The Groomsman Chronicles, TopGun Ed., pt.1: A Best Man's Work is Never Done

As I mentioned in my last post, last weekend I drove up to CO with Cap'n Shack-Fu and his fiance to be a part of TopGun's wedding. But in order for me to meet up with Shack-Fu without either of us having to take an enormous detour to get to our respective home-towns, we instead planned on taking a minor detour to meet up at his parents' house in Pampa, TX, which was kinda-sorta on the way. My plan was to sleep in a little bit on Thursday, drive up to Pampa before it got too late, and wait for Shack and his honey to get there after he got off work and she got out of class.  Then we'd all catch a few Zs before getting up bright and early to start out on the approximately 10 hour drive up to the wedding site.

My plan received a minor hitch when I got a message from TopGun the previous evening asking if I could give him a ride to the airport because the one he'd set up had fallen through.  I accused him of making that up because he was obviously too lazy to make the drive up to Denton on Wednesday night to drop off his and Li'l Champ's tuxedos with me as previously planned; as usual, he side-stepped the accusation without officially denying it.  He's a wily one, that TopGun.

But despite my suspicions of chicanery, I responded as I had to pretty much every request TopGun had made of me for the past six months, whether it was wedding related or not:  "Of course I will, Champ.  Boy, a Best Man's work is never done, is it?"

So, instead of sleeping in as previously planned, I was up bright and early to make sure I'd gotten everything packed and ready to go, and headed over to Frisco to pick TopGun up and drive him over to Love Field, where he'd catch a plane to meet his mom, and would then ride up to CO with her.    After dropping him off, I headed back towards Denton, eventually sending the following text to TopGun after I passed by my apartment complex at precisely noon:  "On the road since 9AM and just now leaving Denton to head to Pampa.  The things I do for you, Champ"  He replied with "Lol . . . sorry man. Thanks for the ride . . ."  I told him no need to apologize, I was happy to do it, just knew that if I didn't bitch about it a little he'd start to think something was wrong with me.  His response: "I was getting worried . . ." Despite my needling him about the extra drive time, I was glad to get that last bit of one-on-one time before all of the wedding craziness began.

On the whole my drive to Pampa was uneventful; the only thing worth mentioning is that I made the mistake of trusting in my GPS to point me to the fastest route instead of doing any research myself beforehand, the end result of which was my drive taking an hour longer than it should have -- a fact I wouldn't confirm for myself until my drive home a few days later.  Thankfully, even with the extra hour's drive-time, I managed to make it to Pampa and find Shack-fu's parents' house with no problem around 5:30 -- which just left another 5-6 hours before Shack-fu was scheduled to arrive.  I spent most of that time visiting with Shack's mom -- his dad's out of the country for work right now -- and playing with their chihuahuas, Molly and Buster. 

When Shack-fu and The Future Mrs. Shack-Fu got there we visited briefly, but quickly headed off to get some sleep before our all-too-early departure time.  I was being put up in the office with a nice air mattress, and had just collapsed onto it when I heard something unexpected:  a music-box like rendition of "Greensleeves."  Thinking it was coming from the hallway outside, I ignored it -- big mistake.  Because it turned out to not only be coming from inside my room, it was music provided by a Christmas clock which was set to play the song every hour on the hour.  Needless to say, my sleep that evening was not exactly restful; the song would wake me up hourly, but I was always too groggy to get up and find the source of the music in the dark before it stopped playing. 

Not the worst start I've ever had to a road trip, but not exactly the best either.

So ends day one of my trek to TopGun's wedding.  Come back soon to find out about the long drive on day two; some serious synchronicity on the road; and how I ended up in handcuffs before the day was over.

Toasting TopGun

This past weekend I hopped in a car with Cap'n Shack-Fu and his fiance and headed up to Colorado for my former roomie TopGun's wedding.  But while I plan on writing a bit about the overall trip, today I want to talk about one of my responsibilities as Best Man, one that consumed my thoughts for several weeks prior to the ceremony:  the Best Man Speech/Toast.

As I mentioned before, I accused TopGun of only asking me to be Best Man because he knew I'd obsess over writing the speech for months and months and he's sadistic like that.  But although I did start thinking about the speech when he asked me back in June, it wasn't really until the beginning of October that I began to devote most every waking moment I was alone to writing, re-writing, practicing, then re-writing some more.  If I was in the car driving somewhere I wasn't listening to music or podcasts; I was running through the speech.  My Netflix and DVRed shows started to pile up because I couldn't focus on anything other than trying to get the danged thing down.  I even gave up on the idea of doing NaNoWriMo because I knew I wouldn't be able to write anything non-speech-related until after it was all said and done.

Quite a lot of effort for a little over a thousand words that clocked in at 6 minutes, huh?

I had several people question my obsessive tinkering, telling me to "not over-think it"; to "just wing it"; to "just get up there and speak from the heart." I, in turn, had to ask them "Are you sure you've met me?"  Because, let's face it, historically speaking, winging it and just speaking from the heart have never turned out well for me -- I stammer and stumble searching for the right words and never can quite manage to articulate what it is I really want to say. As for not over-thinking things, well, I'm pretty sure that's physically impossible for me.
Plus, TopGun kept telling me "I know it's going to be great!" with that devilish, sadistic grin of his, and danged if I was going to half-ass the blasted thing.

