Just Another Daaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy....

Shield update:

Last night's episode of the best show on television was a little better, starting with an amazing opening scene that told a lot about who was feelin' the new Chief (Glenn Close) and who wasn't. All in all, the best episode of the year so far, though still below average. Here were some Pros and Cons:

Pros:
1. The Strike Team looks closer than it has in awhile to re-forming under a new name.
2. We got to see Vic push a criminal (I guess my law school friends would get mad if I didn't say "suspected criminal") over a fence and insult several other "suspects."
3. It looks like Dutch Boy is finally going to get some high-profile cases.
4. It is always fun to see Claudette suffer.
5. The played-out "Julien is gay" and "Aceveda got raped" storylines were noticeably absent.

Cons:
1. Three episodes and we still haven't seen Vic, Shane, Ronnie, or Lem shoot any "suspects" on screen? C'mon, how realistic is that?
2. Three episodes and we still haven't seen Vic, Shane, Ronnie, or Lem have spontaneous unprotected sex with any sluts on screen? C'mon, how realistic is that?
3. Still too much screen time for Glenn Close.
4. It's too hard to believe that Anthony Anderson, the pudgy comedian who has starred in such dramatic and challenging work as "Mad TV," and "Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination London," is a criminal mastermind.

Tune in next Tuesday at 10/9 central on FX!

Pre- and Post-Script

"...You must be crazy..."

You have probably read about the exploits of the Wendy's Lady at the Staffman's page here. I just wanted to add a few stories of my own that happened when the Staffman was out saving the world in his anatomically-correct suit and cape.

Pre-Staffman's Story.

I went to Wendy's with some members of my schools (S)Law Review one day for lunch. I ordered a hamburger, an order of chicken nuggets, a chili, and a diet coke (just for the taste of it...). Most of my order was pre-done, but they told me that the nuggets would take "Fo Minutes," and offered to bring it out to me. Wendy's Lady came out about 5 minutes later with 2 packs of Chicken Nuggets. The following ordeal went something like this.

WL: Here are your five-pieces, sir.
R.D.: Thanks. I actually only ordered one, so the other one is probably for someone else. [Takes one five-piece nugget].
WL: [confused] Oh, okay. [Walks away.]

[Two minutes later]

WL: Is this not yours, sir?
R.D.: No, I only ordered one order of nuggets, so that one must be someone else's.
WL: [confused] Are you sure? Okay. [Walks away].

[Two minutes later]

WL: These are not yours?
R.D.: No.
WL: Well, why don't you take them, because I can't find anyone who ordered them.
R.D.: [sighs] Okay. [Takes nuggets].

I ended up passing them around to the other Slaw Review members that were there. The group looked around silently and smiled at each other. Knowing the group, they may have just thought that I ordered two packs but was ashamed to admit I ordered so much food. But you know the truth, don't you. If you don't believe me, read Staffman's entry and my post-script.

Post-Staffman's Story.

I went back to Wendy's today for the simple reason that I can get the most hamburgers for the cheapest price. (I've had 4 in two days). I ordered some food and a small diet coke. It was pretty uneventful until I was about to leave. I got up and Wendy's Lady came up behind me, silently, almost like that Seinfeld character who Elaine gave tic tacs to so she knew when he was coming. WL was very persistent; she clearly wanted to bring me a refill. I finally agreed, but used the interim to throw away my own tray so she could not hijack it from me later. 30 seconds after she leaves me, she comes back with the soda. She stops 5 feet from my table and looks around (keep in mind there are only 2 -3 rows of people, not all full, and she just saw me 30 seconds ago at a corner table). She looks around again. She starts walking away from me. She does a lap around the restaurant. Then, she finds me and says, "You order a Diet Coke?" I assured her that I did and took it.

WL did bring back a Diet Coke this time (no "Mr. Pibb's," thank God), but with no ice. It tasted like plastic chlorine. Then, a minute later, she comes up behind me and asks me to fill out a comment card. Before I can answer, it's being offered to me with 2 pens. "Sure," I reply. "My name is [Wendy's Lady] she says, making sure I get the hint. I ended up saying WL is great; "she really goes the extra mile..." I wrote. Hey, I have to go back there again, so back off. Then I wrote a quick complaint about them taking away our student discount, and raising the price of the "Double Stack," and left, quickly.

