T.Lizzle Home Ownizlle

That's right you are blogging with a certified home own. I move in the weekend after Easter.

Well I occasionally feel the need to run and hide and never admit I signed a THIRTY YEAR morgage! That is a commitment longer than my life thus far. How am I supposed to know what Trey 2036 will want when Trey 2006 is still confused. I'm not good with commitment, I fear it.

On the other hand I am relieved to have a place that is my own. No more rent, no more guest bedrooms, no more toenail clipping in the butter.

Things I need for my new home:
Better TV
XBox 360
New Tile for Kitchen
Lawnmower
Interior Decoration
Maid Service
Live in cook
Pet Jackal
Hardwood floor protectors for sofa and other stuff.
Something to put in those rooms that will be mostly empty.
Bookshelves
New Recliner

The problem is these aren't typical housewarming gifts... so the chances of me getting a Pet jackal are pretty low. I'd be happy if I got: Bread (so no one would go hungry), salt (so my life may always have flavor) and... what was the other thing they gave people in It's a Wonderful Life? Wine? Cheese? Sausage? Lets be safe and get all three.

"You've got too much time on your hands!"

Ok, this has become my All-Time A-Number-One Least Favorite Saying. Here is my reasons why, they are tseven-fold:

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - People say it at the drop of a hat. An otherwise overworked person can put their feet up for 15 seconds and be told they have too much time on their hands!

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - It implies you are a better person than I am because you are busy! Since when did being busy become a moral good. I know you American Pigdogs think there is no higher ethic than to be so busy you can't get it all done. Let me quote Dr. Phil, "How's that working out for you?" Are you really enjoying your life so full of crud you can't even fathom my freedom?

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - Comes from a place of jealousy. The overworked soccer mom sees that I've made a Kinex Roller coaster and a pang of the green eyed monster makes them remember when they had hobbies and free time. Don't blame me, you're the breeder. You made the choices in your life and I made the choices in mine, my choices result in time on my hands. (Also I've had blood on my hands, dirt under my nails but never time "on" my hands. I wear a watch but that is "on" my wrist.)

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - People don't realize how angry it makes me to hear this! They are insensitive (a failing I've fallen into in the past, just ask Katie). I've sense reformed can you? I know I'm a bad person but I refuse to accept spare time a vice not a virtue.

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - Some people seem to think spare time is sinful. Although everyone knows "Idle hands are the devil's playthings." This isn't really a scripture, it has the moral athority of "An apple a day keeps the doctor away" has medical authority. Have we forgotten the Sabbath? The day of rest baby, live it.

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - This implies I have more time than you do. Wrong we have the same 24 hours a day. The same 525,960 minutes minutes a year! And to be honest my eating and workout habits imply I have less time to live than some of you healthy people! You've got more time than I do!

"You've got too much time on your hands!" - It somehow gives you the right to tell me what I should be doing. My Sister not only does she think I've got too much free time she also thinks it's her job to fill it up. Maybe I have free time not because I do less, I just get more done faster than you do. How? I don't spend time telling others what to do.

I say, "You've got too little time on your hands!"

If I were king of the forest...

If I were king of the forest...

... I cut down a lightpole in your mall for every tree you cutdown in my domain.

... I'd eat more read meat, also I'd cook it less.

... I'd force lesser animals to re-enact scenes from my life for my amusement.

Puma (as King Trey) reclines with his legs up on a table blocking the path.
Gazelle (as Maggie) annoyed legs block her path: Move it or loose it!
Puma: I choose loose it!

... I'd remane the days of the weeks. Churchday, Grumpday, Twosday, Churchday the Less, Thurpenstein's Day, TGIF, and Lazyday.

... Every February is "Reverse Foodchain Month" where animals eat in the opposite order. Also the grass gets to eat one herbivore per acre. This will teach you not to waste food.

... Cars with less than 60 mpg will be melted and crushed into cubes. These cubes will be used to make a wall to keep hippies out of my forrest. Commune with nature elsewere loosers!

... Simpler laws will be in place. There are three kinds of punishment. 1) You get eaten. 2) You get a big bite taken out of you and might die. 3) Someone gets to take a nibble out of you.

... People who don't like the way we do Churchday will be given one chance to change then will be melted and crushed into cubes. These cubes will be used to make a smaller wall around the big wall.

... There will be no soccer in the forrest or neighboring plains anyone caught playing soccer will have a big bite taken out of them and a nibble out of their ball.

