Category: What’s wrong with you?

When Stuff Breaks

Dear Diary …

As anyone who owns a house knows … there’s always one guarantee of ownership … stuff is gonna break. All the time. It just is. No matter what you do or don’t do … no matter how old or new your house is … things are still gonna break and need to be fixed.

But today … A-HA! … I think I might have the solution and things will NEVER break again in your house. I know … this is unbelievable, but I think I’ve unlocked the secret. And here it is …

If you are the man of the house … never leave the house. It’s that simple.

Cuz what I’ve learned is that things only break in the house when I’m not home. I know this because I … like every other man on Earth … find out about things being broken when our wives call us to let us know that things are broken.

Diary … I’m telling you right now … nothing’s ever broken in my home when I’ve been there. Roof’s never leaked, pilot light’s never gone out, pipes never “make that funny noise” … I only hear about those things in phone calls from my wife.

Just last week … “Um … the television picture is broken. There’s sound … just no picture. I don’t know WHAT happened … I didn’t touch ANYTHING!”

Yep … I know what happened … I left. And furthermore … ladies … I’m not blaming you. (OK I’m blaming you.) But I’m just trying to understand … how does this stuff always happen when the dude isn’t home and it’s just poor, innocent you, victim of the evil collapsing house? You see how this looks from the outside, right? I mean, it can’t just be the most amazing coincidence in the history of mankind that things only break when you’re there. Can it?

I’m not mad … I’m just confused. Does the house hate you? Or are you just breaking stuff on purpose to get new stuff? Just give us the truth!

OK … moving on Diary …

Here’s something I’d like to put an end to on Facebook. OK … really I’d like to put an end to Facebook, but I know that ain’t happening. (At least not yet)

Anyway … what I’d like to put an end to today are the people who take insignificant events and try to celebrate them as actual events. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s an example … saw this one in my feed the other day … and I’ll keep you anonymous, but you know who you are … you’re the one who said …

“Today is officially three months away from the one year anniversary of me and my amazing girlfriend. I love her SO much!!”

Awww … that’s so cute. THAT’S NOT AN EVENT!

That’s a countdown to an event … in three months. That’s the event!

“Big day today … this proud Mommy is celebrating one month until little Mellman’s second birthday.”

Again … not an event. Also, I know Mellman isn’t an actual name … but if I say “Logan” then Logan’s Mommy gets mad at me, so we’ll stick with Mellman.

Hey … you wanna celebrate Mellman’s second birthday? Great! But that’s for the actual birthday. The countdown to the birthday? Not an event!

I hate to break it to you, but we do not care that it’s 17 days till you leave for the beach … Or 11 more weeks until it’s 6 days after the first date you had with your husband of 4 years, but not the anniversary which is 14 days from that October we went to Myrtle Beach together but still a month and a half before he decided to finally pop the question. Don’t care!!!

The event is the event … the countdown is for you to quietly do in your own head. Shhhhh!

Till next time Diary … which is 7 days away from the one week anniversary of the last time I wrote in you … I say … Goodbye.

The Virus That’s Spreading

Dear Diary …

Pray for me … because an infection has taken over my home. And no … I don’t mean an infection like ones you see in the news like Ebola. This one is FAR more widespread in this country … affecting tens of thousands of children every year. The infection of the doll known as the “American Girl.”

My daughter has officially been stricken with the virus. Every day she rushes to the mailbox to see if a new catalog has come in. She talks about the American Girl dolls. Which one she wants. What she will do with the doll once she has one. Blah blah blah.

So what I’ve learned as a Dad who’s been shopping around for an American Girl doll. They are made out of gold. At least … that’s the assumption I’m making since they’re so freakin’ expensive, they’re better be a gold bar jammed in their little doll overalls somewhere!