Seriously, though, my thinking was that if TopGun was going to honor me by asking me to fill such an important role on his special day, then the least I could do is put my best efforts into honoring him as well. 

Writing the speech presented quite a few challenges; in a lot of ways I can look back on the experience as an interesting writing exercise, but in the midst of it all I could see was a sea of challenges to overcome.

CHALLENGE #1:  Outside of one heartfelt, impromptu toast I'd seen Shack-Fu give at a friend's wedding, my experience with hearing such toasts was largely restricted to works of fiction.  So, as any good librarian would, I proceeded to do some research into the topic; however, being a fairly lazy librarian, my research was comprised mostly of searching Google and YouTube.  One thing I discovered very quickly from viewing multiple YouTube clips is that there a lot of people out there who stumbled upon the exact same off-color Best Man speech online and decided to run with it; after hearing the exact same bad jokes told in a variety of American and British accents, I despaired of finding any examples to give me inspiration. I was eventually able to track down a small handful of original and personal toasts, but in the end they didn't really help me much with addressing my challenges.

CHALLENGE #2:  TopGun and I had only known each other for around a year and a half, so I didn't have nearly the depth of experiences to pull from that I would have if I was writing a speech for, say, any of the HyperForce 3000 clan, all of whom I've known for over 4 years now and with whom I've shared a great deal of mini-adventures rife with anecdote potential.  But although TopGun and I became very close friends while rooming together, very few of our interactions are really anecdote-worthy* and those that are require more set-up than is practical for a brief speech.  Heck, the best TopGun anecdote I have -- which happens to be the basis of his nickname -- actually takes place before he and I are even introduced to each other.

CHALLENGE #3:  Finding the right balance in the "TopGun and me" anecdotes, making sure that they were more "TopGun" and less "Me".  After all, as funny as I may find my "If at any time today you've wondered 'What the heck was TopGun on when he asked this dork to be his best man?' the answer is 'cough syrup with codeine'" gag, the truth is that although it's a joke ostensibly built on TopGun's behavior, it's more of a self-deprecating jab at myself  than a representation of who he is. I wound up jettisoning most of my initial draft as I found that I was often talking more about myself than I was about my pal; granted, it was all in terms of my reactions to TopGun's behavior, but it came across more egocentric than I felt comfortable with, especially in front of a crowd I barely knew. Which brings me to . . .

CHALLENGE #4:  A lack of familiarity with the majority of my audience, and vice versa. A lot of stuff that I might have included if I were speaking to a more familiar audience had to be removed as the set-up and exposition necessary were too time consuming. Plus, I found it difficult to craft a speech effectively when I had no insight into my audience's taste, sense of humor, history, etc.  The whole "sense of humor" thing being the big stumbling block -- sure, I was confident that TopGun would appreciate my jokes, but while the speech was in his honor, I still had to worry about keeping the natives from getting restless.  Speaking of jokes . . .

CHALLENGE #5: Finding the right balance and tone of humor.  If Pop Culture and YouTubing taught me anything, it's that these Toasts often turn into Roasts, and while my close friendship with TopGun may have been built primarily on a shared passion for being smartasses, his wedding reception wasn't the appropriate place to indulge in our tradition of constantly ripping on one another.  Which is not to say that I didn't have a few jokes at his expense -- pretty sure he would have been disappointed if I hadn't -- but on the whole, I tried to keep the jabs to a minimum.   This was incredibly difficult to do, as every time I excised one bit of TopGun mockery, another bit would rise up to take its place.

And last but not least . . .

CHALLENGE #6:  Editing.   As I said, this experience was almost like an extended writing exercise, with the biggest challenge being the intense amount of editing I performed over the months.  Even when I settled on including an anecdote or comedic bit, I would work and rework that section until I had found the most economical use of words possible to get the point across without losing any of the weight of the concept.  I think I can honestly say that this was the most thoroughly edited piece of work I've ever released into the public.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that there's no extraneous verbiage in the piece -- I am still me, after all -- but I worked hard at condensing stories and ideas as much as possible.

Of course, a discussion of my writing process would be incomplete without a mention of the part that brought the most joy:  constantly pestering TopGun with text messages like "Finally got the speech under an hour and a half; amazing what a difference taking out every other cuss word makes!" or "Think I'm going to remove the interpretive dance section . . . wait, that's crazy talk, it's the cornerstone of the whole piece!" Yes, I would randomly pepper him with messages calculated to insure that he was as tortured by my speech-writing process as I was.


His response?  "I don't know what you're complaining about; it shouldn't be that hard to come up with awesome stuff to say about me." I assured him that I had a whole section devoted to how I was sure he was a robot sent back from the future for the express purpose of making me constantly aware of my own inadequacies.**

In the days leading up to the wedding, I frequently joked about how I'd be working on the speech right up until the last minute, and that wasn't too far from the truth.  I put the finishing touches on it about an hour before I had to be at the church for pre-wedding photos; and, while I was happy with the final result, I have to admit that if I had another day to work on it, I probably would have wound up changing it even more***. 

So, how did the speech turn out?  Well, I started off talking about what an honor it was to be Best Man; segued into my First Impression of TopGun**** anecdote; followed it up with a list of things I respect, admire, envy, and treasure about my good pal; reassured everyone that I wasn't saying he was perfect and gave a couple of examples of his sadistic sense of humor*****; and ended with a word to the bride about how gaga in love with her he was, followed by a cheesy "May your love grow exponentially stronger every second of every day" toast. I think I only got choked up once, but I have to admit the actual delivery of the speech was a bit of a blur; after it was over I was certain that I had left a part of it out, since it had sped by******.