Hey, I'm just happy to be alive and throwing away my own tray again.

"Re-u-nited, and it feels so good..."

Today's the day! We had a few roadblocks, including a very odd church service, and the fact that our favorite supermarket, Publix, is closed for the entire day. Can you believe that? The entire store closed for the entire day, because it's Easter. First chink in the armor!! Welcome to the oddities of the Bible Belt. But, I'll find somewhere to get my fix, even it it has to be Krystal.

Thank you Jesus! Go tell if off the mountain, that beef is what's for dinner!

Die, Lent, Die!!!!

"It don't make sense, goin' to heaven wit the goodie-goodies/ Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies..."

Don't push me, cause I'm close to the edge, I'm try-in' not to lose my head.....uh huh, uh huh..... Thank God it's the end of Lent, because I'm moody, and I can't take it much longer.

Although I really wanted to pull a Denis Leary this year, and give up Lent for Lent, I decided I would do the proper thing and give up something. And, again, you know me (no halfway, ever)....I gave up something that actually would make a dent -- hamburgers. For those of you who don't know me, red meat is about the only thing that I truly enjoy. I don't like most kinds of steak, get tired of chicken, think pork can die slow, don't really like ham or bologna, hate all the salt-cured meats, and have had my fill of turkey and hen for a while. But I really like meat. In fact, I contemplated buying a shirt the other day which said something like "Vegetarians -- for every animal you don't eat, I'm going to eat three." It was awesome. But, there is this person I know who is very self-centered and gets everything she wants. This person occasionally makes fun of groups of people of which I am a member. She has a family member who is connected big in the agricultural world, which is like the mafia down here in terms of connections. She's a vegetarian, and I didn't want to piss her off, or the 3 people who still like her. If I did, I know she'll say anything to people about me, true or not. So I squashed it -- no T-shirt. But anyway, that's just an example of how much I like meat, that I seriously wanted to buy that shirt, and flaunt it.

Now, beef is about the only thing that does it for me, and of the subset of things you can make with beef, hamburger is at the top of the pyramid. For the record, I gave up beef hamburgers, turkey burgers, and any other type of meat-burgers, but not veggie burgers or other types of beef. Believe me, you can feel the difference. I probably averaged about one every other day going into lent, and have had to quit cold turkey (again, pun, intented). In fact, since I can't do anything half-assed, I even did not allow myself to indulge on hamburgers on Sundays. By two weeks, I was fiending pretty bad. Now, I'm pissed off all the time. I saw 40 Days and 40 Nights two nights ago, and I know how that guy feels. But, because I was so moody, that movie pissed me off, too. There was a guy who told Josh Hartnett, in the middle of his abstinence pledge, something like "You know what I gave up for Lent? Meat. You should have done that....it's easier." NO, IT'S NOT, DICK. And any of the dick writers who let that get passed them are asses, too.

Sorry about that, but I'm a little [read, a lot] irritable right now. The fasting requirements of Lent don't really help, either. For a period of almost 24 hours, I put, with the exception of 100 or 200 calories and half a glass of water, absolutely 0 food and drink into my body, in accordance with the tradition of fasting on Good Friday (it does not have to be a total and complete fast, but a) you can't eat meat, so why eat anything, and b) you know me -- no halfway!), which left me with a pounding headache when I eventually had a few pancakes on late Friday night. That was about the height of my moodiness. The dipshits at the Law School made me even more irritable, by scheduling a Legal Aid Society Auction on Friday night, filled with food, booze, and lots of things to bid on. It really pissed me off that the law school decided to host a big freaking party on the day that Jesus died, and that even if I went, I couldn't eat or drink anything. What's worse, nobody really seemed to care. So I just took my pounding headache home with me and grinded my teeth about it.

