Bring Baby Powder

Bring Baby Powder

Dear Diary …

I like to think I provide halfway decent advice. At the very least, I hope somebody out there at least realizes that they’re doing something dumb and stops doing it after I point it out. (Though you know how it is with dumb people … they dumb.) It’s like a wise man once said … “If you can change just one idiot’s ways, you’ve done your job.” Or maybe it was Oprah. Or maybe I read it on a shirt in Myrtle Beach.

Anyway … I’m here to help. So today I’ve got some helpful pieces of life advice.

Life advice #1: Bring Baby Powder

This is one that must evolve as you get older, because when I was a kid this issue never came up, but now? Man there’s chafing. I don’t know when that butt to sweat to pant ratio changes, but boy does it change! I just got back from this big ol’ food festival, and let me tell you right now, if I didn’t have my trustly bottle of baby powder on me at all times, you’d probably find my red and irritated corpse laying on the streets of Greenville, South Carolina.

Any when I was at FloydFest? Oh you can forget about it. They might as well change the name of that whole festival to Chafe-O-Rama. And if Johnson and Johnson ain’t a sponsor of that thing, it should be. At the very least, I’m gonna buy me a bunch of those little travel size bottles of baby powder, set up a booth, and then sell them for $500 each as the night goes on. Heck at one point I woulda paid twice that, and I HAD my own supply!

Life advice #2: Don’t Talk to Me

Here’s where we go back to the whole, “change just one idiot’s mind” thing from earlier. If you don’t know me, and we’re around each other, resist the temptation to speak to me. Now I don’t mean ALL talking. You wanna tell me my shoes are cool or my face looks awesome? Go for it!

I’m more talking about if you’ve got some sort of complaint or general whininess going on … I don’t want to hear about it.

If we are both standing in a line. And it’s long. I’m aware that it’s long. I don’t need you to start telling me, “boy this line is long!” Then go into your whole rant about how there aren’t enough registers open or nobody wants to work or whatever other “angry AM radio agenda” you have on your mind. I don’t care! Nobody cares! Don’t talk!

I know exactly what this is … this is a person who’s already worn out everybody in their life. Friends don’t call them anymore. Family ignores them. So now they’re just looking for someone … ANYONE … to listen to their boring topics. This is why Facebook is the billion dollar company that it is … they tapped into these noodnicks and gave them a platform to complain about the line for the WHOLE world to hear. Thanks Zuckerberg!

Till next Time Diary .. I say … Goodbye

Eat Drink and Sit

Eat Drink and Sit

Dear Diary …

I enjoy me a beach vacation. Granted … sand is kinda just … awful and sandy … but it’s all part of the experience. The sun … the surf … the smell of the ocean air … I’m cool with all that. However, there is one thing that is totally ruining the beach going experience. And it doesn’t even have to be a thing.

I mean I don’t know about you, but I go to the beach to eat, drink, and sit. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? It’s a time to leave everyday hassles behind and just enjoy a different life for a couple days. Which is why I don’t need you people who are doing all kinds of exercisin’ at the beach. What is wrong with you? I thought the whole point was to get AWAY from everyday life? I mean do you go inside and open your mail and pay bills while you’re at it?

I was just at the beach recently and in the morning I’m on my way to the store … and to be clear I’m on my way to the store because I have leftover mac and cheese and pulled pork BBQ and I need to buy tortillas so I can make awesomely ooey gooey BBQ pork and mac and cheese quesadillas. And beer. Needed more beer.

So what I don’t need is to look up and see some guy standing on the deck of his beach house doing all sorts of exercises. He’s got those rubber band tension band thingies and he’s just standing there with his arms pushed all the way out … and just holdin’ it. Not to mention he’s dressed like a fluorescent green traffic cone so he’s REALLY going out of his way to be all, “Look at ME! I’m exercising at the BEACH!”

Alright look here Mr. Universe … you’re not better than me just because you’re still “gettin’ a workout in” while you’re on vacation. Truth is you’re probably better than me for a lot of reasons because I’m awful … but this isn’t one of them!!!

And for as bad as that person in, the people who go running on the actual beach are even worse. Because now I’m sittin’ there doing my … you know … eat drink and sit like I’m supposed to go … I got them all right in front of me runnin’ around with their little fanny pack water bottles … keep looking at their watch like they’re timing themselves for a race or something.

Get outta here with this! I don’t come to the gym and sit down next to you and eat a pizza because that’s your “workout zone.” So I don’t need to see you doing a bunch of lunges here in the “eat drink and sit zone.”

C’mon people! Somtimes it’s OK to just … be BAD and have some fun. Stupid work and chores and the gym will be there when you get back. Eat drink and sit!!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The Parking Lot Waltz

The Parking Lot Waltz

Dear Diary …

I don’t mind a little singin’ and dancin’ … granted I can’t even figure out how to properly Floss, but if you can pull it off … more power to ya. That said … there’s a time and a place for singin’ and dancin’ … especially dancin’ … and that place is NOT the parking lot at the grocery store.

And I know what you’re thinking … “Who’s twerking in the parking lot at the grocery store?” First of all … nobody. Second … that one I’d probably be OK with … because what I’m not OK with is the parking lot waltz.

You know the parking lot waltz … even if you don’t think you do.

It’s when you’re trying to drive to a parking space, and the person walking in front of your car in your way is [[music]] … doing a long … slow … diagonal waltz thru the parking lot. Not a care in the world. And clearly not in a hurry to get anywhere.

You JUST saw me one second ago when you walked in front of my car … but now … [[music]] … that car must’ve just disappeared behind me.

Look … I don’t advocate for running anybody over … but somebody like this at least deserves a light tap to remind them that they are on foot and may want to get out of the way of the giant car. I’m just looking for a little hustle, man. Well … that and a straight line. Walk in it.

Moving on Diary …

I understand this is irrational anger … OK … everything in the Anger Diary is irrational anger … so too bad … we’re here now … I hate “mug cake.” That’s right … mug cake! Really I hate any time the kids discover some sort of food and drink concoction online and then start trashing my kitchen with it, but mug cake is the WORST. Because now they basically just dump some flour, sugar, and chocolate into a mug … and onto the counter … and onto the floor. And then heat it up in the microwave to explode everywhere and make a giant mess.

And somehow they think mug cake also defies the laws of snacks and desserts. Two o’clock in the afternoon …

“What are you doing?”

“Making mug cake.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. That’s not a snack. That’s a dessert.”

“Yeah but it’s mug cake.”

Hate you mug cake! And especially hate you afterward because that black, over-microwaved chocolate never wants to come off any of the mugs. And yes … I know the kids should clean it themselves, but they conveniently “forget” every single time.

If I told them, I’ll give you $20 if you remind me at exactly 8:47 two weeks from next Thursday … oh they got that one memorized … but “rinse your dishes” … [charlie brown mumbles]

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.