The Panel

When Would You Want To Be?

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 13:34:00 +0000

This week The Panel wrestled with the question of, "If you could live at any time, when would you choose?"

Stephanie launched the answers off:

I'm really bad at playing along with the whole hypothetical-question-about-an-alternate-life-or-identity game. I mean, I don't think I'm doing spectacularly well at this whole "life" thing, but I'm a pretty happy little girl all things considered. There are elements to this world and this society and this time period that irk me, but still, as a whole, I still can't help but feel like they're still somewhat fascinating. Which is, actually, how I feel about lots of other time periods, other places. I don't feel any spectacular draw to any special historical era, and I can't imagine my personality or character flaws being any better suited to a time that isn't now. It might be a stupid piece of reasoning, but as near as I can tell, this is exactly when and where I belong -- even when I don't like it or if I can't understand it. Pretending or imagining that there's anywhere else I ought to be or would want to be seems like a waste, like I'm not being grateful or appreciative of the specific opportunities and miseries I can be subjected to in the here and now. Yes, I am crazy, and yes I realize this is a horrific and moronic touchy-feely piece of nonsense. But we all have to believe in something, don't we? There isn't a whole hell of a lot I really hold with -- this is (I think) one of those things. So there.

I asked Jen and got this:

Oh, why did you pick this question? It's so hard to answer, so hard to decide. I'd love to be a time traveler because to be able to witness certain events would be mind blowing.

First thing I'd do is find out who murdered the princes in the tower. Then I'd find out the truth behind the Casket Letters. There are a ton of things with American history I'd like to figure out. What's up with "Roanoke"? Where the hell did they go? And helllooo, Black Dahlia? But history isn't all mystery of course. I'd go back and hang with Jesus for a while, too.

I think you get where I'm going. The only time I'd be interested in actually "living" in would be now. Post-penicillin, post-vaccine, post-prohibition. I think I was meant to be in this time, as this person. As crappy as it can get, its still pretty cool. And I got to live through the 80's. The music was awesome and the clothes were even better.

Justin relied with this:

I would have to pick this time period for the simple fact that Twitter didn't exist in previous ones and, because of that, I would have never met Jennifer.

What a sweetheart. You ladies missed out on a great catch.

OK, so I want to close out this week.

I don't know of any other time I would want to be. I lived through enough of the cold war to learn not to trust the Russians and that there is evil in the world. I also learned sometimes people are evil just to be evil.

I lived through the 80s and saw the beginning of the technology explosion. I saw the first home PCs, jumped on the internet and got involved in computers.

All that and I don't have to be worried about being burned at the stake. I'm happy where I'm at.

You Are The Weakest Link - Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 15:19:00 +0000

Your intrepid host was completely stumped for any ideas after last week until the sugegstion came from Jennifer of "Who would we vote off the "Island" and why?"

The juicy possibilities which presented themselves were too good to ignore. I therefore give you the votes.

First to fire off a response was Justin:

Who would I vote off the island known as planet earth?

Well, let me tell you about this guy:

When I flew out to Phoenix 2 1/2 weeks ago on Southwest, the flight attendant that did the announcements (I think he said his name was Bubba) was hilarious and had the whole plane laughing.

Let me tell you, that’s a really nice start to a three-hour flight.

After we landed in Phoenix, there were more jokes, which was fine.

Then he started singing…

I’d said before that the singing flight attendants scared the crap out of me, but I’d never actually flown Southwest when I wrote that.

Anyway. he did his own version of Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.”

You don’t mess with The Man in Black’s music. You just don’t.

So, “Bubba,” as awesome as you are, you’re still voted off the island. Just make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in the full upright and locked position and you’re flown off to the moon or wherever you’re taken.

Then I got this gem from Stephanie:

So...it's come to this, has it? Personally, I think I'm pretty susceptible to being voted off our little bloggy island -- I wasn't part of the original Panel and it seems more than likely that the rest of these guys still haven't learned too much about that strange girl who tends to block everyone on Twitter and writes like she's moping in the corner all the time.

Anyway. As, perhaps, the black sheep of the Panel, I just want to say that I'm totally all right with being picked for this one; it just might be deserved. However, I'm casting my official ballot for Miss Mollie Katie. Her overabundance of tweeting occasionally makes me wish I could fly into homicidal rages -- and I'm pretty sure her live game tweeting can ruin the Red Sox' ability to not suck. But it's also totally okay, because I have known her since kindergarten, and because one of us is leaving this friendship in a body bag.

Makes you wonder what the island is a metaphor for, huh?

Jennifer hit me with this one:

Who would guess that me being happy would mean that I can't think of a single person in my life to vote off the island. Go figure. Wait, go figure....a-ha! GoDaddy. I don't know the specific person that thought of the super, over the top GoDaddy.com commercials, but I would like to submit their name. I turned off a program today specifically because of their commercials. I'm not against the product they sell and I am a customer myself, so the the ads don't stop me from buying, but they sure keep me from watching.

I don't think they are cute or clever. I think they purposely find actors that can't act and I think it's slightly condescending that they think these ads sell products. Pleased tell me these ads don't sell product. This person needs to go before they come up with any more ads that make me switch channels.

Now for the lovely and talented Mollie Katie:

I would vote myself off the island. You know what I love? Not camping. I need the cushy foam mattress to sleep on every night for my bad back. I take 28 pills a day right now and I'm essentially bedridden. And I need a way to keep my calcium and Vitamin D intake high...and I don't think grubs and fish and random wildebeests are going to cover that. As the cripple, I would be eaten first! So fuck your island. I can marry for money anyway.

Michelle, Kristin and I love everyone and so we skipped out on this one.

Drunk Olympics

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 12:45:00 +0000

This week The Panel wrestles with the question of "What was the craziest thing you have ever done to a drunk person?"

What kind of mayhem can our crew come up with?

Up first this week is Jen:

I'll have you know as a professional bartender for 10 plus years I took an oath to "do no harm" to a drunk person long ago and therefore have no heinous stories to tell. I've never painted a mustache on anyone or put their undies up a flagpole. I doubt I've ever tied anyone up or left them outside nekkid.

I did pretend to get someone drunk once. The other bartender and I were convinced this girl was one of those "fake" drunks who would use alcohol as an excuse to misbehave. One night we came up with a new shot that we figured she'd like. She loved it and had half a dozen and boy did she get plastered. The thing was there was no alcohol in it. Heh. We were nice though, we didn't charge her for them.

Now lets see what Stephanie has to throw in:

I guess since I bailed on the last one I ought to write something for this one, huh? Ugh. The fun part is that I don't think I have any good stories or... you know, incidents to draw from. Speaking as someone who likes to think she's a bit of an anti-social recluse, my days of drunken shenanigans are all but at an end. Tragically, though, there have been a few occasions on which I have consumed perhaps more than was advisable...see, there's this whole get-drunk-and-make-out-with-people problem. And it is a problem. And that is all.

I fired the question out to Kristin and she fired this back:

Ummm...I don't have an answer to this question. You can use this, if you like Houston. When I tell you guys that I'm boring, I'm really not kidding. I have never had the opportunity to do anything crazy to a drunk person. I've never been around drunk people. That's not normal is it?

Justin responded with:

Damn, Kristin, I've at least been around drunks. I just don't have any good stories... well there was the guy in New Orleans that thought it was a good idea to announce to everybody in this nice seafood place in the French Quarter that his girlfriend had to take a bathroom break, but that doesn't really count does it?

Yes it does *Giggle*

My take on the whole thing is a mix between me ridiculing myself or the story where I tied a drunk friend's shirt sleeves together so they couldn't open the car door and hurt themselves.

Worked like a charm. Totally incapacitated them.

Anyway, I guess I should blow the story on my infamous drunk dance. I went out during a trip back to Tennessee and was treated to many, many tequila shots. Too many to be exact. You know you are drunk when at the end of the night all your friends say good bye and each and every one makes sure you are not driving home.

So as we leave the bar, THE WIFE tells about my "Special Dance" called "The Libido." "The Libido" involves lots of booze and my ungainly awkward body performing pelvic thrusts. Apparently my body moves in such a way as to defy the laws of physics (and apparently is quite the hoot to everyone in the area). It didn't take too much prodding before I broke out in dance...

In front of the bar...

And everyone in the parking lot...

Lets just say I'm glad no one filmed it or I would have been the next Star Wars Kid.

And Mollie Katie wraps it up this week:

I don't have drunken stories, but I do have drunken family lore. My namesake grandmother was at a high school party that, as they so often do, was host to some underage drinking. When cops showed up, she and some friends made a run for it. She lived in a small town, lots of farmland and not a lot of cars. So she split off from the group and was pursued by one of the cops into what she thought was a very large hay field. She jumped into one of the haystacks to hide from the cop until he gave up and left. Notice how I said she "thought" it was a hayfield? Um...notsomuch. The large mounds were not haystacks but manure piles. You can imagine her unpleasant surprise. The cop laughed so hard he cried. He let her go home, saying he didn't want his squad car smelling like shit...and her having to explain being covered head to toe in manure would probably get a worse punishment from her parents than a night in jail. So there you go. Look before you leap, drunk kids, because you could be leaping into a giant pile of shit.

Michelle cut out on me this week but I forgive her and hope to see her in the mix next week.

Worst Dating Experience.... EVER!

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 17:20:00 +0000

I decided to annoy the members of The Panel this week with a retelling of the exploits of their worst dating experience. To my surprise I was met with DENIALS OF DATING???

Seriously people? Don't you get out? What do you do, just sit around on Facebook and Twitter all the time... ?

Oh yeah, that's what we all do.

FORTUNATELY for me, Justin, MK, myself and a SPECIAL GUEST POSTER decided to share wayyyy too much information for your enjoyment!

Lets' start off with Justin's tale of adventure!

I've never really "dated" in the traditional sense of the word, all my relationships have just, well, "happened." I don't really have all that many bad experiences from them either.

I've touched on this story before, but never really gone in-depth with it. When I landed in Phoenix just before New Years, I made my way out past security expecting to see Jen waiting for me. She wasn't there.

For the uninitiated, the terminal at PHX that I flew into has four sets of gates (A, B, C, and D), each with their own security checkpoint. Southwest operates out of both C and D, which is basically the southern half of the building. Well, apparently either the gate I came in at was changed at the last minute or she read the big board wrong (I'm leaning toward the former) I wound up coming out of the D concourse and she was waiting for me over at C. She figured out what was going on pretty quick and made her way over to me and we made our way down to baggage claim to get my stuff.

After my bag finally came around, we made our way to the elevators and the parking garage to find her car. There was just one problem: the car wasn't where she'd parked it. Right about then I'm thinking "Well, this trip's off to a great start!"

It turned out that, in the airport designer's infinite wisdom, both ends of the parking garage are designed the exact same way and we were just on the wrong side.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip was much better. Then again, you could probably argue that there was no way to go but up.

When I fly back out on Friday, Jen's going to be getting text updates from Southwest that should include my gate number. So at least THAT will be dealt with.

I'd tell her to just pick me up at the curb, but she promised to meet me with Starbucks and I can't refuse that!

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See what I mean? Denial of dating? Whatever happened to guys and gals wanting to get "Jiggy" with each other?

Let's see what the lovely MK had to share.

My grand total of two previous relationships all happened because I fell into them purely by accident. (I know...it's impressive! I tricked two boys into liking me for extended periods of time!) I don't really have a "worst dating experience ever" because I don't date. At least, not dating in the traditional sense where boy asks girl out, girl accepts, boy picks up girl at girl's house, boy drives girl in his car to dinner and a movie, then boy returns girl home with a kiss on her doorstep.

I have, however, been intentionally set up with guys at some of my friends' parties. Invariably, because I am so subconsciously picky or because the chemistry just isn't there, I start to play this game in my head. It started out as an anger management tool for dealing with my 20-year-old sister's crazy outburtsts (EXAMPLE: two Saturdays ago I live-Tweeted calling the cops on her after she tried to break down my bedroom door when I refused to give her my ID so she could go out drinking with friends), but quickly it's become my default way to deal with annoying people. I tune out what they're saying and instead I focus on the room we're currently in. Then I tap my vast resources --- from "Murder, She Wrote" and "Columbo" to "CSI" and "Dexter," from Sherlock Holmes to Hercule Poirot, etc --- and I try to figure out how I would kill the source of my annoyance and get away with the crime using only objects present in the room. It's great fun, as far as intellectual challenges go! I highly recommend it as a stress buster. The game part, not the actual killing.

NOTE: No bloggers were harmed in the making of this post.
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OK now MK. You know if that was 140 characters long that would have had a mandatory #itputsthelotiononitsskin hash.

Adventures in dating... In a pit... In MK's basement... Who knew?

All right, time to get in the wayback machine and let's hit the time before I met THE WIFE when I was trying to meet "Chicks."

It all begins in my Junior year in high school where I was a stud in my own mind with my skin tight acid washed jeans and mullet which reeked of awesome. I knew chicks dug me, they just didn't know it yet.

I was going to change that and become a one man pile of Awesome! (Yeah it was the late 80's we said AWESOME a lot mainly because Rad was old by then.) I put my best moves on this chick who shall remain nameless to protect her virtue (see I am not only Awesome, but a gentleman too!) and she agreed to go to the movies with me. In all honesty my "Moves" consisted of stammering, trying not to wet myself or fart and staring at the floor but somehow it worked.

I picked up the young lady at the pre-appointed time and went hang out at the mall and then to whatever the movie was (Jealous yet ladies?). After the movie I spotted an opening and worked up the courage to kiss her before driving her home. The next day she wasn't at school. I chalked it up to her being in recovery from the devastating effect of my AWESOMENESS!

Fact was, she had Strep Throat. I was never so miserable in my life as I was from that bout of disease. I guess that is why back in WWII they used to put up those signs warning the troops.

So anyway I recovered and fortunately since NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD DATES ANYMORE our buddy MK asked Teamcreepy member Fluffy to provide a horrible dating experience for us.

His Bio:

Fluffy's a very queer man from Ohio who loves video games, nerds, and thinking about the nature of his emo for hours on end. Follow him on twitter; his username's @aravain. He comes to The Panel as a last-minute guest blog, courtesy of the gorgeously boobacious Mollie Katie.

Lets see what terrors lay before us!

Oh my goodness, I need to preface this with a note; in the world of gay dating, quite often, people *expect* sex, on the first date even! I know, SCANDALOUS. That was me for a while, until I took a step back and saw how ridiculous it was. In retrospect, I feel kinda bad.

Anyway, I went over this guy's house once. This was meant to be a date, but it was a pretty flimsy thing; like, we'd met on the internet and he said "so, wanna come over?" and I said sure. I should have let the overly lovey-dovey type of stuff warn me off of him, because he was acting like we were already in a relationship over the internet after just a little bit of talking. I didn't. I'm stupid. So I get there and I locked my keys in my car.

I LOCKED MY KEYS IN MY FUCKING CAR.

Strike one for the night.

Once AAA gets through and fixes that, it was wonderful. Hah. Kidding. So we go into his mother's house, and start talking. Somehow we got onto the topic of his mother and his soon-to-be step-father. For an hour. An hour straight. For an hour I listened to him bitch about how he hated this guy because he acted like a two year old. It was ridiculous. During this hour I'm sitting on a love seat, and he's sitting on an easy chair; I'm moving pillows around and BLATANTLY making a space for him to come join me, figuring "hey, if it's definitely not going to a second date, at least I'll loosen my bolts a bit."

