Taking the Sideburns Up and the Self Esteem Down

I’m at a bit of a loss about something. Actually, I’m at a bit of a loss about a great many things, but let’s take it one step at a time. Where is an average dude with an average crop of hair on his dome and limited stylistic aspirations supposed to get his hair cut? I go to Great Clips. I’m not sure why I go to Great Clips. I guess I do know why. Sometime eight to ten years ago I went there. They didn’t cut either of my ears off or leave me with a reverse Mohawk, and being a man of routine that’s about all it takes to earn my repeat business.

Quite simply, I do not like change. As just one example, my world has been completely upended for the past week since I made the fateful decision to agree to finally download the latest Firefox browser on my home computer. I didn’t really want to do it but finally succumbed to the incessant pop-up request to do so every time I tried to get on the Internet. Big mistake. I now spend half of my time staring at my monitor wistfully, looking at the spots where my favorites and history were so easily accessible in the past, then aimlessly moving the mouse to and fro across the screen before giving up and angrily typing in the URL of my desired web page.

Anyway, this reluctance to toy with the status quo is quite powerful, but it might not be enough to keep me going to Great Clips. The problem is really not with the actual haircut, at least not as far as I’m aware (my wife may beg to differ). No, the issue is with the humiliation to which I’m subjected during my visits. I’ve paid enough attention to my fellow patrons’ experience to know that I’m not the only one, a fact in which I take some solace.

Before I go any further, let me say that I conceptually understand the need for a place like Great Clips to push their ancillary hair care products. There’s probably just not a lot of money to be made at $14 a haircut, so I get that they need to unload some $20 shampoo and hair moisturizers here and there to make the finances pencil. But still, is belittling the customer really the best route to take in your up-selling efforts?

Stylist: “What shampoo are you using at home?”

Craig: “Uhh, I don’t remember the brand name.”

Stylist: “Oh okay, because your hair is REALLY dry.”

Craig: “My wife buys it and I’m pretty sure it’s legit.”

Stylist: “Okay, well you should really use some of this (insert product).”

Stylist, while applying small amount of said product: “See how nice that is?”

Craig: “Uhhh, I guess so.”

Fast forward to end of haircut…

Stylist: “So would you like to buy some of (insert product)? It’s on sale today.”

It’s a different approach to be sure. Maybe retail clothing stores should try it out. Say you waltz up to the register at Macy’s or your store of choice with a button down shirt or perhaps a nice summer dress.

“Ooooh, you are really looking heavy today! We’re running a special on cross trainer shoes today? Would you like to pick up a pair? It will really help with that double chin.”

Another Great Clips customer ponders the harsh critiques that accompany a $14 haircut

Surviving a Quick Trip to Los Angeles

I kicked last week off with a 7:25am Monday morning flight to Los Angeles. Any week that begins with a 6:00am drive on I-285, followed by partially disrobing in the airport security line and then praying to the powers that be that your toothpaste and hair gel pass muster on the conveyor belt is going to be a tough one in my book. The trip took yet another turn for the worse when the European gentleman in front of me waiting to board the plane, sporting a shirt too short to tuck in even if had been so inclined and low-rise jeans, bent over for no less than a three minute stint to execute some sort of detailed rearrangement of the contents of his backpack. This wouldn’t have been overly problematic, except that his undersized shirt and jeans parted ways to reveal a most prominent coin slot. For a fragile mind such as mine, still stressed from doing nonstop inventories of my person to make sure I hadn’t left my watch or one of my shoes back at security, it was almost more than I could bear.

Thankfully, that marked the low point for the trip, for me at least. My comrades on the plane would quite possibly point to 30 minutes later when I woke myself up in a fit of snoring. In retrospect, I’m not sure my efforts to mask the episode with a false bout of sniffles and a subtle backhand drool wipe-off fooled them. At any rate, we all made it through. After arriving in LA I drove to my meeting, where my primary contribution was not repeating my sleeping episode from the plane. After the meeting, the plan was to visit two of my company's stores in the area. They were each 25 to 30 miles away, meaning I was signed up for some LA highway time. Spending the afternoon driving the area, I learned a few things. First, LA traffic doesn't seem as bad as it's made out to be. I suppose the more accurate explanation is just that Atlanta traffic is horrendous enough to inoculate you against the worst the nation has to offer. Second, Los Angeles has casinos?! Who knew? Maybe these are video casinos or something of the sort, but still. I had no idea. Thankfully I was far too tired to investigate further. Finally, there is apparently a huge market for radical weight loss surgery out there. I honestly swear that fifty percent of all billboards in the LA area are for 1-800-GET-THIN, which apparently provides lap band surgery. This is noteworthy, no? I thought the entire population of that city stayed rail thin eating tofu and sprouts.



That night I shook off the lap band billboards and treated myself to In-N-Out Burger, consumed in the hotel room. Enjoying a cheap meal in the hotel room is one of the absolute underrated aspects of business travel, and I am always more than a little heartbroken when my intentions to do so are undercut by well meaning fellow travelers looking to eat dinner together. No such worries on this trip, and so an otherwise brutal day on the road ended in style...assuming your version of style is cramming down a Milky Way from the gift shop of a Comfort Suites.

Texas Baseball Coach Is Here to Motivate

Are you dragging a bit? Feeling a bit complacent today? Allow Texas baseball coach Augie Garrido to put a little fire in your belly. My two personal favorite moments:

1) The absolute disgust he displays at the fact that none of his players have been involved in a gang fight (0:45).

2) The move where he completely loses it and goes with the violent repetitive two handed slapping of a chair (3:01). I may be partial to this because I pulled the same move in Mississippi State's arena during a game with Ole Miss during my freshman year and was threatened with removal by a nearby security guard.

***PLEASE NOTE- this video is chock-full of profanity.

Battling Through

There is a conspiracy afoot. Someone, or something, doesn’t want you all reading new blog posts here at Sic Transit Gloria. Ludicrous? It might seem so at first, but let’s examine the evidence:

1) Power has gone out for 12-18 hour stretches twice in the past week and a half here at the house. That might not be so noteworthy, except…

2) The second time temporarily fried our home computer , rendering it unusable for four additional days and nights. That might not derail your average 21st century blogger, but…

3) I am a technological idiot, incapable of tapping into the majesty of the Internet without the service of a computer bound to the wall with wires and cables.