... There shall be ample parking in the forrest.

... Teenagers who complain about thier parents not caring even though those parents bought 100 rolls of gift wrap so their kid could get to go to Chucky Cheese shall be eaten.

... LTC practice shall not excede 1 hour a week. Choose one event and quit freaking out.

... Water pollution will be frowned upon.

... All elections shall be held at the old rotten log by the stream. All are allowed to vote but those who vote for the looser will have nibble taken out them and the loser of the election shall be eaten.

If I were king of the forest my mane would be essentially unchanged.

Complaints about long posts

Who do you think you're talking to?!

Tower of Babel Poetry: To Dance

After the last two lengthy posts I think you all deserve a short one. So I submit to you an art form of my own creation.

Introducing Trey Laminack's

Tower of Babel Poetry

Tower of Babel Poetry is created by puting an original English poem into a online translator for some other language. Then translateing the other language back into English. If it works for stereo instructions think what it could to for poetry. I often wondered if this new art form is the real reason God scrambled our languages.

Take your time and enjoy the Babel version first, it is the finished product.

Babel Version of "To dance":
It is a pity to me, that I cannot dance, but legs are in boots of cement.
About to resemble the ballerina or person of the bat.
But I am doomed and in a trap by gravity of mother.
Alas! Alas! Alas! But my soul can dance in my dreams.

Russian Version "станцевать":
Мне жаль, что я не могу танцевать, когда, но ноги находятся в ботинках цемента.
О, чтобы походить на балерину или Денщика.
Но я обречен и заманен в ловушку(пойман) серьезностью матери.
Увы! Увы! Увы! Но моя душа может танцевать в моих мечтах.

Original English Version "To Dance":
I wish I could dance but my feet are in cement shoes.
Oh, to be like a ballerina or Batman.
But I am doomed and trapped by mother gravity.
Alas! Alas! Alas! But my soul may dance in my dreams.

Isn't it strange how wrong and right the translation can be. Compare the English to the Babel version. I particularly like "in a trap by gravity of mother." And isn't it strange that "my soul may dance in my dreams" translates almost perfectly!

It's art. A new art. A postmodern art. Invented by me baby, ME! You heard it here first people.

Wuss Factor

Part of being a guestroom nomad is making friends with the natives. Last week during spring break Gwen and Graham wanted to go shoot a BB gun and I asked if they new any out of the way wooded areas nearby that would be safe. Gwen did.

What she failed to mention that to get to this nature trail we had to cross a little creek. I've seen many just like it. Locals were fishing on either bank. The creek was about 20 feet wide and probably only 5 feet deep in the middle. But of course there was no way to cross this thing nearby like a bridge or catapult. Nope, all there was was a large rusty pipe that emerged from the bank on one side of the creek and disappeared into the other. The pipe is like three feet in diameter.

Did I forget to mention this pipe is like 10 or 15 feet above the water? Well it was. When we get to the "bridge" there is a kid sitting in the middle fishing. He hops up and get out of the way like it's no big deal and Gwen and Graham skip across to the other side like they are walking on a sidewalk. I hesitate, then slowly panic internally trying to hold onto a calm exterior.

Ok so you are asking yourself, what's the big deal? It's just a pipe, walk across. But the geometry of this perfect cylinder got to me. I knew there was no level surface to walk on. It was all curved! There is no flat plan on a circle! Every foot I put down either had to be directly in the middle of the pipe which made me walk like a tightrope walker. Or I had to accept that the angle of the circle was running out beneath my foot and walk normally. Both feet angled different directions.

In the 10 seconds it took my cohorts to cross the pipe of death I played out 100 scenarios. Should I call them back? Should I cross? If I cross will I fall? If I fall will my cellphone survive? If I fall will I fall to one side or will I first land on my groin? My brain was working against me, I had an extensive collection of geometry, physics and America's Funniest Home Videos to draw from in my databanks.

They cross and look back, I can see they are exhilarated by their little brush with danger. And they are starting to laugh (along with like 12 Hispanic kids who are fishing nearby) because I'm walking 4 inches at a time both feet facing the same direction. I did this because I didn't want to have to lift one foot off the pipe and cross it over the other foot, I was shuffling along. Graham and Gwen took turn encouraging and laughing at me.

