Camera Envy

I don't care what it actually does. I'm just upset because it's ten better than mine.

Explanation: Today is my cousin's birthday. To protect her identity, I will simply refer to her as Lisa R. Lisa R was gushing on Facebook the other day about how her loving boyfriend (we'll just call him Zach G) gave her a Nikon D60 for her birthday. It was very nice of Zach G to give her such a wonderful gift. I'm glad she's so happy and I'm glad he got her something that made her so happy.

HOWEVER, I am NOT glad that she now has a Nikon D60, while I have a Nikon D50. My Nikon D50 was the entry-level digital SLR that Nikon offered a few years back. When I purchased it, the next model up was the D70. I researched quite a bit and came to the conclusion that the D50 was the best camera for me at the time. I was happy with it at the time, and I still love it to this day.

Lisa R now owns a D60. THAT'S TEN BETTER THAN MY CAMERA! I have no idea what the features are. Frankly, it might not even be a digital SLR. If the folks at Nikon know anything, then it probably is, but I'm not checking online to verify that. Regardless of what it actually is, the present has to be better than mine. Ten better, to be precise. What could possibly make it ten better? I can only imagine. Three dimensional holographic imaging? High definition video recording? The ability to play Blue Ray DVDs? An optional D-Fit package for working out at home?

It's killing me! I think it's time to buy a D61.

One Fish, Two Fish, Goldfish, Blue Fish

My nephew has a solid blue goldfish named Spot.

Explanation: There really isn't much to explain here. He insists that his blue fish is a goldfish. He named it Spot. You can't argue with a three-year-old. Incidentally, he's also very excited that the fish swims occasionally.

Special Blog Bonus: Well, let's see. What haven't I posted here yet... How about Darth Vader doing the Thriller dance with Storm Troopers?

Theyhadababyitsaboy

I'm an uncle! (again)


Explanation: So, in the middle of my 2008 NCAA Tournament Spectacular, my sister-in-law went into labor and since my wife and I were the on-call babysitters for Easter Sunday, my blogging paid the price.



While my new nephew Luke is adorable (and healthy!), I'm frustrated that I couldn't proclaim Davidson over Georgetown as my sure-fire guaranteed upset lock of the century. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Stephen Curry is my new hero!

Now is probably a good time to mention that I am the only person in my entire pool with Davidson making the Elite Eight. Bummer I'm down to my Sweet 10 and Elite 7 already, huh?

3 + 5 > 32

From the archives:

A 3-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a 32-year-old run in circles for an hour. Who recovers last?

Explanation: After some high-speed playing yesterday with my two nephews, I learned an interesting fact about age. They were both unconscious within 20 minutes of leaving my house, while I continued (albeit slowly) throughout my day. While both of them awoke from their naps refreshed and ready to play again, I trudged through the rest of my day, went to bed early, and woke up feeling like I still have a kid clinging to each ankle.

The moral of the story? Ibuprofen is good.

Sadly, that's the moral to a lot of my stories lately.

Special Blog Bonus: Speaking of performance enhancing drugs, let's talk about professional wrestling in the 80's. Here's some fun stuff for you:

First, two Mental Floss quizzes on Wrestling Action figures: Quiz 1 and Quiz 2. I got 9/14 correct and 12/15 correct, respectively.

Second, here's a video I don't remember existing. See if you can figure out who everyone is! (I was stumped on one gentleman, until I remembered that he later served as governor of Minnesota!)

Clark, I Am Your Father

Just for the record, I do not think Superman should be allowed to wield a lightsaber.

Explanation: Just a random thought from an incident on Thanksgiving weekend. The cardinality of the integers came up again, too - This time a google has been replaced by a googleplex as the largest number in existence. I had to go back and reread my letter to the four-year-olds of America... even though the offender is now five.

Special Blog Bonus: Not sure if I've posted this yet, but I love this clip about how Superman should have ended:

Dog License

From the archives:

After moving to Texas about 25 years ago, my grandfather bought a puppy. Nobody in his neighborhood knew anything about dog licenses, but he figured if he went to the municipal building where they issued everything (marriage licenses, fishing licenses, hunting licenses, etc.) he'd be able to pick one up. When he got there, he asked the receptionist where he could go to get a dog license. She looked appauled. "YOU'RE GOING TO HUNT DOGS???"

Source: This is a true story. Texas is a very, very different place than New Jersey.

Stupid Chocolates

Dear Lindt,

I hate you.

Sincerely,
Jeremy

A Letter to the Good People at Lindt Chocolate:

Dear Lindt,

My wife and I went to visit her grandmother this weekend. Her grandmother is currently in a rehab center after having her hip replaced.* While we were there, Grandma offered us each a Lindt Lindor truffle. She directed us toward a container in her room and said, "they're for my visitors." I politely declined. I do not eat chocolates all that often and certainly not on a muggy day like it was when we visited. My wife declined as well. After the further insistance of her grandmother, my wife finally relented, while I still said I did not want one. She said, "But, they're for visitors!" which was my cue to just take one even if I didn't want one. I was just trying to make my hostess happy. I stashed it the breast pocket of my shirt so I wouldn't forget it. My wife even said to her grandmother that we would save them for dessert after our lunch, which seemed like as good a time as any to eat this chocolate that I didn't really want.

After the visit, on our way out of the rehab center, my wife gave me her chocolate and said it had already started to soften while in her purse. That should have been my first clue. I held both chocolates in my hand, knowing that I couldn't forget about them or they would melt. When we got to the car, I put them in one of the cupholders in my center console, and promptly forgot about them. That would prove to be a big mistake.