He didn't get it. Once he'd ended his diatribe, I blatantly told him to join me on the couch, and it was extremely clear that I wanted him to stop talking and makeout or something. Well the makeouts started.

Oh my goodness.

He had a snake bite lip piercing and that was weird, but the really bad thing was that he seemed to think that the point of kissing was to EAT MY FACE OFF and LICK MY NOSE. No lie. My face was wet, all over.

Strike two for the night.

Through subtlety (read: BITING his lips to keep them still) I managed to stop the madness of his puppy attack. Then he moved down to my neck.

I have never been more bruised. I like hickies, I like bruises. My entire neck (all the way 'round) was a bruise. I daresay I started to give as good as I was getting.

STRIKE THREE.

I hadn't noticed that this started to turn into some sort of competitive thing for me, or that I was angry that he was so bad at stuff and that he had wasted an hour of my time. So I started to molest him a little. Bing! I found the button. He did not like or want that. So I kept doing it. I wasn't going to be the one to STOP the encounter, but I sure as hell wanted it to stop. I was going to WIN, damnit.

So I kept doing it until he eventually got up, saying that he needed to do laundry. I laughed (he'd left me alone in the entire upstairs. No, I didn't take anything, but I could have) and then went over to the stairs leading down to his basement and called down. "I guess I'll head out" and did so. In my car I drove a block away and inspected the damage. He'd wasted 3 hours, total.

I SPENT TWO HOURS GETTING MY FACE LICKED OFF AND MY NECK CHEWED ON.

Oi. I got out though, I SURVIVED. Thank goodness.

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Honestly the first thing I thought of was this:

Thanks, Fluffy for joining in and sharing!

Favorite Baseball Memory

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 12:00:00 +0000

This week The Panel tackles a trip down memory lane and we try to come up with our best Baseball memory. Without further ado, lets see what everyone has to offer.

First up is Stephanie

So after being nagged a bit by miss Mollie Katie, it's been decided that my answer to this question has to involve that little slice of heaven known as the "right field roof deck" over at Fenway Park. The way this goes, you see, is that she has terrible luck -- as anyone who follows her on Twitter could probably attest to at this point. Ergo, whenever those Red Sox emails go out about entering contests to win tickets or to win the chance to buy tickets, they all somehow magically wind up redirected into my inbox.

What can I say? I think I've won at least once every year.

And last year? Oh goodness. It cost a pretty penny, but last year, for one beautiful afternoon, we enjoyed the comforts of the right field roof deck. Which has its own bar. And bathrooms that smell like cinnamon Altoids. And unnervingly friendly waitresses who cheerfully bring you the hundred bucks' worth of artery-clogging deliciousness that came comped with the tickets. Did I mention that the right field deck is awesome? The right field deck is awesome.
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Next is Kristin:

Favorite baseball memory....not so much. I'm really not sporty unless my brother is watching because I don't like being left out and its fun to watch him yell.

The only baseball memory I have (notice I didn't say favorite) is "playing" little league baseball when I was in third grade. We were the San Diego Padres.

There were three girls on the team, myself included. One was my friend, the other girl was more boy than girl and I was kind of afraid of her. My friend quit after the first practice. I wanted to quit too, but my mom said that I have to finish what you start...so, Kristin played baseball. Like a girl. With this hair. I wasn't good, but I played the entire season. Never ever again. That's all I've got.
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What Jen had to say:

Best Baseball Memories

I have no one stand out memory of baseball. It's all feelings bound up in sounds, weather, sights. I get the thrill when I watch a game in person (it's been years), on TV or on radio. There's a sound to a baseball game that nothing else duplicates. The hum of the crowd, the crack of the bats, the intermittent roars of approval or disappointment. It’s like a big picnic, with an incidental game going on.

I went to Angel’s games with my dad when I was about 8 or 9. I was enamored of Dick Schofield. He's the reason that I am a fan of the short stop position today. I think of those games and it makes me happy that I had those times with my dad, even if I don't remember them individually. Then there is last season’s World Series. My team, The Phillies, played against the Yankees. It was epic for me and I watched every game. I'll look back on it fondly for a lot of reasons but I am hoping the next season is even more memorable for me.

So my direct memories are slight, but the sensation is strong and that works for me.
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Michelle had this to say:

This one time, at baseball camp, I.... nothing quite as good as an overused and not funny anymore joke, yeah? Anyway, baseball, as American as apple pie, and a few other cliches that I can't think of at the moment. As such, you would think I would be into baseball, well that, and the hot guys playing with bats and balls, but surprisingly, I'm more of a hockey girl. To me, baseball only brings back horrid memories of PE class and getting yelled at by the kids I got stuck on a team with because of my extreme lack of athletic ability. Rules are simpler to understand than basketball and football, so I understand what's going on in a game, but it lacks enough action to make me happy, and not enough violence. So baseball? Meh. Give me men swinging sticks at each other, not at flying balls, and I am a happy girl indeed.
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Now from Justin:

Let me paint you a picture.

It’s Sunday, October 3, 2004. Game 162 of the schedule. The Astros are sitting on a six-game winning streak at 91-70 after firing Jimy Williams the day after the All-Star game after leading the Astros to a mediocre 44-44 first half of the season. A win against the Rockies clinches the Wild Card and a playoff berth. The whole town was behind the Astros and Phil Garner, brought in to serve as interim manager, is the most popular man in town.

43,082 people are jammed into Minute Maid Park on a warm afternoon with the roof closed. We’re all expecting Roger Clemens, who wasn’t looked upon as a steroid-popping douche at the time, to take the mound, but he doesn’t. Word is he picked up a stomach bug the night before from one of his kids, so Brandon Backe is handed the ball instead.

Backe tosses five innings, giving up 5 hits, 2 earned runs, 6 K’s and 2 BB’s and winds up earning the win.

Brad Lidge (pre-Albert Pujols mindfuck) comes into the game with two outs in the 8th and strikes out all four batters he faced. When He rung up that last strikeout, the building went nuts. We’d won the Wild Card and were going to the playoffs!

How could that not be my greatest memory?
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What did I think:

As I think back I have some fond baseball memories, but my favorite one is my boy Chris played on a baseball team called the Red Legs. For some stupid reason the league wouldn't let them have the Red Sox so they did it their way. This was a great group of kids put together by a great coach named Ray Johnson who turned these kids from a ragtag bunch of neighborhood boys to a real baseball team.

Chris was a very good fielder, but he was weak on the bat. He liked to bunt instead of swinging away to make up for it and the other teams picked up on it. They liked to work him over and Chris go more and more frustrated. Ray worked with him and worked with him but he just couldn't get over the hump.

The last season Chris played he was up to bat and had a strike or two on him when he swung at one that stayed in the sweet zone just a little too long. The ball cut a high arc over the third baseman's head and the left fielders head and dropped between the outfielder and the fence. The ball wound up at the 350 foot mark and my poor, slow white boy son got a standing triple out of it with two RBIs.

The dugout erupted like they had won the war!
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Mollie Katie's entry:

I don't think there is any fan base in all of sports more collectively superstitious than Red Sox Nation. It takes a real man to be a Red Sox fan, because they'll break your heart and make you cry. I firmly believe that.

I became indoctrinated into this little cult when I was born in April of 1987. And if you're a Red Sox fan, you know that '86 was one heartbreaker of a post season for my boys. Both sets of grandparents were huge fans, and both took turns babysitting tiny little newborn me for the first few years of my life. My grandfather Don told adult-me that holding baby-me in his arms while watching the games on TV was his method for learning to swear less. Which worked...eventually. He was understandably relieved when my first words were not a variation on "motherfucking Red Sox." I learned to crawl on the front porch while my grandfather Pete listened to the game on the radio and yelled score updates down the hall to my grandmother Minnie in the kitchen. Just writing that now gives me a craving for her poppyseed bread. Minnie and Pete didn't end up living to see the Red Sox win it all in 2004, but Don did. My other grandmother, the one that I am named after, died before I was born, but she is most memorably quoted in our family for calling Yaz a "stupid Polock" because in her opinion he only hit homeruns when the Red Sox were crushing their opponent. It's even funnier when you realize her son married my mother, who is herself 100% Polish. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Superstition! I'm pretty sure that even non-Red Sox fans are aware of "The Curse Of The Bambino." The basic story is that in 1919, then-owner Harry Frazee sold Babe Ruth's contract for $100k to finance this moronic 1925 Broadway musical "No No Nanette" that his wife wanted produced, and that in selling away one of the greatest players in baseball history, he doomed the Red Sox into never winning another World Series. Before 1918, the Red Sox were the only name in baseball. After, it was all the Yankees' show. There's also another "curse" that is lesser-known. The Red Sox actually had the opportunity to sign the first African-American player in the MLB, but they balked at the end of the day, and the honor fittingly went to the Brooklyn Dodgers (now based in Los Angeles) with the signing of #42 Jackie Robinson. Not the Yankees, but nonetheless New York City got all the press that Boston did not. It stung. Are you understanding yet why the rivalry is so intense? There's baseball history in every game we play. One team can be having a shitty stretch of games, or even a whole season, but when you're the Red Sox playing the Yankees and vice versa, you come to put on a show. You play your hardest. You leave it all out on the field. It's your blood, your sweat, your tears, and at the end of the day, your history to make. This IS baseball.
My brush with destiny began in 2003. For some reason, I noticed that whenever I watched the game on the love seat in the family room, the Red Sox won. When I watched the game in my basement lair, they lost. My father joked that it was the "lucky couch" and so a series of experiments inadvertently began. I was in high school then, and I used to do my homework while lying on the floor in front of the TV. If my foot was touching the love seat, good things happened. If not, bad things. It became such a good predictor of Red Sox game outcomes that my family started getting up and bringing me beverages and snacks while I remained stretched out on the "lucky couch." I felt godlike...until, of course, I had to pee. And my worshippers were screaming at me outside the bathroom door that I better not waste time washing my hands, because there was the potential for a double play ball. I'm going to tell you right now that while my home doesn't look like the Jimmy Fallon character's shrine in the rom-com "Fever Pitch," my heart most certainly does.

As 2003 went on, this became the norm. At 6:55pm EST (unless it was a day game), I would be yelled at to get my ass on the "lucky couch." Then, something crazy happened. The Red Sox made the playoffs. And unlike the 1990s, we had a shot to win it all. To get there, though, we had to go through the Yankees. And honestly, as much as I would delight in the Yankees missing the playoffs all together, it's so much sweeter to silence any naysayers by beating the pants off the Yankees in October playoff baseball. No team can beat us quite like the Yankees can, and anyone who knows anything about baseball will tell you that. So it's 2003. We take the Yankees into Game 7 tied. We live and die with every pitch. And on Aaron Boone's homerun to lift the Yankees to victory, I was in the next room fixing myself a glass of chocolate milk. My father and sister were asleep in their respective recliners and my mom was working her overnight shift as a nurse. My attemps to pelt my minions with pillows so my craving could be satisfied failed. I was thirsty. I sincerely thought the game would continue on in extra innings. I've never really forgiven myself for that decision.

I did not make the same mistake in 2004. I had previous committments the first three nights of our series against the Yankees, so we were down 3 games to none when I finally made it onto the "lucky couch." I was a senior in high school then, and my schedule was so ridiculous that my grades wound up slipping all of late September and early October due to baseball. The cocky Yankees quotes in the press about how they had the series in the bag made my blood boil with rage. So I said something along the lines of "fuck that noise," and I sat my ass down on the "lucky couch" to watch Game 4. No distractions. If I may be so bold as to quote Tears For Fears..."When you think it's all over, it's not over, it's not over." The Red Sox went on to win the next 4 games in a row to take the series from the Yankees 4 games to 3, making baseball history. And if there's a taste more delicious than besting the Yankees in the playoffs while making MLB history, I don't know what it is. I'm sure if you asked, A-Rod would answer "Jeter juice." Yes, this entire heartwarming family story of Red Sox superstitions was just a setup for a "Yankees are gay" joke... Not that there's anything wrong with that!

The Red Sox swept the St. Louis Cardinals 4 games to none to win the 2004 World Series. The magic of the "lucky couch" is gone now that the curse is broken, and I'm okay with that. My grandfather Don was in the Navy during World War II. He was a quiet man who rarely ever smiled, and on that night in 2004 I got to see him grinning ear to ear like an idiot little kid again, shouting "THEY WON IT IN MY LIFETIME"! He was born in 1918. We all cried tears of joy. I walked around dumbfounded for weeks, thinking I had dreamed the whole thing up. But in 2004, I like to think with a little help from me and the "lucky couch," my boys ended the curse. My grandfather Don passed away right after the All-Star Break in 2007, so he never got to see the Red Sox repeat the sweep in the 2007 World Series against the Colorado Rockies.

This season, the Red Sox are playing Opening Day at Fenway Park against none other than the New York motherfucking Yankees. I managed to win tickets to games against the Yankees in May and October and I could not possibly be more excited without dying of a heart attack. This is what I live for. This is what we live for. May God continue to bless Red Sox nation.

Takin’ care of business

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 03:35:00 +0000

I’d asked this on my blog before and couldn’t come up with a good question for the blog, so I asked this:

If you’re the only one in the house/apartment, do you close the door when you go to the bathroom?

Answers after the jump

• Jen: I always close the door. If there is a door on the inside of another room, I close the door. It is a privacy issue that I don't negotiate. I don't want to walk in on you(generalize please) and I don't want you(generalize please) to walk in on me. I don't want anyone to EVER think that I have needs in "that way"

• Mollie Katie: I always close the door. And lock it. It really doesn't matter if the room is the bathroom or not, I tend to do this everywhere, like my bedroom or dorm or basement. I have privacy issues. As a child, my sister used to sneak into my bedroom at night when I was asleep and do things like cut my hair or draw on my face. So I have privacy issues.

• Houston: When I am alone it is a rare treat for me. It's kind of like when the lady in the commercial gets into the Calgon bubble bath, leans back and closes her eyes with blissful relaxation. That is what solitude is like for me.

Unfortunately the only way I can get it is by closing the bathroom door.

Now I'm not a stuck up guy and I have no problem with occasionally calling a buddy in to observe the crowning achievement of my day's work. I may or may not have a few submissions under various pseudonyms at ratemypoo.com; in other words I am a normal,everyday guy.

But with five kids every moment of solitude is precious. It's the time to get caught up on the local news, twitter (best play to read Robert Gibbs' tweets about crap is the crapper) and whatever else I can drag into my fortress of solitude.

Besides... I HAVE to shut the door. It is court ordered for everyone's safety.

• Michelle: Door closed. Even when there is no chance of anyone walking in on me, still door closed. I had some well thought out theory involving psychology and vulnerability, but as I procrastinated [include link to procrastination post here please] and can not make my thoughts function, we'll leave it at that.

• Justin: Usually, but not always.

I mostly close the door out of a force of habit, but occasionally I won’t. Probably just out of sheer laziness.

Facebook games

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 15:35:00 +0000

This week I asked The Panel about Facebook because I’m lame and couldn’t come up with anything else…

What, if any, Facebook games do you play and why do you like them?

Answers after the jump:

• Houston: OK, I have to admit that as I write this I am perplexed and torn (I am also in my underwear, but that is beside the point) because while I am on facebook, I do not play any of the games.

None, nada... I also ignore all requests for me to join them.

Not because I am afraid of technology (*looks over his glasses at Mollie Katie*), or because I hate you and am just secretly keeping you as a friend on Facebook so I can keep tabs on when you may or may not be home and you may or may not have forgotten to lock your doors, but rather because as a Christian I believe the apps are EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! Spawn of the Devil and Bill Gates (who's number adds up to be 666 I'll have you know).