In short, I was not a happy person to be around....everything put me in a bad mood this week. I got really irritated if anyone looked at me the wrong way. I felt more paranoid than Cheech OR Chong. I got angry that a fellow blogger friend of mine only capitalized "God" one out of three times on his site. In short, everything started to bother me. I also got really pissed that a friend of mine ("Bull") who owns a Nielsen box reneged on his promise to watch the Shield on Tuesdays (and then denied that he ever promised it), so I began starting an information campaign against him at my school. I even changed the desktop on my laptop from a charming picture of my son to a billboard that read " 'Bull' Lies!!!!" But I decided to squash that, also, because I dont really have enough friends to go around bashing them. If anyone asks about any of these things, I blame the lack of cow.

I think the lack of hamburger is also causing me to fail to fall asleep at nights. That stuff sticks to your ribs, so they say. But during the past month or so, the replacement crap that I have been eating has not really done the trick. Or, that could just be me being paranoid. I don't really know. All I know is that if I could take out an advance on my heavenly reward, I might just do so.

One thing is clear. On Easter Sunday, I am going to go to Publix and buy like 8 beef patties. I am going to season them with salt, pepper, barbecue, and onion, and then cook those bitches out. Then, I am going to stack them about as tall and wide as a human mouth can take, and go to town. Then, if I can move, of which there is not a very good chance, I am going to thaw out a meatless veggie shitpatty and put it on a special stand by friend "Slave" gave me, and shoot it with my pellet rifle until it is reduced to pieces. If any birds try to eat it, I am going to shoot them as well.

Of course, I could be talking out of my ass right now....but either way, I wouldn't cross me until Sunday.......

A Penny Saved.....

“A n--ga never been as broke as me, I like that…”

Since at least one of my friends apparently things my blog could be interpreted as “offensive to women,” (I’ve never really understood that term, since anything one man does can be offensive to two women, somewhere. Fortunately, I got the okay from “Wifey,” who says the site is NOT offensive to her as a woman, but IS offensive to her as my wife), I figured I’d switch gears to discuss a few helpful tips for the financially-challenged out there, of which I am definitely a group.

A few months ago, in the middle of our low-tide period for money, our housing search, and right after we got our Christmas credit card bills, my wife got fired because the assholes she worked for found out she would be leaving later this year, and doctored up some phony reasons to fire her (How did they find out, you ask? Because they promised her that if she was honest with them about the day she would be leaving, they wouldn’t fire her……nice guys, huh?). Anyway, since a) I didn’t want to do the rich-kid thing and beg my parents for money; and b) my parents and I are not rich, so that wouldn’t work anyway, we had to drastically cut our budget in order to survive. And, as this blog should teach the 3 of you out there who read it regularly, I can’t do anything halfway, especially when money is involved.

Well, “Wifey” and I did the obvious and cut down on some luxuries, but I was not satisfied with the bottom line, and so I started “going crazy,” according to her, becoming cheaper than Scrooge McDuck. But I ask, “What does she know?” Here are some great money-saving tips I came up with along the way, my reputation be damned:

1. Hunt down store closings with the hunger that a vampire would feel after watching a Tarantino movie.
My local mall is notorious for stores not renewing their leases. Earlier this year, I caught a “Champs Sports” store closing, with everything 70% off. I went nuts, buying shoes, clothes, athletic gear, balls, and presents for the family. I bought 6 pairs of shoes in a week. I got a pair of kids’ Air Jordans for $5. I took care of a belated Christmas present for my brother, also. All in all, I spent about $150 for about $400 worth of items, and now have 2 years worth of athletic outfits. I’m the Imelda Marcos of rubber-bottomed sneakers.

2. Take advantage of free things that rich, upper middle-class, or people with what I like to refer to as “a sense of shame” take for granted.
For instance: you can stack your house with condiments, napkins, silverware, and straws from one trip to a fast food restaurant for carry-out. I went to taco bell the other day and bought one bean burrito to go. I walked out with that bean burrito, but also with my pockets stuffed with napkins, condiments, etc. I also stuffed the to-go bag with other items. All told, I left TB with about 150 napkins, 10 packets of “Fire” Sauce, and the sweetest bean burrito I’ve ever tasted. Total cost: 97 cents. Now THAT’s a dollar menu!!!!