Anyway the kids are laughing and I'm like 1/3 across. And there is an unexpected obstacle. There is a little outlet valve that juts up in my path. I'll have to step over. I've given up trying to be cool, my knees are knocking. The mother with her fishing kids shushs them because they are being rude but their sudden silence seems to place more pressure on me. She is shushing them because she knows I'm scared and that I might fall. This is bad, because until now I was the only person who thought I was going to fall and now I had a second opinion.

"I'd like to raise a motion that Trey fall in the drink and embarrass himself."
"Second!"

That was the real problem, embarrassment. I can swim like a sea lion. I have fallen from higher places. I've climbed ladders and worked in theatrical rigging a hundred feet higher and over harder surfaces. But I wasn't afraid then. I have wondered why. The difference in those time is I had something to grab with my hands. I have a knee injury that never lets me trust putting weight on my knee, I've learned to really trust my mighty ropy strong arms and hands. Not my knobby prone-to-abandon-me knees. But what I was afraid of was not injury it was the fear of looking like an idiot. And it was the fear of fear. Anyway back to the story.

I take a deep breath and pray, literally pray that I make it across safely, and step over the giant obstacle of the outlet valve in my path (the valve was probably 2 inches tall). I really want to credit God with quelling my panic because after the nubbin in the path I began to walk facing forward foot over foot and made better time. I even got my head together enough to say, "I feel like I'm on fear factor!" Which Gwen and Graham (and the 12 Hispanic Fishers and their madre) thought was funny. When they laughed I smiled and before I knew it I was on the other other side. It felt good to be alive.

Gwen and Graham tried to give me grief but I just said, "But I made it!" They didn't understand that it was a victory for me even if it wasn't pretty. Besides their teenage brains have fully developed. The last thing to formalize in the brain is a sense of the reality of danger. This is why young men make good soldiers. They have a fully formed body but can take risks older people wouldn't. But I had survived my encounter with the pipe of death.

Yes, it turns out I'm a wuss, I was as surprised as you.

We have 39 more days of this?

I feel like Shem, no wait… Japheth, he was the funny one, on days like today. I drove to work after lunch and was assaulted by water. H20 and lots of it. At the bottom of every hill was a giant two lane puddle in the road.

On Kingsley I saw the water push up and aside a manhole cover. I know what your thinking, "No big deal, the ninja turtles move those aside with one hand." But in the real world they are very heavy and to be forced up by water pressure is amazing.

There were people driving 5 mph with their emergency blinkers on in the center lane. People were flipping out. I can only imagine how the inhabitants of the world in Noah's time felt when the heavy rains began...

My day started well. Ham was cross checking his list of animals. Two pairs of everything... and 7 of the clean animals. Ham was always forgetting there had to be 7 of the clean animals. He just kept concentrating on the twozy twozy and forgot the septuzy septuzy. Of course, dad's golden boy Shem has the easy job, triple checking the gopher wood for holes. But dad had given me a very important job.

"Japheth," He said in his dad voice, "you have a very important job." I told you he gave me an important job. "Take this," he said. And by “this” he meant an oxgoad. An oxgoad is a long stick with a metal tip used to move herd animals around. "I'd like you to..."

"Loading the ox?"

"Can I finish what I was saying?"

"I just thought I was..."

"Can I finish!?" He pauses for a long time giving me the dad-eye until he was certain I'd let him finish. "I want you to use this to beat back all the people who want to get on the ark. If they make it onboard we'll capsize and all of us will die."

"What?"

"If anyone tries to get on the ark hit them with the pointy bit."

"Won't that hurt?"

"Yes, it will but because..."

"Then why..."

"Can I finish!?" Another long pause. "It will hurt but because they are all going to drown to death it doesn't really matter." I just nodded, he wasn't in the mood to hear that drown to death was a redundancy, but look who I'm talking about; every other animal on the ark is a redundancy.

Later that morning the rains began. I had never seen rain. Nobody had. It was panic, bedlam, mass hysteria, dogs and cats living together. I would have said it was a disaster of “Biblical proportions” but the Bible had not been written yet, and the disaster we were in would set the high water mark (literally) for what a “Biblical proportion” could be. Since I couldn’t say that, I just said, "It's a disaster."

People wigged out at first, but after 12 hours they calmed down. It was just water. We didn't have paved roads or artificial parking lots to funnel water into annoying places so most of it just ran down the hill. Of course the people at the bottom of the hill were upset (all their stuff was wet you see). But the people on the top of hill didn't mind so much. People just moved uphill and hoped to wait it out.