I see the addiction of Farmville. My teenage son spends ALL HIS TIME ON Facebook PLAYING FARMVILLE!!!! Growing food, that no one will eat? What. The. Heck???

The Boy In The Box will never escape the insanity of the home of his parents while he spends his life doing this. The pain I see in him, oh the pain. Son, the first step is to admit you have a problem.

Furthermore, what about MAFIA WARS??? Robbing and killing online? DIDN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE TRON? You don't know what you could be doing to the tiny people in our computers (just run with it, this is how Mollie thinks computers work OK)?

So, in conclusion, if you want to be my friend on Facebook, send me a request, see you soon.

• Justin: The only FB game I play is Scrabble, and that’s almost always against Jen or Michelle. I’ve just never really *got* the other games… even if my brother’s tried to get me to play Mafia Wars or whatever with him.

• Jen: I'm not sure why you would even ask this question. What are you insinuating? That I waste time on fb? That I annoy the crap out of my friends that don't play Farmville and Mafia Wars? That I adopt every turtle that gets lost on Paradise Island? Hah! Well I don't! I don't even know what these games are. Okay, that's a lie. I play the ones I mentioned and a few others. But in my defense, I don't try to recruit by sending general invites and I don't post every damn thing they ask me to post. I try to be aware of the people that don't play the games. I play them because I feel bad to have created something and then desert it. Its feelings will get hurt. Who will feed the cows? Those Alpacas are on a deserted island. What are they going to eat if I don't grow crops? Turtles? And you've heard of the mafia, right? They don't let you just quit, they'll FIND you. Just when I think I might be out, it pulls me back in!

But now my favorite past-time is Scrabble. I play my brother and Justin regularly and its a good challenge, keeps the brain limber, whereas the other games may actually petrify the brain.

I think we all have some mind numbing activity that takes us away for a while from our worries and woes. FB games help me to do that. So, my friends, if my game playing is aggravating, its pretty easy to hide any app notices by simply editing them out of your feed. But I have to go now, I have about 6 dish varieties to plate, corn, grapes and carrots to harvest and a few Alpacas to feed. Oh yea, can't forget that I have some "business" to take care of in Moscow if you know what I mean ....wink, wink......

• Stephanie: I am morally opposed to Facebook applications. Not Facebook -- oh dear god, no; I love the damn thing. But it makes me feel all nostalgic and old, because I remember when Facebook was for college kids only -- I remember when geographic and company networks were added. Back then, Facebook was just for posting pictures and -- gasp! -- social networking. And look at it now -- if I hear one more goddamn* person freaking out about their goddamn Farmville strawberries, I'm going to lose it. I don't want to join your Mafia, either. And I don't give a damn about which Gossip Girl character you are.

I've deleted every application Facebook let me; I am literally running on the basics. I used to use little gift-giving ones, like Growing Gifts and a specialized Come Again Players one that someone created in honor of my Rocky Horror cast. Those were cute and sweet, but now we're forced into a Facebook world infested with quizzes, memes, widgets and fan pages that are utterly, entirely, painfully unnecessary and ridiculous (like one of my personal favorites, "not being on fire." Okay, yeah, I'm a fan of that. Goes without bloody well saying, though, so shove off. And if it takes an entire sentence to describe it, you should've started a group. Not a fan page. And you should spell things properly.)

Seriously, I've had it. I've blocked every application that rears its ugly head from appearing in my news feed, because, although I might not actually care about everyone I'm friends with on Facebook (heh), I really, really don't care about what color your aura is. I don't understand it, I can't, and I don't hope to. I just want to preserve what little sanctity remains of the great mindless gift Mark Zuckerberg gave us, and I will defend it to the death. To the death, I say!**

* I will forever maintain that my usage of the word "goddamn" in this particular response is in tribute to J.D. Salinger. Yes.
** No one needs to take me up on this, thanks.

• Mollie Katie: FACEBOOK IS THE DEVIL.

--------

I’d like to take this time to remind everybody that we have a Fan Page on Facebook. Become a fan of us or we’ll sick a drunk Kristin on you. And, believe me, you don’t want that. She didn’t get us an answer this week because she’s too busy getting wasted for that to get us an answer. As far as Michelle, she’s got computer issues.

This post is kind of like MythBusters, just without all the explosions

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 15:39:00 +0000

Happenings in my life (which will be explained below) got me thinking about something I’d always heard, but wasn’t sure about. So, I decided to ask The Panel about it. Here’s the question I sent out:

Is the way to a man's heart really through his stomach?

I figured this would be an interesting question for the gang to tackle. Let’s see if I was right:

• Jen: I would venture a guess and say yes. I know I had several moments where I had to verbalize a warning to Justin while he was here. Such as, "This soup will demand a marriage proposal upon eating it" Oh, and it did and we restrained ourselves. But then I let loose the black-bottomed cupcakes on him. Justin had Las Vegas keyed into the GPS. Oh wait, I have no GPS. Which is why I get lost all the time while driving.

I sent Justin home with some goodies and I've actually mailed him more, I don't want him to forget, after all. He comes back I'm April, and I've already been looking for ideas and planning menu items. He will be here for his birthday, there will be cake. You know, the whole "heart-stomach" thing may not be true, but why take any chances?

• Justin: What Jen didn’t tell you is that she also met me at the airport with Starbucks in hand. What more could a guy ever want after sitting on a plane for two and a half hours?

That soup was great stuff and if I’d had a ring I would have proposed on the spot. But, I didn’t and I wasn’t about to ask if I could borrow Jen’s car to run and get one. Besides the obvious problem that it was at least 9 PM, pretty much limiting my jeweler options to Walmart, I was in Phoenix. A place I’ve never been before. I would have been lost within two minutes of leaving her house. Never mind the whole matter of having to say “Yea, I know I just got here and all, but I need to borrow your car and go somewhere.” That would have looked just AWESOME, don’t you think?

Yea, me neither.

Oh, and those cupcakes. They were amazing! That, in my mind, is what heaven would taste like if heaven were a cupcake.

Oh, yea, there’s a question to answer, isn’t there? Despite what you might think from above, food alone isn’t going to win me over. I was already head-over-heels for Jen before I flew out there because she’s an amazing woman, but the goodies certainly didn’t hurt either. It won’t lock things up by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly does help if everything else is right.

Also, I think I’ll pack my GPS in April…

• Kristin: Food is one of the many ways to a man's heart. I think. At least, that's what I hear. I lack experience in things of this nature. I know how to cook and bake, but ive never had the opportunity to cook for a guy. I'm willing to test that theory. On that note, who wants to be my first victim?

• Mollie Katie: The way to a man's heart is definitely through his stomach. Literally and metaphorically, this is a dictum that applies to both sexes. Preparing a meal is an intimate way to get closer to your partner. (My homemade mac and cheese is a signature "comfort food" dish.) And in general, everyone loves to be taken care of. I know I do. It just makes me feel warm and happy inside.

• Michelle: Ah, this old tale again. While I think there is a definite biological reason why this theory exists, I have yet to prove or disprove it. In theory, I can understand why and how it began. As men have traditionally been the providers and women the nurturers, a woman who could provide the most nurturing would, in theory, be the best at mothering the next generation as well as making the man comfortable and happy. However, in today's world, while that primal, biological need may still be there, it's mostly become "civilized." While I will admit that I have used cookies and other baked goods as a method of gaining the attentions of a particular male that I wanted, I don't believe that a man will fall in love with a woman just because she cooks well. For all their apparent simplicity, men are vastly more complicated than that. Thus, I believe that while cooking may indeed land the attentions or favor of a man, many more things must be present for you to gain his heart. Not to mention, cooking is all good and fine, but *ahem* wearing the food in certain situations will gain his attentions as well. Happy hunting ladies!

• Stephanie: I kind of wish I'd skipped out on this one, seeing as how I'm on vacation at the moment. If it isn't "sleeping" or "drinking coffee," well, I dunno. Can't quite see how it's of use to me.

And this question...yikes. Is the way to a man's heart really through his stomach? At this point, I'm more than willing to shrug, bat my eyelashes adorably, and feign both ignorance and innocence. There have probably been theses written about this, and I'm not even going to pretend I could answer it satisfactorily in a few hundred characters. The answer is yes, and the answer is no, but most importantly, the answer is forty-two.

You figure it out.

• Houston: The quickest way to a man's heart is definitely NOT his stomach. That's just silly as anyone with a basic understanding of anatomy will tell you, the stomach is located approximately 18 inches below the average man's heart. This proves the stomach is an ineffective path to the major circulatory organ.

The quickest way to a man's heart is directly through the sternum. Perhaps a knife, cleaver or even a properly placed fingertip Karate chop (like in Kill Bill) could do the trick, but the sternum is very tough. The abdominal cavity would be an easier path if the proper cutting/hacking object wasn't available.

I guess some people could construe that as the stomach, however I look upon them with disdain as it is a layman's term at best.

Sternum, definitely the sternum, with an ax... or train if an ax isn't available.

Oh, by the way. Happy New Year!

New year, new resolutions?

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 15:37:00 +0000

So, they tell me it’s 2010 and, since it’s 2010, we should have some New Years resolutions. But are they really worth it? That’s what I asked The Panel this week.

Here are their answers:

• Kristin: New Year's resolutions are great and useless. They make me feel better about myself, give me hope for the new year and its fun. In the back of my mind I kind of know that most of the resolutions I make just are not going to happen, but maybe that's part the problem. Self-fullfilling/self-defeating prophecy.

I hope to change that in 2010. My first resolution is to follow through. This year- well, in the past 6 months I have changed a great deal and I know that there are many more changes to come in this new year. Some for the better, but its not going to be easy. I want and need to make my resolutions stick. Starting now. Happy New Year!

• Houston: New Years resolutions are ways that we remind ourselves that life is pretty much hopeless and we are doomed to failure.

In short, they prepare us for work so we get off on the right foot every year... very useful.

NOT!

[Ed: More after the jump!]

• Stephanie: When I was a kid I thought they were nifty, but when I was a kid I was also insecure and silly and naive. I mean, if there's something about yourself or your life that you want to see become different, go ahead (unless it involves mass slaughter or something of that ilk, y'know). Time itself is an interesting concept, but our delineation of it is such a strange and oddly stupid construct to use as a basis for self-improvement. I reckon I can understand bits of it, or at least I can understand the moronic reasoning people use in order to function, living and dying by calendars and schedules, but I also can't help but feel like the whole beginning/end thing is a total crock, the one-through-twelve numericals are insignificant. I hate when people say that certain years suck, certain months, certain days. By whose freaking standards? Your own? Society's? It's patently stupid, and yeah, I know that I like being contrary and frustrating and I know that the fact that I have a photographic memory (no joke on that one) has kind of screwed up my relationship with my own past and present and whatnot. I like resolutions, I like change and improvement. I hate excuses and formal traditions being upheld and instituted like they are meaningful in and of themselves. They are not. And besides, nothing is ever in and of itself. And yes, I stole that from Chuck Klosterman.

• Mollie Katie: The success or failure of New Year's resolutions, to me, depends on the person making them. But overall, I think they're great! It shows an effort to make a positive change, and I really like the idea of that. I've probably made a dozen resolutions I've kept and another dozen I haven't, but I usually put in a decent effort the first month. And before you ask, no, I won't tell you my resolutions this year or from the past because I think it's bad luck! :P

• Justin: If you want to make a change in your life, just make it. You don’t need a new calendar to do it.

• Jen: I am not a fan of the New Year’s Resolution. It is a yearly reminder of I how I have no follow through or “sticktuitiveness”. I make a resolution on January 1^st and by January 3^rd I have forgotten I have made any resolutions. There are so many things I need to change, I’d need a list to keep track of them all. I am also not a fan of lists. I forget that I have created one, rendering it useless. I need a list for my lists. But you can see where this is going. Truthfully, I have an issue with my memory. Now what was I talking about?

Memories we’d sometimes rather forget

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 15:08:00 +0000

[Photo via FreeDigitalPhotos.net]

I had to come up with two questions to send out this week because I didn’t feel like bothering with writing up next week’s post while I’m out of town because I’m a self-centered ass like that.

So, here’s the first question I asked them:

What's your strangest Christmas memory?

Answers after the jump:

• Mollie Katie: I think my strangest Christmas memory was the year my sister very vocally decided she didn't believe in Santa anymore. My parents tried to convince her by making snowy boot prints around our Christmas tree, as though Santa had come down the chimney and out into the living room. She observed that Santa wore the same work boots as our father, and no one was going to try to trick her! Did I also mention as a five-year-old, my sister swore like a truck driver? Because she did. Still does, actually. It's vivid and weird in my memory, like it happened yesterday.

• Jen: Strangest Christmas memory would have to be the year that my mom almost burned down the house. I would have been about 5 years old but the exact year is hazy. It could have been anywhere from 3 to 8. The strange part is not that my mother almost burned down the house, but the argument that has ensued throughout the years about who was to blame for waking my dad.

My mom had decided that the best way to deal with wrapping paper was to burn it in the fireplace. So my mom took the balls of paper, threw them in the fireplace, opened the flue and lit it all on fire. Only she did not open the flue, she had closed it. And instead of lots of smoke, it was flames that came roaring out of the fireplace. My memory continues on that she sent my older sister out to fill a bucket with water from a hose and sent me upstairs to get my brother Gary, but specifically said not to wake my father. So I went running upstairs to get him, but he was in the shower and couldn’t hear me. In my panic, I thought I should get someone, so I ran to my parent’s bedroom door, called out my brother’s name loudly enough to wake my father. When he came out of the bedroom I told him the house was on fire. He went charging down the stairs, fell on the top flight and hurt his back, but continued downstairs. The rest is kind of hazy, literally, but I’m pretty sure that by the time my father had picked himself up, the fire was out and everything was okay. Paper burns hot and fast.

The odd part is that my sister remembers that it was her who went and got my father “illegally”. She swears it was her that ruined his back and I swear it was me. We have had fights over this privilege and I’m not sure why either one of us wants to claim this memory but it must be important enough to argue over. We’ll never know for sure because we never asked my dad what he remembered and he passed away 12-30-1998 from a massive heart attack. His back always gave him problems after that and thinking this all over, maybe it was Andrea that woke him up.

• Stephanie: Rawr. Nothing's springing immediately to mind, so I might have to go with the Christmas I spent in California, simply because it was, compared to what I had grown up with, all hell of strange. I was born and raised in western Massachusetts, near my maternal family, but spent a year living in California (which is where most of my father's family lived at the time) when I was sixteen&seventeen. That December, my dad and I drove down to the Los Angeles-ish area from way up north where we lived (about ten/eleven hours, yup) and I spent Christmas in Santa Clarita, where it is things like warm and sunny, with people (family, no less) that I rarely ever see or talk to. We all pretty much knew it was the first and only time an event-gathering of this type would ever happen, and it's absolutely true. I still usually end up in California in winter-time -- it was always when I was on break from college -- but with that one exception, every Christmas I have ever spent has been on the east coast. Which is fine. Sometimes experiences are better simply because they couldn't ever possibly be replicated.

• Justin: I want to say I was about five when this happened, but I could be off a year or two. Either way, my Dad, my brother, and I were heading over to my grandmother’s house from his to do Christmas when, on the I-10 feeder road, we ran out of gas.