3. It’s better to wear 3 sweaters than to give the bastards who run the local public utilities an extra cent of your money.
Utility bills are especially bad in Nash Vegas, where several corrupt practices lead to a per-capita electricity bill rate that it outrageous. For instance, whether or not you use one Kilowatt hour of electricity or ten thousand, the electric company charges you a “Customer Charge” of $75 per year (roughly $6 a month) just for the potential of you using electricity. Furthermore, Nashville citizens were just subject to a 7% increase in rates, in order to subsidize a 5% reduction of rates to the local Saturn automobile plant, to keep them afloat (I say, their cars MELT when near heat, let them die slow). Finally, my current home is also the home of a lot of idiots who use too much electricity, making the rates higher for the rest of us. For instance, “LightLady,” a former work colleague of my wife, confessed that it is a requirement in her house that she leave every light on at all times during the day. If it proved too expensive, she said, she would just get a smaller house (Ironically, the light bulb on her head does not seem to have been “on” for a long while). This brings me to my point – don’t use electricity unless you absolutely have to. I turned the thermostat down 5 degrees, and turn it off when no one is home. I shut the computer down every night. When using the oven or toaster oven, I leave it open after cooking, to get “free heat.” I turned the ‘Fridge down to a warmer setting. I catch all unused lights and fans that are left on. I’m an electro-Nazi. We now use 2/3 of the electricity we did at the same time last year. I would like to just use the excuse that “Hey, I’m Green, I’m saving our environment,” (and I probably will, if confronted), but I’m just cheap.

4. Complaints? Call 1-888-Free-Bee!!!
My wife and I are magnets for poor food service. As Joe Pesci stated in Lethal Weapon 2, a fundamental maxim of eating out is… “They F-CK you at the drive-thru!” And it happens to us nearly every single time. My response? I call them on it. Cold pizza? Complain online. Missed order? Make a phone call. No response? Write a letter. I got so good at it, and my comments were so persuasive, that I was actually hired by a major restaurant chain to be a bi-monthly mystery shopper. We get a free meal every two to three weeks, and all we have to do is rate the service according to guidelines. It is the best deal ever, and is really a good alternative to the Ramen Noodles or Hot Dogs we usually eat. And you know me; I put my heart into the ratings.

5. Free Drawing? Be all about the paper, mayn!
The online legal research pushers at our law school are all about one thing: getting ‘em hooked, early. It’s a lot like crack, although I think I can stop (maybe). But they offer tons of free prizes and drawings every month to you in exchange for your time and use. And I figured if I’m going to go for a free prize, I’m going (big surprise)…… all the way! I started using these sites like 5 times a day. I do all free rewards points giveaways I can get my hands on. And it worked…..in two months, I’ve earned $50 in gift certificates to various restaurants, enough points for two electrical jigsaws, a free MP3 player, and entries into a chance for a big prize giveaway. And sometimes they have presentations where you can get a free meal, as well. At one legal research training session, I took 7 fried chicken sandwiches home with me, which was lunch for like 3 days. And the principle works for other prizes and situations, too….I found out there’s even a magazine that lists all of the “no purchase necessary” giveaways throughout the U.S. If I could afford it, I’d be on that, but for now, I’m working on my third jigsaw…..

6. Try to “settle everything out of court….”
Some one sends you a past-due bill amount? Not sure if it’s bull or a genuine debt? Can’t afford it anyway? Try sending a nasty letter and a check for a portion of the amount…..be legalistic, honest, and stern, and do it before it goes to a collection agency. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it’s not worth the company’s resources to fight you, and it’s more economical to do a “write off.” But pick and choose your battles….because your credit rating is more important than avoiding a dumb bill. And just for the record, I’m not advocating anything illegal, unlike what many of these companies tell their customer service reps. to do. In fact, I see this as an alternative to an all-or-nothing approach, where you pay $0 and then can’t get a car loan for 7 years. If it’s a genuine bill, though, just pay it, and then turn your thermostat down to make up for it. Bang Bang!