It all seems a bit shady, does it not? Any one of those three items might happen naturally, maybe even two of them. But all three? I find it very unlikely. And so the world has sought to tear us down, like Talia Shire on the stairs in Rocky IV shrieking “You Can’t Win!!!” But I won’t be stopped that easily. No sir, I have been undergoing a grueling regimen in preparation for my return. I’ve had the wife slapping me in the gut during sit ups ala the Rocky 2 training scene. Actually that just happened when she saw I hadn’t finished moving the furniture in the nursery, but you catch my drift.


Truth be told, my efforts have been a bit less impressive than that. I did get in my car and drive around once, like Rocky did after Talia Shire voiced her treasonous doubt in the aforementioned scene. I wasn't pissed or thinking about motivational stuff, though, and I just ended up driving to Kroger and getting a steak to throw on the grill. Other than that, there's been some general angst awaiting the repair of the computer, then some general staring at the monitor and then at notebook paper and then back to the monitor.

The good news is that we are back up and running here and I'm mulling a few ideas for the blog in the coming weeks. If I can combine those ideas with a session in which I gain proficiency on our iPad, then watch out world.


P.S. I mentioned in a previous post my amazement at the results Google image search gives you these days. Here's the winner of most entertaining/random picture discovered while composing this post. A search for "Rocky 2 slapping stomach" (admittedly likely to produce some strange results) delivered this gem...

Overpriced Cakes and Bad TV

Wow, I was tired today. I mean really tired, as in I was about to go air traffic controller right there in the office and just put the head down for an hour or so. If I am ever taken prisoner by bad guys and they are looking to pry information out of me, this is the way. No need to go hardcore, just limit me to six hours of sleep for a couple of nights and I’ll be unloading any information they are looking for (not sure what exactly that would be, perhaps a blow-by-blow recap of the 1988 slam dunk contest?). This bodes well for a guy two months from welcoming a baby into the world, no? Scary.

Anyway, I managed to stay awake long enough to surf the Internet for a bit, and what I discovered did nothing to cheer me up. Sure, fires are raging across the great state of Texas and the unrest in the Middle East continues unabated. But what really darkened my mood was reading that yet another reality show about a maker of designer cakes is debuting this week. Now if you’ve read this blog at all you know that wall to wall reality TV programming is a staple in my house. Up to now my wife has (thankfully) shown no inclination to add this genre to our current lineup, and I can only pray that continues.



I don’t even know where to start with this whole concept. For starters, does it not matter that the cake she’s finishing up in her promo picture is about to slide off the plate? I hope there’s nothing in that martini glass perched perilously on top. It is refreshing to see that the whole thing hasn’t kept her from staying grounded in reality.

“Big corporations, rodeos and rock concerts will spend $500,000 on a party,” she said. “What I charge for a cake is nothing to them. And oftentimes, it feeds 4,000 people. That works out to $5 or $10 per serving. It only seems crazy if you look at the final number.”

Uhh, okay. Forgive me if $10 for a small sliver of cake does seem crazy. I guess the real takeaway from that quote, though, is the fact that rodeos are big in the overpriced designer cake circuit. I would think that guys that are willing to get kicked in the balls by giant bulls and face down the very real prospect of death for an outside chance at winning a check for $8,000 would eschew $10 a slice cake, but maybe not.

People, let me give you a tip. If you need a big cake, go to Costco! Other than the mildly unsettling layer of cream they jam in the middle, they are actually quite tasty. And if you are bored enough to ponder watching this embarrassment of a show, get a hobby!

The Next Three Days- A Brief Review

Aaaaand I am back. Perhaps you assumed I was off on an exotic trip or at least chopping my way through a lengthy list of manly chores. Alas, my recent days have spent watching American Idol and reading The Kite Runner. I actually did just complete painting our nursery, a task that would have taken a normal person six to eight hours but in my case stretched over six grueling evenings. Happily, tonight I put the finishing touches on my effort.

On Sunday I took a quick break from painting to watch The Next Three Days. If you haven’t seen the film and don’t want too much given away (like, for example, the fact that this movie is straight up horrendous) you should stop reading here. You know it’s a bad sign when the DVD starts freezing up an hour and a half into a movie and you half hope it will just completely lock up to put you out of your misery. The good news is that apparently it is relatively easy to break an inmate out of the federal pen in Pittsburgh, should the need arise. So easy in fact, that Russell Crowe’s character (John Brennan) didn’t even get around putting his plan in action until about 70% of the way through the movie.

What transpired for the first 90 minutes? That’s a great question, actually. A good 10 minutes of screen time was taken up by Elizabeth Banks muttering inaudible lines, which forced my wife and I to repeatedly back up the DVD and jack the volume up to levels previously untested on my stereo. Then somewhere along the way there was a five-minute cameo by Liam Neeson, who clearly owed someone either a giant favor or a large gambling debt. His character escaped from prison seven times, then turned himself in every time…because that all makes perfect sense. Supposedly he would always turn himself in because he got tired of waiting for someone to catch him. The main character finds him because he published a book about his successful escapes. Now I’m no expert here, but my sense is that breaking out of prison seven times tacks on a good stretch of time to your sentence, such that you would not be enjoying a nice latte in one of Pittsburgh’s fine coffee houses.

Liam Neeson contemplates the wisdom of signing on for The Next Three Days

The highlight of the movie, though, is John Brennan’s first attempt at breaking his wife out. First he learns how to make a skeleton key watching YouTube videos. Who knew? I just like to watch old football highlights and the occasional Irish music video. Anyway, he takes his homemade key to the jail and gets it around security with relative ease. He then tries to open a side door, but sadly breaks his key in the process. The police quickly notice the broken key in the door and lock the place down. They then reveal that they have security footage with a clear shot of the hall and the group of visitors with whom Brennan entered. In a show of masterful skill, the lead guard shows Brennan the video and asks him to point to himself in the video.

Brennan: “Uhhh, over here.” (pointing to middle of crowd)

Cop: “This isn’t you back here at the door?”

