Hidden Gem

A few weeks ago I made a pact with my wife. "Diana" I said, "will you make a deal with me? We have so many books that I would like to agree that until we have read all of them, each for their own books, we will not buy another book." And the surprising thing is, she agreed. I say surprising because, while I latch onto authors and buy all they have written, my wife will do that and pick up a random book after reading the jacket and deciding that, "It is only $4 so what the hey."

I love this about her but in the last year or so, her book buying habits have started to overwhelm our already bursting shelves. And she has a tendency to go for thicker novels which doesn't help things much.

The only problem with this agreement involves my book club. Once a month I have to have the book that we are reading, and as of late I have had luck picking books I already own but haven't read. Well, this month I wasn't so lucky and I need a copy of Richard North Patterson's Exile and Diana refused to let me buy it. Thus, I went somewhere I haven't been since I was a child...The Public Library.

Something snobby in me says, "Trinity, you don't need the library. You will just want to keep the book so just buy it." Well, I am now without that option and so I went to the public library today and opened an account to get my book and I must say, the Lewisville Library is nice. It was quite, had a wonderfully large area for children, and carried a decent supply of books. It isn't too large or overpowering and I was able to find Exile without any help which is more than I can say for some libraries I have been in.

And there were people there...at 11 a.m. on a Monday morning. I assumed it would just be me. So maybe I will give this library thing another try after I return the book I have. I mean, there is no way I will have all of my books read by next month and there is sure to be another book club meeting so I just may have to.

That is all,

Newt

"War "huh", Good God, What is it good for?" Winning

Sorry it has taken me a week to post this but I have been rather busy of late. So, in case you haven't done the math in your head or checked out CrazyNewt's blog, I won the blog war.

I just wanted to send out a heart felt "SUCK IT" to Dave over at Crazy Thoughts from a Crazy Newt...sorry, crazy Steve and as I listen to "We are the Champions" I think back on the fun I had with this whole war. Dave made a nice surrender of arms post and in all seriousness, had he not attacked me I wouldn't have made a new frienemy and got to read his funny blogs.

Now we will both go about our business, kind of like America and Russia did after that whole Cold War thing. Sure, I will be watching him like a hawk to make sure he isn't making side arms deals with some other blog in an attempt to stage some sort of terroristic strike on me, but otherwise we cool.

That is all,

The one and only Newt

A post about how cool web comics can be

I have been reading comic books since I was around 8 years old and it finally happened, I got mentioned in one. I began reading this awesome web comic strip called Heropotamus around January. It involves a little girl who sends Santa a letter saying, "I want a Heropotamus for Christmas", and that is just what she gets. The strip is very funny and rather clever as Heropotamus gets ready to battle his arch-enemy, Villianocerous.

Well, a few weeks ago we started a comment line that pretty much said, "What is Hero's catch phrase? Instantly, the comments were throwing out suggestions and I, of course, had a couple and one of them was deemed good enough to make it into the strip. Thus, I finally got mentioned in a comic.


You should all go read Heropotamus this instant. I can't wait until Josh Alves, the creator, gets around to making T-shirts so I can finally have my favorite water horse shouting his catch phrase, or more specifically mine.

The second web comic I stumbled upon came directly from Heropotamus because a guy named Jamie was always commenting on the Heropotamus site and it turns out he writes this really quirky comic called, "This is How We Met". It is hard to describe it exactly, but it involves a pony named Tony, a crazy doll thing that is named Mr. Izzy Goots, Humpty Dumpty, and a ton of other weird characters. It is like a mix of Dilbert, Pearls Before Swine, and a little Calvin and Hobbes all mixed into one.

And, Jamie was having this awesome contest a few weeks ago where he quoted famous lines from classic children's literature and if you guessed the answer, you got awesome prizes. Below are the sketches I received for getting the correct answer of The Giving Tree on one of the posts.
A few days later I was graced with this awesome set of sketch cards. My favorite was the one below entitled "Wild Thing".


In all, I got 4 sketch cards and he was kind enough to doodle the characters from the strip onto the envelope, which is what you are seeing on the left and right of the dog.

The third and final comic I wanted to alert you guys to is called Axe Cop. It is about a cop who uses an axe to fight crime. He has a strange dinosaur cop partner and it is weird. It is written by a 5 year old. Yes, you read right, a 5 year old. His brother draws it.

You can definitely tell that it is written by a minor as it jumps from one idea to the next and the simplicity of the ideas brings about teh nostalgia of being a child. Other character include Unicorn baby, Sockarang, Baby Man, Leaf Man, and Wexter the T-Rex. The list of ridiculous characters can be found here. The whole thing is just a lot of fun.

So, go support the people I love to read so they will keep making them and I can keep reading them.