And the dolls bad enough at a hundred and twenty bucks … but the accessories … now that’s where the real criminal activity starts to set in. Hey Diary … would you like to buy Samantha’s bicycle? Well it’s only $115. That’s right … a toy bicycle … for a doll … $115. Let me just point out that the bicycle I bought for my human child for her birthday … 60 bucks. Half the price of doll bicycle!

Hey Diary … How about the Pretty City Carriage? $275!!! Oh and I should mention that this is a horse drawn carriage, and for $275 you know what it doesn’t have? HORSE! Cuz the horse is $100. Somebody call Crime Stoppers, cuz we be gettin’ robbed around here!

And yes … I know there are American Girl knockoffs. Target’s got some Flamerican Girl. Wal-Mart’s got some Laymerican Girl. I am aware of the lower cost alternatives, but that doesn’t detract from the bigger question “What moron is dropping $500 on a doll bike and a doll carriage with a horse?” Cuz somebody is, or they’d be out of business!

THAT is the bigger issue … we are du-UMB for allowing this to happen.

Are we ever gonna draw a line in the sand with the cost of kid toys and presents? Cuz I don’t think we are.

I liked it better than the olden days when kids still got an orange in their Christmas stocking and they thought that was cool. Today, the only fruit they want in the Apple logo in the corner of their $700 iPad. Honestly, for the first 12 years of a kid’s life, all of their presents, combined over those 12 years shouldn’t total $700.

You want more toys? There’s a tree out back … and every stick you break off a branch is a new toy. Ta-DA!

But here’s the hard part … we ALL have to band together and say no. Because what happens is SOME of us fight back, but other parents say, “My baby is the most important thing in the world and I’m gonna buy her whatever she wants, so here’s your hundred dollar horse for your hundred dollar doll. Don’t you tell me how to raise my kids!”

YOU. You’re the one that’s ruining this for everybody. And I don’t know how to get you to stop, because you don’t listen to a darn thing.

Look … I’ll confess … I’m already caught in the web here. She’s gonna get the doll. But she’s also gonna get the cheap knock-off accessories. I’m gonna call that “small gains for bigger goals.” It’s all I can do to start until the rest of you prove that you’re coming along for the fight.

Till next time Diary, I say … Goodbye.

Don’t Touch Me, Sickie

Dear Diary ….

Now I’ve said this before, but I think it’s important to mention again … because you’re not gettin’ it. It’s something that seems simple to me that you would listen to, but people are not listening. So now is the time to say it again … we are entering cold and flu season (not mention the bonus prize of Ebola). So if you happen to get sick … STAY AWAY!

You have germs. And you can spread those germs. You know how they always say … “Oh it’s goin’ around.” Yeah … it’s cuz YOU are going around … sneezing on things, and touchin’ stuff, and other people.

The people in particular … that’s the one I never understand. You see somebody … they greet you … they give you a hug .. and then say “Oh I’ve been SO sick the last few days!”

What is wrong with you? What made you think it’s a good idea you’re sick, and then you go touching me?

Here’s a simple rule of thumb … When you are sick … you … don’t touch ANYBODY! Play a game called “Wild Animal” … you know … cuz they go and they crawl in the corner and leave everybody else alone. Do that.

At the very least, you state your germs to me up front, and I’ll decide from there what kind of contact we will have.

I mean … take Ebola … they say … “Don’t worry … you can only get it if you come in direct contact with somebody who’s infected.” Obviously that’s not MY plan, but it says nothing for the infected person giving me a hug in the lobby and then saying “Oh man … I’ve been SO sick since my recent vacation to Liberia.”

I’ll tell you what, it’s pretty well known that I haven’t really agreed with much of anything our current President has done, but I will give him props for one thing … the fist bump. No need for germ-ridden touchy touchy … quick tap and you’re outta here, sickie! You hear me? Hopefully this time it sinks in.

OK … moving on Diary …

I’m a good human. OK … occasionally I make people cry when I tell them the truth, but the truth hurts, and it’s for their own good. But I recycle. I try to conserve energy. Stuff like that. Heck … I’ll wear socks two days in a row if they still smell good. There, I’m saving the laundry. Don’t judge! You’re welcome environment.