As for how the speech was received . . . well, TopGun's uncle complained I didn't make fun of TopGun enough, and TopGun's son, Li'l Champ, at first looked bored out of his gourd  

Li'l Champ's bored and Shack-fu's perplexed -- got 'em right where I want 'em!

 and later looked like he was contemplating if his dad's admonition to stop punching me in the gut for the duration of the wedding******* was still in effect or not

"One good jab in the solar plexus oughta shut this windbag up . . ."

but on the whole it seemed to pretty well received. People laughed at most of my jokes

They're laughing with me, not at me, I swear!

 and I had several of the family tell me that I had captured TopGun perfectly.  Plus, both the bride and groom said they liked it, and that's the most important thing. My goal was to honor TopGun and let him know not only how much respect I have for him, but also how much his friendship has meant to me; anything beyond that was just icing on the cake.


*Hard to spin a good yarn around "So, this one time TopGun and I had this really amusing conversation via text messaging"
**I was, of course, kidding about that -- I had removed the whole robot thing long before I mentioned it to him.
***And this is part of why I've never gotten anything published.
****I believe the phrases "Total Showoff" and "Incredibly intimidated to have Captain America himself move in" were used
*****When I told him I'd gotten fitted for my tux, his immediate response was "Great.  Are they going to have enough fabric?"
****** For those wondering, yes, I did the speech sans written copy or note cards -- if I've retained anything from my Competitive Speech days, it's a pathological avoidance of speech-making aids.
*******More on the gut-punching later, I promise

Great Minds, Yadda Yadda Yadda

Last night as I started watching The Ultimate Fighter: GSP vs Koscheck I sent a text to PigPen and TopGun saying "Well, it's time to see how much Koscheck is going to tick me off this week," knowing that both of my pals share in my Koscheck-loathing.  A few minutes later TopGun responded with a text commenting on how much Koscheck was already getting on his nerves. We then proceeded to text a running commentary back and forth during the episode, ripping on Koscheck and his team for the cockiness, self-delusion, and bad sportsmanship while expressing our concern over the first fight of the night -- after all, the inclusion of two fights in an episode usually means the first one is a short one, and, as I texted to Clay, I was a bit afraid that the shortness of the fight might be because Koscheck's fighter managed to knock out GSP's.

No sooner had I sent that text than the fight started and, seconds later, ended in the greatest way possible:  GSP's 6th pick, derided by everyone for only having one move, took out Koscheck's number one pick with --you guessed it -- his one move.  I immediately started to laugh hysterically and grabbed my phone to text my joy to TopGun.  However, as soon as I picked it up I knew that I couldn't convey my thoughts effectively in text-format, so I decided to just call him.  Unfortunately, the call went straight to voicemail, so I waited patiently for the beep so I could record a message that was just my maniacal laughter.  But before the leave-a-message-beep sounded, there was another beep -- the call-waiting-beep.  Sure enough, it was TopGun calling in, so I hastily switched over to take his call and unleashed my crazy laughter at him, as he responded with cries of "That was awesome!"

He then confirmed what I had suspected:  the reason my call went to voicemail was because he, like me, felt that the moment had been too spectacular to leave to texting, and had been calling me at the same moment I was calling him.

This is an example of why the most oft-repeated phrase in the house during our time rooming together was "Get out of my head!"

Totally Worth It

I spent this past Saturday hanging out at PigPen's house, watching whatever random stuff would catch our attention on TV:  old reruns (Star Trek: TNG, South Park, Two and Half Men), some UFC fights, lots of college football, and an assortment of movies ranging from the execrable Old Dogs to the mildly entertaining Planet 51 to the odd-ball Sci-Fi cult film Dune.

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Dune -- yes, it's a mess, but it's a gloriously entertaining mess.    One scene that's burned into my memory is this one:



Not just because Wrath teh Berzerker used to mimic it all the time in college -- although he would change "For he is the Kwisatz Haderach!" to "For he is the Knickknack Paddywhack!" -- but because little Alia there is one of the creepiest characters in cinematic history.  And as PigPen and I watched the last part of the movie, I struggled to hide an evil little smirk as I planned the opening salvo in the following exchange:

ME:  Man, that sure is one creepy little girl
PIGPEN: Yeah, pretty creepy.
ME:  Y'know, I used to wonder how in the world they could have ever found someone that creepy . . . but then I found out she was played by a young Alicia Witt.  Once I knew she was really a ginger, it all made sense.
PIGPEN: [nods his ginger head slowly then punches me in the leg]
ME:  It was worth it.
PIGPEN:  Figured you'd say that. [punches me again]  Still worth it? [and again] How about now? [and again]

If you think this lead directly to PigPen and I beating the crap out of each other like the good ol' days of Benjiman Street, well, you would be sadly mistaken.  No, the beating the crap out of each other didn't happen until several hours later as PigPen decided to demonstrate the advice he was yelling at the UFC fighters on me.

Catching Up With the Cast: PigPen and Cap'n Peanut

Continuing the catching up trend, we now move on to the inseparable duo, Cap'n Peanut and The Lovable PigPen.  You may remember that PigPen and Peanut had gotten an apartment together in Lewisville not too long before I started renting a room at Shack-Fu's place.  After their initial lease was up, however, Peanut moved back to Era, and PigPen stayed with some other friends near Plano for a few months while looking for a new place.  The downside of this for me was that this move both of them further away from Denton -- in opposite directions -- making it difficult to find times for us to hang out.