That is all,

Newt

Why can't life be like Mario Paint?

We are in the process of refreshing our house to put it up for sale, and in the process our realtor came by and told us what we should do to get it ready. He wanted us to paint and texture the kitchen, get rid of a wall of red that was in our bedroom, replace some door knobs, and touch up all the baseboards. So, we flew my dad in to come help me last Friday and Diana's dad came in on Saturday to help paint. We are almost done.

Here are a few things you can guarantee when I have to touch a paint brush.
1. I will complain.
2. Diana and Trinity will yell at each other at least once.
3. I cannot be trusted to handle a paint roller.
4. I will not be happy with the results.
5. Diana and Trinity will yell at each other at least twice.

Diana and I got into it pretty loudly last night for because of number 4 on the list. We have been having an argument that has these two sides.

Diana argues that the painting doesn't have to be perfect for us to sell the house. Her claim is that if we were looking for a house and weren't happy with the paint, it doesn't mean we wouldn't buy the house, and that buyers can just repaint if they don't like it.

My side of things goes of the premise of "Do unto others..." and I know that when I go to buy a house I really don't want to have to paint if we like the colors; I hope that the walls don't need to be retouched or corrected because the seller couldn't bring themselves to do a good job instead of a mediocre one. Plus the more we do to the house to make it as perfect as possible, the more likely it will sell quickly.

Who's right? I wish I knew.

I just want to be done with all this headache and get my house back in order so I can stop sleeping on the couch(this has nothing to do with our fight) and get back into my bedroom.

That is all,

Newt

Video Games Gone Wrong - The final battle in the War of the Newts

Well, we have come to the third and final post in the blog war of the Newts. After looking over my blog, go over to my enemy's site and then place your vote for who takes home the title. We are currently tied 1 to 1 so this is the one that decides it all.

The third war topic was "Video games gone wrong". What does that mean? Hell if I know! I wanted to discuss how the world was being reshaped in 16 bit gore and mayhem but then I was driving home one day and a random thought came into my head that caused me to laugh out loud. Then another. And another.

Thus, I pulled out my sick Photoshop skills and created a set of cartoons I will title "Video Games Gone Wrong". This may even become a recurring feature.






And one more time for my friend Lola.

Ribbit, Bitch.

Newt

Bored Games

I think I am broken. Somewhere in the last 10 to 15 years something snapped in my head and made a part of me stop working correctly. I didn't even notice, like gaining a single pound, it just happened. Such a miniscule thing. I can't win at checkers anymore.

I kid you not that I was amazing at checkers as a child. Maybe a checkers prodigy. I beat everyone and could see the moves that had to be made well in advance. I taught myself chess but never have been very good at paying attention to all the pieces and their movements. I enjoyed the undertaking and once in a blue moon I won, but checkers was always there saying, "Oh, that chess is too fickle. Come play with me," and I would.

A few years ago I saw a glimpse that something had changed. Erin and I played a game of checkers at a restaurant with a checker board that had no pieces. We used pennies and I lost! Multiple games! Lost!

I wrote it off as pennies not being a good way to play. I couldn't keep my pieces separate from hers because the only difference was we each used a side of the penny. I was confident that I was still a checkers champion. I WAS WRONG!

I have a iPhone app for checkers and play it all the time. I have won twice. I might win more if I was the first move, who knows, but the point is that I lost that spark that made me great. Where did it disappear to? Have you seen it? If you do, please send it back my direction.

I feel like I have been double jumped by a chimpanzee.

That is all,

Newt

My Hometown - The Second Battle in the War of the Newts

We have come to the second battle in the War of the Blogs. This week’s battle topic is “My Hometown”. So, read my post, head over to my enemy’s blog, and vote for the winner in this week’s battle.

Have you ever seen the movie or the TV show “Friday Night Lights”? Congratulations, you have been to my home town. You see, I am from Midland, Texas, aka, the childhood home of George W. Bush, the 43rd President of these United States. Damn straight!

Honestly though, I do come from a town of about 130,000 people, about half of whom I went to high school with. You see, for all its wonderful traits Midland, Texas is a black hole of despair and disappointment.

I like to joke that Midland is where you grow up, go to school, and…well that is it. If you don’t have a baby from the best three years of your life otherwise known as High School, than you were fat, ugly, or intelligent. Please categorize yourself..

I do have fond memories of my birthplace. It was where I whiled away the hours journeying to and from my Granny’s house every week, spent summers riding bikes with Thomas, and categorized the different Rednecks in their native habitats. Honestly, it is still the place I call home, even though I have lived almost a 6th of my life outside of it.