But what I don’t like, is when you try to force me to do these things. Like at work. Where I will confess I’ve had a little bit of a hissy fit with a little thing called “two-sided printing.” You see Diary, that’s where you decide to print two pages, and your printer goes ahead and prints page one on one side, and then page two on the back side of the same paper.

Well sorry trees, but I require multiple pages for things I print … but my printer … it wants to force me to be green … and defaults to two-sided printing every single day. I change the setting, which next morning is back to the default. Which naturally I forget about at 4 o’clock every morning because I can barely remember my middle name at that time of the day.

So guess what happens? I print. It comes out double-sided … which I then have to throw in the garbage and re-print single-sided. So now I’m using 50 percent MORE paper than if you had just let me print normal in the first place!

Hmph … Hope you’re happy with your forcing of the green two-sided printing. You just murdered a forest. Good luck thrying to sleep tonight on THAT bed of guilt!

Till next time Diary … I say, goodbye.

You Can’t Please Anybody

Dear Diary …

You cannot please anybody these days. No matter what you do … no matter how careful you are to spare other people’s feelings … Somebody’s always gonna get mad. Boo hoo hoo.

Not that I even care what people think. Honestly, I gave that up a long time ago and my life is a lot better for doin’ it. But I also don’t wanna hear your lip … it’s just annoying. Cuz whiners love to whine … about EVERYTHING.

Now I’ve been known to dabble in the advice columns … Miss Manners, Heloise, Dear Abby … I enjoy other people’s problems. They make me feel better about myself where I can think … well at least I ain’t THAT person! It’s good therapy. Plus I like to read the advice, because a lot of times I disagree with it.

Anyway … I stumble across this letter from a woman who’s all mad because she and her husband were out to dinner with their little kid. And while they were eating … a random stranger went to the family at the table next to them … who also had a kid … and told them that their kid was sooo beautiful and well-behaved.

I assume you’re thinking, “Where’s the problem here?” Well … she was furious that this woman didn’t ALSO compliment HER child for being beautiful and well behaved. How DARE she not compliment BOTH children!!!!

You gotta be kidding me! Like it’s some sort of law that you can’t just compliment one kid … now you gotta compliment ALL the kids within earshot so nobody gets their feelings hurt.

Here’s a crazy idea … maybe your kid’s got a big head. And that’s fine … I’m sure he’s a great kid … but maybe also weird looking. And even if he wasn’t, the point is you don’t have to compliment the one kid just because he’s near the other kid.

Here’s the reality … not everybody in the world gets to have everything. And … just cuz you want something … that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to it.

Like here’s a story involving me. Recently I had to fly somewhere. Doesn’t matter where, because flying stinks everywhere. It’s expensive, the airlines are mean, the airport is filled with sick people who like to cough and blow their nose all over the place. The whole thing is a miserable experience.

And the airlines like to make sure they deliver on this promise of misery. So … my flight got cancelled and I got bumped to standby on the next flight, along with a bunch of other people. In particular a woman, who for the sake of this story, we call call “Angry Old Lady.”

Now Angry Old Lady wants to get on the next flight. Heck … we ALL want to get on the next flight. But we are now at the mercy of the airline and which names they decide to call.

Well … turns out they call my name and not Angry Old Lady’s. And she is FURIOUS. With me! What did I do? I’m just standin’ here, havin’ my name called. I don’t make the order. It’s not my fault they called me first.

“Well I WANT that seat!”

Good for you. So do I.

“Well I have places to go!”

What? And I just enjoy sitting in airports all day? We all have places to go … that’s the point of traveling. That’s why we’re at the airport!

Just cuz you want something doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it.

I want a cheese cave. I’m not getting a cheese cave. I’m at peace with that. You are not getting this seat.