A few months back, PigPen's search bore fruit, and he moved back to Lewsiville, this time as a home-owner. It's a pretty nice place, although the preponderance of hardwood floors makes me less inclined to engage in roughhousing -- which is probably better for my general health, true, but since approximately 95% of my friendship with PigPen has been based on physical violence, it's a little disappointing.  At least we still have verbal abuse to fall back on.

As for Cap'n Peanut, well, here's where here's where the news starts to get a bit bigger:  in a little over a month, Peanut will be joining the Navy.  His desired area of specilization?  EOD -- which stands for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Yup:  Peanut wants to be on the Navy version of the bomb squad. And here I had been thinking Peanut was one of my saner friends . . .

On the one hand, I'm really proud of Peanut for his decision to join the military and his acceptance into EOD school -- but on the other, I hate the thought of another of my closest friends moving off, especially when it involves such a dangerous career choice.   But the gripping hand is that Peanut is excited about the new direction and looking forward to the challenge and moving on to a new phase in his life, and as much as I'll miss having him around, I'm glad he's found something like that. 

Catching Up With the Cast: TopGun and Cap'n Shack-Fu

Here's the first of several posts to get everyone get caught up on what's been going on in the many, many months since I went on "hiatus."  But first:  a recap!

When last we left off, Cap'n Shack-Fu had graduated from Quantico and been stationed in Tulsa;  I was renting a room in his house in Denton; and his pal TopGun moved to the area for work and became my new roommate, whereupon he and I bonded over our shared smartassery. And now, on with the post.

This past March TopGun informed me that he was going to start looking for his own place closer to his job, ostensibly because he was tired of the commute; within a couple of days he had found an apartment just a few miles from his office and made plans to move mid-May.  I was pretty bummed -- not only because he and I had become really good friends over the year we were rooming together, but also because the vacant room meant that I was going to have to start searching for a new roommate to help pay the rent -- a process I was not looking forward to.

Plus, he was taking his nifty SelectTech dumbbells with him, the jerk.

When moving day came, however, TopGun managed to distract me from pining for those wonderful click-weight dumbbells briefly with a bit of news:  a few weeks earlier he had bought an engagement ring, and was planning on popping the question to his long-distance girlfriend in Colorado when he went up to visit her over Memorial Day weekend.  The proposal was successful, and he cam back an engaged man. He also came back with a bad case of bronchitis which was severe enough for him to get some pretty hefty cough medicine with codeine -- a fact I mention solely because a few days later he asked me to be Best Man at his wedding and I'm still pretty sure the codeine played a big part in his decision making process.*

Of course, as honored as I was to be chosen as TopGun's Best Man, it still didn't change the fact that his move out was forcing me to search for a new roommate.  Although it turned out I needn't have worried about the tortures of interviewing potential roomies as I received not a single reply to any of my ads. By the time June rolled around and no potential roommates had surfaced, Cap'n Shack-Fu decided to put the house on the market and I started looking for a new place to live.  Due largely to a decision making process that can best be described as "Better the Devil You Know . . ." I decided to return to the apartment complex I had been living in back before I moved in with Biz-Z and Maverick. However this time I upgraded to a two-bedroom due to the amount of crap I've accumulated over the last several years.

When I moved Shack-Fu and his girlfriend came down from Tulsa to help out, as well as to grab some stuff of his that was still at the house.  They weren't able to fit everything into the truck they'd borrowed, so they knew they were going to have to make another trip when the house sold -- which wasn't looking promising for a while, as over the course of three months there had only been 3 or 4 people come by to look at the place.  But eventually a potential buyer was found, an offer was placed, and everything lined up for them to close on the house**.  Of course, this necessitated Shack-Fu making one last trip to retrieve the last of his stuff from the garage.  Unfortunately, when he went to rent a trailer to help haul his stuff, he discovered that none of the big name rental place would rent out a trailer to someone driving an Explorer.  After some frantic searching, he finally found a solution . . .

They called it Rusty

Yes, Shack-fu found a place that rented horse trailers, so he and his girlfriend made the trek down to Denton hauling a rickety trailer they dubbed Rusty. After I got done dying laughing at the sight of B.A.R.T. pulling Rusty down the street, I helped them empty out the last of his stuff, locked the place up, and bid goodbye to the house on Wicker Way. 

*I also accused him of picking me solely because he knew I would obsess over the Best Man speech for months and months, so the request was really a subtle form of mental torture.  He never really denied it . . .
**Today, as a matter of fact

A Wii Temper

There are some people out there who would describe me as a very laid-back, easy-going, even-tempered kind of guy.

These people have obviously never watched me play video games.*

I have long maintained that video games bring out the worst in me; I probably have a harder time controlling my temper -- and my tongue -- when playing a video game than any other time . . . and that includes dealing with The Lovable PigPen.

TopGun has recently borne witness to this less than stellar aspect of my personality thanks to my new Wii. At first he just caught a glimpse when he would get home while I was playing one of the Finaly Fantasy games at the beginning of the month, but I tended to stop playing when he came in so as not to embarrass myself too much. But now he has seen the full force of my video game fueled frustration thanks to countless hours of Wii Sports . . . particularly the tennis game, which seems designed to drive me completely insane.

