To Pirate, or not to Pirate...

I have a 17 year-old son. Funny thing about 17 year-olds is that they typically aren't known as stellar conversationalists! While my son can be a very well spoken young man, he is no exception.

"Hey Dad," he said to me one morning. "If you were a pirate, what would your pirate name be? What would be the name of your ship? What animal would you have? What appendage would you lose and how would you replace it?"

Being the awesome father I am, I indulged his 17 year-old nuttiness. That's where I went wrong.

My original pirate name was simply Arrrrrrr! After he pointed out that I would be called Captain Constipation, I changed my name to Captain Blackheart because I felt it sounded intimidating.

While I don't remember my ship's name, I do remember my pirate animal being a parrot that would say, "Blackheart's gonna kill ya dead! Squawk!"

After some ridicule from the 17 year-old contingency in my household, I changed my pirate animal to a lemur. A really creepy lemur with big, haunting eyes.

We started talking at length about our crews. My crew, I pointed out to him, would be a deadly force of confident pirates since I would teach them to read, write and fend for themselves out in the world! I explained that originally, pirates were probably at-risk youth who needed to make a way for themselves. I would provide them that way.

The appendage I would choose to lose would be a pinky. Why? Simply because my guns would have to be custom made and no one who had pinkies would be able to accurately shoot them. If someone got my guns, I would have a good chance of survival!

"What the heck, dad," my son said, laughing. "You would be Captain Constipation! Your ship's name would be the Redundancy! Your pirate animal is nocturnal! You're getting specialty guns knowing you're going to lose them in battle and be shot at! And, worst of all, you're an outreach program for wayward youth!

"Then what? Are you going to get them matching t-shirts? Going to have bonding campfire moments with them?"

After his not-so-brief laughter, he proceeded to tell me what a horrible pirate I would be.

"By the way, dad," he said. "I'm out of gas. Can I have $20?"

Car Dream -- Denied!

"Oh, honey, look," I exclaimed excitedly to my wife in the car. "It's a little red VW Rabbit convertible! There's no tags on it... Hmmm... I wonder if it's for sale?!"

"Doesn't matter if it is," she responded cooly. "They wouldn't sell it to you. They can't."

I paused a moment. I pondered her words, wondering what she meant. Obviously, I wouldn't be purchasing any car over $20 any time soon, but that was beside the point.

"I hear your gears grinding," she continued. Wives are amazing that way. "You can quit thinking about it. I've put you on the list. It's called the National Registry of People with Stupid Addictions."

She explained to me that some people have real addictions, such as gambling, alcohol, drugs, and other substances that people invariably overuse. Then there are people, like me, she said, who have stupid addictions, like Volkswagens.

"So I've added your name to the NRPSA (I've given it an acronym for simplicity sake). It's distributed widely and no one will sell you a VW. You have bad luck with them so you need to get over your love affair with them. They're just cars, honey!"

Just cars?! While I may not be the manliest man in the world, I do love cars! Especially VW's! Such blasphemy!

Maybe she was referring the the VW Dasher deisel my family once owned. According to my mother, that car spent more time in the shop than it did on the road. Or maybe the Jetta. The Jetta leaked every time it rained and eight mechanics couldn't figure out the where, why or how it leaked. It was eco-friendly, though. I actually had a plant growing from the back floormat.

While those were before her time, she personally became acquainted with the Scirocco I owned. I loved that car. She hated it. It had a tendency to shake when it idled, but only a little bit. There were derogatory comments made about our newborn, my car and shaken baby syndrome, so I got rid of it.

Then there was the VW Beetle. I paid $300 for that 1970 vehicle in 2004. It had a few problems, like standard size doors on a Super Beetle body. There were some mix and matched engine parts. The brakes sometimes worked. And, as my father once noticed, you could see the road go past by simply looking down. Silliness!

Of course, I convinced my wife I needed a Cabrio when my Volvo was totalled. You know, the convertible top opened and closed just like it should on that car. I sure liked opening and closing the top on that car. It was fun.