Brennan: “Uhhh…..no?”

Cop: “Okay, well if it is you then you might want to think about what will happen to your kid if both his parents are in prison.”

Brennan: “Got it.”

Then he takes the advice to heart and focuses on his kid rather than hatching an escape plan for his wife. No, wait, he breaks his wife out while barely breaking a sweat and spends the rest of his days hanging out with his family in a beautiful coastal setting. By the end of the movie, I was actively rooting for the demise of both the main character and his wife or at least to be overtaken by a Joe Biden-style nap. Sadly, neither came to fruition.

Joe Biden has the right approach for a viewing of The Next Three Days

Difficult Decisions

Whooo, hot times here at the house! Not hot times like there's an epic party going down for which you missed the invitation. Hot times like it was 81 degrees in our bedroom last night, since our upstairs air conditioning unit has officially given up the ghost. It has been a rockin' couple of evenings here, the heat not withstanding. Last night I watched a portion of the thrilling NCAA championship slugfest between Butler and UConn. I went upstairs to watch the second half in bed, only to find the TV on Bethenny Ever After. It was great, though, because I had really been longing to see the behind the scenes footage of the stressful time leading up to her appearance on the equally riveting Skating With The Stars competition a few months ago.

So there I was, all bummed out about having to sit through 20 minutes of inane footage of Bethenny and her squadron of handlers while the game moved into the critical second half. But the great thing about last night's game was that you could tune out for 20-30 minute stretches of time and miss no more than a handful of baskets. Actually, I'm not sure Butler stuck a single point on the board while I watched Bethenny fret about her 40th birthday party and the terrible stress she was under.

Tonight is a bit calmer, as I'm taking the opportunity to do a bit of reading. As a side note, I have that Comcast adult alternative music channel on TV and Mercy by Duffy just came on. That's song I hate just a little more each time I hear it. And just a moment ago, Duffy sunk even lower in my book. The channel runs little facts about the artist as the song plays. Normally you learn that so and so lists Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Jefferson Airplane among their influences, or that they first performed on stage when they were four at the local mall. Anyway, they just showed that Duffy became interested in the music industry after watching Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act. Phenomenal.

My biggest learning, though, came from the baby book I am trying to power through. I have no intention of stirring up emotions or any kind of eco-debate here. I was just honestly baffled to read a section on "diapering essentials". Specifically, in a very even-handed way the book laid out the choice of disposable vs. cloth diapers. Really? Is this book perhaps sold in Amish lands or as a package deal with those newspapers sold by residents of communes? Here's how the book lays out the downside of going down the cloth diaper path.

"The downside is that they don't always absorb wetness as well as disposables do, and you can sometimes have more leakage of urine and stool from them."

Wow, hang on, let me think this one through. That decision could really go either way, but I guess I'm leaning towards the option with...less leakage of urine and stool. I look forward to the next chapter, where I will undoubtedly learn the pros and cons of heating the nursery with a wood-burning stove.

The downside is...

No More Cinderella

Holy cow, what a week. Last week I was tasked with giving a presentation to by far the largest audience of my adult life. Somewhere between 500 and 600 folks in the energy industry had the riveting pleasure of listening to 20 minutes from yours truly on how a large retail company approaches energy efficiency at its stores. Yes, a raucous time was had by all. As I mentioned in a blog post last summer, I’m no great fan of public speaking. The pressure was further ramped up on me, as the conference inconveniently scheduled a speaker who appears regularly on CNBC shortly before me. This guy was channeling Tony Robbins, while I was hoping my suit jacket would be enough to protect the masses from my panicked sweating. I’m happy to report that I ultimately managed to hold my own on stage. At least that’s what they tell me. I think I went blackout ala Will Ferrell in the Old School debate scene about halfway through my presentation.

Anyway, the speech was part of an industry conference that started on the first Sunday of the NCAA tournament. Now that would normally irritate me, but it actually served the purpose of preventing me from having to witness my brackets go up in smoke for yet another year. More importantly than the demise of my dreams of winning some cash, though, are the implications for college basketball as we move forward. And while many are cheering the unlikely presence of VCU and Butler in the Final Four, I don’t think those implications are good.

College basketball is struggling these days. I watched fewer games this year than I ever have in my life. Now there are a number of reasons for that, one of which is certainly the fact that my Mississippi State Bulldogs were a train wreck both on and off the court. Watching two members of your team throwing haymakers at each other in the stands after a December game is not a great motivator to buy the ESPN Full Court package.

Mississippi State basketball 2010-2011...good seats still available in the bench area.

Still, I’ve watched my share of college basketball in years past even when my alma mater struggled. But back then it was easy to make sense of the general landscape of the sport. The “Big Six” conferences each had two or three perennial powers that could be found in the top 25 every year. Then there were another two or three programs in each league that were typically solid and trying to claw their way to elite status. Then in any given year you might have another few squads across the country that would be having a great year by their standards and therefore be in the mix. Occasionally a UNLV or Memphis might come out of left field and interject themselves, and that was it. Lengthy debates about the relative strength of conferences would be had. In most years, you could count on the ACC coming out on top in those discussions, but all the major conferences could hold their collective heads high. Also, you could watch the progression of a team over two or three years. Sure, Kentucky might have taken an early exit from the tournament one year, but you knew that their freshmen-laden team would be back and even better the following season.

Fast forward to today. Who exactly is in the Final Four again? And who are their players? Without looking it up, I can name exactly three players on Final Four teams- Kemba Walker, Brandon Knight, and DeAndre Liggins. That’s a poor statement about me for sure, but it also says something about college hoops. Honestly, if you exclude Mississippi State and North Carolina, I don’t think I could name more than 10 players if you let me choose from every team in the country. I think the NBA rule mandating players wait one year after high school before being eligible for the draft has made the college game even worse than it was when the best players bypassed it entirely and opted to go straight to the league. At least back then there was a bit more stability.