The pros to growing up in Midland, Texas:

1. We had a water park…in the middle of Southern Texas. It was Water Wonderland and when you live in an area where summer temps reach the 100 degree mark, it was better known as Paradise.
2. My entire family lived there. That could be considered a con, but when you grow up with both sides of your entire family living in or around the city, it brings a level of closeness that I know my kids will be deprived of, and for that a part of me is sad.
3. Nothing was far enough away that I couldn’t get there on my bike. Now, that isn’t to say things weren’t a distance, but I was known to ride the entire length of town to go as far as the comic book store or as close as the 7-11. Having this option as a kid was a key experience in my childhood.
4. Texas Motor Speedway. I would bum along with Thomas and his family, and we would head out to the local dirt track to watch local race car drivers crash into each other. Mostly Thomas and I would go walk underneath the bleachers looking for fallen cash and wallets, but it was a thrill. My dad even did Demolition Derby there.

The cons consisted of…

1. Living in an area where High School Football was king. Mind you, I was a chubby comic book nerd, so things weren’t stacked in my favor, but the fact that on any Friday night, dumbasses from all over the city congregated to a football field and were overcome with pride for a bunch of grunts in Purple and Gold really chapped my ass. My school was Purple and Gold. Go Bulldogs!!!
2. The town was small enough it only had “One”. By that I mean we had one movie theatre (not counting the discount show), one comic book store (except in the mid 90’s when there was an odd abundance), and one Wal-Mart, and by that I don’t mean Super. Things got more plentiful as the years progressed but there is still only a Barnes & Noble and a Hastings by way of book stores, and Hastings is a movie rental place as well.
3. Teen Pregnancy Rates. I am going to make up a statistic and say that during my years in high school, Midland entered the National Teen Pregnancy Hall of Fame. I wouldn’t doubt it. It seems like everyone was having sex…except for me. Not that I wanted a baby, mind you, but I wouldn’t have turned away the practice.
4. Midland seems to be the buckle on the Bible Belt. Church and Midland were two peas in a pod. I am highly unreligious, but I went to church because I dated, and if you wanted a girlfriend that wasn’t a weirdo, you were probably dating a church girl. Oh, how I wanted a weirdo. Almost every serious girlfriend I had in high school belonged to a church. A Baptist church. I went to more Easter plays, youth group meetings, and Sunday services than I can remember. Ah, the power of the Lord (and by Lord I mean French Kissing).

So, that is my hometown. I honestly loved growing up there and doubt I would be as freakin’ awesome as I am if I had come from anywhere else. Growing up in a Southern Texas town allowed me to rebel into my nerdy world and still not need to turn to drugs and heavy metal to be different. When you walk into school with an Iron Man t-shirt on, you can feel confident no one else is going to be wearing it too.

That is all,

Newt

The Airport is a great place to meet people

I just got back from a week in Waldorf, Maryland last Friday and while in the airport, a funny thing happened. I was standing next to the wall near the baggage carousel, waiting for it to come to life so I could get my bag. I had my phone out playing on it when out of the corner of my eye I noticed there was an older woman coming my direct, and she appeared to be ready to faint.

She wobbled over to the pillar I was standing against and immediately I could tell something was wrong so I asked the woman, "Ma'am, are you OK?"

The smell of tobacco and alcohol assaulted me as she slurred, "No" and that was when I realized, this lady was 9 sheets to the wind drunk. I got a better look at her at that point. She was about 5'2, between 50 and 90, thin gray hair, slightly hunching over and dressed entirely in chocolate brown. Her pants and shirt had that velvet look to them and she had a brown purse with her as well. She stared at me, with that vacant look you get when you have had one to many shots of whiskey and I think I could actually see her mind working to try to catch up.

She leaned against the pillar and from out of nowhere a young African American guy who worked for American Airlines manifested himself next to the woman. Their conversation went like this.

AA: "Ma'am, are you all right?"
DW: "No, I'm not..."
AA: "Are you flying somewhere?"
DW:"Yesh. Ahm...flying....to....."
At this point the Drunk Woman just stopped and waited about 6 seconds.
AA: "Ma'am, are you here to pick someone up?"
I immediately thought how that sounded like the worst idea ever but she must have rebooted completely because she started talking again.

DW: "Ahm goin' ta Nashvul."
AA:"Do you have a ticket?"
She looked at him and thought for a second when he added, "Maybe in your purse?"
She actually did have a ticket in her purse and when she handed it over I was surprised to hear the man say "Ma'am, you came from Nashville and are going to San Antonio. Let me walk you to your gate."

She eyed him suspiciously when he offered her his arm but after a second she must have reasoned that she should go with him, or forgot why she didn't want to go in the first place. She took his arm and they casually walked towards the gates. She almost tripped over a man's suitcase as they went.