You have to remember that this was somewhere around 1990, so nobody had cell phones and the nearest gas station was a bit of a walk away, so we were pretty late.

This wasn’t the first (or last) time my dad ran out of gas or was late for something, but this is the time that sticks out in my mind.

• Houston: The strangest thing I can think of wasn't that strange for me but was very much odd to THE WIFE. My family's Christmas Eve tradition has evolved over th years to just more of a get together and open presents thing than the whole "Turkey and Ham and caroling kind of thing."

So this story begins back when THE WIFE was known as THE GIRLFRIEND and I was taking her to our first Christmas Eve with my family. She knew she was in for a good on when the conversation began like this:

Me: We have to go get Tacos because Mom had to work late.

Her: What?

Me: Mom is working late so we are running to get the Tacos.

Her: You're kidding right?

Only, I wasn't kidding. We were eating Tacos, hot dogs and... wait for it....

Ham.

Oh yeah baby!

Also, I thought this was the same year that my aunts got into an argument over who had gotten a prettier trunk, but she swears that was another Christmas.

Ahhhhhh, memories.

---------

Michelle and Kristin didn’t get answers in in time. I know y’all are disappointed, let them know how much so in the comments.

Christmas spirit

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 16:37:00 +0000

I’m finally back from my computer problems, so The Panel is back with a new question.

The question this week is simple enough, I think

What gets you in the Christmas spirit?

Answers after the jump:

• Stephanie: Sorry, is almost late, I kind of sort of had a birthday yesterday and it kind of sort of required a lot of attention and a decent amount of celebrations, m'kay? And, strangely, it's nearly always felt like the arrival of my birthday meant it was officially Christmas-time, for what are probably obvious reasons. I was never one of those kids who got kind of screwed over, being born so close to Christmas, and I rather like having the extra awesomeness to make up for the occasional terror that is Winter in New England. Okay? It might be silly, but in my head, birthday-time = Christmas-time...I'm still kind of down on stupid traditions and senseless capitalism and whatnot, though so I dunno how "in the Christmas spirit" I can actually possibly be.

But I also usually still start sobbing within the first ten minutes of "It's a Wonderful Life." I'm not inhuman, just...insensitive. Y'know how it is.

• Houston: I am often motivated by things that motivate other people... Things like money. Money doesn't really get me in the Christmas Spirit though, so I digress from the opening sentence on.

So let me think? Snow get me in the spirit. Building snowmen with the kids and watching the white stuff fall...

Wait, I live in Dallas... We never get snow. (CRAP)

I don't care much for singing carols as I sound like a cat being run over by a hippo when I sing.

I guess I can share ONE THINGS that gets me in the mood. (Warning, about to break character here.)

This last Friday I went to my kid's school, specifically Lucie's kindergarten class and read "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" to them. Some of the kids had already heard the story, some hadn't. I had a whole class which sat quietly with big eyes and listened as I read and did goofy voices for them.

Next up, Ben's teacher asked me to read to his class. Ben just turned 11 and I felt pretty ridiculous going into his class, thinking to myself "These kids are going to hate this." To my honest surprise they all sat and listened (there were some chortles at some of the stuff and some comments which got laughs, but they seemed to enjoy it). THE WIFE pointed out that they were all COMPLETELY SILENT while I read. This is no small feat for a class with several special needs kids.

Finally I was asked to read for Christopher's class. He is 13 and I knew this was for the teacher more than anything, but I humored her and as I read I picked on my son and tried to get some laughs. THE WIFE even got in on the act and let one of the kids know it was just the Grinch dressed up as Santa Claus and NOT REALLY SANTA CLAUS doing all the bad stuff. We got some laughs and big fake sounds of surprise from the class.

The nice thing was, I found the Christmas Spirit, doing for others. The kids all realized I was trying to do something nice and we all enjoyed it.

I get the Christmas Spirit from the wonder of kids, the beauty of the human spirit and love and kindness between each other.

Merry Christmas to all, and thank you all.

• Mollie Katie: To me, it's really not Christmas without the music of Andy Williams. That's what I grew up hearing, and it puts me right into the spirit of things within seconds. The decorations, the secret surprise gifts not on people's wish lists, the cutting down of our own live Christmas tree, the Christmas ham... It's all just garnish. The main course is Andy Williams' music. It just makes my soul happy.

• Justin: I’m in my church’s choir, so I’d say it starts for me around mid-November when we start to get out all the Christmas music to rehearse.

• Kristin: Its not Christmastime until the Christmas tree falls over. Thats right, I said fall over. Almost every year, for one reason or another the tree will crash and go boom.
The first time it fell, no one was home. My mom blames the dogs every time. Convenient. In reality its because my mom only decorates the sides of the tree that you can see. By the time we're finished its already beginning to lean precariously forward. My brothers' and I are convinced that just walking by it is enough to make it tip over.

That's really when we get into the Christmas spirit. The sight of our awesome yet swaying, leaning Christmas tree.

-----

Jen and Michelle were too in the Christmas spirit to get answers to us. No word if Vodka was involved.

Also, I figure I should explain the photo at the top. In 2005, after Hurricane Rita, I worked rebuilding fences that the storm knocked over. Near one of the houses we did, this refrigerator was sitting on the curb with the ribbon on it, so I made a special trip that weekend to take a picture of it just because I thought it was so funny.

Shopping help

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 18:18:00 +0000

I've got computer issues, so the posts won't be as pretty until I get them fixed, but there will be posts!

This week I asked The Panel what they get for that someone on their list that's impossible to shop for.

Answers after the jump:

Justin: I always buy them really weird gifts. I'll go into the mall or a bookstore or wherever and try to find something incredibly unique. For example, one year I bought someone one of those books that tells you how to survive situations like jumping out ofa 5th story window into a dumpster. Wish I remembered what it was called. Oh well.

Jen: There are several reasons why a person may be difficult to buy for. There is the person that already has everything. There is the ultra picky person and then there is the person you don't know well. Those are the three types I'll address.

For the person who has everything I will buy socks. Or give them Old Spice aftershave. That's what I did for my dad. He was the type who thought of something and then he'd buy it. And if you could think of something, generally the $1,500 price-tag was out of range. But I guarantee, even the person who has everything does not have enough socks or Old Spice aftershave.

Then there is the ultra picky person. That person gets a gift certificate, err, sorry, a gift card to a store that they shop at. I am one of those gift receivers who believe that it is the thought that counts, unless I think its stupid. Then I hate it and return it. I know when I am going to give a gift that won't do and will be returned. I don't want to waste my time. A gift card to a nice store or favorite spa/salon is always the best idea. No one wastes their time so its a win-win.

Shopping for that Secret Santa gift or maybe your husbands step brother from several marriages ago can be daunting. You don't know them or what they like. Can they read? What are their hobbies? Are they parolee out on stalking charges and binoculars would not be a good gift. These are the ones that get the Fiji stacked christmas boxes with candies and pears. Or perhaps a Harry and David basket. Either way, the worst they could with that would be to make a bad Eggs Benedict on Christmas.

Everyone else will be receiving baked goods. Espresso Truffles, breads, m&m cookies, reeses pieces cookies, more!!

Mollie Katie: If someone is incredibly hard to shop for, I usually make a Christmas (or Hanukkah --- shoutout to the Joos!) gift instead of buying. A scrapbook, a framed photograph, a piece of artwork, or something of sentimental value is always appreciated. While buying the perfect item can make that special person happy, a gift from the heart tends to leave a more lasting impression as the holiday seasons pass.

Michelle: What do I get that one person who is hard to shop for? Nothing. You want a gift, be easier. Nah, kidding. I'll bake something and take it to them, then stay and chat for a bit, because what else says gift like having to put up with me and my charmless, inept conversation? Nothing, I say, nothing is better.

Kristin: Mom. She gave me life. How can I possibly shop for her or buy, make, or steal something that could top that? Impossible. She is always the hardest to shop for.

There is ONE gift that would make my mom tremendously happy, but it's not going to happen anytime soon. Grandchildren. Sorry, Mom, not this Christmas. Plus, kind of need a man for that, of which I'm kind of lacking. Think she'll settle for a puppy?

Cleaning out the fridge

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:06:00 +0000

First, let me thank Houston for taking on last week’s post for me. My computer decided it didn’t want to work at the last minute, but I think it’s all good now.

Alright, Turkey Day’s finally over. Now you’ve got tons of leftovers stuck in the fridge and you have no idea what to do with them.

Don’t worry, we can help.

This week I asked them:

What's the best thing to do with all those Thanksgiving leftovers?

Answers after the jump:

• Justin: Well, I think it's obvious that you should EAT your Thanksgiving leftovers. Yea, I know, DUH!

Most of the other stuff is always good, but I usually make a veggie soup with the leftover turkey. Just use a chicken and veggie soup recipe and sub the turkey. It's just as good.

• Jen: I am a thanksgiving leftover fanatic. There is no point in having thanksgiving if there will be no leftovers. I prefer to recreate the meal as exactly as it was originally served, each item disappearing as they are completely consumed. Until finally, I am left with just turkey. Then I start having turkey sandwiches with miracle whip and iceberg lettuce and salt and pepper. Maybe some yellow American cheese, but probably not. I don’t do the casseroles or the soups, or the fried stuffing pancakes. I like the original and stay with it as long as I can.

• Kristin: Leftovers are for eating. Mmmm. My mom makes kick-ass turkey tacos.

• Stephanie: Um, eat them? I am not the creative type who plans elaborate schemes to disguise the fact that one is nomming three-day old stuffing...then again, I am not ever going to encourage a giant get-together involving the production of vast amounts of stuffing, so this isn't my fault anyway. Place leftovers on plate. Apply heat if desired. Consume. Repeat as necessary?

• Michelle: Holiday leftovers? Two words: food fight!

The Panel and Holday Travel

noreply@blogger.com (Houston (aka) Tots) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 14:30:00 +0000

This week The Panel takes on the question of Travelling During the Holidays. Who loves it, who hates it?

Who is court-ordered to stay in the city to avoid becoming a

"Flight Risk?"

Find out after the jump!

Allrighty folks, Houston here as your captain this week. Apparently Justin's PPS (Portable Porn Server) crashed and burned last night due to an overload from the webcam feeds. Hopefully he will get the gerbil back on the wheel and the laptop will be back to squeaking along soon.

Since I am running willie-nillie around here and drunk with power drunk, lets see what the members of The Panel had to say about Holiday Travel.

First up is is Michelle:

Traveling for the holidays tends to start out as a fun trip that turns into a nightmare. Take the one time I went to my grandmothers. I was walking through the woods and when I got there, she tried to eat me! My grandmother had these giant teeth, you know, and it was horrible. It totally ruined my favorite red coat. Then, this one time, myself and my brother were out walking to our aunts house and we got lost, so this nice old lady invited us into her house. She tried to carve us up! Really! Luckily, we pushed her, she fell against her oven door, and we escaped, but I just couldn't figure out why all these people kept trying to eat me! Then there was the time I traveled to the holiday party and lost my one of my best shoes, car broke down on the way home, got home and my dress didn't look as good as it had when I left. Total nightmare. There was the apple that was spoiled and made me sick, just terrible. So all in all, I'm going to have to say that no, I don't especially care for holiday travel.

Stephanie weighs in:

Traveling for the holidays: Love it or hate it?

Generally speaking, I love to travel. I'm a sucker for road trips and adventures; it's pretty pathetic, actually. That said, though, I don't usually travel for holidays...I imagine I should hate it because I hate traffic and I hate people, but I dunno, man. Then again, I also kind of think holidays that insist on getting large groups of people together for a vague reason rooted merely in "tradition" is ridiculous, so this entire notion strikes me as being vaguely preposterous. Perhaps I am jaded in my old age, but seriously...'tis stupid.

I still love road trips though. And airports!

I don't think I have an answer to this question.

Kristin has a hot opinion...

I've never traveled for the holidays. Every holiday for the past 25 years have been celebrated in Vegas. It truly is a rock star life. I wouldn't know to love or hate it.

Jen shoots one into the fray:

Traveling for the holidays

I can answer this question very easily. I dislike traveling for the holidays by car. I hate traveling by car anytime. I like flying on the holidays because they always overbook flights and I can usually score some free vouchers and fund my next trip. Like a two for one. It’s awesome. I like hanging out in airports and watching people stress over the kids and layovers. I’m usually fortunate in that I don’t lose luggage (once) or get things broken. I don’t miss flights and flights are rarely delayed or cancelled and I have never crashed, not once. (knocking on wood). Granted, flying has gotten a bit less fun over the years and I have never been a first class traveler, most unfortunate, but it is still a wonderful feeling to be leaving problems behind for a few days. So I would say if I had to travel on the holidays, I prefer flying. Case in point, I am opting out of Thanksgiving this year as traveling in a car for 7 hours each way for a turnaround trip has no appeal. I will be doing the trip for a 48 hour stay on Christmas, because family only takes so many holiday excuses. Bah Humbug!

Next up is Justin:

Considering the fact that I've never, ever traveled for the holidays in my life, I'd definitely say that traveling for them is a bad thing. To me there's nothing better than celebrating the holidays in the comfort of your own home, watching football, and cussing at the TV when that idiot so-called receiver drops what should be a sure touchdown catch and they have to settle for a field goal.

Sadly, this Thanksgiving I'll be breaking the "stay-at-home" tradition and going to Fort Worth to see family up there. It will certainly be a new experience for me, so maybe I'll change my mind about this whole thing.

But I doubt it.

To wrap things up, here are my thoughts... (BTW I go last not because my ego says I should, but because I was actually the last to finish mine. WIN FOR PROCRASTINATION!):

Traveling for the Holidays?

You must be kidding right? Can you imagine loading a minivan with five kids and driving anywhere; much less the 865 miles to Knoxville, Tennessee to visit family? That is a fifteen hour drive across East Texas, Arkansas and Tennessee

We have tried several different methods; the one which has the least impact on this children is the “Load up and leave out at 3PM the day before we are supposed to be there. We then drive “On Through the Night” (Sorry Def Leppard reference there.) While this works great for the kids, it leaves THE WIFE and I feeling like a January 1^st Hangover. The reason for this is in order to stay up all night while driving you are downing, coffee, cola and sugary snack food, so we are extremely “Tweaked Out” for the next day which leaves the kids on their own.

Another option is the get up at 3AM and drive through the night and the next day. This isn’t too bad but when 7AM rolls around and the sun is just about to come up, it is very, very hard to stay awake. Once the sun comes up, it gets easier, but then you have children awake and needing to pee every 15 minutes.

No… I elect to change religions rather than to have to travel during the holidays again. HATE IT!

Mollie Katie chose not to participate this week as she is busy plotting my death for nicknaming her mom "Mommie Katie!" If she doesn't kill me, I'll see you next week. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Panel takes on social networking

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 14:27:00 +0000

When I pitched this question to The Panel, I figured they’d hate me for this one so I attached the cute picture to the left that has nothing to do with the subject.

If you had to pick one social media outlet (Facebook, Twitter, etc.,) and you could only use it the rest of your life, which would it be?

Answers below the jump:

• Jen: If I had to choose one social networking site to use for the rest of my life I would have to choose Facebook. Ugh. That doesn't make me happy-happy and if another, better site were to pop up, I hope I could then re-evaluate my choice.

I like Twitter in some ways much more than Facebook, especially when it comes to networking or getting the word out. But as an all-around, have fun, dick around, waste time web site, Facebook wins hands down.