There has to be something else going on as well, though. How have we ended up with a world where Wake Forest goes 8-24 in freaking college basketball? Meanwhile we have San Diego State and BYU camped out in the top 10 for the entire season. The second round of this year’s tournament (I mean the round with 32 teams, don’t get me started on the “First Four”) featured the following teams- George Mason, Temple, San Diego St, Richmond, Morehead St, Virginia Commonwealth, Butler, Gonzaga, and BYU. That’s eight of the 32 teams! The second round used to be the exciting chance to watch the one or two little guy Cinderella schools that had fought through somebody from a power conference and now had their shot at an improbable run at the Sweet Sixteen. Now half of those teams are favored in their second round games. Back in 1999 when Gus Johnson went bonkers on the mic for one of the first times as Gonzaga upset Florida to reach the Elite Eight, it was a legitimately moving moment because it was something that we hadn't seen before. Take a look and see if you can remember what it was like, lo those many years ago, when there was still such a thing as a Cinderella story in the NCAA tournament...


"The slipper still fits!"- A classic call from the not-too-distant past


As exciting as the ending of many of this year's games have been, there's just no longer this kind of shock factor when a big name program falls. When the little guy wins this often, there's no such thing as Cinderella.

Announcement

Allow me to take a brief pause from the in depth analysis you have come to expect from this site on matters as disparate as the proper technique for stealing rotisserie chicken to my decision to download a Bruce Hornsby album on iTunes. For whatever reason, I’ve been wheel spinning on how exactly to incorporate this announcement into my posts for awhile now. In general, I have attempted to spare my legions of blog readers from any sort of emoting on my part. At some point, though, it only makes sense to get the word out there.

The announcement, for those who don’t already know, is that my wife is pregnant and we are expecting a baby girl here in the near future. I wrestled with whether to make this the focus of one of these posts, but I couldn’t figure out a subtle way to slyly tuck the news into another post so there it is. As much as anything I just wanted to forewarn everyone so that no one is caught unaware the first time I devote a few paragraphs to detailed analysis of baby poo or my anger at a lactation consultant. Perhaps I will even log in and unleash some sort of William Faulkner stream-of-consciousness rant after a few sleepless nights. We still have a few months of preparation before we get there, but consider yourself warned.

For now, we are readying ourselves for the big day. My wife has read three-and-a-half of the 10 books she either bought or was given. I believe she has the first 365 days already planned out in 15 minute increments. Meanwhile, I'm about 60 pages into my first book on fatherhood for your baby's first year. I knew I liked the book after reading the second chapter, which asked you to identify where you wanted to be on the scale of kinds of fathers. The first type of father was one who essentially hated his baby and didn't want to see it until he/she was old enough to drive him to a bar. The second kind of father didn't hate his baby, but was dumb enough to think you could leave them in a parked car for five or six hours. Of course, the descriptions climbed the ladder from there. But even on autopilot, I'm pretty sure I can get myself about two thirds of the way up the fatherhood scale according to this book.

In all seriousness, we are truly excited and looking forward to expanding the ranks of the D’Arcy clan. We are gratefully accepting all advice. Oh, and free baby gear.

A Little Anxiety on My Vacation

Greetings! I'm just getting home from a nice mini-vacation that was, for the most part, extremely relaxing. We spent a few days in a rented condo on the beach in Seabrook Island, SC. We were looking for something quiet and extremely chill, and our condo at Seabrook delivered perfectly. Unfortunately, I did not make it through this getaway without a couple of jarring moments.

The first one came while getting caught up on the collection of magazines that had slowly piled up at the house over the past couple of months. I kicked it off with a Golf Digest, a magazine I was certain I could skim through in 10 to 15 minutes. Sadly, I came face to face with a site for which I was ill-prepared.

One thing you learn as you get older is that nothing is sacred. You recoil in horror as the sports you loved as a child are trashed by self absorbed, overpaid players. Your blissful ignorance is shattered when you realize that neither law nor common decency prevents a wretched rehashing of an all time classic like The Karate Kid by the likes of Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith. Still, you figure some things and some people are beyond compromise. And then you flip past the editor's column in Golf Digest and run into this ad...

I'll have that frozen daiquiri shaken, not stirred.

Are you kidding me?! James freaking Bond posing with a Louis Vuitton man-purse? Unacceptable. Don't you get your status as knight revoked for this kind of abomination? This may just tip the scales in Roger Moore's favor when ranking those who have portrayed Bond. Truthfully, if Connery shows up in any more of these he might just find himself below the enchanting Timothy Dalton as well.

Following that incident, the trip sailed along smoothly until our return drive home earlier today. We brought our dogs along for the festivities, knowing that they would enjoy running around on an otherwise empty beach. Traveling with the dogs did cause some alterations to our general road trip routine, though. Chief among the changes was that one stop along the way needed to occur at a rest area to afford the dogs the chance to stretch the old legs and handle their business. Now perhaps some of you are big fans of the state run rest stops that dot our interstates, but I personally haven't stopped in at one in many a year.

I do harbor a generally low opinion of them and, as such, was on the lookout for unseemly characters and activities. It was with this mindset that I entered the men's restroom at the rest stop at the Georgia-South Carolina border. My initial impression was good enough, I've certainly been in worse looking restrooms. I surveyed the scene and noted one fellow bathroom patron as I slid into the end urinal. That's where things took a turn for the worse. Over the next 30 seconds three additional gentlemen joined us, all of them selecting the urinals closest to me. Not good.

"Stay calm, Craig. These are probably just well meaning travelers not familiar with the etiquette that dictates they select urinals with as much spacing between men as possible."

And so I focused my attention on the sink, avoiding all eye contact and trying to escape as quickly as possible without appearing rattled. After a quick hand washing session, I speed walked over to the door without looking up. I reached for the handle and my escape to civilization...the door was locked. Uh oh. Panic quickly settled in as I more violently attacked the door handle. It was definitely locked, and now I was sweating it. There was now no choice but to lift up the head and fully assess my situation. It was at this moment that it quickly became clear that I had spent the last 30 seconds trying to storm my way into the janitor's closet, with the actual exit door about five feet to my right. Good times on the open road!

Is That a Chicken in Your Pants?

This is just wrong on so many levels...

Report: Man tries to hide rotisserie chicken in his pants

A northwest Georgia man was arrested for allegedly trying to steal a rotisserie chicken and some wings from Walmart by placing the items in his pants.