I can only guess that somehow she got drunk during a layover or on the plane and wandered out of the terminal. She had no luggage and was entirely alone.

Diana came inside to meet me and when we were walking out we found that the AA guy was a liar. Instead of the gate, the woman was sitting in a chair as two police officers were talking to her. We overheard the question, "How much have you had to drink tonight?" as we walked away.

That is all,

Newt

Awesome Memory - The First battle in the War

It is time for the first battle in the Blog War and the topic is "Awesome Memory". After reading my post, head over to my enemy's blog and read his post for this battle. Since my entire life is really awesome, thus my memories are all awesome, it was hard to pick one but after scrolling through my mental Rolodex I stumbled across this gem. I will note that I have mixed feelings about this memory but good or bad, it is still Awesome.

The year was 1989. I was sitting at home watching Full House, which I guess means this was a Friday because it was part of the TGIF lineup on ABC along with Family Matters and Perfect Strangers (Oh Balki). My mother and sister were gone to the grocery store, which left me and my father at home. As I laid on the floor, naked except for a pair of blue jeans, the phone rang.

I was entranced by Candace Cameron and so I was oblivious to the fact my father had answered. It was my uncle calling to ask if my father could come help him with something. Suddenly my father was in the room asking me, "Newt, can you stay by yourself for a few minutes and stay out of trouble until your mom gets back from the store?" I was around 7 at the time and felt the buzz most kids do when they get left home alone for the first time. The trust. The honor. The temptation.

"Of course" I exclaimed, I was just going to be watching TV anyway. I imagine there was some hesitation but whatever my uncle needed must have been enough of an incentive that Dad thought he could get away with it. He told me not to get into trouble and left. This turned out to be a larger mistake than he could ever have anticipated.

The rest of this memory probably takes place over a 15 minute span of time. In my mind it felt like hours. Minutes after my father left I stirred during a commercial break and...what's that? Do I smell smoke? Hmmmm. I walked around the house trying to locate the smell but couldn't. How odd! I went into my bedroom and stared at the couch that was being used as a makeshift bed for me for a few days. Instantly my mind entered a flashback sequence worthy of Lost.

"Mom. Dad. I want a real bed. I am tired of this huge water bed. I want a bed like everyone else, with Ninja Turtle sheets."
"OK. We can get you a real bed."

Through a rush of the day or two that this transpired we drained my water bed (Water beds! Got to love the 80s), dismantled the frame, and moved a couch in for me to sleep on until we could go shopping for a frame and mattress. After the couch was installed in my room I laid on the sheet and realized how cold it was. I had gotten use to the water bed heater that usually kept the bubble I slept on warm.

Well, if it could heat a water bed, surely it could heat a couch. 100 degrees seemed like the right setting for a couch and I tucked the sheet back around it, leaving the heating pad in direct contact with the polyester cushion and went about the rest of my Friday.

Shaking my head out of the thought I was having I walked over to the couch and felt its warmth. The smoke smell was getting stronger and I remember thinking, "Why does the couch smell like smoke?" Using 7 year old logic I knew the best way to figure it out would be to rip the sheet off of the couch, thus exposing the culprit of the odor. In a way I was right. I later learned that directly adding Oxygen to a volatile situation will cause a small suffering flame to rage. Who knew?

Like a magic trick, where once a sheet sat, now a flaming couch appeared. Instantly I knew, the house was on fire. My room was toast and I was scared so I ran to the phone to call for help and...who do I call? I know, I will call the smartest person I know, my Granny. She can help. I dialed her number and explained this situation as best I could. I think it went something like this...

"GRANNY, GRANNY!!!! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!"
"WHAT? Where are your parents?"
"THERE GONE!!! I'M BY MYSELF. WHAT DO I DO?!?"
"I'll be right there, call 911 and then get out of the house."
"OK. CALL 911. GOT IT."

My Granny lived three blocks away so I knew things would be OK. Then it hit me. The animals. Our dogs were going to die if I didn't save them. And of course I had to get Peaches. Peaches was our cockatiel and lived in my room. Heroically, I rushed back into the smoking pit and rushed to her cage. Orange and red flashed in the room as I grabbed her and rushed out the front door to freedom. Next I ran back into the house to find our Boston Terrier, Willie. He made it out on his own which left only our black lab Daisy to save.

Daisy stayed outside and would have been fine but the mind of a 7 year old doesn't function at 100% capacity at the best of times so I ran out into the back yard, released Daisy from her dog run, and escorted her to the front yard where she instantly ran away down the street. My father found her later after some time driving the neighborhood after the fire trucks had left.

The reassuring shell of my Granny's white Buick(I think) appeared in the front yard.