There are a lot of other little annoying things I do, but I did a cost-benefit analysis, and it probably doesn’t save me enough money on the long run to use the energy to type it up here. See me for details. Time is money, bitches!!!!!

NOTE: I apologize for the self-censorship above, but some people might be upset with me if I left high-level profanity in here, even if it was clearly someone else’s direct quote.

Eating Crow

“…I got three hundred and fifty-seven ways, / to simmer, sautee, I'm the winner all day…”

Tonight, I was really hungry because I had nothing but half a bowl of cereal and a bean burrito all day. “Wifey” was making Lemon Chicken, which I lobbied her to serve at 4:30, so I would not have to be starving for the whole night. I would have made it myself, except for the fact that a) I don’t know this particular recipe, and b) for reasons I will explain in a second, she attempted to restrain me. She complained that she could not do so because “[her] grandparents eat at 4:30.” Now, I know these grandparents, and you don’t, so I must say that normally I would agree to any statement of my wife’s that dissed her grand-folks, just because of the sheer importance of “setting the precedent” that I don’t want to live like them when we get older. Unfortunately, though, my hunger made me fight against the illogic of her statement, as I continued to lobby for an earlier dinner, with the un-enviable position of defending my grandfather-in-law, who is about as hospitable a guy as one who offers a bed of nails to a hemophiliac.

To make a long story short, I offered a compromise, which was begrudgingly accepted by the wife. I would wait until 4:30 for her to start making dinner, with the condition that it would be done within 15 minutes. If it was done within 15 minutes, then I would bring the food to the table and we would eat around 4:50, which was much closer to the time she wanted to eat than the time I wanted to eat. If it was not done within 15 minutes, I would not complain, but she would have to -- how shall I phrase this – “perform a physical act of the will consonant with the essential elements of marriage” -- before 11:59 p.m. that night.

How did it turn out? Well, “Wifey” cooked with a speed and swiftness I had never seen before. She balanced two skillets at two different temperatures masterfully, turning the chicken while stirring the rice, adding capers while melting butter, acting like she had six arms and legs. All that was missing was the theme song from “The Six Million Dollar Man.” I didn’t have to re-build her. She had the technology. All along. After 15 minutes, she told me dinner was ready. I tried to call foul. I checked and re-checked the chicken for pink spots, signs of under or over-cooking, everything. But I was wrong. She won. Dinner was fantastic. I had to fight back tears when I thought of the implications of this shift of household momentum.

It required no deep thoughts to realize what had happened. The chance to avoid physical intimacy with me made transformed my wife, one who keep in mind is called on by God to share the physical act of love with me, from a happy-go-lucky, laid back, romance-novel-reading couch potato into Molto Mario on speed. Though I had what I though I’d wanted, a full stomach, my self-esteem plummeted like George Bush’s approval ratings after he raised taxes. Not only do the lady-folk not find me attractive, but apparently they will do most anything to avoid physical contact with me. The thought of being near me causes them to push their production-possibilities curve outward to levels of cooking efficiency previously unrealized by mankind.

Well, “if you can’t beat ‘em,” they say, “join ‘em.” I want to see how far I can push this thing. If my sexual prowess has petered out (pun intended) after not even seven years of adulthood, perhaps I can use this fact to better my quality of life. Perhaps I can use the prospect of the revoltingness of being next to me to ask all my female professors for deadline extensions, else they have to spend a few extra minutes with me. Maybe intercourse can be the new punishment if “Wifey” throws away one of my magazines or spends too long getting ready for a social engagement. Or maybe it can be the less-attractive alternative if she does not let me go to a Gentleman’s Club every once in a while. Perhaps I can use the threat of physical contact to yoink outlines from my female classmates. I don’t know, but one thing is abundantly clear – if my wife is an accurate measurement of my effect on the opposite sex, the possibilities are endless.

With my powers of nastiness, I’m pushing this thing to the hilt, baby!!! (Pun, again, intended).

Shield update:

Another sub-par episode of The Shield struck tonight, with Glenn Close fizzling on screen again and the writers again failing to include enough of the gratuitous violence, sex, and random debauchery I've come to love and gotten desensitized to.