It was about 5pm when people started to come to see Noah. They had all laughed at our ark. They said: “Who needs an ark?” “What’s an Ark” and “You guys are stupid.” But not always in that order. Well when they saw that gopher wood floated but their houses did not, they started to change their tune. Dad told them to leave as the other two boys loaded the luggage. (Luggage for 4 women can be quite extensive. Although this time I didn’t blame my wife because how do you pack for Armageddon.)

So there I was with the oxgoad and an angry mob quickly forming. Old Methuselah was there, he was older than anyone and said he’d never learned how to swim and “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Although I don’t think that is always the case it was true in his.

About this time some able bodied young men tried to push their way onboard. I had tried to tell them to change their lives, I’d invited them to help us build the ark and make a space onboard for them but they had laughed. Now I had to clobber them about the head and shoulders with the oxgoad. They said things like: “Ouch! that hurts.” “This isn’t funny Japheth.” And “We are all gunna die.” But not always in that order.

After it became clear that my Shaolin oxgoad skills were too sweet for them to bully their way onboard they doggie paddle to a different hill and set about cutting down gopher trees.

The next challenge was much harder. As Noah and my brother made final preparations, single women from the village came and approached me looking for passage. Of course they had not given me the time of day years ago but my father always said, “Girls don’t like boys, girls like Arks and Money.” Well they must have thought I had a million bucks. (Actually we only had two bucks, technically one buck and one doe. Maybe I should have made a dough/doe pun instead. Oh, well, too late, bygones and so forth.)

Anyway, they tried to be all seductive and I honestly had the hardest time remembering why we could only fit 8 people onboard a boat carrying thousands of other animals. But in the end all the rain had made their make-up run, I snapped out of it and I just bludgeoned them about the head and shoulders with my oxgoad. They swam away and procured a space on bully’s raft. (It was a flimsy 4x8 structure. Also, in a misguided attempt to copy us they decided to load it with two of each kind of rock and pebble.)

But my trials were not over. When the single women left the married couples with kids approached me. By this time the water was up to bottom edge of the ark and Noah was busy counting mosquitoes, viruses, and head lice in his microscope. Apparently we had temporarily misplaced the common cold but it was found with the hippo.

Anyway the married couples were smarter than the bullies and the single chicks. They appealed to me to leave them behind and take their children. This was a tough decision. I tried to relieve the tension by saying, “We don’t need any children, we already have enough meat for the puma.” But of course the humor of this remark was lost on them. I held fast, I knew the rules, nobody on board.

Women held up babies by the hundred each making claims about their child: “He’ll cure the common cold one day” “He may be a great artist” and “The kids going to be a soccer player, he is!” But not always in that order. Fathers tried explaining that they were the guilty ones and deserved punishment, but not their kids. They did nothing wrong. I had to agree, it was harsh, but it wasn’t my call to make. Each of them had a chance to make the same decisions my family did but they didn’t.

In the end I had to beat them about the head and shoulders with my oxgoad. I tried not to take pleasure in beating up women and children, it was hard but I succeeded by concentrating on taking pleasure in beating up the men.

About this time I stepped inside and God closed the ark door shut. The villagers we all standing in waist deep water around the ark looking up and yelling things like: “This isn’t fair!” “You are not the boss of me!” and “We have 39 more days of this.” But not always in that order.

It is raining today.

Strange Similarities: Comic Books and Soap Operas

"Like sands through an hourglass so are the days of our lives.... Excelsior!"

Yesterday, I helped my sis set up a new laptop and wireless internet. While I did this she watched Days of our Lives. It struck me that I still kind of new what was going on even though I hadn't watched it for 5-6 years when I watched it with mom over a thanksgiving break. Then we discussed how weird soap operas are, and it hit me, they have the same oddities as comic books.

Time:
In both comics and soaps time is a fluid thing, it can stretch out or it can rush past whole pieces of time. Stacey pointed out that one Friday show featured a boy hit and killed by a car at a New Years Eve party. The Monday show featured his funeral... but it was suddenly Valentines DAY! Comics have similar problems, many popular hero's like Superman and Spiderman have been around over 40 years. But they do not age. The idea is that time is different a monthly comic may only take the time of two or three days. If this were the case the heroes could still be young but they should be in the time period of the 70s. But they are not, Spiderman has an iPod. (With great downloading power, comes great responsibility.) They are still somehow modern.