"Did you call the fire department?"
"OH NO!!! I FORGOT. I HAD TO SAVE THE ANIMALS."
"OK. I am going to run in and call them."

She disappeared into the smoky door frame as I was slowly being joined by neighbors in the front yard. Someone had grabbed our water hose and was aiming it at the window to my bedroom. I stood dumbfounded. Minutes passed and Granny didn't come out. Where was she? Is she OK? I started to panic and was considering running back in to save her when I heard it.

"Trinity! Trinity!"

It was her, but where was it coming from? I soon discovered. She couldn't make it through the front door after calling 911 so she had gone out the back and was at the side gate. We kept it padlocked and I clearly didn't have the key but with the help of my neighbor, or more accurately my neighbors flashlight, we beat the lock until it busted off and she joined me out front.

The rest of the night seemed to happen at double speed. My mother and sister appeared, apparently having to fight past the firemen who had tried to stop them from going near the house. My father came back home and to this day I never have thought to ask him where he had gone or how he knew to come home. Firemen did show up and get the fire out and we were left to go through the wreckage or our life.

The damage to the house was bad but the worst was my room. There was a charcoal bike frame, tons of debris, and all of my possessions melted or gone completely. The only things to survive were the belongings in my toy chest that the firemen had pulled out into the yard. My Ninja Turtles collection came through unscathed because of that toy chest and I breathed a sigh of relief.

That is all,

Newt

HERE YE, HERE YE

The Epic Battle of Newt vs. Newt will commence this Saturday, Feb 20th, 2010.

This battle will be waged on three fronts.

1) Awesome Memory (Saturday Feb 20th)
2) My Hometown (Sat Feb 27)
3) Video Games Gone Wrong (Sat Mar 6)

Each Post will be automatically submitted at 12 PM Eastern.

For the week following each post, you, our readers, will be asked to vote on your favorite post to determine the winner for the week. The best of three posts wins and will be named the true Newt. It is expected that this be an unbiased voting process.

May the best Amphibian win!

I just got some bad news.

This is the worst news I could ever have read.

Why does God hate me so much?

Newt

Aspects of WAR!

To my enemy, the fake Newt.

Here is my proposal for the ensuing war that will be making you cry in your bathtub while all of your Canadian musicians play in the background.

We each write three separate posts about certain topics. We agree to post these at the same time so as to not give a fair advantage to the other person. I suggest topics in the vein of "
Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll" or "Things you don't talk about such as Sex, Taxes and Politics" as our topic ideas. I welcome your thoughts, or not so much welcome them as hold mild disdain for them.

We then open up the floor for comments and have people vote for their favorite. That may be unfair as I have more followers at the moment so I would like to know your ideas. We can have them pick winners for each category. I will demand impartiality from my blog friends but they love me so I can only do so much.

Winner takes all...mind you I won't be changing my name but will add Steve to it as promised.

Thoughts,

Newt

Olympic Fever? More like an mild cold

I am sitting in my living room with Diana as the Opening Ceremony of the Olympic Games starts and she is "oohhhing" and "aahhhing" as fireworks go off and people ski down mountains in a montage of Canadian pride. Diana has been looking forward to this for weeks and one of the things that made her super excited about TiVo is that she could record some of the events. I just have to say when it comes to Olympics...

I DON'T CARE.

I really don't. It is the most uninteresting thing in the world for me. I love what they represent, Nations sending their top athletes to a single place to compete and see who is the best without having to resort to war. But it is soooo boring. I could fall asleep right now and I am only typing.

I don't understand why this is such a big deal to everyone. Name one medalist from 2002. I can't. It just seems like such a waste of time. Never have cared, never will. Unless one of my kids ever becomes an Olympian...then I guess I will try to give a crap. Until then, I will pass on all the fanfare.

That is all,

Newt

Knock Down, Drag Out War

I have been attacked. Unprovoked might I add. You see, some poser from the land of Canada thinks he can come in with a year of blogging under his belt and steal the moniker of Newt. The nerve of some people, eh?

In a ballzy move that I must say is kind of brilliant, he has declared a blog war. I normally remain all Swiss on these things but he went and defaced the immortal image of my hero, Kermit the Frog, and for that he will go down. HARD!

His declaration of war can be read partly in the comments of my last post but also here. Am I scared? No. Why would I be. Everyone knows Canada is where you go to avoid war so this guy doesn't know what he has gotten himself into.

Once the term of the war are set, yes we will have civilized warfare, then it will be no holds barred. A competition to determine the number one Newt and the loser to be called Steve.

