Of All The Days to Start Fasting...

...from television: opening day of the NFL season, and I saw NONE of it. Nada.

My class assignment this week is to fast from television for 72 hours, then write a reaction paper describing the experience. Seeing as how I WATCH TV FOR A LIVING, putting your very favoritest shows on your wide screen HD TV for your viewing pleasure, I burst into laughter upon reading it. I'm not addicted to television, and with the exception of watching LOST, which doesn't come back until January, I could probably find many more worthwhile things to do with my time than watch TV. In fact, if it were up to me, I would watch very little TV while at home. The hard part is not getting enticed when Diane and the girls watch TV. Since Diane only watches reality shows, and the girls watch Disney, Cartoon Network, and Nickelodeon, this shouldn't be too hard. So I decided to give the assignment the good ol' college try. Sorry.

I was 100% with the program until about 7:30 this morning when a thought sat me bolt upright in bed...THE BEARS PLAY THE CHARGERS TODAY! FOR REAL! I broke into a cold sweat. How could I have forgotten something so important! Like forgetting your anniversary! OK, not that bad, but close. Today my NFL withdrawal was going to come to an end as I partook in a double-dose, nay, a triple-dose (how could I forget about Sunday night football?) of bone-crushing pigskin action.

But it wasn't meant to be. I stuck to my guns and refrained from spending any time in front of the boob tube. Instead I spent the afternoon playing with the girls and working on some of their softball skills, which I have to admit was probably time better spent. I later logged on to the computer to see how the Bears fared: a 14-3 loss to the Chargers. Three measly points? My time was DEFINITELY better spent. And I was in a better mood too. Hell, if this is how the Bears are going to perform, I'll GLADLY fast from television for the rest of the season!

Oh, There's Need To Fear, All Right

Yesterday was the first Friday I've had off in a long time, as well as the first evening I've had alone with the girls without some sort of extra curricular activity to attend. I've been putting in a lot of overtime at work covering a co-worker's vacation and haven't seen much of the girls in the past couple of weeks. Diane was working late, so I decided to have a daddy-daughters date night where we would do dinner and a movie. The movie of choice for the evening: Underdog. Kyra lobbied hard for Bratz, but finally conceded to seeing Underdog after I explained to her that it would be a cold day in hell before I EVER saw the Bratz movie. She pouted for a bit, but seemed to perk up when I asked her if she wanted to stay home or go out for date night.

"Date night?" she asked. "Is that where we go out and you teach us about what we're supposed to do on a date?"

"Uhhhh...I suppose." I laughed. I hadn't really thought about that, but it made sense. Why shouldn't I, as a father, teach my daughters about what they should expect and what they shouldn't tolerate on a date. Granted, they're still about eight years away from the dating scene (oh please, dear Lord), but I guess it's never too soon to start.

Kailey didn't want any part of it. "I am NOT going out on a date with my DA-AD," she protested. "We're just going to go see a movie!"

Fair enough. So Kyra and I went on a daddy-daughter date and Kailey tagged along for the ride. Kyra was hilarious, holding my hand, giving me several spontaneous hugs, and frequently asking, "Is this what YOU used to do on your dates with Mommy?" Kailey kept her distance and looked at us like we were a couple of freaks.

Since we left the house a little late, I decided we'd see the movie first and then catch a bite to eat. To tie us over, I splurged for the $100 small drink and small popcorn at the concession stand, fully knowing that at some point during the movie Kyra would have to go to the bathroom. She did...about an hour in. I don't think Kyra's ever seen a movie in the theater start to finish. I didn't mind taking her this time because the movie SUCKED. I've taken the girls to several movies, usually animated, that I have enjoyed nearly as much as they have. This one, though, was painful to sit through. So Kyra's bathroom break was a welcome reprieve from the torture of this film. The girls enjoyed the movie, and Kailey's frequent bursts of laughter at Underdog's antics and Kyra's loving arm hugs made the time worthwhile.

For dinner, we hit the food court at the mall where the theaters are located. The girls wanted pretzel bites and cheese for dinner, but I said they had to have dinner first. They opted for cheese pizza and I obliged. Big diff, right? At least the pizza had tomato sauce.

As we sat down to dinner, Kyra returned to the practice dating theme. "Daddy, is this where we're supposed to talk about each other's interests and get to know each other?" Kailey rolled her eyes. I laughed. This kid was totally cracking me up. At the same time I was also getting a little freaked. Kyra was WAY too into this dating thing. It very well may have been that she was just excited to be going out with her dad. But I've also heard her verbalize her love for a certain boy at school and how they will one day get married. As innocent as it is, it's still hard for me to suppress the feeling that all of this is a little much for a 6 year-old. Call me paranoid. Call me over-protective. Can't help it. I'm a dad to two daughters.