Nonstop:
Both comics and soaps have been in production for more than 40 years uninterrupted. This creates an extremely convoluted storyline since dozens of writers had creative control over that time period.

Smut:
Soaps feature a cavalcade of beautiful people, male and female, who are up to the worst kinds of sexual antics. In comics, the girls all wear spandex outfit, although to their credit they are not as naughty as soap opera girls. I can see housewives wanting to fulfill fantasies with soaps. But in comics the girls are often beacons of virtue above reproach, I wonder why. I assume because the average comic reader sees himself as a Knight... plus the little loosers will come back every month hoping this is the month!

Death:
Nobody stays dead. Every year on Days people come back from the dead! Why? Because they left the show thinking they'd get other work then didn't. Deaths in soaps are usually not very definitive to support this. "His ship when down in arctic... nobody survived." Suuuure they didn't. In comics the deaths are far more graphic and definitive. For example being blow up in an Airplane while handcuffed to the bomb. Many comic deaths feature actual burials where the dead body is there, no denying it. Luckily reality is more flexible in comics and there is always some cosmic being ready to raise you from the dead. Death and resurrection are so common in comics there is an expression, "Nobody stays dead but Bucky and Uncle Ben." Uncle Ben is Spidermans uncle who he let get killed by acting selfishly. Bucky is Captain America's WW2 sidekick who blew up over the arctic ocean (Cap fell in and was frozen in ice until thawed years later). Although recently Bucky has come back from the dead as a reprogrammed soviet so I guess the expression is now, "Nobody stays dead but Uncle Ben." (Flashbacks and alternative realities don't count.)

Fluff:
In any given hour of Days there is about 15 minutes of actual stuff. In any given comic there are three or four pages of actual stuff.

Selective Advertising:
Soap operas: You get adds for soap and the Ipex bra.
Comics: You get adds for video games and the Ipex bra.

Nonlethal violence:
Often in both mediums there is extreme violence or dangerous situations that would kill any normal people but not our beloved characters. For example which of these scenarios is a comic book and which is a soap opera:

1. Trapped in a bank vault running out of air
2. Trapped in a building scheduled for demolition
3. Aboard an airplane crashing into the ocean
4. Having a deadly virus that your arch enemy has the antidote to
5. Trapped in a cave it.
6. Marooned on a deserted island
7. Forced to pretend to be working for a bad guy to keep the bad guy from doing even worse bad stuff to others.

Pretty hard to tell sometimes, and I'm sure some of those have examples of both comics and soaps.

The Cliff Hanger:
Soaps and Comics love to end with a cliff hanger. Then the next time they begin they act as if it never really happened or it wasn't a big deal and move on.

Trivial-escapism:
Soaps: Are meaningless fun, at most they waste an hour of your life, at worst they suck your soul away.
Comics: Also meaningless fun, at most they waste $2, at worst you end up living in your moms basement and she sucks your soul away.

Fan Control:
One odd couple on days (a chubby lady and a hot doctor) were going to break up, but the fans wrote so many letters they got a rewrite into a happy married couple. In comics, DC set up a hotline to vote if Jason Todd should live or die (he was Robin to Batman at the time and generally not liked). When the results were in Jason Todd got blown up by the Joker. (Of course recently he came back from the dead, of course.)

Unfulfilled Fantasies:

Soaps: They let women feel like there is still romance in the world and that hot doctors are out there ready to sweep you off your feat.

Comics: They let boys feel like they have some control over the world around them and that there are scantily clad women out there waiting for you to web-sling-sweep them off their feet

Well, those are the obvious similarities, but what about the things that appear to be different?

Viewers:
Soaps: Stay-at-home moms and college girls.
Comics: Teenage boys and grown men with Peter Pan problems. (Many comics are written now for an exclusively over 18 audience.)
Where is the connection? I think it lies in moms controlling teenage boys and college girls ignoring young men with Peter Pan problems. Somewhere in there is a transmission of values from woman to man.

So what to do with these problems?
Sometimes Soaps and Comics try to explain these problems away. Like someone being in a coma for 20 years or Captain America being frozen in a block of ice after ww2. But usually you just have to suspend disbelief. I think the only course of action is just to enjoy you fun but don't let it take priority over the real stuff of life.

I hope Stacey enjoys her "stories."