This has only just begun,

Newt(The one and only)

TBWCYL Day 364 - Update Time

Well, I finally broke down and went back to the Half Price Books where I left my copy of This Book Will Change Your Life and my copy wasn't there. What that means I have no idea. Someone may have bought it but if so they are holding it hostage and haven't called me. Just as likely they may have it and not even realize it, though it was pretty apparent it was completely filled out.

The thing I fear most is that it was found on the shelf and the employees decided to trash it because they thought a filled out copy wouldn't sell. With it being 40 days since departure I am going to assume that I will not get it back. This is a sad development. I was so hoping to keep it and gain a little faith in people all at the same time.

That is all,

Newt

Maiwage

I just saw a headline on the front page of MSN saying something about the secret to staying married 50 years. I have been married just over 2 years but have been with the same woman for over...hold on I'm counting...six years. In proportion to other people that may not be that long but with that many years under my belt I feel I can ask, "Why do people think marriage is so hard?"

I know I don't have a kid yet, and I live the good life of comics and middle class luxury so maybe I should look more towards that sector for this but I just can't understand why things are so difficult for people.

Let's look at a made up couple, Jim and Erica.

Jim has a decent job, not too bad looking, and semi responsible. Erica has a decent job as well and is going to school to become a nurse. They each work around 40 hours a week plus Erica's 15 hours of school.

They argue incessantly over dishes, laundry and occasionally money. Jim wants more sex and Erica wants more sleep. Why are they unhappy? Because they are stupid.

Come on Jim! Erica needs some sleep and can't give you as much sex as you would like. Let it go and grab yourself. That's what the Internet is for. And if she is going to school you should help out around the house more. It will benefit you in the end.

Geez Erica, cut Jim some slack. You don't really want him doing laundry do you? You saw how he shrunk that $60 blouse you just bought. Guys don't think to check for "dry clean only" tags. And I am going to guess it was you who decided to go back to school so you should expect to be tired. Don't use that as a crutch. It's not right, or fair.

See, I just solved their problems. It wasn't hard. People are stupid. I know I can be. I went through some of the same things Jim did. When your wife works 80 weeks and you have had more contact with your keyboard than her body, things can get a little tense...in my pants!!! Sorry, I couldn't resist.

The thing with marriage is that it is actually pretty easy if you have a few things.

1. The Right Person. If you married a bitch or bastard who can't sweat the small stuff, than you got yourself into this and everything you get is probably something you deserved. "He was so loving at first but now he is just mean." Whatever. I know there is occasionally that story but if you get with Biff, the mechanic at the garage who plays cards every week, smokes and drinks and suddenly you think a ring on your finger makes him more refined, you are as stupid as you look..and you look pretty stupid.

2. Patience. If you are the kind of person who asks for something to be done once and if it isn't then you start yelling, you shouldn't be married. Or for that matter in a relationship. Don't inflict that on someone.

3. Guilt. I know this may sound unorthodox and many people won't put this on the must have list but I think that guilt is a key instrument in making things work. Here's why. I will use a real example. Say I am at a Hooters. DD brings me some wings and I look at her boobs. Should I feel guilty, probably not. But if I was to start thinking about more than just looking, I would have GUILT. And guilt stops me dead in my tracks. If every cheater had guilt before he cheated instead of after, he might actually not cheat to begin with. This wouldn't have 100% accuracy but it might curve the numbers some.

4. Low Expectations. This is the most crucial thing any married couple should have. If I expect to eat Hamburger Helper every night, anything else is a bonus. If I want filet mingnon then I am going to be constantly disappointed. Men and Women are flawed creatures. Why anyone expects so much is beyond me. I think part of the reason for so many divorces is that couples expect so much from each other that they don't appreciate what they have and instead focus too much on what they don't. I didn't marry my dream girl combo of Jessica Alba and Little Debbie so I don't expect my wife to taste like Sexy Cream Pies. It would just be unrealistic.

I love my wife, genuinely love her. She is great for supporting me, having a conversation with, allowing me my faults, though they may be few, and knowing how to make me laugh. I can't say I am the perfect husband all the time but I bet she would say some of the same things about me that I do about her.

I currently can't think of anything that will change that feeling and it hasn't changed in the umpteen years we have been together, no matter what we fight about. I can't comment about growing apart or straying because I honestly don't see the point, but with divorce rates as high as they are, maybe I am in the minority. If you grow apart your not trying very hard and if you stray, you don't want to be married to begin with. As I get older, I think I am learning to sweat the small stuff more and more. Sure it annoys me that her side of the sink is dirtier than mine, but I just wipe it up and move along. Me cleaning up something that only bothers me seems like a solutions to a problem that is mine, not ours.

That is all,

Newt

Bloop, Bloop, Bloop, Bloop, Bloop, Bloop, Bloop

The world is in color today because last night, Diana and I made a huge step forward into the future and got...TiVo. Let me back that up for you...”Bloop, Bloop Bloop... the future and got...TiVo.”

