Archive for January, 2011

Off-duty: Guys, mess up Valentine’s Day at your own peril

Two years ago, in the evening hours of Feb. 14, I was in the grocery store picking up some egg whites, low-cal bagels, fake butter, 2-percent milk and fruit, and all the while cursing the really-in-shape woman ahead of me who had a basket full of steak, pasta, beer and some greasy chicken fingers. Passing the greeting-card aisle, I found a truly sad sight.

Five men stood in front of what was left of the Valentine’s Day card section, desperately trying to find something that didn’t look like a leftover card. There were none. It was the aisle of the doomed.

The following year, I made the trip on purpose to see if history was going to repeat itself.

It did.

Valentine’s Day is two weeks away. Guys, go now and save yourself the heartache and months of abstinence that lie ahead if you screw this up — again. Enough said.

Remember, it’s not designed to be fair

Let me point something out. Valentine’s Day is the day to celebrate your love and commitment to each other, now and forever. …

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Off-duty: What I think about when stuck on Ga. 400

I couldn’t sleep.

I normally hit the sack around 11:30 and get up at 6- or 7-something. It wasn’t working out that way. (I think peace of mind is a rare luxury now days.) I woke up, contemplated the pros and cons of going back to sleep —all of which kept me awake and defeated the purpose — I got up around 4:30 with about five hours of sleep under my belt.

Coffee, some Corn Chex, a brief discussion with the schnauzer, shower and I’m off.

In the car, I was trying to concentrate on the NPR program this morning. It was about some country that I didn’t recognize or could pronounce. The woman reporting on the country that I had never heard of was putting me to sleep. She had the NPR clear, precise voice I wish I could have listened to five hours before. I tried to focus on whatever she was talking about but I never could figure it out.

I went through the CD case and nothing stood out that I particularly wanted to listen to. Talk radio was on the early morning recycling of stuff that …

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Snowed in with cabin fever, hoping for new scivvies

Greetings from the Frozen Tundra.

Snow turns to ice and yet many still think that is the time to go to the store — which is probably closed, by the way. I’ve been here since Sunday. Two things are starting to weigh on me. First, I don’t have enough underwear to last much longer.

Secondly, I’m entering into cabin fever. I’m talking to myself. I’m doing it because there aren’t many people near my office to judge me. And by talking to myself, I can rationalize my thoughts with a second opinion — the other me. While I talk to myself, I’m holding the phone to my ear so people won’t think I’m crazy.

It may be too late.

Back to the first problem: You never miss the things you love until they’re gone. Without underwear, we are just animals. This realization goes back to 52 B.C. when Julius Caesar was said to have touched on the subject, along with his other famous statements:

“Alea iacta est.” (The die is cast.)

“Veni, vidi, vici.” (I came, I saw, I conquered.)

“Anei nomo shortsa”

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Why do we fire guns in the air to celebrate things?

Nothing says ringing in the New Year like erratic gunfire and bullets dropping to Earth at terminal velocity.

How did we get to the top and, for some, near the top of the food chain? It is strange — no, bizarre — how people think.

I actually thought my Uncle Dewey was a man of the world and had a solid take on things. He graduated second in his class at The Frederick DUI School (where, oddly enough, the graduation party was held at the bar across the street) and he held a certificate of small-engine repair from Broadwell’s Garage in Tate, GA. Yet, he could not understand all the hub-bub about Sandy Springs Police Sgt. Dan Nable and the stray bullet that hit his car New Year’s Eve.

“It’s just good ol’ fun,” he said, reflectively, as he took a puff of his Pall Mall cigarette and then looked up toward the sky as if to give off some air of sophistication. “We did it every year up at the ranch and no one got hurt. My whole hunting club was up there and, whooo-eeee, that was a …

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