After my ten gazillionth primal scream of rage at my inability to successfully return a volley with my backhand or keep a regular return in-bounds, I turned to TopGun and said "Sorry, Champ." He told me there was no need to apologize, as he found my imminent mental breakdown highly amusing and entertaining**.

The obvious question is "If you find these games so frustrating, why keep playing them?" Well, the obvious answer is that I am a bit masochistic and a glutton for punishment -- for evidence, see pretty much any blog post tagged "Roughhousing." But even beyond that, the overly competitive side of myself that is responsible for most of my negative outbursts refuses to let me quit. My desire to master the game is more powerful than my desire to maintain my sanity -- unfortunately, my ability to master the game feels nigh unto non-existent at times, and so my grip on sanity and serenity is sure to be fleeting.

*Or play racquetball. Or volleyball. Or anything requiring hand/eye coordination.
**Alternate post title: "With Friends Like Champ, Who Needs PigPen?"

TopGun's Turn of Phrase

This past weekend TopGun and I got caught up on a lot of shows which had been languishing on my DVR waiting for us to both be free to watch. One of these was the first four episodes of Chuck, including the highly entertaining two-part episode with a heavy focus on Chuck's brother-in-law, Devon "Captain Awesome" Woodcomb. During one scene, Sarah makes a comment about how Devon is great at everything, to which Chuck replied "Hence the nickname." Naturally, this prompted TopGun to turn to me and say "So I guess I should be called 'Captain Awesome' from now on, huh?"

A little later we watched an episode of Better Off Ted in which Veronica and Linda become embroiled in a highly competitive game of Linda-bagel . . . don't ask. Anyway, Veronica has a monologue about how she's great at everything, and the word "hubris" gets thrown around a few times by different characters. So, when TopGun was jokingly bragging about something later, I responded, "Wow, what hubris -- so, should I call you Captain Awesome or Veronica?" After that, while we were playing Wii Sports I settled on combining them and called him "Captain Veronica Awesome" for the rest of the evening.

He played along quite nicely, and soon, whenever he would make a particularly impressive shot he would exclaim "That's Ver-awesome!"

I'm actually a bit jealous he came up with that before I did, but I suppose I should expect nothing less from ol' Veronica Awesome.

If TopGun Tells Me "Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body" One More Time . . .

As mentioned last week, I am once again on a quest to lose weight and get in shape. As part of this I have drastically reduced my soft drink intake, cut fast food out of my weekday diet, joined a gym, and -- perhaps most telling of all -- got up at 6:30 AM this morning in order to exercise before heading to work, and plan to do the same thing Monday through Friday from here on out. As anyone who has had to live with me can probably attest, a morning person I am not. But, since there's always a danger when I work out solely at night that my evening exercises will be derailed by the siren call of the recliner, a morning workout seems to be called for. Not to mention the benefits of kick-starting the metabolism first thing.

I actually got on the early morning workout kick several months ago, when TopGun and I were doing P90X. Granted, we didn't make it up every morning; there were multiple times when I would roll over to see my cell phone flashing with a text message from TopGun saying he wasn't going to work out that morning due to insomnia or sinus problems or what have you, but that I was more than welcome to go on without him. I, of course, almost always declined to get up and workout without him. Solidarity, you know. Still, despite the occasional hiccup, we managed to keep to the morning workout schedule for several weeks, before other scheduling conflicts made it too difficult to maintain at the time. But now those conflicts are behind us, so back to the early workouts we go.

It's good to have TopGun around as a workout partner, as his overly healthy eating habits and obsessive need to work out tend to shame me into trying to emulate him. Not to mention that I always push myself harder when there's someone else working out with me than when I'm working out alone. TopGun likes variety in his workouts, so we are now on probably the 4th or 5th different workout schedule since he moved in last May. That includes the time we did P90X and the much more intense Insanity. It was at the end of our first month of Insanity that I got really sick for a few weeks, so TopGun had to finish the second month without me -- considering that Insanity was about to make my knees explode at the time, I wasn't too heartbroken. Of course, the downside was that by the time I felt up to working out again, I had lost a lot of the strength and stamina I had gained before.

At times it's hard for me not to focus on things like that; even now, I have to force myself not to dwell on the fact that I'm not as strong as I was back when I was working out regularly with Cap'n Shack-Fu and Li'l Brother a year or two ago. When that happens, I try to remind myself that, while I may not be back to where I was at the peak of that time, neither have I fallen back to where I was at the beginning. A small comfort, perhaps, but I need all the help I can get, if for no other reason than to keep TopGun from smacking me around for getting all mopey and self-deprecating.

A few weeks ago, I got a message from one of the Parkerites letting me know that several of them are taking part in The Cowtown 5k at the end of February, and asking if I wanted to participate. Now, on the one hand, it would be a good excuse to see the gang, most of whom I haven't seen since the weekend of GMC's wedding, as well as serving for an additional motivator for getting in shape. On the other hand, I've never been a fan of running at the best of times, and my current weight makes it hard on my knees. After much hemming and hawing, I decided to go ahead and sign up for the danged thing, and so on my next trip to the gym for some cardio I will be heading to the treadmill instead of the elliptical. Depending on how that goes, I might have to reevaluate the idea . . .

Fragmented Fri. - Goodnight, Champ

Since I haven't blogged regularly for quite a while, I thought I'd use today to catch all you blog monkeys up on what's going on in my neurotic little world . . . but then I realized there really isn't all that much to report.