Facebook can still do the networking but you are limited to your impact, it does not have the speed of delivery and is hard to keep to a real-time dialogue. But the apps. Cafe World, Mafia Wars and what have you. Yea, you know you've passed that drink round for happy hour. You shed a tear over your virtual pets expiring from lack of care. You got even not mad when you had someone place a hit on you. You spent hours taking them out every time they lifted their heads up. You bought cute outfits for your pet, down to holiday attire and decorations for their houses. Taking quizzes ate up hours, even knowing that the average age of the quiz taker is 13 and the answers correspond to that. What Taylor Swift song are you? Isn't she dating Kanye West? What do we know?

So yes, I pick Facebook over Twitter. Myspace never a contender and if there are others, I don't know them.

• Kristin: If I had to choose between Twitter & Facebook (since Myspace is for the kiddies and the pervs), Twitter wins without a doubt. Facebook makes me dizzy and it brings out my stalker-like tendencies, which is never good. Twitter is faster and more accessible than Facebook, and minus the poking. Although I will say that Facebook has led to some surprise fantastic phone calls.

It's more than that though. In the ten months that I've been on Twitter, I've made some awesome friends and met new people that I may not have met, if it weren't for Twitter. I wouldn't be part the Panel, there would be no #SSH or #SSB and life would be dull and boring. My world has gotten smaller, yet bigger. So its an easy choice. Twitter. That is all.

• Stephanie: How many times do I have to announce that I don't like having to call favorites? I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Ahem.

I also hate MySpace, with the burning fiery passion of a thousand million suns, so that's seriously right the hell out of this little contest; I have one, but that is a fact I would much rather ignore. Basically, I only ever use Gmail, Facebook, Twitter, and LiveJournal for social-esque stuff...I check Facebook and Twitter compulsively about a million times a day, Gmail and LJ at least twice...I have no life.

And we all know I am a self-hating Twitterer; it is a medium I am annoyed with and perpetually frustrated at, and I am an idiot who does not learn lessons and give up on things that are "bad ideas." Plus, I'm all hell of verbose: I like words. I like words a lot. I like words and writing and communication and typing and text and not having to actually talk to people. But, if I were forced to keep myself to 140 characters, I would probably kill myself. I don't much believe in acronyms or those goddamn internet slangy things. Spelling and grammar are your friends, people. So, really, Twitter is out.

LiveJournal has no ridiculous length limits, but LiveJournal, too, isn't exactly a "social networking" site; most of my "friends" are people I know in real life, and I don't play around in communities. I don't like people, I don't like creepy internet people, and I like pretending I have better things to do (this might be a lie). But I love writing and I love having an audience (oh god the vanity oh god); part of why I used to love journalism was the built-in audience...I've kept journals since I was ten or so, and I've had the online one for, I think, over six years (aw hell). I've been conditioned, and it's not as much fun writing just for myself anymore -- at least not since I realized I hate writing fiction. Creative non-fiction...yes. Mmmmm.

Which leaves us with Facebook: I love Facebook. Love love love love love -- and no, I do not play Farmville or any of those other stupid things. But I love that it lets me backhandedly be "social" while not having to leave the house, I love that people I haven't seen in five years are still vaguely "around" and I love having every picture from everything I have ever been involved with since its inception archived so neatly. I have more friends on Facebook than I even feel comfortable with, and yeah, there are pictures I ought to be a tiny bit ashamed of. But the hell with it; I can be a part of things without having to proactively care, which is really the best gift Mark Zuckerberg ever gave me. Or any of us, I guess...it's helped forever change the nature of social interaction both online and off, and it sure did make college that much more interesting.

I'm not picking a favorite. They all have a niche and a purpose and I am desperately, horrifyingly attached to each and every single one. I am but a pawn to the unspeakable force of the interblag, tethered and bound to the circles and networks I hadn't realized were being built around me.

And yes, I do I wish I spent less of my life staring at this screen.

• Mollie Katie: If I could only pick one social media outlet to use for the rest of my life, it would obviously be Twitter. I am addicted. But I'm self-aware, so I think it's okay? Maybe? I'll go with yes!

I quit MySpace because everyone I met there who wasn't my in real life fleshy friend...was a creepy creeper who creeps. And not in the good way! And I quit Facebook because it was too much noise. Being friends with everyone I've ever met since kindergarten, regardless of whether or not we were ever actually friends? It's weird. And being invited to groups and to use applications I had no interest in...was like spam e-mail. All the time! And these people would not take no for an answer! My family, the part of it that I like anyway, is on Facebook, so the only thing keeping me there this past year has been updating my account-less mother and sister with photos of our baby cousins. My mom got her own FB account, so I quit! It feels amazing! Death to Facebook! Death, I say!

Long aside over, I actually like Twitter beyond just the obvious "it's not Facebook" excuse. I know it came out of the status updates on Facebook, but it has formed it's own unique community identity. I've found friendly insomniacs like me, especially in the predominantly conservative "Red Eye with Greg Gutfeld" fan set. I'm a liberal but I like getting both sides of the issues, so my news sources tend to be Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Greg Gutfeld, Bill Schulz, and Andy Levy. Plus the White House correspondents on Twitter. And these interactions have formed the basis of what I feel like are meaningful connections outside of Twitter. E-mails, texts, phone calls. People I feel like I would hang our with in a regular basis if we were all in the same town at the same time. It's how this here project called The Panel was born. I love Twitter. Which is where I will be promoting my latest blog entry on The Panel... And I love you, Tweep who has clicked on over!

-----

Houston was arrested for running around on the Dallas North Tollway naked, so he’s out. The good news is the cops told him it’s a “small” offense.

Michelle clearly still hasn’t gotten the memo that Halloween has passed and she can come in from the graveyard. Someone want to pull her out of there this week for me? Just be sure to take precautions, she bites.

As far as me, I’m skipping because I’m jealous of all the other folks getting to. Yay for setting a bad example!

This question will rot your brain

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:00:00 +0000

[Photo via FreeDigitalPhotos.net]

This week we venture into a place. A place you’re very familiar with. A place where we can all go and, for a time, just look at the pretty pictures as all our problems are washed away.

That’s right, I’m talking about that magical picture box, the television. What did you think I meant, really? Booze? How often do you look at pretty pictures while drinking? Seriously. You, my friend, have a problem and should seek help.

Oh, yea, the question. Kinda got sidetracked there.

What’s your favorite TV show of all time?

Answers after the jump:

• Mollie Katie: My favorite TV show of all time is easily "Murder, She Wrote." As a kid, Angela Lansbury was pretty much my "TV grandmother". I first saw the show in reruns when I was a kid home sick from school, and quickly I became hooked. In fact, for a very short time I considered a career as an assassin, because the murders on the show were just so bad at it. I knew I could do better. But this consideration lasted barely a week, because I realized that I am more like Mr. Bean than James Bond. Sadly, I lack the kind of grace, coordination, and general skill necessary to be successful in any job requiring stealth. I am a little accident prone.

• Jen: So many years of TV watching, so many shows. I was a addict for bad shows. Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Charlie's Angels, Silver Spoons, Mork and Mindy, Sonny and Cher, The Mac Davis Show, The Mandrell Sisters, Donny and Marie, Nancy Drew-Hardy Boys and Wonder Woman. As I grew up, I'd like to think that my taste improved as I moved on to Cheers, Magnum PI, Golden Girls, Miami Vice and Quincy ME. The last decade was/is Sopranos, 24, Arrested Development, Monk, a few reality shows like Project Runway and Top Chef, House, Lie to Me, Chuck, In Plain Sight and uhh, Ghost Hunters. Okay, we all have our more embarrassing shows.

Out of these, having to pick a favorite, I would say Arrested Development tops out as a smart, funny and totally under-rated show. The people that took the time to watch it mostly loved it. I think they did a poor job of promoting it and it lasted only 3 seasons. A show about a completely dysfunctional wealthy/poor family that has alienated each other over the years and now finds themselves having to depend on each other for their very existence. The genius development and writing skills of Mitchell Hurwitz (Golden Girls, The Ellen Show) and his various group of writers and the acting skills of Jason Bateman, Portia de Rossi, Will Arnett, Michael Cera and others, make this a rare jewel among the crap that we are spoon fed on a daily basis. The guest stars on the show include Liza Minelli, Charlize Theron and Amy Poehler. Theron has on 5 episodes and if anyone doubts her comedic talents, all I have to say is get this show and watch her surprise you. (5 episodes, 2005). I can not express the breadth and width of this show for its talent and charm. Casting was superb for every character. Every member managed to embody the character and make them real. The obvious love the series members felt for the show was apparent, you could tell they were having fun. You could tell guests were having fun and I bet few invited turned down the opportunity to participate. There should be a movie coming out in 2011 and I still don't know many details as to whether it will be a stand alone or a series continuation but I can't wait. Its going to be awesome either way and a long time coming.

• Justin: This isn’t a terribly hard question, and anybody that knows me will know what my answer to this will be.

I have to go with 24.

Sure the show’s seen some bad times, but even the sixth season was better than half of the crap that’s on TV today, right?

It’s the ultimate guy show, with all the guns and explosions and such. And the ladies like it because they can drool over Kiefer Sutherland. Not my thing, but hey, whatever works for them.

Sadly, it looks like the upcoming eighth season will be the last for the show. although there’s talk of a movie (or a few) that have the potential to be good.

• Stephanie: Goddamnit, what did i say about me and favorites? Stop making me pick favorites, I won't do it. I can't, actually. and this is doubly stupid because I pretty much don't watch TV anymore, and all of my "favorites" tend to be old cultish things no one has ever heard of.

There are seriously only like, four shows that are still in production that I care about -- House, The Office, CSI, and Dollhouse. Yes, I am a geek, and I am not sorry about that, either. The list of "favorites," though, also includes Fawlty Towers, Black Adder, Firefly, Queer as Folk, old school Law & Order, Twin Peaks, Arrested Development, Good Eats, and probably Monty Python's Flying Circus, because I am one of those girls who grew up thinking that stuff was funny (clearly I am awesome).

In other news, tv rots your brain, go read a book. You're welcome.

• Houston: My favorite show of all time… DUH! Let’s review shall we?

I grew up in the 80’s
I am a redneck from Tennessee.
I love the color orange (once again Tennessee).
I work with the son of one of Waylon Jennings’ guitar players (like that name drop?)

So it has to be “The Dukes of Hazzard!”

Bo Duke was my hero, because I wanted to drive an awesome and indestructible car and lets face it, the car was the star of the show. Well, that and the fact that my 8 year old loins were all afire from the hotness of Catherine Bach. So the opportunity to drive the greatest car of all time PLUS have the hottest cousin as eye candy (look it’s a Tennessee thing, don’t judge me!)

Oh yeah, in 1980 you couldn’t get much hotter than the Daisy Duke wearing hotness of Daisy, with her cutie pie southern accent, short shorts and high heels. (Giggidy!)

Of course now, I realize she is my mom’s age and has missed some of the swagger...

But anyway, how can you NOT love a show with an indestructible car (not one of those sissy talking cars like “Knight Rider,” but a real honest to goodness car that turns gasoline into AWESOME and JUMPS CREEKS?

There is some creepy issue with Uncle Jesse and his over-protective relationship (or maybe that was just the Tennessean in me thinking).

• Kristin: The best TV show of all time? "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", hands down. No explanation needed- the show speaks for itself. Coming in a close 2nd place is "The Wire"- also a show that needs no explanation. It'd be wrong to leave it out.

What we did as kids

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:39:00 +0000

[Photo via FreeDigitalPhotos.net]

This question was inspired by Falcon and his recent adventures.

What's the craziest thing that either you did or happened to you in your childhood?

Simple enough, right?

Answers after the jump.

• Stephanie: Oh hi. Panel questions: One More Thing for Steph to Forget About on a Regular Basis.

Um, the word "crazy" has no business being used in relation to my childhood. I was rather of the meek and quiet sort, with a fondness for things like "books" and "being alone" (actually, that still holds true. But I also have friends now. Win!). In all seriousness, I wasn't off pulling stunts or seeking attention; rather, for the most part I tried to avoid situations in which I might appear interesting. Because that's when the questions start...oh, hell, the questions...

I'm not saying being a kid was boring; it is nothing of the sort. I was just far too insecure, shy, and awkward to take full advantage of it -- or appreciate it, for that matter. This is, perhaps, a disappointment, yes, but I haven't any suitable anecdotes for this particular query. It's likely the things I think of or remember most fondly aren't the sort that anyone wants to read about, so consider this both my answer and (I hope) the most finely worded cop-out you've stumbled upon in years.

Author's Note: The word "crazy" still has next to no bearing in my life. I just realized that.

• Kristin: I wasn't a crazy little kid. Nothing like Balloon Boy. My mom could silence me with a look. Actually I think she still can, but I digress.

I was more accident prone than exciting. I fell off of a fake 'clippity-clop' horse when I was two and broke my arm. When I was four I tripped over a cord and hit my head on a door and gave myself a concussion. When I was five I broke my ankle, twice in the same year- just by walking. Its a miracle that I can walk and talk at the same time as an adult. Especially wearing the shoes that I wear.

As far as exciting or adventurous- not so much. My niece, who is a year younger than me and my nephew, who is a year older then me, used to put on shows and perform for our parents when we little. It was sad and we thought we were awesome and we would always fight. We sang, we danced and somewhere it is all on camera. Hopefully never to be found.

• Houston: My experience wasn't really fun...

I was in kindergarten and we were playing "Space Explorer" on the ~~playground~~ remote Martian landscape. One of team members ,Mykal, was down, of course he was of the opinion he was fine, which is why several of our friends had to hold him down. Obviously if he was moving around while he was "Injured" he would hurt himself even worse.

While everyone was "Helping" our ~~victim~~ patient I was busy moving a large ~~rock~~ med pack over to him so we could get the medical instruments which would save his life.

Unfortunately the rough ~~playground dirt~~ Martian landscape caused me to fall and the ~~rock~~ med pack flew through the air and bashed Mykal in the ~~head~~ helmet.

OK, fantasy over because at that point Mykal decided he was done playing as he leaped up with blood pouring from his forehead.

I think I took a few years off my teacher's life that day.

Mykal took it pretty well and every time I have talked to him since he has asked me, "Do you remember the time you bashed my head in with that rock? If it had gone a quarter inch deeper it would have touched my brain!"

DANG IT! Kindergarten FAIL!

• Justin: This is one I don’t remember, but I was told about by my kindergarten teacher, who sings in choir with me at church.

Early on my our kindergarten year, she had all the students draw pictures of things like their house, their family, etc. Well, she eventually got to the part where she had us all draw pictures of our teacher. I must have taken some liberties with her picture, because she thought it was so funny she had mine made into a t-shirt.

Recently I went to lunch with her after church, and she threatened to bring it to church one Sunday when she has to do the children’s sermon and show it to everybody.

------

Mollie Katie and Jen both passed this week. They have good excuses, so I won’t mock them.

Theme songs

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 15:47:00 +0000

First, a couple housekeeping notes:

Everybody say hi to Stephanie, a.k.a. @ihadtimetokill, our newest Panel member. You’re stuck with her. Deal.
Michelle’s taking a hiatus to celebrate her annual October tradition of, according to her, “spending all my time dancing in graveyards and spooking little children.” She then let out an evil laugh that scared the crap out of me.

Now, onto business.

Kristin pitched this idea to me, and I went with it. So, I asked The Panel:

If you had a theme song, what would it be?

It turned out to be a lot harder than I thought. Even Kristin was complaining about it. But me, being the cold-hearted bastard I am, simply replied “It’s your question.”