Suck it, VCR. You are going to that home where my dogs all went to roam free in the fields. Maybe that is why I always see old unwound Cassette tape clinging to the fences near the fields. Hmmmm!?!

We went to Best Buy and got our little friend yesterday evening and it was like buying a new puppy. I say that because as soon as we got it home I realized how much shit I was going to have to buy to get it to behave. We had to go back to the store to buy a Wireless Adapter so it could use the WiFi signal but after we plugged him in, our little guy was so eager to please.

“Can I set up a season pass for you?” Sure.
“If you tell me what you like I can look for other shows for you.” Really, you’re too kind.
“Did you miss something on the screen? Let me back that up for you.” Oh, you are the best sir.

Our TiVo is named Archimedes, like Merlin’s Owl from King Arthur times. I thought it fitting since this has to be a box of magic sitting under my TV. It may also be alien as it seems to only communicate through a “Bloop” noise that may actually be a language. I am not kidding when I say that I have been trying to talk back to it by using my own “Bloop” in response.

So far we now have Season Passes to our favorite shows:

How I Met Your Mother
House
Big Bang Theory
Life Unexpected
Lost
Human Target
The Office
Community
Modern Family
Sesame Street (yes, I am abusing TiVo now by recording this but I don’t care)
Oprah (This is Diana’s and I doubt will get watched much but she wanted it.)

I can’t believe I don’t have to remember to set a tape if I am not going to be home. Life is amazing.

That is all,

Newt

Midnight train to Jersey

The doors to the subway train open and a waft of 8 day unwashed vagina attacks my nostrils. My eyes immediately dart around the train to identify where the smell is coming from and sitting in the corner is a small black man whose skin has begun to whiten from lack of hygiene and a life of riding subway cars to keep warm. My watch shows 1:02 a.m. and I have spent the last hour and a half in the underground labyrinth that is the New York Subway System.

I spent a lovely evening with a beautiful redhead named Lola. Saying that makes it sound tawdry which just goes to show you how quickly you jump to conclusions. It is the night before I leave New Jersey and I rode into the city via the Path train into the World Trade Center hole and boarded the E train to 42nd street for my date. Being in Jersey gave me the opportunity to hook back up with Lola after our brief meeting in Dallas.

We took in dinner at Etc. Etcetera and, thoroughly stuffed, made our way to see “Mary Poppins” on Broadway. In between renditions of “Step in Time”, “Spoonful of sugar” and “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” (how impressive is it that my spell check has that as a word and corrected my spelling?) Lola and I made friends with a Brazilian who was taking in the show. I think we picked the perfect Broadway to see too. If you were in the audience and looked up to see kids enjoying themselves, “ooohing” and “aahhing” as Mary flies across the stage you would have been looking at us. We jumped with surprise, sang with the songs, and bobbed our heads up and down in time with the music. No two 20 something’s could have been happier.

After the show we headed to the bus terminal and as we went inside discovered a bar that was housed within serving drinks to travelers as they waited for their bus. As we sipped our beer in wait of Lola’s chariot, we were serenaded with karaoke as small white guys sang songs better suited to large black men or sopranos. You sure hit that high note, Mr. Blanco.

I saw Lola off and began my travel back to Jersey City. Knowing the trains ran off hours I anticipated a wait but was confident that I would be able to make it back to my hotel. I rode the E train in so I planned on backtracking on it and getting back to the World Trade Center. As I stood in the tunnel at 42nd street station I learned what Purgatory must be like.

I will start by saying I had 40 blocks to travel. The train ride to Times Square took about 15 minutes. I stood waiting for the E train and was disappointed time and time again. As I leaned over the tracks to watch for the small light at the end of the tunnel to grow brighter, the A on the train kept dashing my hopes. After 30 minutes on the platform I began to worry that the train would never come. Using the map I planned an alternate route and jumped on an A train to 33rd where I knew of a Path Train that ran from the City to Jersey.

I scrambled around Penn Station in a panic. My phone said the Path train stopped at 11:00 but I couldn’t find it out until I had exited the signal blocking tunnels. Stuck on 33rd, I rushed back to the Subway and decided I would just ride the A and get as close to WTC as I could and walk. It was past midnight by this point and exhaustion was setting in along with a mild need to urinate. I jumped on the A train but only rode it one stop when I decided to jump off and double check the map to make sure that I was heading the right way. At this point the voice of God, or maybe it was just an intercom, at that point I starting to get delirious, said,

“All E bound trains are being serviced off of the F line. Please ride the F train to Commerce for service to World Trade Center.”