Joseph Lee Stringer, 27, also put a toothbrush and a mouth guard down his pants before trying to leave the store through the garden center, the Rome News-Tribune reported.

Stringer, of Kingston, was charged with misdemeanor shoplifting and released on $1,350 bond, according to the report.

Now I don't believe in negativity without trying to find some good at the same time. So let's start off applauding Joseph Lee Stringer for his recognition that, indeed, the consumption of rotisserie chicken and wings should be followed by a good tooth brushing session. But, dude, if you are going to participate in the food smuggling trade, you have got to be willing to adjust your dinner menu. Hey, I like wings and mushy Wal-Mart rotisserie chicken as much as the next guy, but if it's going in your pants it needs packaging. That's just how it is, brother. Pilfer some of those frozen burritos or perhaps some tasty soup. Not only are they a better fit, but they won't ass up your sweat pants with stains and what not.

The $1,350 bond does seem a bit excessive, though. I can only hope at least a portion of that goes to the employee that had to restock the wings and rotisserie chicken in the deli section.

Thanks to heady Wal-Mart security, Joseph Lee Stringer never made it this far.

Crappy Tails

It’s been just over a week, and the D’Arcy family is still reeling from the events of the morning of Feb. 19th. On that fateful day, my wife and I headed out with our dog Charlie in tow. We were headed to an evaluation session with Happy Tails to get him approved so that we could go with him to senior centers and other places where less fortunate folks of all stripes could enjoy spending some time hanging out with a dog.

We knew Charlie would be perfect for this for a number of reasons. First, he loves interacting with people and is basically good to go as long as he is getting attention from people. In addition, we took him to an eight week training class last Spring which he passed with flying colors. Finally, Charlie is not what you would call an, uhhh, intimidating dog.

Charlie (center) striking fear in nearby dogs at the dog park

Granted, we did have a bit of concern as to how things might play out that morning given our initial impression of Happy Tails. We had already been to an orientation session. That session was the first, and easiest, of five steps required to join Happy Tails (bad sign number one). During the session, the representative was EXTREMELY serious about the rules and regulations of Happy Tails (bad sign number two). She described the pet/handler evaluation process and noted that "the evaluation starts the moment you knock on the door". Uhhh, okay. Take it easy, hon, we're here to sign up for a volunteer organization, not to try to crack into the Omega Theta Pi pledge class. Now don't get me wrong, I certainly appreciate the need for an evaluation process. As this dog owner in Portland can certainly attest, not all dogs are cut out for extensive human interaction...

ROSEBURG, Ore. — A diabetic Oregon man with no feeling in his feet woke up to find his dog had eaten part of his right foot, including three toes...

I just assumed she was exaggerating the whole thing to make sure interested parties didn't show up with Snots from Christmas Vacation. I was sadly mistaken.

The morning of the evaluation I saddled up to the computer to get driving directions. That's when I discovered that they we were headed to a place in Woodstock called Ironclad Obedience (bad sign number three). I did take Charlie for a quick walk around the block before we left to try to get rid of some of his nerves. Unfortunately, he was still super-charged when I knocked on the door to begin the fun. I was ushered to a sitting area to wait on the beginning of the official evaluation. It took me all of about 60 seconds sitting there to know that I was on the front end of a train wreck. Several of the dogs in our vicinity looked like their owners had popped them with a tranquilizer dart right before entering the Ironclad Obedience premises. Meanwhile, the collection of dogs and crotchety blue-haired ladies patrolling the room with clipboards had Charlie doing a combination of jogging in circles at my feet and barking at me.


This dart is apparently needed to get your pet into the Happy Tails inner circle.

Soon enough I was waved over to station number one. Yes, there was somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 stations we would have to navigate. The first lady checked his grooming. Good enough so far. But then we moved on to attempting to have Charlie stay laying down while I walked 20 yards away. I found this rather amusing, since they were adamant at several points in the process that I not let go of his leash at any time during the evaluation or during actual visits. So unless I'm keeping him on a 60 foot leash, why are we ever going to encounter this situation? Next was an intense review of me walking Charlie, which we also failed due to our leash not drooping into a proper J shape while we navigated the straightaway. Next, one of the bitter evaluators started at one end of a walkway with a dog while Charlie and I started at the other end. Charlie made the fateful mistake of crossing from my right to my left to check out the other dog's nose. Fail.

And on and on it went. I looked over at one point and saw roughly 10 "X"s on the fail side. I think there were two or three on the pass side, but I can't say for certain. The real bummer is that in every portion that actually mattered, he was a rock star. He happily licked the grill of a lady in a wheelchair, laid compliantly on the ground while four people simultaneously petted and grabbed him, and stayed by my side as evaluators dropped pans and books on the ground in front of us. But his fate was already sealed. Happy Tails was looking for comatose dogs, and Charlie didn't fit the bill. Finally I was instructed to wait outside the front door where all the fun began. I stepped out there just as a heartbroken lady was told to hit the road because her extremely well behaved dog had apparently not passed one of the 10-12 stations. For Charlie, it was not nearly so close of a call, and the woman who was dispatched to inform me of the results seemed to take some pleasure in chastising me and my dog. For her finishing move, she took the leash from me and proceeded to jerk Charlie's leash and collar to get his attention. She stared at him and bitterly stated "I have a Brittany Spaniel, so you can't fool me." Something in that lady's voice made me fairly certain that the Brittany Spaniel in question spends most of its time chained to a radiator.

A disappointed Charlie attempts to come to grips with rejection.

A Classic Album Ushers in the Modern Era

A couple of nights ago marked a major milestone in the life of Craig D’Arcy (note the third person reference to myself ala an elite athlete at a press conference as an indicator of my level of bravado). No I did not complete a half marathon or learn how to grow pumpkins in my very own garden. Yes I did, for the first time in my life, purchase an album on iTunes. I’ve nibbled around the edges with the download of individual songs before when I knew I didn’t want more than one or two songs from an artist. But never before have I desired an entire collection of songs from an artist and acquired them via iTunes rather than conducting a hunt for the actual CD in the ever-diminishing music section of my local Borders.