Answers after the jump.

• Stephanie (Who gets to go first because she’s the new kid): HELLO PANEL please be nice to me, I am new at this. I promise I will try to be cute and entertaining. And verbose. Mostly verbose.

So. Theme songs, eh? I am not sure how to deal with this; music and I have an interesting relationship, and I will freely and happily admit that I have terrible taste in it. Kind of. Sometimes.

I'm not sure, actually. I think it depends.

The crux of the matter is simply that, despite the fact that I tend to be elitist and opinionated and stubborn, I don't like picking favorites -- and that's what this question seems like it wants me to do (also, it may be worth noting that I tend to anthropomorphize EVERYTHING. I hope this won't be a problem). I can't have a favorite movie or a favorite song, because I am a raving rabid fangirl and I love everything.
Okay, that's a lie. But I guess it's safe to say that music does take up a disproportionate amount of aforementioned affection, so this shouldn't be that difficult. Theoretically.
But theme songs are not technically or necessarily "favorite" songs, correct? For the sake of explanation, let's assume I'm right...because if I'm not I can't answer this question, and that is what I am here to do (I think. There could be tangents. Did I mention I am new at this?) Theme songs shouldn't be dependent on what I love, and ought to have more to do with what I am, though it also needs to be pointed out that the two are not mutually exclusive. No, of course not.

And yet, there is a song that bridges both -- at least, I like to think it does. I want the sort of theme song that could play around me constantly and not make me want to kill myself, the sort of song that could signal my entrance into a scene in some horribly-directed movie I am unknowingly partaking in, the sort of song that can't be misinterpreted and won't seem to have changed meaning once I've aged five years and can't see the world the same way that I do now.

I'm choosing a song called "No Dice." It was released on a two-part EP earlier this year; one half is the Beirut record 'March of the Zapotec,' the other is a side project of sorts: Realpeople's 'Holland.' Both are the work of twenty-three year old Zach Condon, who is, in a word, amazing. Seriously. Beirut are one of my absolute favorites (one of many, yes), which may seem a bit strange since the Balkan, French, and Mexican influences of their three major releases don't really mesh with my usual alternative punky rocky stuff. But they are awesome. Zach Condon is awesome. His very first release, recorded when he was still a teenager, was under the Realpeople name, which only recently resurfaced with the release of 'March of the Zapotec/Holland EP.'

I also don't know how to describe this song. It's the last one on the EP, it's over five minutes long, and it's entirely instrumental (can one say that about electronic music? I'm not sure exactly how many instruments are even involved). It's quick and it's catchy, it's oddly uplifting. It sounds like quirkiness and reluctant optimism...but it's possible that's also probably just me projecting (I take back what I said about wanting a song that I'll still feel the same way about five years from now). It sounds like things that make me inexplicably and irrevocably happy; it sounds like success and giddiness and all sorts of cheerful, inspiring things that make me want to give Zach Condon a hug. Which might also be because he is adorable, and totally my age, which means it isn't entirely creepy. Hurray!

Anyway. You can hear "No Dice" here, and it also comes with my recommendation (read: insistence) that you look into the rest of Condon's Beirut recordings -- 'Gulag Orkestar' and 'The Flying Club Cup' are great albums too,

• Mollie Katie: The closest thing I have to a theme song is "The Girl Is Crying" by Chalk FarM.

• Houston: Wow, my own theme song? For little old me?

Well, I am kind of a big thing.

OK, with all the crap I have listened to throughout my life I have to roll it down to a few notable choices, but it has to come down to "MIllion Bucks" by "ALL."

Who you say? Yeah they weren't being blasted on VH1 Classic lately, sorry. Tell you what, here's the video.

OK, so why such an obscure song? Well, like everyone I had my share of confusion and depression in high school and the music of "ALL" and their previous incarnation "The Descendents" let me know there were other people in the world who felt like they were screw ups, nerds and all around losers. It got me through a lot.

This song specifically means a lot to me because it reminds me how much I love THE WIFE. Everything good that I have is through her and I would rather have her than a million bucks any day.

• Justin: I’m going Steve Miller Band’s The Joker… because I can.

• Kristin: Not that long ago I remember saying my life can be summed up in a Kelly Clarkson CD. I was then mocked for being so mainstream. So when it came to choosing a theme song for my life, I was determined to not be mainstream. Or trendy. Except...wait...that's right--I am both those things. I'm a girl, it's not my fault, if we're going strictly by appearances and a nonexistent love-life. Then yes, superficially, my life is a Kelly Clarkson album.

However, after a lot of thought and iPod listening (aka research), I've come to the conclusion that my life and being me is too complex for just one song. It's not so much a theme for my life, but a theme for me. I've narrowed it down to 6 different songs--the songs that I see myself (or parts of me) in the most. I'm indecisive when it comes to music. Maybe in another life, if I were taller, thinner, prettier, and more brave I would have taken a musical route for my life. I love music, especially when the lyrics and the meaning of the song far surpasses who or what it is and how mainstream or obscure it is becomes irrelevant. So, in no particular order.

"You Know How I Feel" -Bryan White
"Bent" -Matchbox Twenty (demo version)
"Why Ya Wanna Bring Me Down" -Kelly Clarkson
"Feed My Pain" –Demagogue
"Keeps Gettin' Better" -Christina Aguilera
"So Sad, So Lonely" -Matchbox Twenty

"You Know How I Feel" by Bryan White was the first song that I ever 'felt'. I was 12 years old. I was a country music girl at the time (and always will be at heart, I suppose). Despite it being connected to sad memories, it was the song that was there when I needed it the most.

I think that Cody, Rhys and I have been to almost every Matchbox Twenty concert in Vegas. I remember at one concert, Rob Thomas introing the song "Bent" with, "this is for all of us doomed to codependent relationships..." That's me. It's not that I'm not independent, I just have trouble sometimes.

"Why Ya Wanna Bring Me Down" applies to all aspects of my life, because even though I may not voice it to anyone, sometimes I feel like everything around me is bringing me down. Despite my best efforts to rise above.

Recently, thanks to Twitter, I've been introduced to some new music, and I am pleased to say that I love what I've found. "Feed My Pain" has been playing on repeat in my head since the first time I heard it. It's the part of me that no one see's and that very few ever will.

"So Sad, So Lonely" is a hidden track that is awesome live. It's my, 'I'm a Wanna Be Bad-Ass' song, except not really.

------

Jen’s opted out this week.

I would have posted this two days ago, but…

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 13:27:00 +0000

Let me give you an insight into how things work behind the scenes here at The Panel:

I send out the question to everybody on Monday or Tuesday, telling them I want them back by Saturday night.
Thursday or Friday, I start pestering everybody for their answers.
I keep on pestering throughout the weekend.
Sunday the answers start trickling in, but I inevitably go to bed with at least one still out.
I paste the last answer in whenever I get time on Monday and publish the post.

So, I asked The Panel:

Why do you procrastinate?

Big props to Mollie Katie for getting me her answer on Wednesday. For that, she goes first. Everybody else is in the order in which they’re received.

Responses after the jump:

• Mollie Katie: I procrastinate because I have a life, damnit! I've been sick off and on since we started this crazy venture known as The Panel, and because I'm in school I have makeup work. Which is what I *should* be doing now, come to think of it. And since not getting my work done has actual penalties in my actual life, I think I'll focus on that just now. It's not that I don't love The Panel, it's just that procrastination here has no consequences. See: Kristin, Michelle, and Jen's recent absences from The Panel's discussion.

• Jen: Let me just start this off by mentioning that I have known about needing to write this for a week. I am now just getting around to it. Typical.

The question this week was why do we procrastinate? I don’t know why most people put things off, but I have always lived by the saying, “Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?”. I’m pretty sure it has to do with adrenaline and working better under pressure. And maybe a pinch of laziness thrown in for good measure. I know I was late the day I was born, because I couldn’t be bothered to make my grand entrance until absolutely necessary.

When I have a schedule to keep, I figure the deadline and work backwards. If 2pm is the time I then calculate to the minute when I need to start, how long it will take, etc. Let’s say it’s a project for school, due 8am Monday. It will take me 1 hour to complete. I need 1 hour to get to school, 1 hour to get ready, 4 hours to sleep. That means I start the project at 1 am on Sunday night. Those on Twitter will attest to that, as there were plenty of nights they read the posts about me having to start my homework and waiting until after Redeye was over at 1am. Or perhaps I am going to church. I try to go to Saturday mass at 5pm. Which means I need to start getting ready at 4:10 pm to be there by 4:45 pm. This means I frequently decide to go to mass at 9 am Sunday. Or maybe 11 am. There is always the 5 pm mass.

You never hear about people that missed a flight and got on another one just to be killed in a crash, but you frequently hear about those that missed a flight only to later find out they narrowly escaped death by missing the original flight by seconds. However, when it’s a project I do try and talk myself out of waiting until the last second and doing things in a timely manner or finishing a project ahead of schedule, but it somehow takes the excitement out of life. The mystery of never knowing if I’ll complete a project or get to an appointment on time keeps me interested. Which reminds me, I have about 30 seconds to transmit this……

• Kristin: Why do I procrastinate? So many reasons, so little time. That's why I procrastinate- there is just so little time in my day to get everything that needs to be done, done. I'm brilliant when it comes to scheduling and allotting time for the various "things" I need to do- in my head. When I attempt to follow through with said schedule....well, not so much. It's not my fault! I blame Bush....and Obama....and the interwebs....technology....life. I read somewhere that to be alive is to be driven. I'm alive and I do prefer to be driven, but so far the only place I go is where nothing is ever done and there's always more to do. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Oh who am I kidding? I only have myself to blame for my procrastination. I allow myself to become distracted by things like, oh, I don't know, say... Twitter, Facebook, the Activity Pit, music, annoyingly cute guys that like my sexy secretary heels. Who wouldn't get distracted by that? Frankly, at times I am so overwhelmed with all I need to do (so much that I don't know where to start) that its easier and almost a relief to be distracted from it all.

Plus, let's face it, I can honestly say that some of my best work has been done in those final moments. You know that moment- the heart racing, terror-filled last minute when the adrenaline courses through you veins at the exact same moment you're filled with inspiration that you had thought was long lost. That's when the real work happens. At least, it does for me. Being alive, being driven- it's enough for some, but I need more. I need a push, or perhaps a violent shove to get me to where I want to be.

• Houston: Why does it take me so long for me to meet the deadlines put forth by "The Panel?" I honestly never thought about it as my days are like most everyone else.

I work for a telecommunications company called PHONECO* as a Tech Support Drone 3rd class. I was a lab rat but during the last re-org I was moved back to tech support so I could share my upbeat demeanor and sparkling personality with all our technicians.

After I finish my day of crying, drinking and attempting suicide, I come home to my family where I am loved.

But... the kids need a college fund.

I'm not proud to admit this, but PHONECO* doesn't pay like it did before Y2K. Daddy's got to make some money somehow and since I have the only job that is worse than selling women's shoes, I have to turn to the best I can find after hours.

That's right... I'm a stripper.

I know, you are shocked. Prim and proper me, dropping trou to make some dough, but a guys got to do what a guys got to do.

Besides, it's a good paying gig. Sometimes I can make seven or eight bucks in tips.

Someday my kids will be as smart as Joe Biden...

Wait, they already are! Can I quit shaking my moneymaker now? I know God gave it to me so I should flaunt it, but I keep throwing my back out with my dance routine.

*PHONECO may or may not be the real name of the company I work for.

• Justin: I was going to write something really long, and I had started it, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m just going to pass the blame onto all the other procrastinators out there. I figure that if they can do it, so can I.

So I do.

So there.

• Michelle: Why do I procrastinate? As I sit here procrastinating on writing this post, getting annoyed with myself for not knowing what to write, and getting distracted by all kinds of things, it strikes me that that could be reason number one why I procrastinate when it comes to writing these posts. I never know what to say, and therefore say nothing at all.

However, in the grander scheme of things, I am a procrastinator in all aspects of life, which has caused me untold problems, some of which have led directly to my current state of life. I read once that procrastination in some people is due to them being Type A personalities that are afraid they will never be able to be perfect, so they put things off until the last minute so they have an excuse when things don’t turn out well. That could perhaps be my problem as well, although I don’t think it causes all of my procrastination.

So, upon the suggestion of @Falahime, I will say this: “Alright, 2 paragraphs later, and I still haven't come up with a good reason as to why I procrastinate. I suck.” Maybe that’s why I procrastinate, because I don’t know what else to do and I know it’ll never be perfect. Good enough excuse as any.

Now, since I put off writing this until the last minute and have no time left to proofread, I hope it isn’t too bad, and semi-readable. If not, eh, I put it off until the last minute, so it’s not my fault, it was time constraints.

The one in which we make fun of one of our own

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 22:14:00 +0000

If y’all hadn’t noticed, Kristin has skipped out on the past two questions. So, I asked The Panel:

Why do you think Kristin's opted out of two questions in a row?

It should be noted that I also encouraged The Panel to “get creative” with this one, and we’ve gotten some great responses.

It should be noted that I’ve given Kristin a chance to fire back at all of us for making fun of her, roast-style.

So, let’s get this crazy train started.

Also… be sure to vote in the poll in the sidebar. We want to know who you think had the best story!

• Houston: The question of what could be keeping Kristin from participating in The Panel’s questions haunted me long before the “Official” question was posed. Was she a secret agent? Was she a Libyan spy?

Was she a man?

Eventually I found out the “Truth.*”

Kristin is actually Barack Obama in disguise.

I know you are all rolling your eyes and saying “OK this is ANOTHER half baked fantasy like all the others,” just like all my doctors say, but hear me out.

Have you ever seen Kristin and Barak Obama together in the same room?

Have you ever seen Kristin’s birth certificate?

Where was Kristin this week? My money says she was in Copenhagen pitching Chicago in the Olympics for 2016.

Truth be told, last November she was really busy for some reason, and I don’t recall seeing her on 20th of January.

THIS was the final “Proof**”. The “Smoking Gun” so to speak:

I rest my case.

*Truth may not actually be truthful.
**Proof may or may not be a little shaky and may or may not be confirmed and/or fully vetted.

• Justin: It's my personal belief that Kristin went into hiding because she finally realized that I wasn't really going to marry her and had to come to grips with it.

"Why the hell would she care?" you ask? Let me explain. About two months ago, Kristin asked me on Twitter if she'd marry me. Thinking she was joking, I said I'd do it.
Well, it turned out that she wasn't joking after all. It started harmlessly, she'd simply send me racy emails and ask me when I was flying out to Vegas to do it. I wasn't too concerned about it at the time, but it just kept getting weirder.

After about two weeks, UPS started delivering boxes from her to my door. I'm still not sure how she got my address, but somehow she did. Out of curiosity, I opened the box. It had a letter written in lipstick that read "You could be ripping these off of me," a bra, and panties. Apparently used. With no need for these things, I sent them on to Houston's son since I figured he'd get more enjoyment out of them.

Dammit, Houston had a blog post about finding stashes of panties in his son's room, but I can't find it. Did you delete it, Houston? I was going to use that! Anyway, trust me, THE WIFE really did find two stashes in there. I swear!

Anyway, back to my story. I kept getting these packages about twice a week. I was kinda flattered, but kind of creeped out too. More creeped out, though.