Regardless, I'm questioning this NRPSA thing. Of course I trust my wife, but I'm tempted to Google it anyway. That couldn't possibly be real, could it?

Anatomy of a Snowstorm

We've already finished one snowstorm here in North Carolina. Now we've begun the next one! While we survived the first one more or less unscathed, that doesn't necessarily mean it went smoothly.

The second, larger snowstorm, aka, Snowpocalypse!

Here is what happened in a nutshell.

Day 1 - (Monday evening) Yay! Snow! I love snow! It sure is pretty! I wonder if it will last long enough to get us out of at least one day of school?

Day 2 - (Tuesday) Yay! No school! I need a day to get caught up on all the things that need to be done around the house. I'll finally fix that towel rack I knocked down last week.

But before I tackle that, let's see if I can figure out where that kid put the remote control. It's been forever since I've seen the Queen Latifah show!

Day 3 - (Wednesday) Wow! No school? Again? Two day vacation? That's crazy! At least I can get to that towel rack I put off yesterday. But first, I'll check my Twitter and Facebook...

Day 4 - (Thursday) Ummm... What? No school?! I wonder if my kiddos miss me? Are they taking advantage of the weather to read some good books? I could email some math fraction questions out for them to do.

Wow! I'm way off my routine. I sure do hope we have school tomorrow...

Day 5 - (Friday) What?! No school?! I'm gonna call the county school board office to lodge a formal complaint! We should be in school today!

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! (That's the sound of my head hitting the wall.) Oooooooooohhhh!! Oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!! I'm! So! Bored!

Needless to say, I raced to school on Friday for my optional teacher work day. 

Now, only a few days later, we're out of school again because of snow! Maybe I'll get that towel rack fixed this time around.

Alien Invasion Imminent

Alien technology has infiltrated the Haworth household. It has settled in my home in the form of a travel coffee mug.

Please don't think I'm being extreme about this. I've added a photo and even included some supporting details.

The travel mug in question...  Alien or not!

Here are my conclusions thus far...

The brand name these aliens have come up with is MojoEmo. I feel certain this means something nefarious in Martianese!

The first fact is that the cup isn't designed to travel with humans. Observe the shape of the travel mug above. I've yet to see it fit into the cup holder of any vehicle! How does one travel with a non-traveling mug?

The second fact is that we still have the mug. Most travel mugs don't last an entire year, especially ones put through the dishwasher multiple times. They crack, warp and leak after a few months.

This mug, as of this photo, is approximately two years old. It works just as well as the day it was purchased.

The third, and final fact, is what this mug is capable of doing.

My wife and I were driving to Raleigh a few weekends back. Approximately 20 minutes down the road, my coffee had already become tepid, at best.

"Mine's too hot to drink, still," she said. I gave her my best "Yeah. Right." look, so she offered me a sip.

Somehow, the temperature of her coffee increased since I poured it into the cup! What the bleep!?

I may be purchasing large quantities of aluminum foil soon. I'll need something to protect me, my wife, son and three fuzzy, black dogs from being abducted by aliens!

Fuzzy, Black Dogs Vs. The Intruder

There's been a pretty vicious string of break-ins in my neighborhood recently. Thanks to the valiant efforts of my three fuzzy, black dogs, I suspect one of those break-ins was thwarted.

While I obviously wasn't there, I analyzed and recreated the crime scene. My brilliant deductions led me to one startling conclusion. My dogs are geniuses!

Here is what, I believe, happened.

Footsteps were heard on the front porch. The three dogs sprang into action, enacting their plan.

Lilly Abigail Martin van Buren (she thinks she's royalty, you know), the littlest of the three (who is also the alpha dog in my absence), took up her position at the door and growled. "Rrrrrrrrr!!"

"Ace," she barked. "Take the back door! Now! Let no one in!"

"Bob! Find something to hinder or slow the interloper!"

"Look what I found," says Bob, carrying what used to be a brand new, largish bag of coffee and leaving a trail behind him. "If the inter-whatever is invisible, perhaps we'll see his footsteps!"

Bob proceeded to rip into the bag of coffee, spreading grounds from one end of the house to the other. And in an over zealous fit... of something, he shredded the inner and outer bags as well.