“But I want it”

Well too bad!

OK … maybe I shouldn’t have taunted Angry Old Lady, but you get the point … life ain’t perfect. Deal with it.

And quit getting upset and offended over everything you don’t like or agree with … you stinkin’ prudes!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

The Great iPhone Conspiracy

Dear Diary …

We are all victims of one big conspiracy! Now I realize that I’m going to sound a bit like a lunatic when I start talking, but that’s what “they” want you to think. And by “they,” I mean the people that are orchestrating this conspiracy … and you’re a part of it. Even if you don’t know you’re a part of it, they are gettin’ to you too.

“They” are controlling you … specifically controlling how you spend your money. And “they” are Apple Computer. And not just Apple … other technology people are “they” also, but Apple is the current “they” that’s messing with you.

And what do I mean by this lunatic rant? Well let me tell you a little story about a boy named Zack …

Zack owns an iPhone 5. Zack enjoys his iPhone 5. Zack has never had an issue with his iPhone 5.

Last week … Apple announced the iPhone 6.

And guess what happened THE DAY of that announcement?

Zack’s battery in his iPhone 5 just didn’t seem to be as strong as it used to be. All of a sudden, Zack’s uses his phone a little bit and then … brrmmmmp … low battery.

“Oh hey there Zack … don’t worry. Look what you can have … this shiny NEW phone with no battery problems. All you gotta do is give us a bunch of money and all your problems go away.”

I mean, this is obvious to everybody now, right? They deliberately make the older stuff work like crap, so you have to buy the shiny new stuff, which next year will immediately become the old crap that you need to throw out. It’s the conspiracy, and we’re all in the cycle.

And what I want to know is … when does this stop? Anything technology-related already costs an arm and a leg, and the price just keeps going up and up and up. But you know what’s not going up and up and up? Our pay! It’d be fine if they’re both going up, but they ain’t.

It is time to take a stand!!

And you know what I’m gonna do about it? Nothin’ … Cuz they got me … and now I’m trapped. iPhone 6 anyone?

OK diary … while we are talking phones … I’m going to give everybody a free lesson in telephone etiquette. This is old school stuff … you know … actually TALKING on a phone.

If I call you, and you don’t recognize the number on the caller ID, that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be a jerk to me the second you pick up the phone.

This happened to me recently calling a prize winner. The woman won concert tickets for crying out loud, but when I call her to tell her, some random dude … I’m assuming boyfriend … answers the phone … “What?”

“Um … hi. Zack from K92 here. Just calling for Courtney.”

“Why?”

Why? Well it was to give her concert tickets, but now it’s maybe to suggest that dump your rude boyfriend and find a guy with some manners.

Good God people … it’s called being polite. Would it kill ya to MAYBE start the conversation a little less accusatory?

It’d be one thing if this was an isolated incident, but it isn’t. Ever get a wrong number from somebody, and they’re mad at you? What are you mad at me for? It was your sausage fingers that dialed incorrectly.

How about an “I’m sorry?” Or at least just be halfway pleasant? Sheesh.

I know … niceness lessons from me … who’da thunk it? You know we’re way too mean if now I’M one of the nice ones.

So be more polite you jerks! There … lesson over.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

It’s Fall Already?

Dear Diary …

The seasons … they are a-changing. And you know how I can tell? Well it’s not that the leaves are changing color … cuz they aren’t. It’s not that there is a chill in the air … cuz it was 95 degrees over the weekend. And it’s not that the sun is setting early … cuz it’s still light out well into the evening.

Then how do I know that the seasons are a-changin’? Well I’m just guessing, because every store I drive by has a bunch of Halloween stuff for sale. So apparently it’s fall. 90 degree … bright green … sunny … fall.

Now look … I have come to accept as a fact of life that stores put this stuff out early. Halloween stuff goes out the day after Labor Day … and Christmas stuff will be EVERYWHERE the day after Halloween (and maybe even sooner). I don’t blame them. I blame you. You who buys the stuff the minute they put it out. It’s your fault. If nobody bought the stuff … they wouldn’t put it out so early. So I blame you. Don’t complain. You did this.