Just before she took her "hiatus," she sent me an envelope that I opened. When I opened it, there was a huge poof of powder, and a note. Apparently she'd gotten sick of waiting and bought me a one-way ticket on Southwest from Houston-Hobby to Vegas and promised to pick me up at the airport. This was when I realized I had to talk to her about things.

I called her up and told her: "That was an awesome gesture, and I was blown off my feet by it, but I just don't fly Southwest. I know bags fly free and all, but the singing flight attendants scare the crap out of me!"

And that's how I didn't marry the most beautiful woman in Las Vegas.

What was the question again?

• Mollie Katie: So. Kristin. You've missed two questions for The Panel in a row. You say you've been "busy" with work and school. But we both know that's a lie! There's something...sinister...going on here. And I'm going to expose the truth to the world!

You're undervalued at work. You have fantastic ideas that will bring the company's success to new heights. But no one reads your carefully researched memos. Boss man gives you tasks beneath your skill set. You fetch his coffee, plotting. You think, He wants a secretary? I'll be his bloody secretary! Complete with sexy secretary heels of the day! If you follow @aka_kristin on Twitter, then you know allllll about the #SSH. That's how it started.

But the sexy secretary heels only made the boss man pay attention to you in the worst way possible. He brushes up against your chest in the break room by the coffee machine. When you get inventory from the top shelf, boss man "helps" you keep your balance on the tall ladder by grabbing your ass. You go home every day, enjoying your popsicle time and sublimating your rage.

One day boss man overhears you taking to a co-worker about how tired and sore you are from working from sunup to sundown without a break. I could really go for a massage, you say. Of course, he seizes the opportunity to rub your shoulders and sends the co-worker away so he can have you alone. He whispers in your ear, "Do I make you horny, Kristy? Randy? Do I, baby?" And that's it. You snap. You think, You're so unoriginal that you're taking pickup lines from Austin Powers?! And you don't even get my fucking name right!!! I'm just a part of your harem of FemBots, aren't I? Oh yeah? You just wait! I'll show you!

Kristin, you know it, I know it, and now the readership of The Panel knows it. You've been too "busy" these past two weeks to answer questions for The Panel because you've been turning your sexy secretary heels into machine guns. And you need to stop. Just because your sexiness is too much for boss man to contain himself is no reason to resort to workplace violence. Well, okay, you're allowed to do it just this once because, let's face it, I like the manparts but even I know that would be totally hot.

Terrorists and evil dictators of the world --- Bin Laden, Quaddafi, Chavez, Ahmadinejad... Eat your hearts out. We all know who the baddest bitch in town is. And she looks much hotter in stilettos than any of you do!

------

Jen and Michelle didn’t participate. Something about trying to save the world or something. I’m not really sure, I stopped listening when they said they weren’t doing this one.

Anywho, here’s Kristin’s response:

I miss two Panel questions and suddenly everyone is rife with speculation about what I've really been up to. Now I have to admit that your theories are brilliant, but mostly wrong. I'd love to tell you the REAL reason I missed the last two Panel questions, but I have a reputation to maintain. All I will say is this:

Oh, Justin, Justin, Justin. I am deeply disappointed and more than a little concerned for you. How could you say that I did all those things when we both know the truth. We both know that it was you who sent me the racy emails, and the woman's panties and bras. (Which by the way, you have excellent taste, but it was a little creepy, especially because they were all in the right size for me.) Just one question....did you try them on?

Mollie Katie, sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. You get extra points for the Popsicle picture. I am indeed, the baddest bitch in town. And I do look much hotter in stilettos. So thank you for that. I'm always up for a little workplace violence when the hags make me angry. Which is usually everyday, so that wouldn't explain my absence either. However, whenever I see my boss now, I'm automatically going to think Austin Powers and start laughing.

Finally, Houston...I guess there is really only one thing I can say. I AM Barrack Obama. I do make a beautiful woman, do I not?

------

Just a friendly reminder that we’re on Twitter and Facebook.

Freebie cheat

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 14:15:00 +0000

[Photo via FreeDigitalPhotos.net]

First, I’d like to announce that The Panel is on Twitter. You can follow our account, @ThePanel_Blog, for notifications whenever we have a new post.

Now on to our main business:

After seeing a tweet a few weeks ago, I sent the following message to all the members of The Panel:

Let's say you and your significant other have an agreement where you're allowed to cheat with one... and only one... person that you declare to be your person ahead of time... basically a free cheat.

Who would your free cheat be?

Here are their responses:

• Jen: This post is all about whom my “freebie” would be if I was given the luxury of 1) picking someone who would agree to this scheme, and 2) I was in a relationship to begin with. Oh and 3) they allowed “freebies” in said imagined relationship. I admit I have a lot of guys I would be happy to pick if I was going by looks alone. And my short list wouldn’t be very short if they were to make the cut based on looks and personality. I am not super picky about personality, especially when you only know what the tabloids say or their publicist wants you to know.

Oddly enough my short list contains men mostly from the UK. I don’t think it’s the accent because they come and go depending on roles they play; maybe we just have a plethora of men from the UK. But one stand out American was Ron Livingston. I have not watched him in a lot of his movies, “Band of Brothers” was enough for me to decide this guy was complex and most importantly, in need of love and understanding. Oh wait, that was his character. Details. Another American on the list would have to be Robert Downey, Jr. Now he IS broken, no doubt about it, and good looking and talented. Those were my short list Americans, but they didn’t actually make it to the top spot.

Onto my UK picks. One of them would be Ron Livingston’s cast mate in “Band of Brothers”, Damian Lewis. Pretty much, again, because of his character in that production. Oh, the strong silent type with a sardonic sense of humor. Does it get any better? Well, it must, because he wasn’t my top pick either. Then there is Matthew MacFadyen. He was in MI-5 for years and was Darcy in the 2005 production of “Pride and Prejudice” opposite Keira Knightley. I’m telling you, if you can watch him in either of those roles and not develop a serious crush, you have no heart. Or sex drive. But believe it or not, he was not my top pick either.

I could continue on with picks, but they would all start to sound the same. Good looking (at least to me) and either British or Scottish and maybe an Irishman or two. So, drum roll please. My top pick would be, oh I am so predictable, Ewan McGregor. Jedi Knight, singing and dancing fool, heroin addict, it doesn’t matter, he’s awesomely awesome. And he even seems to be a nice, regular guy. He’s married of course, so his wife needs to agree to this little arrangement, but when she does, I’ll be ready and waiting.

• Justin: I have to admit I didn’t really do much thinking on this because I had the flu for a good chunk of the last week.

If you’d come to be a couple years ago, I would have said Jennifer Morrison, but she should have never dyed her hair blonde. I don’t have anything against blondes, but it just doesn’t work for her.

So, I’m afraid I’ll have to fall back to Mia Kirshner, who I’ve had a thing for since I first saw her on 24.

• Mollie Katie: If I get a "free cheat", I would use it on one of the New York Yankees. Derek Jeter, Johnny Damon, Nick Swisher ---whoever has been "Mr. Clutch Performer" this season. If you follow me in Twitter, you know that I am an avowed member of Red Sox Nation. Die-hard, superstitious about lingerie and pants and couches, writing notes to GM Theo Epstein over Twitter as though we actually have a relationship, etc. So why use my "free cheat" on the Evil Empire? Simple. If you know anything about my life story, you know that wherever I go, bad luck follows. (Example: I move to New Orleans for college. Three days later the city gets annihilated with Hurricane Katrina. And when I try to go back several months later, the mold almost kills me. My doctor will not let me travel to the South without her approval now.) What I'm saying is, it would be awful. And not just because I suspect Jeter and A-Rod are lovers who have no experience having sex with a real woman. But because I would never feel clean again. (For the record, I'm open to dating Yankees fans with the understanding that if he knocks me up we're raising the kids as Red Sox fans, but players, HELL NO!) So... Dear Red Sox Nation, The sock on my doorknob means I'm busy LITERALLY "taking one for the team." You're welcome in advance for the upcoming World Series win. Love, Jinxy McDeath.

• Houston: I put this question off and put it off. It not a subject I feel comfortable with since I am married and have five kids. I love THE WIFE and obey her every whim and can't imagine ever being with anyone except her.

But still...

Who would I get jiggy with if I had a free shot?

The possibilities are endless. Or are they? I don't want to die.

You see when I was a young man I was infatuated with Wonder Woman. She was an Amazonian goddess and had powers normal women didn't have. She was also a hot tamale and the woman of my dreams. For this reason I choose to get jiggy with Wonder Woman with my free shot.

The best part is I am married to Wonder Woman (THE WIFE). But please don't tell anyone, it will blow her secret identity.

You won't tell? Thanks.

Oh and for the record, MY Wonder Woman doesn't have Irritable Bowell Syndrome.

-----

Kristin and Michelle both chose not to answer this one. Feel free to mock them for it in the comments.

But would the movie be any good?

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:13:00 +0000

Our latest question came from our very own Michelle:

Who would play you in a movie based on your life?

I’ll post Michelle’s first since it’s her question, then the rest as I got them:

• Michelle: When posed the question of who would play me in a movie based on my life, I broke my answer down in two ways: the ones who look like me and the ones who I think would be able to properly convey my style of weirdness onto the screen. To answer the first, I have chosen Michelle Williams as the one who would most look like me. (And if you were expecting someone else, too bad.)

However, I have a special brand of dark, weird, and creepy that makes me such a wonderful person (yes, I’m giggling at that wonderful person part too) and I do believe that it would take a different kind of attitude to portray that. As such, I think that I would have to choose from one of the three: Christina Ricci, Winona Ryder, or Rose McGowan. I, of course, am no Wednesday Addams, but it’s close enough.

• Houston: This is one that has me on edge, "Who would play me in a movie based on my life?

Wow, the possibilities.

OK, first choice is John Candy. Nice guy and he looks just like me with hair. Look at him.

Uncle Buck was awesome and just think, give him a buzzcut, grow the goatee...

What? He's dead?

Crap!

OK, let me think...

Got one! Chris Farley.

He doesn't look quite as much like me, but he still has kind of a resemblance to me. Another portly actor and the freakin' "Chippendale's" skit had me laughing my butt off!

What? You're kidding? He's dead too?

John Belushi? CRAP!

OK, wait a minute. What about Jack Black? Is he still alive?

OK, whew.

Jack and me are like peas in a pod.

OK, less like me and I am taller, but he plays guitar and sings, I play bass and... play bass.

Since all my guys are dead can Morgan Freeman narrate my story like "The Shawshank Redemption?" He's not dead yet is he? No? He will?

Good!

[Scene: Kitchen: Fade in from black. Back view of Houston (~~John Candy~~ ~~Chris Farley~~ ~~John Belushi~~ Jack Black) in his underwear (tighty whitey's) cooking on the stove singing to himself.]

Narrator - Houston was cooking some bacon on the day he was discovered as the most awesome guy in the world. Bacon being such a fabulous treat for such a fabulous guy. The chicks dug him too. More than an average man, he was almost...

What? What do you mean Morgan Freeman just quit?

Man, this question SUCKS!

• Mollie Katie: If a movie were to be made based on my life, it would probably be a slightly glorified version of the Lifetime "Movie Of The Week." In other words, the classic Ashley Judd lady-in-distress turned ass-kicker Hollywood movie. Which is fitting I guess, since of all the living actresses to choose from, Ashley Judd was the first who came to mind in terms of resemblance. Allegedly... I will not reveal my physical resemblance over the interwebs, because I don't trust this series of tubes and the freaks who use it. Myself included. Actually, the more I think about it the more I would completely resist turning my life story into a movie because it would be the kind of feel-good crap I absolutely detest watching. So I'm changing my answer to Ava Gardner, who is a much more difficult actress to obtain for the part, in that she's dead. Problem solved. You're welcome, America. One less awful movie for you!

• Justin: This is a tough one. Especially since I’ve been crazy busy with rehearsing for a performance this past Saturday night all week. But I’ll try to anyway.

I can’t think of any actors that look like me, but I can think of one that yells like me.

Al Pacino.

So I’d have to go with him just for that.

• Jen: For this post we were asked to pick someone that we would like to see play us in a movie of our lives. And while I do not feel that my life would make the most interesting story for the big or small screen I guess we have all asked ourselves this question at some time in our lives. I wish I could say that there was a long list of potential people banging around up in my head but there really isn’t. I’m not so unique that someone couldn’t pull it off and probably make me a more interesting person to boot, but I hate suggesting that anyone would be like me because they might hate the idea. But I thought for a week, yes a week, and finally after finding out that dead people qualify, it came to me instantly.

Jean Arthur. I think that maybe I am stretching it a bit, but I loved the characters she played and she managed to bring such humor and earnestness to her roles. I would love to be a character she played, maybe more than I think I deserve to have her play me in a movie. There are similarities, I try to go through my life with humor and good grace. I believe (still) in the innate goodness of people and that it wins out over the evil in the world. She played ‘Clarissa Saunders’ in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” and while she started out slightly jaded, she was soon overcome with the innocence and determination of James Stewart’s character, Mr. Smith. In “You can’t take it with you” she plays ‘Alice Sycamore’, the lone sane member of a family full of loving but slightly demented people. She comes across so well in that movie; you just love her all the more for it. And then there was the type of role she played when she took on the movie “Shane”.

Yeah, I think I could stand to have my life played out on the screen by Jean Arthur. Her voice, meh, maybe not so much. I don’t have the squeaky voice she does but that is of no consequence. I have a very non-descript voice so it might lend some character to the role. Her beauty outshines mine but that’s my secret, her hair was usually blonder and she while she was shorter than me by a whole inch, she was most certainly thinner and smarter, but I think she could’ve dumbed down for the role.

Kristin has elected to skip this question.

Name inspiration

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 14:58:00 +0000

[Technical notes: You can hover over a picture to see the animal’s name and click on the pictures for larger versions.]
The following question was inspired by Houston’s five year old daughter, Lucie, who was looking at pictures of my dogs with her daddy and wanted to know how they got their names. So, I ask The Panel:

How did your pets get their names?

The answers, in order received, because I’m lazy.
• Jen: Their breeder named them.
• Justin: I’ll go in order, from oldest to youngest:
Taffy was named by the German Shepherd rescue group that my uncle adopted her from. She’d been abused as a puppy and was taken in by them. She didn’t take well to being at their facility, so she was placed with a foster family and was named Taffy because she “sticks to you like taffy.” There was no doubt she was my uncle’s dog. When he died, she didn’t eat for a week because she missed him so much. My grandmother ended up taking her in when the family that was keeping her moved and couldn’t bring her with them.
Bruiser was named before I got a mile after picking him up. He was a pretty big puppy… twice the size of his sister and quite clumsy. My mom threw out that idea and it stuck. Of course, later that day he lived up to the name when, playing on the floor, I was thumped in the eye by his tail and wound up with a scratched cornea.
Petey was named by my mom. She breeds shelties and had intended to use him as a stud, but for reasons I probably shouldn’t get into on the blog, he wasn’t really fit for it so she gave him to us. I’m really not sure where his name came from.