"Sure," I said, suppressing my paranoia and choosing to indulge my youngest daughter. "This would be the perfect time to get to know each other. So what do you like to do?" Kailey was turning pale and looked like she could hurl at any moment. Part of me could identify with her and was glad she wasn't that excited about dating.

"I like dressing up and going to the mall and singing High School Musical songs."

"Everything I'M looking for in a woman," I teased.

"Daddy!" Kyra blushed. "I'm so embarrassed!"

They finished their cheesy pizza, then the three of us shared a small order of pretzel bites, taking turns identifying the various shapes before devouring them. "This one's a snowman!" Chomp. Off with its head. "Here's a piggy!" Chomp. Off with its head. "This one's a dog...no, it's UNDER-dog!" Chomp. Off with its head. Good riddance.

We stopped by to see Diane at her store before calling it a night and heading home. I love daddy-daughters date nights and will continue to have as many of them as I can before they become too "mature" to go out with their old man and before they start dating for real. I'm sure that day will come soon enough. I wish Underdog were here. Oh, that's right. Kyra bit his head off.

No, the irony is not lost on me.

Why, Do I LOOK Lost?

My first day of school was this morning. Trying to avoid looking like the NKOTB, I spent the better part of last evening studying the campus map so that I could at least pretend I knew where the crap I was going. My plan was to arrive on campus early, find the bookstore and purchase my USED textbook for $73.75 (WTH?), locate my classroom, and then spend time catching up on reading since I missed the first day of class. I felt pretty good about it, but everybody knows that nothing ever goes as planned.

This morning Kailey had one of her classic clothing freak-outs, where clothes that suited her just fine last week all of a sudden morphed into evil garments that "tease" her. "It teases me!" is Kailey's all-encompassing method of describing how a piece of clothing itches, clings, or just doesn't "feel" right. She went through five outfits before finding one that met with her approval. So I was frustrated with that whole situation when Diane asked me if I would take the girls to school. This is conflicting with my plan, I thought, but I reluctantly agreed. So right around the time I was hoping to leave the house was when I actually stepped into the shower. I hit the road 25 minutes later.

Being an East-sider, I've never been to the West Campus. I knew its general vicinity, but was not at all familiar with with any of the buildings or the layouts. I arrived about a half-hour before my class started and headed to the building that I had memorized from my map the previous evening. What the map fails to show you is the layout INSIDE the building. As I approached the building, I saw that I had a decision to make: stairs or no stairs. I chose stairs.

You IDIOT! You NEVER choose stairs!

I know, I know...what can I say? I panicked.

I climbed the stairs and entered the first set of doors I could find which opened into what looked like a student services area. I walked through and came to a staircase going down to the ground level where, at the foot of the steps, was the bookstore. Crap. At least I got some exercise. I descended the staircase to the bookstore where I ponied up $79 for my textbook and, yes Hon, a new notebook. I emerged from the bookstore with 10 minutes to spare.

It was at this point that I realized that though I had studied the campus map to pinpoint the building in which my class took place, I had failed to memorize the room number. ROOKIE IDIOT! So I rifled through my bag to find my registration slip and identify my room number. I knew I only had ten minutes to get to class, so I consulted the building directory in order to get pointed in the right direction. Ah, there it was: "Student Classrooms: Level 2". I jumped on the elevator and rode it to the second level. Only when I got off the elevator I was greeted by another sign informing me that the classrooms were in another building. I'M THE STUPIDEST FRESHMAN IN THE HISTORY OF STUPID FRESHMEN!!

I whipped out my registration slip again, this time noticing the two letters in front of the number: "CG". A second consultation of the building directory confirmed that "Computer Graphics" was located on the ground floor. Back to the elevator! I wasted no time on the ground floor and asked a woman thumbing through a magazine where the classroom was. "Right there," she mumbled and pointed to a door RIGHT NEXT TO THE BOOKSTORE! Correction: I am the stupidest person alive.

Here's hoping the rest of the semester goes a little better.

Old School

Well, I finally did it...I'm going back to school. Kind of. Actually, I'm going back to get a taste and see if it's really for me at this point in my life. I'm tired of my current position at work, tired of being overlooked for other positions due to "lack of experience", and tired of doing nothing about it. So I decided to do something about it. Whether this is the right step for me now remains to be seen, but at least I'm moving, which, for me, is half the battle.