I suppose there is one thing; remember last year when I resolved to start eating better and lose some weight? Well, I'm resolving it again, only this time I'm hoping to stick it out a bit longer. My current goal: to fit back into size 34 jeans while I'm still 34, which gives me about 4 1/2 months to do so. Today marked my 5th day without a soft drink of any kind, as well as my 5th day without fast food. TopGun and I have been working out, and tomorrow I plan to join the gym so I can have access to an elliptical and work on my cardio again.

This past week on Facebook has somehow been declared "Retro Week" prompting people to replace their normal avatars with younger pictures of themselves. I decided to be a good little sheep and follow the trend.

Zinger asked me if this retro-picture would be accompanied by some retro blogging. "Is there something exciting from you past you haven't blogged about yet?" he asked. Sadly, I'm still drawing a blank.

Last night The Lovable PigPen came up to Denton to hang out for a bit. He was about ready to leave around 11 when he decided to challenge me to a quick game of tennis on the Wii; despite my better judgment I agreed, and so it was that "one quick game" turned into several hours worth of game play. I wound up not getting to sleep until almost 3*; it was a lot like when we were still rooming together and would stay up all night playing video games, with the exception that neither of us picked a fight with the other this time around. Oh, well, maybe next time.

A while back, TopGun and I were watching a movie where somebody sent their kid to bed saying "Goodnight, champ!" I turned to TopGun and told him that's what I was going to say from now on when he went to bed; surprisingly enough, I have done this pretty faithfully for several months now, and now "Champ" has become the real-world nickname I use when I text/email him**

I don't normally talk about my friends' relationships here, but I just had to mention that my best bud Li'l Random McEvil is now engaged to be married, so I'll be heading to Florida next year for his wedding. Congrats, Li'l Brother!

*This evening TopGun told me I needed to inform PigPen he's not allowed to come over on school nights anymore
**Much like how in real life Li'l Random is Li'l Brother, Cap'n Shack-Fu is Bubba, and The Lovable PigPen is Ginger Bastage

The Great Texlahoma Blizzard of Aught-Nine

As most of you blog monkeys are probably aware, this past Christmas Eve was marked by an enormous blizzard that shut down highways throughout Texas and Oklahoma. Luckily for me, I headed up to OK on Tuesday afternoon -- stopping off in Tulsa to hang out with Cap'n Shack-Fu before heading on up to Miami on Wednesday -- so I was able to avoid getting caught in the horrible weather. Many of my friends weren't quite so lucky: it took Coronela 16 hours to get from Ft. Worth to Oklahoma City; TopGun's normal 5 1/2 hour trip to his family in Midland took him 19 hours, with people skidding out of control all around him; and the winner of the "longest Christmas Eve ever" award goes to Shack-Fu's sister and brother-in-law, whose 9 hour trip from Houston to Pampa took them over 28 hours due to the highway becoming a virtual parking lot at times.

And then there was The Lovable PigPen, who called me while he was on the road to let me know that if we ever decide to go on another ski trip, we could probably take his car, which was handling fine in conditions very similar to what we encountered on our way home from Breckenridge a couple of years ago . . . of course, then he wound up getting stuck while turning into his mom's driveway about 50 yards from her house, so maybe we should rethink that suggestion . . .

When I got PigPen's call I was out doing last minute Christmas shopping with my parents in Joplin -- my mother was all giddy about shopping on Christmas Eve, and I was along for the ride. The bad weather didn't hit us until we were heading back to Miami, and it didn't really start coming down hard until after we made it home. We did venture out once more that evening, heading to the video store so we could rent some movies for Mom to watch while we were snowed in, but after that Mom and I didn't leave the house until Sunday afternoon when we went to visit my Grandma Ann.

A great deal of my entertainment/exasperation on Christmas Eve came courtesy of my parents' cat, Snitzelfritz. Not too long after we got home, Snitz decided that he wanted to go outside, and so positioned himself by the back door and meowed to be let out. I opened the door, and as the bitterly cold and damp blast of wind hit him he backed up, shivered, looked at me with a baleful stare, and emitted an accusatory meow that I couldn't help but translate as "What did you do?!!?!?!" That was the amusing part; the exasperation started to set in as his tiny cat brain seemed to think that if he waited three minutes the outside conditions would change completely, and so he would be at the door meowing again, only to turn tail and run as soon as the door was opened and the cold hit him. I have no clue how many times we went through this ritual before he had a burst of feline inspiration and demanded to be let out into the garage instead. Of course, my parents have it set up so he can exit the garage and go outside, so probably 10 minutes after letting him into the garage there was some frantic scratching and meowing at the back door as the dummy* desperately tried to regain entry into the house. This, too, was repeated several times, until finally the fact that being out-of-doors was not a viable prospect for him finally sunk in.

The biggest downside to the bad weather** was that it derailed my post-Christmas travel plans; even if the weather was supposed to be okay in our neck of the woods on one day, then it was supposed to be bad somewhere else along the route -- and then the conditions would be flip-flopped the next day. By the time it was all said and done, I didn't head back to Denton until New Years Day, which meant I missed out on the Singles New Years Eve party with its super-hero theme. Luckily, I had thought to drop the stuff I'd promised they could use for decorations beforehand, so all of my action figures were available to guard the DJ from evil-doers.


