Showing posts with label villains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label villains. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The WSJ Thinks Your Wife Should Shut Up and Make You a Sandwich

Ken MacDougal feels victimized.  His wife, after she made him a sandwich, stuck a note in his lunch reminding him to stop by Home Depot after lunch.


Even years later, he remains traumatized and "peeved" about the situation: "I didn't need a reminder in the middle of my sandwich," he says.

Nagging, The Wall Street Journal earnestly reports, is even more common than adultery, and yet can be even more toxic to a relationship.  I'd like to helpfully remind you that adultery is traditionally considered a male attribute (although recent studies have shown that women are starting to cheat at almost the same rate as their male counterparts).  According to Howard Markman, a professor of psychology, nagging can be a prime contributer to divorce when couples start to argue about the nagging itself.  And of course, in that type of toxic relationship, who can blame a man for straying?



Women are much more likely to nag because they are "conditioned to feel more responsible for managing home and family life" and are "more sensitive."  Still, the WSJ rushes to assure us, men also hold a share of the blame.
Sure, a husband might tune his wife out because he is annoyed; nagging can make him feel like a little boy being scolded by his mother. But many times he doesn't respond because he doesn't know the answer yet, or he knows the answer will disappoint her.
In other words, his share of the blame is really still her fault, because women are too sensitive, and he is only trying to spare her feelings while he rationally assesses the situation.  It's also his mother's fault, who has been nagging him since childhood.


Back to Ken MacDougal.  His wife, sensitive to his tense "thousand-year stare," started signing her notes with extra hearts and smiley faces, trying to soften her words so as not to seem too threatening.  She even left out her own signature from the notes, instead signing them from "your faithful bathtub drain," or whatever appliance was low enough for him to step all over.



WSJ  leaves us with some tips to save our marriages.  Sometimes it is best to avoid the conflict altogether.  In the most dire of circumstances, perhaps hiring a handyman would be best.  Don't try and do it yourself, ladies!  That's still a man's job, even if your man doesn't feel like doing whatever chore is distracting him from the big game.  No matter what, be sure to avoid direct conflict.
"As long as I am not putting pressure on him, he seems to respond better," Ms. Pfeiffer says. Mr. Mac Dougall agrees. "The notes distract me from the face-to-face interaction," he says. "There's no annoying tone of voice or body posture. It's all out of the equation."
Finally, WSJ suggests adjusting expectations, asking wives, "Does that lightbulb need to be changed immediately?" Maybe not ladies, but your attitudes certainly do.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

All Goya with a Touch of Picasso

RAG Week, Galway, Ireland
March 2004

I am in the middle of a bar hop during Ireland's Raise-A-Grand Week, in which all the pubs open early and close late.  (Also, something about charity.)  I am the caboose in the Lady Train that is winding/pushing its way through the crowded pub, when I am stopped by a young man on a bar stool.  "Excuse me," he says.  "I just wanted to stop you and tell you that you're lovely-"  I made motions to continue moving towards the back of the pub where my friends gathered.  "No!  Wait.  I didn't want to come out here tonight, I just broke up with my girlfriend, but my lads made me, and I'm so glad they did,   because you're lovely, and-" he pauses and gestures me closer for effect, "- I would tell a girl that I loved her to get in her pants, but I wouldn't tell her she was lovely."



 507 Main, Belmar, NJ
August 2005
It's the summer, it's last call, and I'm out in Belmar, which means I'm looking around for my friends while avoiding eye contact with anybody else.  A young man saunters up to me.

"Excuse me, but you have a boyfriend, don't you?"

I size him up.  "Yes," I lie.

"I could tell.  But I have to tell you....[pauses for effect]....I'm better than your boyfriend."

"Oh?" I said.

"Yeah....I work at Z100."

I immediately perked up.  "Are you Greg T the Frat Boy?!"  (Sorry for the geographic-centered humor there but I assure you that was a hoot for those who ever listened to Z100 in the morning in the late 1990s.)


Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A Layman's Guide to Office E-Mail


For those entering an office environment for the first time, I offer a brief introduction to professional e-mail communications.

The Care and Feeding of Your Ellipses
All this grammar nonsense can be a great hullaballoo of rules and procedures. Luckily for you there is a short cut that grammarians don't want the public to know about. The secret is thus:
If you are ever in a situation where you don't know how to punctuate a sentence you can use the special "catch all" punctuation: the ellipsis.
While many people have invested a great deal of energy perpetuating the myth that the ellipsis is intended to designate omitted words, the truth is that the ellipsis can also replace omitted punctuation!   This versatile little guy can represent anything writer wants.