But here’s the one thing that I really don’t understand … pumpkins. And I mean real pumpkins … not you fake pumpkin people that have turned us all into a Pumpkin Spiced World already. Whatever … Not for me. But, it makes you happy and you love the stuff, so enjoy your fumpkin.

But REAL pumpkins … already for sale at the store. And I see that, and I wonder … “What idiot buys a real pumpkin the first week of September?” What are you gonna do with that thing? Cut it up for a Jack-o-Lantern? It was 90 degrees this weekend … all you’re gonna have is a saggy, wrinkled old man jack-o-lantern that smells like death and decay on your front stoop. Who wants death and decay by their front door? Not me!

And you ain’t gonna eat it … no normal human actually takes home a giant grocery store pumpkin and roasts it. So it’s just gonna sit there in your house, or in front of your house, going bad.

4 days ago … 4 days!!! I was at the beach … wearing suntan lotion and putting limes in beers. For the love … It’s not pumpkin time yet!

OK … moving on Diary …

As a parent, every day is an adventure. And life in general is all about balance … the kid, they don’t get EVERYTHING they want, but they get stuff. Some days are all about them. And other days there’s grownup time so Mommy and Daddy can act like real people.

My point is … I make the call. Daddy. Well Mommy too … but we’re in charge. And whatweI don’t need, is other people in our lives doing what I call “working the kid propaganda.” This is where they ask the kid directly if they wanna do something.

For example … my Mother is coming to town this week … and she’s always working the kid propaganda.

She’ll go to my daughter and say … “Hey Isabella … do you think we should go get ice cream tonight?”

What do you think she’s gonna say? She’s five. Of COURSE she’s going to say yes! And now I gotta deal with the fallout and take her for ice cream. How do you know she didn’t have a giant cupcake after lunch? (Because a lot of times she does) Now she’s gettin’ a big ol’ ice cream too just because you asked.

This is an actual conversation I overheard between my mother and my 5 year old … “Isabella … do you want to take a family trip to France some time with Gran?”

Surprise! You know what her answer was? Yes!

I ain’t takin’ her to France!

Stop trying to work the system thru the kid! You know darn well ifyou ask me, we ain’t going to France.

Kids will say yes to just about anything you ask them … and you know what else they do when the reality police … aka Mommy and Daddy have to be the actual parents and say no to things? They cry and whine.

So now I gotta deal with the crying and the whining because you caused this whole mess in the first place.

Don’t talk to them. They’re kids … they don’t know nothin’. Talk to me. I’m in charge!

Till next time Diary … I say, goodbye.

Plus Size Ain’t Plus Size

Dear Diary …

As the summer comes to a close and the leaves start to change color, we all know that in particular there is one monumental event going down … Back to School. And if you have a kid ( or you are a kid), you of course know that it’s Back to School time. But even if you don’t have a kid, you know it’s Back to School because your Facebook feed is one million different pictures of everybody else’s kids standing on their front stoop wearing their brand new backpack.

You are infected with them. And there’s so many of them, it almost makes you wish for more Ice Bucket Challenge videos in your feed. I said ALMOST by the way … you put that bucket down mister.

Anyway … here’s the thing. The Back to School pictures … fine … love ‘em. I posted ‘em just like anybody else. I even look at other people’s pictures.

I especially enjoy the kids that are a little bit older. Because unlike their smiling 5 year old little sister … they’re not happy it’s back to school. They are MISERABLE that it’s back to school. And their painful little faces are hilarious.

So … no problem here at all with the Back to School pictures. On the first day of school. After that … you stop it. You can take a picture if you want, but that picture is for you. You don’t gotta share it with anybody else. We saw little Braden or Jaden or Laden or whatever his name is … he had his new school shoes on yesterday. We don’t need to see him again … and again … and again.