But unfortunately it meant I didn't get to see all of the super-costumes everyone had thrown together.


Although I'm even more upset that I didn't get to have fun playing with the visual sound effects.



On the plus side, by heading back on Friday, it meant I got to stop off in Tulsa and see my best bud Cap'n Shack-Fu again for a bit, and as he's the closest thing to a real Action Hero I know, it was practically like being at a super-hero party. Only, y'know, fewer girls in interesting outfits.

Yes, they're wearing super-hero boxers; Marvel on the left, DC on the right.

*When I visit my parents, I often amuse myself by coming up with "Weird Al" style songs about how stupid/crazy the cat is. The festive one I settled on this time around was "You're a Dumb Cat, Snitzlefritz" to the tune of "You're a Mean on, Mr. Grinch," which was probably on my mind mainly because Zinger had sent me this link while I was there.
**Besides the fact that there was tons of snow and none of my friends to play in it with

Texting Tuesday, or "Laziness, Thy Name is Neurotic"

As I mentioned before, TopGun and I are doing the P90X workouts now. Because his work schedule is all over the place, we've decided to do our workouts first thing in the morning, which has lead to much zed-word-like behavior from yours truly in the evenings as I adjust to the new schedule. But it's also been the foundation of some mildly amusing texted conversations between my roomie and myself, which I now post here in lieu of having to come up with new material for a post.

First up: a conversation generated by one of many instances of me cursing TopGun's name on behalf of my sore muscles following a workout.

Me: Today's cursing of your name comes courtesy of my biceps, which were apparently sulking quietly yesterday but are now ready to voice their discontent
TopGun: I love it! I read your blog introducing me. I was not impressed with myself at all! :)
Me: So, was that a compliment from The Gray Man, or a complaint from TopGun/Showboater . . .
TopGun: A bit of both my friend! I like to be impressive but not brag about it! :)
Me: Humbly impressive, got it. I'll be sure to work that into the cast page entry I'm working on as we speak

On the second day of our early morning workout plan, I woke up to find a text from TopGun saying he wasn't feeling well, so he was giving me a break that morning. However, since I was already up, I decided to go ahead and work out by myself.

Me: Worst thing about this morning was I had no one to curse but myself. You made me curse my own name, TopGun, and for that, I curse you ;)
Me: Biggest regret of the morning: when you said you were nauseous, I should have said "I know you're scared you might throw up, but you gotta risk it for the biscuit!"*
TopGun: I must work out when I get home tonight.
Me: Damn straight you must, slacker!
TopGun: That word is prohibidabidibido!**
Me: Hehehehehe. I'm just saying . . .***

The next day, we were both back in the early-morning workout saddle

TopGun: Man, I'm tired
Me: You and me both, brother, you and me both.
TopGun: I worked hard this morning, why are [you] tired?****
Me: Trust me, putting up with you is enough to wear anybody out. Jackass***** LOL
TopGun: Shut up Todd. My feelings are in pain. Jerk wad. That's right! I called you a jerk wad. Take it, eat it, put that in your pipe and smoke it! :)
Me: Can't . . . breathe . . . laughing . . . too hard . . . you win this round, TopGun. Well played. Double Jackass :)
TopGun: Yes! I am so doing the running man in my head right now in honor of this victory!

Finally, a conversation that started when I decided to let him know that the dumbbells he had ordered for the workout had arrived, along with something extra.

Me: Your weights arrived, and you got a package from your mom. All I got were bills. You win again, TopGun!
TopGun: Not everything is a competition Todd geez!
Me: That's not what PigPen says . . . ;)
TopGun: But, even still, if we had to pick a winner for this situation, I guess it would be me . . . so I accept the victory!
Me: How gracious of you :)

Okay, that's enough of that; maybe next time I'll have actual content here.

*We had just watched Fired Up the evening before, and that was one of the lines we had been quoting back and forth.
**As was that one
***And that one as well; what can I say, FU was much more quotable than expected
****Yes, he left out the "you" in his text, so it took me a second to realize that I had just been insulted.
*****I'd like to remind all you blog monkeys that, to me, Jackass is practically a term of endearment

A New Plateau

No Movie Monday post today, although I will say that Fired Up was a heck of a lot funnier than I expected; instead, we have what will probably be the first in what I have a feeling will be a long, long series of posts in the new "TopGun and I giving each other crap" genre because, well, we both enjoy giving each other crap.

Earlier tonight while flipping through the channels, I happened upon an episode of COPS. I turned to TopGun and mentioned how it was one of Cap'n Shack-Fu's favorite shows. TopGun said he rarely watched it, and I replied that neither did I, except when Shack-Fu was around and forced it upon me. I related how when he would come over to the house to watch TV and I'd flip past an episode he would start pestering me to change the channel back; I also related that my quickness to respond to his request was proportional to how much I felt like picking a fight with him. I then did a nicely exaggerated imitation of Shack-Fu's threats, followed by the statement "and then he'd kick my butt and watch COPS after all."

"So, he's just a bully," deadpanned TopGun. "Beats you up, then forces you to watch a show that you didn't want to watch. He's just a user, man."

"You're right," I replied. "I'm going to call him up right now and tell him he's a user. And then, he'll raise my rent. And then I'll tell him that you said it first, and he'll raise yours too."

"That's ok," he said with no hesitation, "I'll just beat you up and make you pay my half too.

That caught me off guard and cracked me up; when I stopped laughing I said "You know, that's the first time you've actually threatened to beat me up; we just reached a new plateau in our friendship!"