Take this sentence:
"I have a party on Saturday, I'm bringing the cake!"
This can easily be rewritten without changing the meaning as:
"I have a party on Saturday… I'm bringing the cake…"
Exactly the same.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

A DC Metro User's Guide

This weekend, I sent the following text (verbatim) to my fabulous co-blogger Katie: "On the weekend, pure anarchy descends on the metro. Strollers. On the LEFT side of the escalator! Asdfjkl;"

Remember how your mother always said patience is a virtue? Well, the DC metro between the hours of 7:00 and 9:00 a.m. on weekdays and ANY time on the weekend is like immersion therapy for those of you struggling to compensate for your not-so-virtuous (would we go so far as to say villanous?) natures.

Metro pet peeves have been done to death as a topic, but a series of incidents over the last few days have created a straw-that-broke-the-camels back phenomenon:
  • Taking the red line on a Saturday, during the day. (omg did you know the zoo in DC is SO COOL?? You should go. With all your friends. On a Saturday. And stand directly in front of the doors so as not to allow people on OR off. Then definitely act totally shocked when people shove you politely tap you to ask you to move.)
  • A ten minute wait for a Shady Grove train yesterday morning at the peak of rush hour (why? Why does more than every other train stop at Grosvenor instead of going all the way to Shady Grove? You don't even just do it at rush hour anymore! DON'T YOU KNOW I WORK AT TWINBROOK?)
  • Speaking of Twinbrook - randomly skipping stops during rush hour is super cool (yo, some of us use the train to like, Idk, nap in compensation for the 6.5 hours of sleep we got the night before. Also, it's very difficult for me to ravenously devour gossip pages time my newspaper reading if I don't know when I might need to hop off the train. We need more notice that you're skipping a stop then, say, just as a random example, immediately before the doors close at the previous stop)
So today, in the spirit of the DC DMV's Open Letter welcoming you to our roads, I offer you, DC traveler, the following survival guide to making your ride on the metro the most pleasant it can possibly be:
  1. Stand on the left. Especially on the escalators.
  2. Don't, under any circumstances, move to the center of the car.
  3. Lean on the pole. No-one else needs it, and besides, you look so much more emo that way!
  4. Make friends with your neighbor. The "every other" principle, so common with bathroom stalls and bar stools? Doesn't apply to train seats, at least not in DC. It's not friendly!
  5. Spread out. Your stuff deserves a seat just as much as you do. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
  6. Make yourself at home. The metro is a perfectly appropriate place to apply your makeup, brush your hair, pluck your eyebrows, etc. Though brushing your teeth might be pushing it a little.
  7. Eat your food. The whole "this is not a diner" campaign? Totally false. You're a busy man/woman on the go, and the Metro is a perfect place to enjoy a leisurely meal. The more aromatic, the better.
  8. Hold the door. Though the conductor tells you "these are not like elevator doors you may be familiar with...," definitely stick your bag in the door to hold it for your travel buddy. Don't worry if they wind up having to offload your car - that's just more time to sight see in the tunnels under Metro Center!
  9. Crank the tunes. There is no such thing as a quiet car. Consider it a public service to entertain your fellow passengers with your personal music player. Bonus points if they can hear you more than three seats away.
  10. Time your trip. Whenever possible, do ALL of your travel during rush hour. New "peak of peak" time slots preferred. It's totally when the atmosphere is best under there, and when you and your stroller/shopping bags/suitcases will make the most friends.
You'll know me when you see me. I'm the short kid giving you the thumbs up.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

The League of Super Villains

They are ordinary men in extraordinary costumes.
We are extraordinary people in ordinary costumes.

This mantra is continuously repeated to me during the time I have spent with The League of Super Villains, a group so exclusive and so powerful that for centuries their existence has been but rumor.

Forget what you've heard, what you've read and what you've seen.  These are not your comic's villains.  These people, are much, much more terrifying.

Daddy issues.

I'm still not sure how or why I was granted access to their ranks. With the resurgence of the Real-Life Superhero Movement, headed by Seattle's Phoenix Jones, I suppose there must have been some desire to tell the other side of the story.  I know I wanted to hear the other side.

And then I got the phone call. 

I was flown by private jet bussed to an undisclosed location.  It was hard to judge how long I was on the road, because I fell asleep rather quickly after the glass of wine they gave me.  Odd, because wine never affects me in that way.  The taste, though, was delightful.

They did me the courtesy of carrying me into their headquarters rather than wake me from their nap.  This caused me to miss not only the way to get to their lair, but also the chance to identify the location from any of the surrounding topography.  I assume I was either deeply underground in Arizona, or in one of the top floors of a skyscraper in north Jersey.