Valentine’s Day Excuses

Good one. You forgot to get a Valentine’s Day gift for your wife or girlfriend. I’ve been there myself. The good news is you can survive this. Just don’t panic. And whatever you do, don’t use one of the excuses below:

1. “I thought we were saving money right now?”
The classic excuse. Unfortunately, this isn’t your call. Your wife dictates when you are saving money, usually by vetoing the purchase of new golf clubs or an Xbox 360. Women can be quite frugal in this regard. Sadly, this option doesn’t exempt you from getting her a gift. If anything, since you’re intent on saving money, she’ll question why you didn’t get her a 30-year savings bond for Valentine’s Day.

2. “I thought Valentine’s Day didn’t apply once you were actually married.”
It does seem kind of pointless. I guarantee there are some newlywed men out there are nodding in agreement on this one. Unfortunately, they will learn this lesson the hard way.

3. “You know, they double the price of flowers on Valentine’s Day.”
Look, I’m willing to be gouged at Chevron, because gas is useful. Same with Comcast, because cable TV is a necessity. But I refuse to be gouged at the florist. It’s a matter of principle.

4. “I thought you wanted to just have a quiet dinner alone, just the two of us.”
Of course, we all know she means a quiet dinner in a crowded restaurant.

5. “You know I don’t want to be spotted shopping at Hallmark.”
If there’s one thing your wife is not concerned with, it’s preserving your street cred.

6. “Aren’t you too old for stuffed animals anyway?”
I strongly advise against using this one. Also, don’t suggest that she’s too fat to receive candy or too homely for lingerie. If nothing else, steer clear of this excuse simply to avoid having to remove something sharp and pointy from your eye socket.

7. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. I’ve got a big surprise planned for this weekend!
Let the web of lies begin! Use this option only as a last resort. This excuse will buy you some time, at the expense of significantly higher expectations. Normally I’d say you couldn’t live up to them. On the other hand, if you’re seriously consulting this list, chances are her standards are already pretty low.

Good luck gentlemen. And Happy Valentine’s Day Jnet.

Hustle Points

I like to keep track of life by keeping mental notes of how many “hustle points” I might get in a day. Allow me to explain myself.

In high school I used to play basketball. Throughout a season the coach and assistants kept track of an individual’s points scored, assists, rebounds, and hustle points. A hustle point meant either you laid out for a ball into the stands, dove onto the ground for a loose ball, or just generally worked your butt off on the court. At the end of the season an awards banquet was held for the team. I remember the first time I was introduced to this concept. Back in 1988, my brother won the hustle award for the season. To say the least, I was impressed. I have never won the hustle award. But I’m still keeping track.

Let’s say I have a rehearsal at 1 pm. I decide to leave 10 minutes earlier due to construction on the trains. As I figured, the subway was all messed up and it took me a little longer than usual. But I showed up right on time. I call that a hustle point.

Even simple planning of routes throughout the city is hustling in my world. Every once in a while the police set up random roadblocks. Usually they’re looking for drunk drivers, but I don’t like talking to cops anytime I don’t have to. One time I saw the trap ahead and quickly turned right so I’d miss the roadblock. Hustling.

Okay I have lost many hustle points in my day. I do admit, one time The Captive Lion called me and said he was ready to play Halo 2. I was unable to because I had forgot to charge my new Logitech wireless headset. That was not hustling.

And without a doubt I know who’s getting hustled right now…you. Unless you stopped reading about 2 paragraphs ago. I’m not really a writer, but I get to pretend. Now that’s hustling.

My Precious

Gollum

I am a hideous, wretched creature.

My skin is scaly. My eyes are beady. And as I type this, I’m wearing only a filthy, soiled loincloth.

In other words, I’m like every other owner of an Xbox 360. My wife found one over a month ago, and I did what anyone would do: I subsequently took my treasure to the dankest cave I could find to covet it in isolation.

This is known as the “Gollum Phase” of 360 ownership. Once you have a 360, you really don’t need friends, family, hygiene, or natural light. And unless you’re willing to completely dissociate from civilization, you could be asked to let someone else have a turn with your precious console.

It’s a pitiful existence. I subsist on insects and the flesh of people I bite trying to play with my 360. I’ve abandoned walking for skulking. And I didn’t think it was possible, but I’ve actually gotten pastier.

Sometimes I can’t help but think of my former self. People could generally tolerate my company. I had better posture. And my hair was far less stringy. My wife bought me a 360 thinking it would earn her some positive publicity on this site for once. Instead, well, she created a monster. Literally.

My wife is taking this all in stride, as with any of my annoying habits, she’s hoping it’s just a phase.

Thanks to Hepworth for another outstanding graphic.

The Super Blog

I’m in unchartered territory. The Seahawks are in the Super Bowl for the first time in their franshise history, and I am utterly unprepared for the event.

What should I paint on my chest? Sure, a phrase like “Go ‘Hawks!” might suffice in the regular season, but this is the Super Bowl. It seems like I almost need to get a tattoo or something.

What do I drink? Beer is a safe choice, but maybe I should bust out the bottle of top shelf gin I’ve been hiding from guests and saving for the proverbial Special Occasion.

And what if they win? How do I comport myself? I’ve never been in the position to celebrate a championship of any kind. Obviously, I need to push my couch into the middle of the street and light it on fire. Then, I suppose I am expected to head downtown and riot with the rest of the hardcore fans. Then what? Topple police cruisers? I wish they made a guidebook for novice sports hooligans.

I guess I’ll deal with these issues as the game progresses. One other note, I spent Super Bowl Eve thinking about the game, hanging my stocking, and formulating a prediction. Here it is: Seahawks 27, Steelers 17. That’s right, a ten point spread. And the MVP: Joe Jurevicious. 6 receptions, 2 touchdowns, 114 yards receiving.

So here we go. It’s noon, the game is three and a half hours away. Like the NFC championship game, I’ll be updating this post continually throughout the day. Let’s just hope the game and this blog live up to the hype.

Hyping Sunday’s Super Blog

Since, frankly, there isn’t nearly enough hype surrounding Sunday’s Superbowl, I am going to do my part to clog cyberspace with a running commentary of the day’s events.

If you recall two weeks ago, during the NFC championship game, I started a post that I continuously updated throughout the day with the score, my blood-alcohol level and solicitations for a Seahawks Starter jacket, circa 1992.

That appeared to be a winning formula, at least for the Seahawks, so I’ll repeat the process this Sunday.

So, fellow Zillionaires, be sure to have your laptops handy during the game. And please chime in with your thoughts, predictions, color commentary or just express your desire to see a Mick Jagger “wardrobe malfunction” during the halftime show.

See you on Sunday! Go ‘Hawks!