Now before you shower me with huzzahs and praise, I must confess that the album in question was the debut opus of Bruce Hornsby and the Range, The Way It Is. I used to own this cassette tape, and its masterful blend of heartfelt piano and upbeat tunes got me through many a day in the late high school/early college years. At some point that tape met an untimely demise, either melting in the back window of one of my cars or perhaps falling out of my car unnoticed as I removed an overstuffed Wendy’s sack. Either way, something recently reminded me of it and I decided those songs needed to make a return to my music library.

Nothing says "modern" like Bruce Hornsby and his original bandmates (and their hair).

I haven’t decided how I feel yet about going the iTunes route. On the one hand, it was certainly a beautiful thing to conduct the transaction in all of 30 seconds, with the songs now loaded up and available to be mixed and matched with whatever other ones in my collection strike my fancy. On the downside, how will I know to whom this album was dedicated or who is sitting in on the saxophone on track #6 without the handy CD booklet?

I think it's a bit sad that we have said goodbye to the old way of buying music. What a stressful but exciting experience. Buying a tape/CD was such a roll of the dice. You knew one, perhaps two songs on the album. Armed with having heard those songs and your general impression of the artist, you had to make the go/no go decision. Then you would unwrap it on the way to your car, load it up, and anxiously wait to find out what you had on your hands. Sometimes you were treated to some fantastic music that you wouldn't otherwise have heard. Other times you kept skipping forward and slowly realized that you were going to have to test the store's return policy and claim some sort of damage to your newly-purchased Chesney Hawkes cassette.

Most who purchased the Chesney Hawkes album were left disappointed beyond the catchy title track.

There's no point clinging stubbornly to the past, though, so I think it's time I leave CD purchases in the rear view mirror. And I'll have to leave it at that. My favorite show is about to start and I need to program my VCR.

Office Bathroom Decorum- Embrace It

Greetings readers! Also, greetings to any Google Image searchers whose quest for pictures of a naked David Hasselhoff posing with dogs or Chuck Norris-endorsed exercise equipment accidentally led you here. I have to admit this hasn't been the greatest day in the world. I woke up thinking it was already Friday instead of Thursday, and then I took a bit of a pummeling at work. And so I was strongly considering wallowing in my self pity and letting another evening slip by without a post. "Perhaps I'll just sit here and read up on the Egyptian riots or college football recruiting or some other depressing topic" I thought to myself. And just then, my computer jumped to the rescue. My iTunes, playing in the background, dug up this gem to put a skip in my step and get me back in the game.



Yes indeed, it's Swing Out Sister! Just try listening to that and still being in a bad mood. You can't do it, can you? Now for an even more difficult challenge, try to believe me when I tell you I'm not lame even though that song is in my iTunes library.

At any rate, with my spirits lifted I'm ready to tackle an issue that I've been meaning to address for awhile. This one is for all the men out there working in corporate America. First, let me say that I believe a vivid imagination is a beautiful thing at any age, so I don’t begrudge my fellow comrades who like to escape momentarily from the reality of the daily grind of office life. But having said that, I need to break some news to you. Based on what I’ve seen, some of you may be every bit as rattled by this revelation as you were in your youth when the truth about Santa Claus was revealed. Still, I feel that it is necessary and will ultimately benefit both you and mankind as a whole. So here goes...

The door to the men's room is not some magic, Narnia-like portal to a different world. It’s really just a door, and you are really still surrounded by coworkers. While this may seem obvious to many of us, there are clearly many men out there that have been heretofore unaware of this. How else are we to explain why an otherwise normal guy would proceed to methodically wash his bald head in the office bathroom sink while I am standing next to him? And that is one of the milder offenses. The level of comfort some feel in a public restroom is truly mind blowing. I understand you aren't feeling great and need to go to the restroom, hence your presence in the stall with your pants on the ground. Still, is it really necessary to unleash a series of grunts that lead me to believe I've wandered into a live birth in the primate section of the Atlanta Zoo? I think not. And there is quite simply no cell phone conversation, under any circumstances, that is important enough to conduct while sitting on the toilet in the office restroom. Seriously. Odds are they don't want to talk to you in the first place. Also, why are some men who are doing what they need to in the stall hellbent on making it out of there and running into you, who has merely stopped in for a quick pee? Sir, just hold your ground in the stall for a minute until the other person has left the restroom. Otherwise, an uncomfortable (and entirely preventable) exchange at the sinks is guaranteed.

Ladies, I am just going to assume none of this lack of decorum goes on in your restroom. Thinking otherwise would be more than enough to derail my Swing Out Sister-inspired emotional rally. And with that, I bid you good evening. My Lionel Richie Chill playlist beckons.

The End of the Season and (Hopefully) a Nickname

I'd like to start this post with a hearty "thank you" to Sporting News. With one tardily delivered magazine, the fine folks behind this once-informative publication answered two questions that had been on my mind in recent days. I absentmindedly reached into the mailbox on Tuesday and pulled this gem out...



And just like that, I knew the answer to both of the following:

1) Should I renew my soon-to-expire subscription? No.

2) How did the Falcons manage to get their doors blown off by 27 points in a home playoff game? Because we have the most overrated quarterback in the league, who just happens to have the worst nickname in recent memory.

What exactly was Sporting News shooting for with this cover? Tough? Cool? Matt Ryan looks like he paid $10 bucks to get into one of those fan fest events that precede big college and pro games and then struck a pose while his mom snapped a picture of him. Good Lord dude, do you not have an agent or publicist of some sort that can review these photos before Sporting News picks one? The magazine doesn't actually show up until a week after it could possibly be relevant, so I know those guys aren't in a hurry to get it published. I understand that you have the arm strength of a QB in junior high school, but it doesn't benefit you to look like one.

And while we're at it, can we please say farewell to the Matty Ice nickname? Listening to announcers throw it around 20 times a game made me want to ram my head through the television, and I actually like the Falcons. I shudder to think what reaction it triggers in those who don't. And most importantly, it's not accurate! Yes, Matt Ryan has led some game winning drives, but he has had horrible showings more often than not in big games.

To be certain, there were other factors that contributed to the blowout that left a decidedly bad taste after an otherwise successful season. For starters, it would be nice if the Falcons took this offseason as an opportunity to sign a cornerback tall enough to ride the roller coaster without a close inspection to make sure they are taller than the cowboy's hat.