Here is but a small part of the mess!

At this point, the interloper has become well aware of two things -- three vicious, attack dogs and a house that Oscar the Grouch would be proud of!

Naturally, the interloper fled the scene. The three vicious, attack dogs, having nothing better to do, decided to sample the gourmet coffee for themselves. This would explain the hint of coffee in the various 'deposits' which were left around my humble abode.

That's the obvious explanation for the mess that greeted me upon arriving home from work this past Tuesday.

While I have since cleaned the mess, I haven't yet figured out how to get the Starbucks smell out of my house.

DeflateGate? No. CartGate!

"Honey," my wife said as we entered the store that I not-so-affectionately refer to as Wally World. "This cart is all wonkee. How about getting me another one?"

The offending wonkee wheel!

Some alien has obviously burrowed deep within my wife's brain and has detrimentally impaired her cognitive abilities!

When it comes to shopping carts -- whether at grocery stores, department stores, home improvement or any stores -- I have the worst luck with carts.

As the retriever of the household groceries, I have a considerable collection of pretty scary cart stories. In order to spare my readers, I will relay but one of these stories.

It was at my local grocery store several months back. I nonchalantly picked the nearest cart and headed toward produce. Ka-whomp. Ka-whomp. Ka-whomp.

I pushed the cart to the side. I went back for another and was heading for produce when ka-swish to the left. Ka-swish left. Ka-swish left. I ditched it as well.

I imagine you've heard the adage 'third time's a charm'? Well, it most certainly was. That is, until it came to a jarring halt and I nearly pitched head first into the cart!

Fearing for my health, I refused to get a fourth.

Perhaps now you may understand my reluctance towards picking out a better shopping cart. So I devised an immediate plan.

I observed three people returning carts. I analyzed their faces and their carts. I made a quick choice and pounced, scoring what I believed to be the best rolling cart out of the lot.

Did my plan work? Well, I got no complaints from my wife.

Expert Tips and Advice on Dieting

One of the most popular New Year resolutions people make is to lose weight. I think I've actually made that resolution before. Maybe.

This, of course, explains why you see so many articles lately, online and elsewhere, about various aspects of weight loss. Some tout the virtues of weight loss. Some tell you how to do it. Some tell you how not to do it. Some tell you how to think, be or act in order to do it. Some even tell you how to do it psychologically. Hmmmm...

I've yet to see an article on where to find it once you've lost it. I usually find mine lurking in a dark corner of my bedroom. It's obedient, though, and usually comes back.

Regardless of whether or not you've resolved to lose weight, here are my expert tips and advice on weight loss.

The freeze pop diet is still a work in progress. I think that, in order to make it work, I may have to switch to healthier freeze pops instead of the generic, sugary store brands.

I've also experimented on the collard green diet. Though collard greens are healthy, I advise against this one simply because of the gastronomical effects and the 'outcome.' It's not pretty. Nor is it conducive to others wanting to remain in the immediate vicinity of the collard green over-eater!

Glory collard greens? Simply the best!

I'm currently working on a Pop-Tarts diet. I've been working on this one for quite some time. It's still a work in progress.

I've heard good things about hiring a personal trainer. Unfortunately, that means I'd have to clean my house and -- gasp! -- keep it clean. That's a lot of exercise in and of itself. Also, I can't find a free personal trainer.

Workout videos work well for some. However, the few times I've tried them, my dogs seem to think I'm trying to play with them and crawl on me like a toy.

I've been afraid to try dancing. I worry that the neighbors will call 911, thinking that I may be having seizures. Or else assume that my fuzzy, black dogs have finally turned on me and are trying to maul me within the confines of my own home.

My father, who is an actual medical doctor (hence the M.D. after his name), suggested I eat less and exercise. He also told me to cut out some of the food he perceives as 'junk.'

Leave it to a medical practitioner to come up with such a crazy, radical idea! Chocolate does contain antioxidants. Potato chips and French fries come from potatoes. Peanut butter cups contain protein. And don't gummy bears now have vitamin C?