I had just spent over an hour waiting for a train that didn’t exist. At this point I held back tears and went down a level to wait for the train that I hoped would bring salvation. I turned my phone on to record my thoughts.

“It’s just after 1 o’clock in the morning; I am now waiting for the F train on West 4th street. This marks an hour and a half in the subway with about a mile and a half covered.”

As I rode the F train with the human embodiment of rotten eggs, I prayed that I would make it home. My urgency at needing to pee was building but there was not a chance in hell I was stepping foot in a Subway bathroom. I made it to the WTC at 1:30 a.m. and the only real bit of luck I had appeared. I had arrived just in time to get on the Path train that would take me home. My second recording held more hope that the first.

“It’s 1:33 in the morning and I am on the Path train to New Jersey. It took me 30 minutes to get to the WTC so I could get onto this train and I lucked out to find it the first time. I was afraid if I didn’t it would have been another hour and I would have cried.”

As my feet screamed in protest I rode the train into Jersey City. I had entered the Path train in Jersey City near the office I was at. However my hotel was a good 10 block from the office and I got the great idea that I would just ride the Path to the station near my hotel, thinking it would save me about 8 blocks. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The train I was on dropped off on a different station than the one near my hotel but this didn’t become apparent until I had exited the train, popped out topside, and found nothing looked familiar.

I pulled out my phone and with the use of Google Maps, located my hotel and started the 12 blocks towards it. My urge to pee went from a want to an absolute need and I was forced to stop between two parked cars in a dimly lit street and urinate. My fingers were so cold that I thought I might recoil at the touch and we myself but in this one thing I was fortunate.

I arrived at my hotel at 2 a.m. and finished packing before collapsing into bed and embracing sweet exhaustion.

That is all,

Newt

Looking for the Jersey Devil

I am sitting in the lobby of a DoubleTree hotel in New Jersey tonight. It is raining outside and the 'blip' of my Skype just went off telling me my wife responded to me. I am officially an employee of my parent company and on my first travel assignment. I have come to the state of New Jersey to get some training on a specific computer system before I get cracking on things and this entire week I get to hole up in an office complex overlooking the Hudson River.

Being new to traveling for work, it didn't occur to me that weather could be a problem so when the plane landed and I saw rain hitting the windows, I realized I was not prepared for that. I stopped in one of the airport shops before going to baggage claim and only saw "I love New York" umbrellas and I had no interest in being seen as a tourist so I passed. My hotel was next to a mall so I ran over and got one before it closed and I think I have learned my lesson.

Now, most of you are probably thinking, Newt is in Jersey? That is near Lola Lakely! and you would be right. In fact, my dear friend Lola and I are already planning on seeing each other and have tickets to see Mary Poppins on Thursday so that will be a post to come.

I am looking forward to this week and all the fun that travel offers. Why, just for dinner I was able to sample some of the local fare by taking in a quaint little restaurant. You may have heard of it. It was called Chili's.

So far I have to say Jersey doesn't seem to bad but I am staying in an urban area and it seems just like any other city. Maybe in the light of day I will walk outside and see what everyone is talking about. We will see.

That is all,

Newt

Womanizing the blogosphere

It is slowly becoming apparent that the blog world is predominately female. When I started blogging I was in my own little world where me and my friends all blogged and had a little click. In the last year that click has grown exponentially and this is when it came to my attention that blogging is like volleyball, men play it but it is overrun by ladies.

I have considered that the blogosphere might be more even then I think but haven't been able to prove it. For every male blogger I find, there seem to be ten women ones. So, I did an experiment. Using the "Next Blog" button at the top of the screen I hit it 10 times and here is what came up.

Blog one was a mother writing about her kid.
Two was about an English woman writing about the trials and tribulations of having MS.
Blog three was about Merideth Boyd and her husbands photography business.
Quatro involved articles about prostate cancer.
Blog five focused on a child with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.
Six was in a different language but it looked girly.
Seven is about the life of a teacher named Joye.
Eight was the first one I found written by a man and it is all about asexuality.
Nine has something to do with Photoshop and Wikipedia. Not sure what though but it was written by a woman.
And the final blog was by someone named Kate.

So, in total there were 7 that were written by woman, 1 by a man, 1 for health purposes that are male related so probably also by men, and the final one needed translation.

So I have to ask, "Where my bros at?" I actually read a few blogs by men but there are not frequented with as many posts as women. Is it because there are stay at home moms that write? Or single women that like to discuss going out? Or does having a family make woman want to write about their adventures? I don't know.

I have seen a subculture of blogs that are just written for families to keep up with what is going on with their kin. My parents have been known to keep up with me using this blog so I understand how helpful that can be. But where are the male bloggers? And can anyone recommend some.

That is all,

Newt(M)