining about the game.

MEMBER Y: Yeah! ... uhm ... SS Panzergrenadiers are underpriced!


MEMBER Z: Underpriced and big meanies. Those guys have committed many atrocities in my tackle box.



I have to say to Member Z, you may skirt the edge of socially correct humor but you are one funny son of a bitch!

Happy VD!

I suppose it is customary to wish everyone you know a happy (insert-holiday). I know I always make it a point to wish practicing Christians a Merry Christmas, and Happy Easter. It's always a safe bet with wishing any American a Happy Thanksgiving, and you can't go wrong wishing all mother's a Happy Mother's Day. Speaking of Mother's Day, this brings up an issue for me and I'll lump Valentine's Day in there as well.

What's the point, other than to sell cards, candy, and flowers? I realize that complaining about the consumerism conspiracy behind such holidays isn't a brand-new hot-sports-opinion but I feel the need to bring it up. Aren't these holidays of appreciation just a business model for Hallmark and Godiva to boost profits? As husbands, fathers, sons, and boy-friends, shouldn't we be appreciating our spouses every day of the year? I know I try to express appreciation to my wife as often as possible. Does one really need mother's day to tell your mom you love her?

I'd say my wife falls in the middle when it comes to the broad spectrum of how women feel about Valentine's Day. She's fairly traditional and sentimental so she always likes to see that I've put out a little thought and effort. Of course every man knows this is the most difficult part. I'm lucky in that she doesn't need, expect, or even want me to demonstrate grand financial gestures, and she is almost always willing to postpone the actual celebration of a special day until later in the month if life gets in the way (that even includes birthdays). Nevertheless, there is something about flowers that always makes her happy.

What is it about spending money on something that one will have nothing to show for in three days? I don't get it. I don't suppose I'm genetically designed to understand why it is important. I guess I just need to know that it IS important.

Rock and Roll All Night

What a year of the football. My favorite team recently announced an exciting new minority head coach, my favorite quarterback made it to the Super Bowl and single-handidly won the game and then deservedly was anointed the mantel of MVP, placing him amongst the greats of football-all-time. Move over Uncle Rico, there's a new sheriff in town!

It was happy-fun-time a the cyber-home last night. I had a few family members over for a laid back get-together. Little did we know we would rock the house down! We sent the kid to bed early with no dinner so we could get down to the importance of football ASAP (that stands for As Soon As Possible in case you didn't know).

When the game kicked-off things looked bleak, as the football freak of nature ran one back for a TD (that stands for Touchdown in case you didn't know) in the first 14 seconds of the game. Luckily Manning rifled a TD pass to Reggie Wayne before I had a chance to kick the chair out from under my feet. My wife untied the rope from the rafters and I got down in time to watch D.Rhodes rumble, bumble, and stumble for massive yardage. Luckily Peyton taught him everything he knows.

That's when the party really started to hop! We decided to listen to the game through the surround system so we could take the party to the streets without missing a minute of the action. My neighbor only called the cops once but that wasn't for the noise. I guess some people don't appreciate roman candles rocketing off of their dining room windows.

The dog got painted all red by the end of the game but the party wouldn't stop for another hour. It would have gone all night but we ran out of rubbing alcohol and we were only able to set fire to my front lawn. I had hoped it would start a chain reaction of grass-fires as a tribute to the greatness of Peyton Manning but the local fire-department was such a buzz-kill.

Anyway, I think we can all agree that the most deserving team won the game. Feel free to blogment with your own Super Bowl celebration story!

Love to football!