2 Man Hands

Have you ever known of man hands on a woman. It was popularized by Seinfeld. Well I watching Failure to launch with Sarah Jessica Parker and then about 3/4th thru the thing Suzie leans over and says, "She has man hands." And it hits me like a ton of bricks. From then on it's all I can see. And I don't mean she has "less-feminine" or "masculine" hands. I mean she has had trucker hands grafted to her. They don't look real on her. It looks like she is playing that game where on person slips their arms under another persons and pretends to be their hands. It started to look like the addes man hands digitally for effect. Or like there was a trucker on the floor waving his hands in front of SJP's face.

This all added up to what scientists describe as a "case of the giggles." I could take nothing she said seriously after I became fixated on he monkey mits, those bear claws, those dude digits, those male-menenges, thoise papa pinkies, those, those gross grabbers, those hamhocks, meta-manly metacarpus.

Then after the move I hug Suzie goodbye and Josh and I get caught by our own man-hands and lack of wit. We can't decide to hug or shake hands. We end up doing that hug with a handshake in between followed by a few pats on the back. The official, "Dude-hug." In the end I could only remark that Josh had more feminine hands than SJP.

If I could fix some sports.

I think sports need a little help.

NASCAR - A figure 8 track. For Pete's sake let the cars turn left once in a while. Where they overlap? Put a jump!

Soccer - Change field to look like bigger hockey rink with walls, and area behind the goal to use. Also, must have 3 balls in play at all times. Middle of the field is 10 feet higher than the other ends. Oh, and you can also use your hands because we've got them we might as well use them. No grabbing or catching but punching, hitting, slapping and elbowing the ball is now allowed.

Cricket - losing team has to eat a cricket.

Football - Hang a metal loop inside the field goal which is worth 4 points. Only about 3 feet in diameter. Wait, nix that. Instead of that, remove the field goal and all kickers from the game. Instead of a kick off there is a throw off like in old yard ball. Now we don't have so many creepy soccer players trying call themselves football players. Now, after a TD it's a 2 point conversion or nothing.

Roller derbie - No changes necessary

Figure skating - Instead of completely open format the ice ring is divided into a zig zag series of lanes that two figure skating teams race in. This adds an element of racing and timing. You final time is affected though by the tricks you do in the "trick zones." These are areas painted green wherein you may do a trick of your choosing, all tricks are 100% quantitatively scored. More difficult tricks result in a bigger time deductions. (For example a double sowcow is 2.3 seconds off your time, but a triple is 3.7 and so forth). There are also spin trick zones and a "limbo" trick zone. Remember limbo on ice as a kid. They decide which bar to go under and get a deduction for the smaller heighth. Then they cross the finish. Lowers time (a composite of actual time minus deductions for good tricks) results in a win. Remember this is a head to head event now.

Curling - The other team is allowed to pelt the broom guys with snowballs.

Basketball - move that goal up at least a foot, better yet, the goal is on smooth moving motors that make the heighth vary from 9'6'' to 11'6'' during the course of one shot clock. You've got to time that sucker out! Wait for the easy dunk, or try for the long and high three pointer. Also, two balls going at once.

Baseball - Zzzzz... what! Oh, sorry just the word baseball sometimes puts me to sleep, it's dangerous while driving. Two batters, the pitcher can decide which zone to throw to. Only 2 outfielders instead of three. Also cork all the bats and lose the pitching mound (dropping top speed of the pitchers). And now it's one strike your out. Hopefully the legal system can adjust. And no more wasteing time. If a batter in not in the batter box throw the ball and strike him out!

Bowling - Move those pins closer, who are we kidding, this game is frustrating. Or instead of gutters the edges of the lanes curl up like a halfpipe. now it will eventually make it's way down. And no second ball. It's a strike or it is what it is. And why do those balls have to be so heavy?

Dart - No change necessary.

Boxing - Remove weight classes. It's silly to call both a 95 pound Filipino kid and a 285 bruiser "world champion". Only one of them can really be the world champ and we know who it is!

Hockey - Bigger goals, three pucks. (I think extra pucks/balls will increase the watchability of any sport.) And now the penalty box is now a torture chamber. It has an electrified seat at random, foam bats hit you and loud Bjork music playing.

Volleyball - All beach, all the time.

Tennis - Change the scoring back to normal. The novelty of saying Love-Love has worn off. Also remove all the judges and line spotting cameras. They should be required to argue if it is in or out just like the rest of us.

Bocce - No change necessary. This is the king of games!