Sorry Brent Grimes, but you can still ride the Tea Cups with an adult guardian.

Now, I know what you're thinking. How can I drag the good name of Sporting News through the mud for its late arrival when I have waited five long days to relay my battered emotions via the blog? There are two reasons for the delay. First, I was traveling in Arkansas for my grandmother's 95th birthday until Monday. Then I was unavoidably detained by the opening two episodes of Season 10 of American Idol. And with that, I will now punch myself.

Prepping for a Snow Day

I’m checking in from a snow and ice covered Atlanta, enjoying an actual snow day home from work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still getting some work in thanks to my blackberry and laptop. Still, it is a most pleasant departure from the regular start to the work week. Last night involved hours of nervous anticipation as to whether or not the snowstorm would materialize in a forceful enough manner to actually keep the office closed. “Do I or do I not crack open a beer and pretend that it’s another Saturday night with no work tomorrow?” This is the question I and thousands of other Atlantans pondered last night as we stared skyward and willed the snow out of the clouds.

No winter storm in the South is complete without a mass run on the grocery store, and this one was most definitely no exception. The wife and I headed to both Kroger and Costco yesterday. I swear we were not in panic mode, loading up the pantry and refrigerator with enough bread and milk to see us through the Apocalypse. No, we just honestly needed groceries. And unfortunately, I also needed gas. The allure of gas priced five cents below market and the apparent fear of inaccessible gas stations combined to form a backup some forty cars deep at Costco. I, of course, rolled into Costco with the needle on empty, thinking myself a near genius for skipping the many vacant gas stations on the way. So faced with no real options, I waited it out, watching my fellow penny pinchers top off their already full tanks with a few gallons while I prayed to the heavens above for my car not to run out of gas in the line.

Happily, I navigated the Costco gas station area without incident and made my way inside for the main event. I don’t know what it is about that place, but the energy of the place triggers some kind of buying mechanism in my brain that doesn’t otherwise exist. Six giant canisters of cranberry sauce? Throw it in the buggy. 12 pounds of dodgy-looking fish? Let’s do it. Anyway, I happened upon a couple of interesting discoveries along the way. While grabbing a 250 count jar of One-A-Day Men’s vitamins, I noticed that they have picked up an official sponsorship from Major League Baseball. Brilliant! “Hey, what sport really exudes peak physical condition?” the higher-ups in marketing must have pondered across the conference table at One-A-Day headquarters. And baseball is what they settled on. Plus, baseball has spent the last three years plastered across the news catching heat for what their players put in their body, so somehow they must have worked that out in their head as a positive as well.

The chiseled physique of Dmitri Young and his teammates may seem a daunting goal, but One-A-Day vitamins can help.

Then, just before queueing up in the checkout line, I decided to swing by the restroom. And in a nondescript corner of the store, I made an interesting discovery. Is it common knowledge that Costco sells industrial-size boxes of Trojans? I certainly wasn't aware of it. I like it, though. Perhaps the buyer of that product is truly the ideal man, an impressive blend of frugality and confidence that no woman could resist.

The Start of a New Year

Happy New Year!!! It's January 6th, and I'm attempting to crawl out from under the post-holidays malaise that has engulfed me. The combination of seeming perpetual darkness outside and the 25 pounds I've picked up over the past three weeks (I kid...sort of) have slowed my efforts at productivity here at the start of 2011. I would set myself to tackling my list of New Year's resolutions, but I haven't had the energy to think of them and certainly not to actually capture them in written or digital fashion.

But no more of that! It's time to get in gear. So inspired am I that I have left the GoDaddy.Com Bowl behind to post my first blog entry of the year. Yes, I have handed over the remote to my wife and made my way to the computer. I am aware that the forward march of time and technology has produced devices that would allow me to keep my seat in front of the television while composing this, but I believe I've made it clear in prior posts that I am not what you would refer to as an early technology adapter. And in any case I can now hear the sounds of the latest episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, so proximity to the TV doesn't strike me as overly appealing at the moment.

I want to start of 2011 with a positive post. Specifically, I want to applaud Google's update to the functionality of Google Image search. Initially, the change annoyed me, but I have come to embrace it. Not because it actually works better, but because it is far more entertaining. Instead of typing what you're actually looking for in the search box, it is as though you type in "show me pictures of random sh!t" every time. Searching for a picture from Major League 2 (don't ask, this post was originally going to be about a different topic)? How about a picture of Jesus gently caressing a baby dinosaur instead?

My search for a picture from Major League 2 yielded this shot from a scene that apparently didn't make it through final edits.

They seem to have made it a game. With every search, in addition to (possibly) pictures tied in to what you typed, you are guaranteed a few scantily clad ladies and numerous completely unrelated images. Don't believe me? Check out this seemingly innocuous search for "Irwin M Fletcher", the main character in Fletch.

It's been awhile since I've watched Fletch, but I don't remember either of those two ladies (one of which I partially censored for my PG13 blog) being in the movie. Also, I'm not at all sure what Frank Poncherello or a well-groomed dog posing with his awards is doing there, and that's all just on the first page. The key is to find what you need without scrolling too far down, though. Not all the oddball pictures are of award winning dogs or sultry models. No, there are some very unsettling looking folks out there, and their pictures await you as well...whether you are looking for them or not.

A Night At The Movies

This post is for the guys…because I know what you’re thinking. Natalie Portman, she’s a good looking chick. And I need to get out of the dog house for inviting the boys over last weekend and leaving wings and half-empty beers between the sofa cushions. And hey, ballet is not my thing, but how much of the movie could really be actual ballet dancing. Yeah, why not, I’ll go see Black Swan.

And that is where I step in my friends. Consider it a Christmas present to you or just my good deed for the week. My advice to you- DO NOT DO IT. That is presumptuous, though, because what I look for in a movie may not be what floats your boat. As the theme song for the classic sitcom stated so eloquently, it takes different strokes to move the world yes it does. For example, just because I don’t prefer camerawork that is akin to 1980s home video footage of a child’s birthday party and that is so shaky and zoomed in that it merits nausea medication doesn’t mean others feel the same. And my feelings about watching a girl pick off her skin to the point of significant bloodshed 10 to 15 times in a two-hour period (not a big fan) may not be yours at all. But make no mistake, you are signing up for ballet. I mean, a lot of ballet. And visions of a dude in giant black feathery outfits using his position of power for sexual gain.