Of course, a sub-par episode of the Shield is still equivalent to an hour of TV more entertaining than 90% of all other TV shows out there, so it's all good. Hopefully next Tuesday we will get to see Farmington's Finest regulate on gangland.

This Girl's unsuspecting telephone audience doesn't know she could be a throne-talker!!!

Stalling out....

"...I was like whatchu mean 'shit'? I mean I might 'shit on you' like after I hit it I won't call you no more...."

Last semester, my friend "Slave" and I took advantage of a university-wide policy at our school that allows us to take one class taught by a different discipline (e.g., another graduate program within the same University) and still get credit for the class toward our degree. We had a real douchebag of a teacher, one who I might tell you about in another posting. We often were forced to take advantage of the ten-minute break our teacher gave us in the middle of class to use the restroom.

One time, we went in there and a stall was closed, as it was being used. The occupant mumbled something, which we took as directed toward one of us..........like, telling us to pass him a roll ore something. But, we were horribly wrong. Some dude was actually inside the stall of a public restroom, on the phone with someone of the opposite sex, while taking a dump. He even stopped talking intermittently to let out a "grunt" or two. We were so flabbergasted we talked about it for months. This dude became a microcosm for what was wrong with our school, our country, and our world all at the same time. If John Edwards was right, and there really is two Americas, that dude was in the other one. Fo' rilla!

Now, I am all about efficient behavior, killing two turds, I mean, birds, with one stone, but this was ridiculous. It actually spiraled into a game where "Slave" and I would run into the bathroom and call each other and mimic the poop-talker. One time I called him when he went into the bathroom on break and made fun of him when he answered (although, he might have just been walking out at the time....we'll never know).

Now, this got me to thinking. I for one am squeamish about even taking a book into a public restroom, but maybe America is a lot different. Are we out of line here? Is grunt-talking acceptable? Is it okay so long as you are at home? What else does John Q. Citizen do while on the throne? Surf the internet? IM people? Eat? Intercourse? Where do you draw the line? I would draw it on this side of contact with other human beings, but that is just me. Is it okay if the person you are talking to is a jerk? Is calling the ex okay from the outhouse, but taking a call from Mom unacceptable?

I thought I had America figured out, but I was dead wrong. For all I know, you could be there right now. Just another way the cell phone is ruining America, one or two sanitary mores at a time.

Buyer's Remorse

"What do you do when yo' bitch is un-true? / You cut the hooker off and find some-one new..."

I was just thinking about my friend Jeff, a high school friend of mine who has had a pretty rough life. Jeff got his first real girlfriend pregnant just after high school and did the honorable thing and married her. She was a real head case, but when they moved from Florida to Indiana in search of better opportunities, I thought it just might work. But, as usual, my first "gut" instincts were the correct ones. Jeff was working one or two jobs and going to school to learn to repair commercial airline planes. His wife cheated on him and ended things, eventually taking his daughter to live with her and her mom in North Carolina. Jeff was forced to move back to Florida with no family, no job (despite staying up there with enough time to graduate from school near the top of his class), and several extra thousand dollars in debt. His ex did not stay with the guy she cheated on him with long. Now, I am not going to sit here and say his relationship's failure was not at all his fault, but the guy did not deserve this.

Now, this got me to thinking. I know I can't save Jeff's relationship, nor anyone else's for that matter, since my advice is usually ignored more often than traffic laws by Nashville drivers, but perhaps we men should talk amongst our own more. Have you ever seen a man research a car? Most men do days' worth of online research, test drive multiple cars, get tons of written materials read a car magazine (my fave is the Consumer Reports annual auto issue), research financing, etc. What does a man do to pick a wife? He Robert Blakes her -- e.g., screws her in the back of his truck the first night he meets her -- and then has to live with the hoe the rest of his miserable days. In fact, marriage is the contract researched the LEAST by members of the lesser-fair sex. And this needs to stop. And I'm drawing the line right here -- for Jeff, for my dogs out there, and for the world in general.