7 Habits of Highly Effect Houseguests

1) Do not leave toenail clippings on the bathroom floor. Sweep them up and hide them in the butter.

2) When there is a question of whose turn it is in the shower say, "You can go first, just let me turn on the camera."

3) Try and find a way to contribute to the household. I like teach the pet dog tricks, like every time the doorbell rings the dog will attack a houseplant.

4) Become a ghost, give the family time alone without you. Also, cut eye holes in their sheets and jump out at them during their late night trips to the bathroom.

5) Don't talk to much about uncomfortable subjects. For example, if the topic, "When are you leaving?" comes up. Gently redirect the conversation and try to mention the Beijing Olympic games in 2008.

6) Food. Bring one item. And say, "What's mine is yours!" They will feel pressure to reciprocate, then dig in.

7) Steal things. Every American's household is too cluttered. They will appreciate it if you occasionally walk off and pawn little nicknacks, gew-gaws and family airlooms that have been collecting dust in a China cabinet.

I am such a joy to have in the house, my comments so witty, my aromas so pleasant that if I don't do some of these things people will be devastated when I leave. What advice do you have for houseguests?

And the Oscar goes to...

Trey Laminack for his role in best supporting procrastinator in a comedic role.

(Standing ovation. Trey looks surprised and happy as he rises. He shakes hands on his way down the aisle. Jessica Alba hands him his statuette. He plants one on her like that piano guy did to Hally Barry, only this time Jessica faints.)

"Wow! I mean, I totally did NOT expect this. I mean there are a lot of great nominees this year. Well, first and foremost I'd like to thank Jesus, without whom I couldn't have procrastinated in my house hunt for so long. And of course, my mother, who modeled procrastination for me at an early age. This part just sort of fell into my lap. When I started to prepare for this role I ordered a lot of books on the subject which I intended to read but didn't find the time. Oh! Who else? I know I'm forgetting somebody... All the people at Lion's Gate! I'd like to say that since I was a boy I dreamed of winning on Oscar and being a cowboy, but now that that other movie has ruined one dream I've only got one left. Thanks to the Acadamy and.. of course, the Three 6 Mafia!"

(Cue the music!)

Feel free to post a comment with your own Oscar speech. Keep it short, they are about to cue the music.

My Stuff

I have too much of it. And so little of it is very nice. The flip side of that coin is that I really don't have much stuff at all and I like it a lot. All of my stuff will fit into a 10X10 storage space, doesn't sound like much until you start having to lift it.

And the amount of trash I've found in my place is amazing. Mostly it's mail and fast food bags. (The actual food got eaten or thrown away, I hate bugs.) But I keep finding mail in drawers and papers I thought I'd read at home under my bed or under the couch.

Today I moved about 1/3 of my stuff into the storage space and Saint Coby will come by with his truck Friday to help me move the big stuff (although we'd love some more help, hint hint.) Moving makes you look at all your stuff and say, "When did I get this piece of junk?" and then secondly, "Why have I kept it in my closet for so long?"

Most of my furniture is second hand from family, for which I am grateful. But that means it's old and nothing matches. Of all the stuff there, I started thinking, how much of this stuff did I really choose and how much was thrust upon me by fate?

I found two things that I selected personally: A white wire shelf unit with a wooden top and an Antique standing closet.

The former I bought in 1998 with a $50 gift card to the container store (a store I had never been in before or since) given to me at my graduation by Bria Owen... but he last name changed to something else now. I reciprocated at her graduation by not attending. Years later, I would catch her garter at the wedding reception when she married whats-his-name. This thing traveled with me to Harding, then ACU, then home, then Garland, and now is in the storage place. I really like that thing, partly because its "all mine." This thing has been bookshelf, storage space, cutting board, desk, bedside table and sled.

The latter my grandfather gave to me from his lakehouse. It is a lovely thing and I keep my bow and arrows, nunchucks, my replica of "Sting" from LOTR and old shoes in it. It is actually too narrow to hold a standard size coat hanger strangely. It has a ship carved into its wooden front. I loved it as a kid and was surprised when my mom told me it had been left to me. If I had to build my home around one piece of furtiture this would be it.

Do any of you remember these two things? Feel free to share your own memories of my favorite possessions.

I'm still homeless and still accepting applications for guest bedrooms. As well as requestions letters of rec from former roomies. (See below.) I just got in, I better make sure we are locked and loaded for tonight.