I won’t give away too much of the movie in case you are of a mind to see it. Just prepare yourself for a mixture of ballet and disturbing images…and not much else. I came out of it feeling like Ace Ventura immediately after realizing that Einhorn was a man, but maybe it’s just me. At least the night wasn't a total loss. On the way out of the theater I caught a glimpse of a larger than life cutout of Justin Bieber alerting me to his soon-to-be-released 3D movie, Never Say Never.

In two months these sweet red boots will look like they are coming right at your grill.

Say What?

Sorry for the lack of recent posts. Between Christmas errands, a lack of inspiration, and weather conditions that have dropped my core body temperature to a level that supports only the most limited and essential functionality, it has been a struggle. I was in a bit of a bummed out mood this weekend anyway, as this past Saturday was the first of the year without college football. Other than the Army-Navy game (which, all jokes aside, is well worth watching) and some FCS playoff games, the only thing related to college football that was on was the Heisman trophy presentation. I decided to skip that one, as the Heisman trophy doesn't do much for me in the best of years and certainly held no appeal with Cam Newton set to be the obvious winner. Given that there's about a 90% chance that, just like the one awarded to Reggie Bush in 2005, this one will be rescinded, one wonders if they even bothered to have the Cam Newton painting done to hang on the wall.

So by the end of the weekend, I'd say my mood was holding up about as well as the roof of the Metrodome...

Punting is likely to be a challenge in the reconfigured Metrodome.

Ahhh, but there is always something out there to brighten your day if you just keep looking. For me, it was the Big Ten that came to the rescue. Yes, if there is one thing the fine folks in the upper Midwest know how to do, it is providing a warm hearty laugh to fend off the falling temperatures. Actually, they are also quite adept at getting their doors blown off in championship games. Anyway, they released the names for their divisions today, and I can only assume that it was an early Christmas gift to lift the spirits of the cold and weary across the country. East and West? North and South? No sir, the Big Ten will be divided into the Leaders and Legends divisions. Bravo! That is fantastic.

Here's the rationale from the conference commissioner:

"The Legends, not too hard in that we have 215 College Football Hall of Fame members, we have 15 Heisman Trophy winners," commissioner Jim Delany said in an exclusive interview with The Associated Press. "We thought it made perfect sense to recognize the iconic and the legendary through the naming of the division in that regard. ... We've had plenty of leaders in the conference, that's for sure, but the emphasis here is to recognize the mission of using intercollegiate athletics and higher education to build future leaders."

That sounds good, much better than admitting that they couldn't create divisions based on geography because they wanted to split up Michigan and Ohio State. I don't know whether I will cringe or laugh the first time I watch Pam Ward kick off the telecast of the noon Big Ten game telling me with a straight face that "Wisconsin comes into today's game currently sitting second in the Leaders division, while Northwestern is struggling to keep pace in the Legends division." Actually I won't do either, since I won't be watching, but you get my point. A 12-team conference called the Big Ten with a Leaders division and a Legends division? Maybe there really is a Santa Claus.

Tough Duty: In addition to providing color commentary next to Pam Ward, Ray Bentley must now discuss the Leaders and Legends divisions of the Big 10 on a weekly basis.

Exercise Machine

During a brief respite from shoveling all manner of food in my piehole over the extended Thanksgiving weekend, I ran across There's Something About Mary on television. It was a pleasant trip down memory lane. I happened to be watching during Brett Favre's legendary cameo, in which he deadpanned "I'm in town to play the Dolphins, ya dumbass". It reminded me of a simpler time when I thought of Brett Favre as an old school gritty competitor who played the game the right way rather than an attention-starved egomaniac who sends pictures of his junk to hot girls 20 years his junior. (By the way, that article contains a picture of Jenn Sterger that just makes the whole story even funnier. "Hi, I'm Jenn Sterger. Yes, I am here to do a serious interview. No, I am not sure what happened to my t-shirt.")

Anyway, earlier in the movie there's a great scene where Ben Stiller picks up a hitchhiker. This guy, in addition to being a serial murderer, has what he believes to be a revolutionary money-making idea- a seven minute abs workout video. The premise was that this would put the well established eight minute abs video right out of business. Well, like much of the rest of this once-hilarious movie, that notion suddenly seems extremely outdated. How can that be, you ask? Look no further than the fine folks at ROM (The Time Machine)! Seven minutes for a quality workout? Hah! How about four minutes! That's right, all you need is three things:

1) Four minutes a day- check
2) $14,615- ehhh, maybe
3) The ability to successfully hop on board this bad boy...

Just put your foot right here and, wait, no! Hand, I mean your hand! Oh, the humanity!

Yikes. I thought that's what they put Khalid Sheikh Muhammed on down at Gitmo. Seriously though, the website is fantastic. I have never seen an angrier attempt at selling a product. The geniuses behind this contraption have no trouble letting you know that only one in 35 people who receive their free informational DVD end up purchasing the contraption. Why the low conversion rate? Could it be that it 25% of purchasers suffer a life-altering injury within 30 days of their first use? No sir, there are two primary hurdles.

The first one is the cost. While 15 grand might strike you as a lot of coin for an exercise machine, this is in fact the "absolute least expensive" method to improve health and fitness and is "far less expensive than...having other equipment at home". The even bigger issue, though, is "experts". I only put that term in quotes because that is how the makers of the ROM refer to them. The experts, you see, are "close minded" and will not be swayed from "giving their negative opinion or even ridiculing our ROM". Plus, they totally took away our cookies and won't let us play outside. Damn "experts".

So if anyone out there is looking for any last minute Christmas ideas, I think this is it. You or a loved one can drop 20 pounds in no time. Granted, it may be through the loss of a limb, but don't you worry about that. Letting those worries keep you from buying the ROM is letting the "experts" win. And I won't stand for that.

(Hat tip to my friend Martin, who sent the Fast Exercise link my way.)