“Day 4 of Back to School”

This is not a photograph worthy event! Personally, I blame the fact that we don’t have to pay for film any more. If we had to pay $6 to have those pictures developed, nobody would see day four of Back to School. But since it’s free and right there on our phones … oooh … lemme take a picture!

I’m starting to think that no phone should be allowed to hold more than nine pictures before you then need to dump them onto a computer. That way, you’d only take the REALLY good ones, and you’d leave all the other crud behind.

OK … moving on Diary … Now I will freely admit that this is a rare time where I’ve decided that I’m offended “on behalf” of another group of people, even though I’m not one of those people.

Normally … that’s one of my biggest pet peeves … deciding you’re offended by something even though you aren’t part of that group that you think it’s offensive toward.

“Oh, Zack, what you said is offensive to Mexicans”

Are you Mexican?

“No”

Well then we’re done here!

If a Mexican person decides they’re offended by something, then that means something. Random white soccer Mom? You don’t get to be offended for them.

But like I said … I’m being a little bit of a hypocrite here, because I’m offended on behalf of the plus-size population. But in this case, I think it’s OK, because I do think it impacts all of us, because the fashion industry clearly thinks we’re all morons.

Google “plus size model” … What do you see? Normal women. There ain’t anything plus size about ’em. NORMAL! The average clothing size for a woman is a 14 … most “plus size” models … they aren’t even THAT. They’re like a 10. Don’t insult my intelligence that these normal women … heck … statistically BELOW AVERAGE size women … they’re not plus size models!

here’s another example … there’s a new Scooby Doo cartoon .. one of those lousy straight to DVD movies … the skinny character is “cursed” by the bad guy and he turns her from a size 2 … all the way to … GASP … a size 8! Oh no … an 8!

Meanwhile in real life, we got people joining CrossFit and throwing truck tires down a hill with the ultimate goal of slimming DOWN to a size 8. The horror!!!

Hey … you can have plus size models. They just have to actually be plus size. And furthermore … they’re called curves. If we men thought being rail-thin was sexy, then we’d all just hump a stop sign or something. What? Oh whatever … you know what I mean.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Worst Day Ever

Dear Diary …

Hello and welcome to today. And on this day, I’m going to use my amazing psychic powers to make a prediction about EVERYBODY’S day. That’s right! I am going to correctly predict your day.

Doesn’t matter who you are … doesn’t matter what you have going on today. You can be at a job you don’t like … you can be at a job you DO like. You can be married and happy … married and miserable … or single. Whatever. I’m still going to correctly predict the day.

Because I’m going to do, is I’m going to tell you what your day is NOT. It’s NOT the “Worst Day Ever.” (Unless you have ebola … cuz that really sucks.) But other than that, I think I can correctly predict for 99 percent of you that it is NOT the “worst day ever.” So quit acting all whiny and claiming it’s the worst day ever.

You people who get all dramatic on social media need to relax!

“I have a toothache. Worst Day Ever”

No it is not! It might not be the best day ever, but big freakin’ deal. It’s called “life.” And life ain’t perfect, so quit your whining and deal with it.

Cuz I’m gonna let you in on a little secret … all that whining and complaining … it just makes things worse and the same loserish stuff is gonna happen to you over and over and over again until you break the cycle.

Like for example …. Here’s a Facebook status I’ll see a lot … “Looks like I’m just destined to be alone for the rest of my life.”

You know what? You probably are. Who would wanna go out with a sad sack like you.

“Nobody love me. I suck.”

Oh way to sell the sizzle! You know what’s attractive? Not that! If you’re going to act like that, you might as well just get yourself four or five kitty cat stick figure stickers for your car window and call it a day.