• Mollie Katie: How did our pets get their names? Well, right now my family --- that is, my Mom, my sister, and I --- have five cats. We joke that we're the "Home For Wayward Pets" because all the animals we've had over the years have been shelter or rescue acquisitions. We tend to take a lot of animals with medical problems as well; one of our current cats, Rita, takes people-medicine to control her asthma and another cat, Maggie, came with ear mites that would have caused her to be euthanized due to the cost of treatment had we not adopted her. On Twitter, you may see me Tweet often about my little grey cat Rita, who is the asthmatic cripple kitty and matches her asthmatic cripple owner. She lives in our finished basement separately from all the other cats, because one day she came home from the animal hospital smelling medicine-y and the other cats have never been friendly with her since. I'm her mom, and she is my furbaby. Over the years, our furry little family has included two gerbils, two guinea pigs, one chinchilla, and a total of eight cats. Right now we just have five cats, which is a relatively small number compared to the menagerie we're usually running. From eldest to youngest they are named Oliver (the only boy-cat), Maggie, Rita, Weasel and Libby. We named Oliver after the "Oliver and Company" Disney movie about cats. All of the other cats came with their names with the exception of Weasel. We got Maggie, Rita, and Weasel at the same time from the local animal shelter but Weasel also came pre-named Maggie. We thought this would be confusing, and Weasel didn't really fit with the name Maggie, so we set out to re-name her. After lots of debate, we settled on the name Starlix. But she soon took to stealing various items including Q-Tips, earrings, loose change, scissors, bottle tops from the recycling bin, and anything remotely shiny and hiding the items behind our bathroom door. I was once so frustrated looking for a pair of earrings that I finally found in her bathroom hiding spot that I yelled at her, "Stop stealing my things, you dirty stinking thieving little weasel!" And the name Weasel just stuck after that. She looks like a Weasel, always up to no good and super-lovey-affectionate so you can't be mad at her. Weasel has bonded the most closely with me (although she'll love whoever is around if it gets her out of trouble), which is very fitting if you've known me a while...

I would encourage anyone looking for a new pet to consider looking at their local animal shelter first! I know from experience how lovely these animals can be. And if you're not in the market for pet adoption, please visit The Animal Rescue Site and click the button, which is a ***FREE*** way to give approximately 0.6 bowls of pet food with each click to those animals in need. You can click as many times as you want in a day, or like me you can click once a day and incorporate this website into your daily internet use, just as checking e-mail and playing on Twitter have become regular activities. The Animal Rescue Site also sells animal-related products for pets and their humans with proceeds also benefiting animals in need, should you be in the market for those kinds of goods. I hope everyone reading our blog today will click on over! Thank you all!

• Houston: Our family has a slew of pets so this may take a while.

Let’s start with our dog, Angel. THE WIFE will tell you she was named by our oldest son who said she “Was almost an angel,” on the drive home. Me personally I like to remind the neighborhood “Angel” is short for “Angel of DEATH!” She is a sweet and loving dog… because I feed her the flesh of day laborers and hookers I bring home.

Next up are the three cats. Boo, Nancy and Sato.

Boo is our oldest cat and is known for Cat-Capsizing in front of us which involved walking directly in front of you and suddenly tucking her head under he front paws and rolling in a half-assed summersault till she plops on her side in your path. Her ability to do this to block our path has earned her the nickname BABBA-The-BUTT. Boo also has some freakish fetish for licking glass and plastic and is the sole cat responsible for attacking my feet under the bathroom door when I get out of the shower.
I have given so much blood for her amusement…

In short, she needs therapy. Oh, and we named her Boo because we got her right before Halloween.

Nancy is our extremely neurotic cat who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for reasons unknown. I honestly don’t know why the hell she’s named Nancy. I blame my son Christopher as he pulled that one out of thin air. I plan on cutting back her espresso intake to see if she “Evens out.”
Sato is the 800 pound baby of the cats. He is some kind of sicko rag-doll cat so he is nothing but dead weight every time you try to pick him up. Think of trying to pick up a fourteen pound wad of fuzzy chewing gum from hot pavement.

I blame him for my bad back.

Benjamin named him after a Japanese friend of ours. Of course I made the mistake of telling some other Japanese friends of mine, so the original Sato now has to take a bunch of crap thanks to me. You’re welcome, Sato.

Our newest member of the family is Agent Rico which is Lucie’s guinea pig. I made the mistake of calling him “Rico” instead of “Agent Rico.” I will not make that mistake again. Agent Rico was named after an online vote at THE WIFE’s blog.

All in all, I lead a legion of evil pets whose sole purpose is world domination. We will not be denied.

• Kristin: Kinki and Twinki. Those are my Chihuahuas. Why? The reasons? I can't say for sure. Kinki, the black one, was supposed to be named Kiki, according my mom, who took me by surprise one Christmas Eve and came to see me at work with a little black puppy peeking at me from her purse. I thought Kiki was too cutesy and cliché. I wanted her to have a bad a-- name, how Kinki fit that description, I'm not sure. Some (you know who you are) speculate that Kinki's name is a reflection of her owner, to which I can say I have no idea what those people are talking about.

One year later, almost the same situation. Christmas Eve, I get home really late (for me anyway) after spending a fun filled evening/night with @aka_cody and @aka_Rhys and I'm very sad and almost tearful because that was our last friend event before they moved away to D.C. (They came to their senses and moved back, thank goodness, but I digress.) I'm oblivious to my mom and brother staring at me expectantly...then I see a little white speckled thing cuddled next to Kinki. My brother actually chose the name Twinki---because it rhymed and she's sort of Twinkie colored. I wanted to name her Pancakes. Doesn't matter, really. Typical conversation in my house:

Me: Hey! Where is Twinki?
Mom: Where's who?
Me: Twinki!
Mom: Twinki or Kinki?
Me: The WHITE ONE!
The End.

• Michelle: I've always been something of a history buff, and am especially fascinated with the ancient Egyptians and their gods. When I got my current cat, a solid black cat, I named him Anubis. Anubis was the god to protect the dead and bring them to the afterlife, and is usually depicted as being a black jackal. Since my kitten was all black, it seemed appropriate. Of course, he usually just gets called Little Boy or whatever pet name I saddle him with at the time.

Our Twitter addictions

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 12:16:00 +0000

Welcome back from Labor Day, our loyal readers! Hope your respective holidays went well. Here’s the latest question posed to The Panel:

How did you get started on Twitter?

Their answers, this time in the order in which they were received:

• Jen: On April 3^rd of this year my home was burgled of just about everything. My birthday was April 4^th and it made a terrible birthday gift. I work full time and am enrolled as a full time student. I was on Fluoxotine for depression and anxiety at the time of the burglary. After a week or so of increasing anxiety from the incident, my doctor thought we should increase my dosage of the Fluoxotine. That week I also decided to get texting on my phone. Something I had never had before. It was for school, primarily, and I had no real interest in it for anything else.

During the following week after my dosage increase, I started a pattern of behavior that was a little alarming but I was not cognizant of the causes. Manic behavior had set in and in there somewhere I decided to look at Twitter. I was already on Facebook, but I wasn’t terribly active as far as status updates went. And all I had really heard about Twitter was it was like Facebook’s status updates, but with 140 characters. In the very beginning I had no idea what I was doing, I had no personal friends on the network to help me along in getting it down. So I started slowly and with mistakes along the way. At the same time a little bit of a political and religious fervor had been kindled in me, thanks to the manic state I was in. I had questions, lots and lots of questions. And I thank the heavens I met up with some of the people I did.

As per the usual for me and anything I do, I went from zero to a zillion in one week. I had one focus and it was Twitter. I figured out the “follow” thing, the posting thing the kinds of questions to ask and I stayed away from the emo stuff, even though that’s where I was. I tried to follow a variety of people, convinced some personal friends and family to start and there I was. About two weeks into it and I was rolling. About this time I figured out that my medicine was making me a crazy person and I talked to my doctor and we agreed that I needed to do something different. The unfortunate thing was I could not just stop taking the meds. I had to wean myself off. That was going to take two weeks, yikes.

So at this point in the story it’s been a month, I have changed my medicine and all, but I am still hooked on Twitter. I have developed a sense of community, I like the people I follow and enjoy the humor, wisdom and insight I get from it. I may not be manic anymore, but I don’t want to stop Twittering. So I continue along, a little less intense, a little less full of questions and anxiety. I can read and take it in, process in what I like and cycle out what I don’t need. People say that you cannot form a bond with this kind of networking, that in the end it’s all bullshit. I don’t agree. Of the people I follow, I know only a handful personally and I interact with them on Twitter almost never. But if I talk to someone there on an almost daily basis, even about the mundane, I have a connection to that person and if I get a sense of that person and how they might really be in life, I would do for them what I would do for a friend in the flesh.

I have now been twittering for all of 4-ish months and I am a little more casual with it and my contributions a little less deep and insightful. I never wanted to post unless it seemed brilliant. Now my followers get who I am and if I have lost a few people along the way, well, so be it. I am still in school for the next 2 months and it’s going to be even harder for me to be online and hooked up, but I look forward to continuing my relationship with Twitter and the bonds, even the slight ones, which I have formed. I live by the thought that if you have impacted my life in some way, it’s for a reason and I think twitter is in my life for a reason.

• Houston: It all began with me in the airport for a ride back to Dallas from Cleveland. I was coming back from a visit to see my cousin Earl’s new boobs he had just bought and like most guys who are waiting on a plane, I got to the airport and decided to get a bite to eat. I chose some fly-by-night restaurant which specialized in mongo burritos. Now, for most folks this means nothing, but for a man without a gall bladder every meal is rolling the dice on your colon’s reaction. Sometime you win, sometimes you crap your pants.

The plane began boarding and as I popped into my seat I felt the first gurgle of unease. I felt the next gurgle and realized I was in trouble. I was moments away from the first gut clenching cramps that would have me soiling myself in agony.

I hopped up from my seat and accidently fired off a bit of a squeaker in the face of the guy in 18-C (Sorry dude) as I charged to the closest lavatory. Gasping for breath and with eyes watering the flight attendant tried to tell me something about FAA regulations but I charged through the door and slammed the door in her face. With practiced ease I contorted my body into the un-natural shape needed for aircraft crappers and took my seat upon the throne.

The first staccato blasts of the hellish frenzy racked my body and as my eyes watered I saw black spots dance before my eyes. The pain and relief were interrupted by the flight attendant beating on the lavatory door and telling me I “Could not use the restroom while the aircraft was on the ground.”

I felt it necessary to point out to the attendant the fact I most assuredly HAD used the restroom and the raging storm which was my bowels would not be denied. She then shared the vital piece of information that the lavatory did not function while the engines were not running.

I quickly became aware of the fact the amazing blue water did not empty (until it crested and deposited the overflow into my slacks). The attendant was alerted to the problem either by the screams of the fat guy in the toilet or the flood of blue water freely flowing under the door. I was trapped in the blue hell of an airline toilet with my slacks around my ankle screaming like a little girl on a rollercoaster.

By the time maintenance was able to crack the door to get me out, I looked like one of the “Blue Man Group” and was briskly escorted from the plane by US Marshalls. I was then added to the do not fly list with Usama Bin Ladin, Al-Sawahiri, and Cat Stevens.

Besides being banned for life from Cleveland, I suffered severe emotional scars which I hope to heal through the love and forgiveness I find through internet anonymity.

Twitter is my escape to once again seek normalcy. Because on Twitter, no one can smell your screams.

• Mollie Katie: I actually got started on Twitter last spring when I was at school. I was bullied into it by my friends Stephanie and Kim, because they were always texting me for dinner plans and the like. I didn't have a texting plan at the time (I just recently got one, it's all so very exciting for a Luddite like me) so Twitter was a free option. I got hooked in with the "Red Eye" crowd...and as my friends grew disillusioned and cut back, I developed a Twitter addiction. Which is how I met all of the wonderful people on The Panel. Not very exciting, but a true story.

• Michelle: Short, simple, and sweet. I heard Andy Levy and Bill Schulz mentioning it on Red Eye and I was bored, so I set it up. Didn't do much with it, until the next time I got exceptionally bored with all my other social networking sites. I think I need a life. And that's that.

• Kristin: How did I get started on Twitter? I have a 'two birds, one stone' kind of answer. Sort of. I think I actually signed up for Twitter in 2008 via SMS for a school thing and had no idea what it was, just knew that I kept receiving really weird almost annoying text messages on my phone. I canceled that right away. It wasn't until January 2009 when I was watching TV's Andy Levy do the Red Eye Halftime Report that I noticed the "follow Andy around on Twitter" advertisement and the very next day (while at work no less) I found myself doing exactly that.

The two of my 'two birds' answer is of course, for those of you who know me, is always wrapped up in my PJ volunteering and being my 'research-y' self. Looking for the asshats that are creeping up on Twitter in the same fashion that they creep up on MySpace and Facebook. It was a slow start, but we've made a lot of progress. I would go into more detail on the subject, but privacy concerns and my own safety kind of trump my eagerness to share that part of my life with the world.

So, there you have it. My 'kill two birds with one stone' answer for why I joined Twitter. I will admit that I never expected to like it, to become as addicted to it as I am or to have made the friends and connections that I have made with people since joining Twitter. It took forever to convince my friends to join so that I would have someone to tweet with. but once they did, they too became addicts. My Twitter friends are a diverse bunch, some overlapping if you were to put them in groups--which never ceases to amaze me and all brought together by one website that still does not consider itself a social networking site.

• Justin: I got started on Twitter two years ago. I’d heard about it, but had never had real exposure to “tweeting” before @isfullofcrap took me to an Astros game for my birthday and he tweeted throughout the game. It was an ugly affair in which the Cardinals kicked our ass, so his tweets were the most interesting thing going on. I toyed with the idea for a while, but eventually decided to sign up.

[Just a friendly reminder, if you want to follow any, or all, of our writers, links to our Twitter accounts are on the right with our profiles.]

We’re on Facebook!

noreply@blogger.com (Justin) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 12:41:00 +0000

That’s right! Now you can become a fan of us on Facebook!

Here’s our page.

I promise that we won’t pollute your feed with tons and tons of posts, just a link whenever we update, maybe a few other fun things.

Who knows, maybe I’ll come up with some sort of contest.

Regular programming should resume after Labor Day, the next question is out to the Panel members right now.

The Panel

When Would You Want To Be?

You Are The Weakest Link - Goodbye

Drunk Olympics

Worst Dating Experience.... EVER!

Favorite Baseball Memory

Takin’ care of business

If you’re the only one in the house/apartment, do you close the door when you go to the bathroom?

Facebook games

What, if any, Facebook games do you play and why do you like them?

* I will forever maintain that my usage of the word "goddamn" in this particular response is in tribute to J.D. Salinger. Yes. ** No one needs to take me up on this, thanks.

This post is kind of like MythBusters, just without all the explosions

Is the way to a man's heart really through his stomach?

New year, new resolutions?

Memories we’d sometimes rather forget

What's your strangest Christmas memory?

Christmas spirit

What gets you in the Christmas spirit?

Shopping help

Cleaning out the fridge

What's the best thing to do with all those Thanksgiving leftovers?

The Panel and Holday Travel

The Panel takes on social networking

If you had to pick one social media outlet (Facebook, Twitter, etc.,) and you could only use it the rest of your life, which would it be?

This question will rot your brain

What’s your favorite TV show of all time?

What we did as kids

What's the craziest thing that either you did or happened to you in your childhood?

Theme songs

If you had a theme song, what would it be?

I would have posted this two days ago, but…

Why do you procrastinate?

The one in which we make fun of one of our own

Why do you think Kristin's opted out of two questions in a row?

Freebie cheat

Who would your free cheat be?

But would the movie be any good?

Who would play you in a movie based on your life?

Name inspiration

How did your pets get their names?

Our Twitter addictions

How did you get started on Twitter?

We’re on Facebook!

* I will forever maintain that my usage of the word "goddamn" in this particular response is in tribute to J.D. Salinger. Yes.
** No one needs to take me up on this, thanks.