I swerved to miss him, but the little guy wasn't fast enough

Happy Halloween! I'm dressing up as a dead squirrel because I am prepared for the Republicans to get run over in the coming elections. (Ouch, zing, this hurts to say.)

I have a question for ladies out there. How can you dominate the household with such ease? I somehow watched 43 minutes of Deal or No Deal the other night as Tomorrow Rodriguez won a million dollars. What did I have every intention of watching? The final three innings of the World Series.

Three innings, not even. The Phils won without having to bat in the bottom of the ninth. Somewhere, somehow, bride-to-be has developed a flight response to baseball. There is no fight. She just leaves the room, akin to the "She's washing her hair" response you sometimes got when trying to call upon a young lady. I don't know if the response was developed in the delta where my team lost 34 games in a row over two years by very large margins and she saw the effects of the beatings on my battered psyche, or if it started at some point in her childhood when she was forced to watch horrific baseball - extended innings due to walks, errors, domination by the opposing team, various player anatomy adjustments - the likes of which will scar any potential fan, and repressed the memory. It doesn't matter. I get similar responses to action movies and CSPAN. True, I'm one of 56 Americans who enjoy watching CSPAN so maybe that shouldn't count, but I do change the channel when she's around. (That's right, talk to me Anthony Corrado of the Brookings Institute about the State of the Presidential Election.)

However, and guys will agree, we will sit though anything in hopes of making our ladies happy. When they are happy, we are happy. Hence, the success of the Dr. Pepper commercial where the dutiful boyfriend buys tampons and other testicle questioning acts until she takes tries to take his drink. You learn this at a young age from your father when he backs up every suggestion your mother throws out. (Yes it is 75 degrees, but your mom wants you to put on your sweater because she is cold. No, you can't jump off the roof into the pool even though it would be super-awesome.) I awoke to this fact of life when I found myself watching Dirty Dancing one Saturday morning, and despite Patrick Swayze hip thrusting and pelvis driving, I dutifully watched alongside my future bride. She may have envisioned summer escapades with strangely-gifted sensitive dancers while we were watching, but she was happy and I was there as her only option. It was a choice, and in January, I commit to a life of those choices, and I can handle it.

I have not yet succumbed to Steel Magnolias or The Cutting Edge, and I will hold out as long as possible, opting for Chuck Norris, Bloodsport, MonsterQuest, and nine hours of football, until I inevitably fold when she pushes the envelope, offering me baked goods and cold beer in exchange for my manhood. When that time comes, I will season my manhood with cumin and oregano, saute it in EVOO, sprinkle it with pepper, and serve it as an appetizer to an evening of settling down in matching penguin print pj's.

Bump on a Blog

I know I need to change my url, the web address, because of prurient minds. Classmates of mine will remember that as one of Tom-Cat's words of the day. (Bonus point!) Drizzle on your biscuit, I admit, does indeed sound like a juvenile urban legend of a perverted game adolescent males play. This was not my intent. I tried sweetmolasses.blogspot.com, but that was taken by someone who is not getting the full use of a terrific name.

I spent last night with my bride-to-be writing thank you notes and not watching television. Trying to say "thank you for thinking of us during this special time" without sounding uniform and boring can be a challenge when you have several notes to write. (This sounds boring just rereading it.) Anyway, to continue my outwardly dull, inwardly satisfying evening, I organized my bookmarks in Firefox, adding folders and reordering websites. Then I went and found publications I would like to read so that I can feel informed, even if I am truly not. I recently bought the Popular Mechanics that had "100 Skills Every Man Should Know," because I want to be a renaissance man, jack-of-all-trades, self-sufficient modern pioneer. What I am is a hairy chested guy that enjoys releasing his manliness through open collars in the summertime, and will blog about it.

This search for education and information led me back to The Atlantic Monthly, which sucked me in in college with great writing, and to an article by Andrew Sullivan, entitled, "Why I Blog." Not only does he sum up the inner thoughts of bloggers, but he frames our online world.
What I love about the internet is the true sharing of ideas and the ability to form our own based on the arguments espoused by so many. There is no limit to what we read or who we can find to support or discredit our beliefs. And this challenges us and shapes us and leaves us in a better place than before.

So slow down, digest, and feel better for it.