You have gotta get past this stuff and realize that today … no matter what happens … ain’t the worst day ever. But if you keep acting all pathetic, it definitely isn’t going to get any better. So do something about it and quit booo hooo hoooing to all your friends. And I think I speak for all of ‘em … we’re sick and tired of your drama and are gonna stop being friends with you if you don’t cut it out.

Think about it … if you have fun plans in mind … are gonna say “Hey let’s invite Theresa, the one who’s always miserable on Facebook … she’ll be the life of the party!” Of course not!

So that’s it … “Worst Day Ever” … Throw it away.

OK … moving on Diary … sticking with Facebook. Yes, I’ve come to accept that the thing is a necessary evil. I wish it wasn’t as popular and important as it is both personally and professionally … but it is. I can accept that. But what I refuse to accept is Facebook trying to force me to download nine different apps onto my phone all dealing with the same thing … Facebook!

Now they want me to have Facebook, Facebook Pages, Facebook Mentions …

And don’t even get me started on Facebook Messenger and how insanely invasive and shady it is. Facebook Messenger gives them permission to do just about anything they want on your phone … make calls, texts, record audio, take pictures … the list goes on.

But on an even simpler level, I’m even madder at the app for saying to me “Hey Zack … we’re making it easier than ever for you to access your messages!”

You know what was easier? One app! For everything!!!!

More is not easier. More is more. Don’t talk to me like I’m a moron that can’t figure out you’re just blowing smoke up my bum and trying to dominate every crevice of my life so you can turn around and sell it to advertisers.

I keep sayin’ it … people … You seen Terminator when the robots rise up and take over? Better go to the store and stock up on canned goods and ammo … cuz the Facebook army is coming to get us all.

But hey … in that gloom and doom, would you like one silver lining? When it does happen, and the robots rise up and take over and make us all their slaves … That day … THAT’S the “Worst Day Ever,” so you’ll finally be able to use that one and have it be true.

Yay?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The ? and the ! / The True Test of Friendship

Dear Diary …

I need to apologize in advance. Because Diary … I try not to burden you with the really big problems in my life. I like to come in here and say little things like, “People who go to yard sales don’t know how to drive,” or “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is really lame,” but today I’m dealing with real adversity.

And I’ve been trying my best to overcome it … to persevere … to fight through this difficult time in my life. But I can’t hide it from you any more Diary … I simply must confess to you that the question mark and exclamation point are WAY too close to each other on my phone, and it keeps totally ruining my text message conversations!

And don’t you be all “Hey … that’s not serious!” Because I don’t think you understand … it’s making me sound WAY too excited in my conversations.

Just the other day … with a work friend … I meant to text “Meet up later?” Nice … polite question. Only problem is I accidentally hit the exclamation point. So now I’m shouting at them “MEET UP LATER!!!” Who would want to meet up with such a demanding person? I would not.

So you can see how this one little piece of punctuation can totally distort a conversation.

Another time recently my wife texted me … I was busy. So I meant to say, “Busy. Call you in 10 minutes?” But instead … my fat thumb again throws in an exclamation point … and here I am yelling at the mother of my children “CALL YOU IN 10 MINUTES!!!” I’m not a good husband and a loving father any more … that was for the question mark guy. Now I’m some exclamation point jerkbag who yells at his wife in a text message.

So now you see … real adversity. That’s it … I’m gonna have to throw this phone away or this exclamation point is gonna leave me divorced and friendless.

OK in the meantime … moving on Diary … I’ve brought this up before, but I feel the need to do it again, because it keeps happening. So here’s what I’m gonna do … I’m gonna give you a test where you can find out who your real friends are. Because some people … oh you think they’re your friend … but when push comes to shove … they ain’t your friend.

Actually I should say “When lift comes to shove,” because it’s about helping a friend move. And if you’re thinking to yourself “Yeah that’s right Zack … You find out who your real friends are when you’re moving and you ask for help, cuz your REAL friends show up!”

No no no no no … You got this all backwards, Junior. You find out who your real friends are because real friends don’t ask their friends to help them move. That’s what movers are for!