Several days later, (yesterday) I embarked on a three-hour drive to the office for work. I settled my stuff into the car, including my water bottle, which I dutifully placed in the unoccupied cup holder in the car. After a stop at Dunkin' Donuts, where I had bought a chocolate milk, I did some shuffling, which ultimately resulted in the chocolates moving to the passenger seat and my water bottle moving to where the chocolates had been.

It's important to note that, in order to get to the office on time, I had to leave the house before 6:00am. It was dark out for the first half of my trip. I couldn't see much inside the car while I got my stuff settled.

Somewhere during my trip, I realized that there was chocolate on the passenger seat. At that point, it occurred to me that the chocolates had melted and moved around on the seat. Nothing to worry about - the seat is leather and everything cleaned up with a moist napkin. I was frustrated by this, but I disposed of the chocolates and that problem was solved...

Until I left the highway. My sunglasses had a smudge on them, so, when I stopped at the first traffic light, I went to clean them off with my shirt. At that point, I noticed that there was chocolate all over my lap. My first thought was that I had settled the chocolates on my lap for some reason before moving them to the passenger seat. It seemed odd that I hadn't gotten any on my hands, though.

Soon I came to the realization that the problem was in the cup holder. Over the course of a few days, the truffles had melted significantly enough to form a nice little layer of chocolate. As the car warmed up, so did the pool, liquifying it into my own personal mobile fondue pot, and getting it all over the bottom of my water bottle.

Ironically, as I had used the water bottle to moisten the napkin to clean the chocolate off of the passenger seat, I rested it on my lap several times, covering myself with even more chocolate. By the time I realized where the chocolate was coming from, I was coated in it. In my efforts to clean myself off (using more water) I managed to have a giant wet spot on my lap and a bunch of giant brown splotches to go with it. Not how I want to present myself at work.

Why? All because I took one of your stupid chocolates that I didn't even want in the first place. Over the years, life's little lessons have programmed me with instincts that I can't even explain, only to learn WHEN I IGNORE THEM that those instincts serve an important purpose. I knew that I wouldn't follow through on throwing out the chocolates. I knew I'd forget about them. So, I tried to nip it in the bud, but nooo - I have to be polite. Forget politeness. I'm following my instincts from now on.

So, the next time somebody insists that I have a Lindt Chocolate, I'm going to say no anyway.

I just thought you'd want to know that.

Sincerely Bite me,

Jeremy


*I feel comfortable discussing this online because my wife's grandmother will never ever see this. If you know her grandmother, please refrain from mentioning this story. The stress of it may set her back in her recovery from surgery. You wouldn't want to cause harm to a kind elderly woman, would you? WOULD YOU???

Where Does He Get the Energy?

I asked my nephew, "Where do you get all this energy?" Then my wife reminded me of the twelve hours of sleep he gets each night plus the four hour nap during the day. I think I miss being two.

Explanation: Apparently, when you're two, it makes perfect sense that your sneakers make you faster than having bare feet (but only slightly faster than sandals, which you pronounce "candles", which also makes perfect sense). And when you're wearing sneakers, nothing seems better than to demonstrate you're fast by sprinting in 15 circles in a row around the room yelling "Run with me, Uncle Jeremy! Run with me!"

Luckily, Uncle Jeremy is wily enough to integrate a pretend nap into the "Run with me" game to slow things down a bit.

Special Blog Bonus: Sorry, but I don't have a video explanation of how to express enough interest in your baby sister's toys to keep her from playing with your stuff. Instead please enjoy this Far Side comic, which, like most of them, has nothing to do with anything:

Life's Simple Pleasures

Last week I learned that candles and pan-ca-cakes can be the difference between a good day and a bad day.

Explanation: The short explanation is that when a 2-year-old mispronounces words, it's cute. My nephew is very excited about his sandals, which he calls "candles." And "pancakes" (which he also loves) happens to be one of the many words that he adds a syllable to when pronouncing. It was very cute to hear him ask the waitress for "pan-ca-cakes." When I do stuff like that, they just look at me like I'm crazy.

And speaking of pancakes...

Cardinality and Four-Year-Olds

I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old.
I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old.
I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old.
I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old.
I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old.
I will not argue about the cardinality of the integers with a four-year-old
...

Explanation: It is my belief that the number 10^100 was named a "google" for one reason and one reason only - to aid in early childhood development. Childhood often breaks down into arguments that are essentially over who knows the highest number. For example:

Child 1: When I grow up, I'm going to have a thousand dollars.
Child 2: Oh yeah? When I grow up, I'm going to have a hundred thousand dollars.
Child 1: Oh yeah? Well, When I grow up, I'm going to have a million dollars.
Child 2: Oh yeah? Well, when I grow up, I'm going to have a billion dollars!
Child 1: Oh yeah? Well, when I grow up, I'm going to have a google dollars.
Child 2 realizes that he/she can never top that and runs away crying.

If children believe that a google is the largest number there is, then it frees them up to stop playing "can you top this" and learn other skills that will be valuable in their adulthood. This is very important and saves years of wasted time from children's lives.

Of course, when you have a math degree and your four-year-old nephew tells you that "a google is the largest number there is, so I win", it takes everything in your power to just accept your defeat and go back to whatever you were doing. In fact, I can't just let this one go...

Dear four-year-olds of America:

10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,001.

I win. You lose. Also, when you're pretending to be Superman, you cannot also shoot spiderwebs out of your wrists. That's just not freakin' fair.

Love,
Uncle Jeremy's Status Message

Revisiting "Duck, Duck, Goose"

...duck, duck, duck, duck, GOOSE!!!

Explanation: At a family game night this weekend, my four year old nephew asked to play "Duck, Duck, Goose" and we obliged. It turns out to be a much more interesting game when six of the seven participants are above age 28.