Of course, the medium is the message. I don't know how to get this information across to my own kind, who generally only uses the internet for sports news and porn (and CLEARLY not in that order), but I'll start with the easiest message -- what NOT to do. If you're in a long term relationship with someone and she does these things, you should be feeling a little "buyer's remorse" right now, and might want to look for a better model. Now, I'm reducing this list to the bare minimum of non-acceptable behavior. The things that, if the state policed marriage like it policed other contracts, would void a marriage as being "against public policy." Here goes.

You should be feeling buyer's remorse if:

1. You have been together for less than two decades, and your wife or significant other only gives you nookie one time or fewer per week (other than when her "special friend" comes to visit).
If she expects you to stay faithful, if she expects you to be around, if she's NOT a porn actress, twice a week is the bare minimum of relations that a man can be expected to deal with. Now, for many couples, this number should be higher. But starting with the bare minumum -- which means I'm assuming the wife has six kids, gets up every morning at 5:30 a.m., works 12 hour days as a coal laborer, cooks dinner six times a week, is a deaf/mute/paraplegic, allergic to latex, and 80 years old -- she should at least find twice a week to clean the man's pipes, on average. If your wife has a headache six nights a week or has her time of the month 14 days a month, you should be having buyer's remorse.

2. You wake up one day and find yourself working for her dad, living in a house on which her parents contributed the down payment or financing, mostly decorated or paid for by money from her folks, and own at least one car which her parents helped you to get.
This one is fairly obvious. Unless you defined the scope of your relationship or amended your marriage vows to make it a three-way bond, mommy and daddy should stay the freak out of your bidness. This is impossible if your well-being is handcuffed to the in-laws. Say she wants a dog. You don't. Her parents have a dog, she loves dogs. Can you put your foot down? Can you even have a fight with her on anything? One mistake, and you're on the street. Men, you've got to cut the umbilical cord early on, lest you wake up one day with no friends, no time to hang out if you could find someone because you've got to meet her daddy next morning for work, being forced to narc on your co-workers, with no desire for life, listening to Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" smoking a cigar the size of Meat Loaf, waiting for either you her parents to keel over. Not acceptable.

3. She spends two or more hours a day talking to her parents, a sibling, a best friend, or someone else who is not you or your seed.
This one is related to my point earlier -- CUT THE CORD EARLY or pay the price. Now, I admit my better half is close to the line on this one, but not quite there. Family members and loved ones especially have a real problem with separating "friend mode" from "guardian mode." In other words, when your wifey tells a loved one who she also thinks of as a friend something in "friend mode," they will still be thinking in "guardian mode," looking to exert some control over your relationship, put their two cents in, etc. Now, the loved one's motives will be pure -- to protect your girl, but, it still doesn't prevent your marriage or LTR from becoming a three-way relationship. When the wife starts her argument to you with "well, my dad thinks you have a problem...," then you should be feeling some buyer's remorse.

4. Every few weeks, you find out she lied to you about ANOTHER thing from her past.
Another no-brainer. Remember that Fresh Prince episode, where Will finds out years into his relationship that his fiancee changed her name? Bingo. Buyer's Remorse set in, and Will the Thrill called off the engagement. This should be you, hero. You dont want to wake up one day three years into your marriage to find out your wife boned double the guys she told you about, is five years older than she said, used to be married to someone else, "altered" a portion or segment of her body, or used to have a frank and beans between her legs. Everyone says "that's not my Sally...," but that's what God made sodium pentothal for. Just kidding. But if you're still in the "Well, here's what really happened" stage of your relationship, and you've been together for a long time, you should be feeling some buyer's remorse.

5. You often think some variant of, "Gee, I'm the one lucky guy who turned a hoe into a housewife!"
"You can't turn a hoe into a housewife..." is more than just a Too $hort or Tupac lyric. It's chapter and verse. Believe that. If you think you've got the magic stick, and we should carve you out as an exception to this rule, go talk to my man Jeff.