I'm starting back on the community college circuit, which feels totally bizarre. I'm also starting a week late...yesterday was the deadline for registration. I'm a procrastinator and couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to take classes again. Some days I did; most days I didn't. But the thought of wasting any more time sprung me to action. The thing that ultimately held me back: laziness. Pima Community College requires that all "new students" register for the first time in person. After that, it's all online. I had to drag my aging butt to one of the campuses, roughly a ten minute drive from my house, to register for a single, measly class. I didn't want to do that. I wanted to register for my class from the comfort of my keyboard. So I waited. 'Till the last possible moment. Which was yesterday morning.

I slid into the car and made the ten minute trip to Pima's East Campus, and, amazingly, found a great parking spot in the lot directly outside of the Student Center. It must be a sign. I grabbed my paperwork and my book, in case I had to wait in a long line of students desiring to make last minute class changes. No such thing. I found my line, which consisted of two whipper-snappers with their ball caps slightly askew and their jeans one ass-hair away from dropping to the floor. Actually these gentlemen looked so young that I wondered if they even had ass-hair yet. I then scrubbed those thoughts from my mind and waited for my turn which came a minute later when the young lady behind the computer monitor looked at me and, in her best Barbie Cheerleader impersonation, said, "Next."

"Hi, I'd like to register for a class."

"Are you a new student?"

"Well, I'm not a new student, per se, but I am new to Pi..."

"Ookaay, what I'm going to need you to do is to sign in to see an adviser, and they will arrange for you to attend a New Student Orientation as well as any placement assessments you might need. Have you taken your assessments yet?"
I felt like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. "I...well...no, I don't really need to take an assessment or see an adviser," I protested. "I already have my degree," take THAT you little cupcake, "I just want to take some supplemental courses."

But Barbie Cheerleader, with her exterior plastic coating, absorbed the blow and responded unscathed. "Even so, we require all incoming students to meet with an adviser to determine all educational requirements before registering." Barbie Cheerleader 1, Me 0. I stepped to the to the touch-screen monitor to my left, entered my name for an adviser appointment, and retreated to the waiting area with my book. Stupid Barbie Cheerleader.

After a short time I heard my name called and I looked up to see a woman's head peeking over the cubicle wall, which was bizarre because the cubicles were barely four feet high. I stood and was greeted by an almost perfectly round woman wearing thick black Harry Potter glasses. We'll call her Ramona. She directed me to a chair in her cubicle and we sat down.

"So what are we doing?" Ramona cut to the chase.

"I'd like to register for a class."

"So what's your deal. You a new student? Returning student?"

Ramona needed some serious adviser/advisee etiquette retraining. Still, I liked her. She was a straight shooter, and for me at this point, cutting through any red tape and B.S. was a good thing. I decided to launch a preemptive strike on the rest of her interrogation. "I have a degree in Broadcast Journalism from the University of Illinois. I graduated in 1991. I am currently working in television and would like to take some courses to supplement my position and help me move along in my career. I'm not sure at this point if schooling is the answer, so I just want to start off slow and see how it goes."

Ramona detected the edge in my tone and grinned. It seemed like she enjoyed people who dispensed with the B.S. as well. "Career change, eh. So what course you wanna take?" With a few keystrokes, Ramona had me registered for my first class in nearly twenty years. "Yeah, we used to ask for verification of high school graduation, college transcripts, that sort of stuff, but we don't do that anymore. Only if you want to apply to a program. Okay, you're set."

I really liked Ramona. She wished me well on my semester, and I laughed and thanked her as I rejoined the line to register for my class. Thankfully, Cheerleader Barbie was on a break and I completed my registration with a tattooed young man who kept calling me "Sir". School starts tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck.

Thank Goodness I Don't Prance Around the House Naked

This afternoon, Diane took Kyra to Starbuck's to work on her homework while Kailey was at tutoring. The place was fairly busy with many patrons occupying several of the closely spaced tables. They picked a table next to two older women and proceeded with Kyra's homework. The ladies took an interest in Kyra working on her homework, and when one of them went to use the restroom, the other engaged Kyra in conversation. She won't make that mistake again.

"Boy, I wish MY Mommy would've taken ME to Starbuck's to do my homework when I was a little girl." she teased. They continued with a little chit-chat when the lady asked Kyra if she had any brothers. "That's good," the lady said, "'Cause those boys sure can be a lot of trouble."

Without missing a beat, Kyra blurted, "I know. Whenever my Daddy farts, he yells, 'BARKING SPIDERS!!' It's so annoying!"

And with that, Kyra rendered the chatty lady speechless while Diane practically peed her pants laughing. While what Kyra said was probably not socially appropriate, it was true: I do sometimes yell "Barking Spiders" when I fart. I suppose it's time for me to examine some of my other household behavior before it becomes Starbuck's Kyra fodder.