Cuz if you’ve if you’ve never moved, let me let you in on a little secret … It’s the worst thing. EVER! E-VER. Who forces their friends to take part in the worst thing ever? Bad friends … that’s who!

I mean … Wouldn’t you think it was ridiculous if your friend called you and said … “Hey my lawn needs to be mowed … come over and do it for me!” You would never do that. Meanwhile moving is about a million times worse than mowing a lawn. Don’t do that for your friends.

“Hey we’ll feed you with pizza!”

Oh that’s a fair trade! You are aware that there’s a lunch buffet where I can eat as much pizza as I want for 5 dollars … right? And they don’t make me lift any boxes while I’m there!

Help you move … Yeah … Away. Fake friend don’t need to be posing as my real friend in the first place. Enjoy your new neighborhood!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Quit Judging … You Judgers!

Dear Diary …

So for the most part … being a kid is great. OK, I should say “was” great, since I’m not a kid anymore. Granted, I still find the word “poop” to be hilarious, so I’m young at heart!

But you know what I mean, most of us fondly remember our childhood years. And we also jealously look at little kids today where “Oh man I had a big day,” means “I went to the pool in the morning and then I had a playdate in the afternoon with my friends, and then I had soccer practice.” And even still … at the end of that “big day,” I got to leave all my toys strewn about the entire living room and my Mommy and Daddy … the suckers … they had to clean it up while I sleep in a bed full of stuffed animals and dreamwd of sugar plums and butterflies. And that ended my “big day.”

But growing up wasn’t without challenges … we all had issues to overcome. Especially in our teenage years, where I think we can all agree the biggest problem was … judgers. People judging the way you looked, judging the things you did, judging the people you hung out with, etc. etc.

Everything was judged. And we can all agree … we didn’t enjoy that, right?

So why is it that as adults, we are still a bunch of judgers?

All of a sudden we live in a world where … heaven forbid … somebody have a different opinion or lifestyle than you do. And if they do … forget about it. The judgers are out in full force … well … judgin’.

Good example right now … 50 Shades of Grey. Some people … man they love that book. They watch the movie trailer this week … they are PUMPED.

But the judgers? “Oh I can’t BELIEVE that people would DARE act that way. Shame on them! That is soooo wrong and gross.”

Hey … I don’t judge you that your idea of fun is some sort of boring snoozefest-o-rama. I don’t even know what you like. Point is … doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to like what you like, and other people … GASP! … They allowed to like other things!

Not to say that I personally have a 50 Shades freaky deaky room in my basement or anything. Really my basement just has a beer fridge and a futon for guests … it’s a lovely finished basement … there’s no swing hanging from the ceiling. Point is … I don’t judge!

On simpler terms … no grown adult should ever say “Ewww” at someone else’s food. I like a medium rare steak. So delicious. And what I don’t need to hear is your judgemental, gray meat-loving self say “Ewwww … that’s bloody and gross!”

I am about to eat that. Don’t you try to ruin my food enjoyment … judger! You don’t like it? Fine … but keep it to yourself.

I don’t judge you when you put big, creamy hunks of cheesecake in your mouth that squirt around in your cheeks for you to enjoy. Clearly not for me, but I don’t think any less of you either if it’s for you.

What I’m getting at is … weren’t we supposed to grow out of this behavior? Honestly I think we’re worse now than we ever were as kids.

Don’t believe me? I got one word for you … politics. Yeah. The End.

Here’s the deal … we aren’t going to agree on everything. EVER. So accept that fact that maybe … just maybe … it’s OK to have a different opinion. Wow!

Think about it, all these movies where everybody has the same opinion … yeah they’re all like the Hunger Games where everything’s gray and sad and people shoot each other with arrows. That doesn’t exactly sound awesome.

Hmmmm … you know … Maybe different ideas ain’t so bad afterall.

Till next time Diary, I say goodbye.