6. You have changed a core principle, belief, or characteristic of yourself for HER and not because you actually wanted to do so. In short, you get "Agent Smith-ed."
I had a friend from late high school early college who changed his whole life for a girl. His wedding was the last time I have ever seen or heard from him. We didn't even get a "Thank You" card from the wedding reception. This guy was a pretty genuine guy. He loved basketball, he was very tolerant of others, he had a few beers on occasion, was very smart, and happened to be an agnostic. When he started dating his current wife, we never saw him. He became a hardcore evangelical Protestant just because the girl would not marry him if he did not convert. He quit drinking, and once even criticized me for a premise of Catholic theology that she believed was faulty. He became a totally different person because he put this girl on a pedestal. Which brings me to my point -- he got Smith-ed. As in Agent Smith, from the Matrix, where one touch (one taste, one feel, insert your own colorful metaphor here), turns you into her. If you're smart enough to realize this has happened, you should be having buyer's remorse.

7. You're still whipped by your own parents, and your woman is okay with that.
If you're still emailing or calling your parents once a day, or you are 27, have no job, and they still have not cut you off, or you are in some other way generally whipped by your own parents, it is not the time to enter a LTR with a girl, particularly a controlling or high-maintenance girl, because you are just switching the hand that is pulling your strings. Hey, its all cool to be a submissive once in a while, but you need to have your own identity before you take the plunge, and that's that. If you are marrying a girl because your parents would cut you off if you just moved in with her, because they think that would be "too immoral," then you should be having all kinds of remorse, buyer's or otherwise. Else, you will just be switching from watching HGTV with your mom to attending your wife's tupperware or botox parties. And that's not cool, especially when you become the butt of all your friends' jokes.

Well, that's all that I can think of for now. Most of this comes from the personal experience of my former friends or my friends' former friends, and I just don't want to see it happen to anyone else. And to all you girls out there who think you've found a great marionette to settle down with, think again.

Because a Jeff is a terrible thing to waste.

Blog Legend

"The world is filled, with pimps and hoes / but we'll just talk about those I know..."

I don't know what this blog is exactly going to become.... Well, that's not true -- I'm pretty sure it will become crap, like it already is, but I thought I would lay down a little legend to this blog -- like a map legend. Call it "defining the scope," if you will. Here goes:

1. I will often begin my posts with a "rap quote of the day" or something else I feel is apropos. If you're ever curious about the source, ask me, or post a comment, and I will get back to you.
2. I generally will only mention the names of friends and family on here.
3. Going along with this, to avoid a beef, I will try not to mention the names of any enemies, haters, or losers on here. In fact, if you see me talking negatively about someone by name, take it as a sign that that person is a true friend and I am just busting their balls a little or doing some old-fashioned white male venting. True losers will be identified by a colorful moniker or epithet of the day, such as "douchebag."
4. As I have probably the most un-interesting and least blog-worthy life ever, I will probably talk more about my random reflections on society rather than make this a "my daily journal" type of thing. That said, if this becomes suckier than me describing my TV habits, let me know.
5. I am very tolerant of other viewpoints but also have strong beliefs. That is to say, I am secure in my beliefs, but my beliefs are not absolute, extreme, or unreasonable. For instance, I own a gun. Deal with it.
6. I will probably use a lot of slang, localisms, odd quotations, etc. If a glossary is needed, I will add one.

Well, that's all for one day. Night!

About the Author

"...I dreams filthy/ my moms and pops mixed me with Jamaican Rum and Whiskey..."

Hello, and welcome to The Real Dookie's world! I'm currently a bored, disillusioned, and poor third year law student currently living in Nash Vegas, Tennessee. If you want a better blog, check out themagicwilliams.blogspot.com or staffmanrocks.blogspot.com . However, if you want to learn about me....I'll be here.

What can I say about me? I'm mid-twenties, rap addict, history buff, Catholic, enjoy a great family, and am a moderate Conservative (are there any of us left?), former jock, current couch potato, and future lawyer. I'm just tryin to find my niche in this world, although I have a feeling this blog will be more about what I DON'T want to do than what I DO want to do.

Hope you enjoy!

Inspiration

"...Now who's the real dookie/ meanin' who's really the shit?"
-- Notorious B.I.G., "Hypnotize," Bad Boy Records, 1997