I hope PigPen and Shack-Fu don't get jealous.

Fragmented Fri - Five Posts in One Week? That's Unpossible!

• When I was starting to get the blogging bug again last week, I made sure to ask TopGun if he minded me writing about him, what with him being a Grey Man and all; his response was that he would be honored to be included in my ramblings. Poor, naive fool had no idea what he was getting himself into, did he?
  
  
• One thing I neglected to mention in last Friday's Shack-Fu-centric post was the conversation I had with him when I got back to Texas following my Virginia trip. I called him up to see how he was doing, since he had left out super-early that morning to drive from Quantico to Denton. When I asked if he was on schedule, he replied that he had been for a while, but now was having to make up some time. Anyone want to guess what had delayed him? If you said "saw an accident and stopped to help," then you've obviously either met Shack-Fu or read this blog before.
  
  
• Sometime during TopGun's first week at the house, I was talking about my roughhousing around with PigPen and Shack-Fu and the subsequent injuries and made a crack about how for some reason my best friends always try to kill me. He responded that I didn't have to worry about that with him, going on to explain that he only uses violence on those who deserve it. My response at the time was that PigPen would probably say that I did deserve it, but if the conversation had taken place just a week later, when I was fully comfortable giving TopGun a hard time, I would have instead used the first response that popped into my head at the time, cutting him off after the first half of his statement with a wounded "You mean we're not going to be best friends, TopGun?" with maybe some puppy dog eyes and a quivering lip thrown in for good measure. Hate to have missed that opportunity.
  
  
• In my jiu-jitsu class on Monday I managed to submit somebody twice, with two different submission moves, even. The first was a North-South arm triangle choke which has become sort of my go-to move from side control, and one of the few moves I can catch people in on a semi-regular basis; the second was a kimura, administered while he had me in half-guard, which was quite an achievement for me because I always mess up my arm placement when I go for that. Anyway, a nice little ego boost for me; always nice to feel like I'm not perpetually the lowest man on the totem pole.
  
  
• Midway through last week I got a text from TopGun asking me if I would call up an exterminator, as my roomie had had some extra protein in his cereal that morning courtesy of the ants which had infiltrated the box. After asking around, I decided to first try the liquid ant bait traps that Zinger suggested; within a day of setting them out, the kitchen infestation vanished. However, last night TopGun was assaulted by a couple in his room; apparently they know he was the one who ratted them out and were taking their sweet revenge on him.
  
  
• Saturday morning I was being my usual lazy self, lying in bed and wondering if I should get up or not, when I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of TopGun talking to someone else in the living room. Curious, I got up and moved towards my bedroom door, whose handle started to turn. By that point I had recognized the other voice, and so I whipped open the door just as PigPen was starting to stick his ginger dome in. Turns out he had been driving back from crashing at a friend's house, and was passing through Denton when he was struck by hunger and decided to come see if TopGun and I wanted to go grab some breakfast. Thank heavens I was awake; I'd hate to think what evil things might have befallen me otherwise.
  
  
• Figured I should share an example of TopGun's smartassery towards me so you don't all feel sorry for him for all the pot-shots I've taken at him so far. As we were driving to breakfast on Saturday, PigPen and I were talking about our rappelling trips* and PigPen was trying to remember who all went on our first trip. I said it was just him, Shack-Fu, and myself; he said he could have sworn there was a girl with us; TopGun piped up from the backseat "No, that was Todd."
  
  
• Shack-Fu gave me a call on Sunday afternoon, and when I asked how he was doing he said he was doing all right, although he was horribly sore. When I asked why he was sore, he responded "Oh, had a bit of a crash the other day." My first thought: not the Challenger! He then went on to explain that he had crashed his bike and scraped himself up pretty bad; when I told him what my initial thought had been, he responded that if he had crashed the Challenger, I wouldn't have been hearing from him, as he would have had to have killed himself.
  
  
• As I mentioned in my last post, despite only having known TopGun for a little over a month, I have felt unusually comfortable just being myself around him -- this, of course, has lead to me feeling compelled to explain to him several of my neurotic tendencies and try to prepare him for what storms may come. Honestly, I think I might need to just type up a pamphlet: "So You're Going to Be Todd's Friend: 10 Neuroses, Quirks, and Idiosyncrasies to Watch Out For.**" I'm sure it would come in very handy.
  
  
• Last Sunday I got a call from my old pal Papa Lightbulb, who I rarely get to talk to these days since his family moved to Houston. They were in town, and I had seen them briefly after church but hadn't gotten a chance to visit, so wasn't totally surprised to get the call, but wasn't expecting the question he asked: "What can you tell me about Red Tornado?" Seems his son had just gotten a Red Tornado action figure at the store, and had asked Papa L. to call me up for the 411 on the character, since he knew I had been the source of primo Green Lanter intel a few months back. I weighed the pros and cons of illuminating the Lightbulb boys on Reddy's convoluted history, but finally settled for "He's a robot who controls the wind, can fly and blast people," thus maintaining my place as "useful comic geek" and not "horribly pedantic ubergeek." And yes, we did visit about other things besides comic book characters after that; man, I sure do miss Clan Lightbulb.
  
  
• A few weeks back, TopGun let slip the date of his birthday to Slick (formerly MeiMei), and has regretted it ever since, as Slick has been pestering our resident Gray Man about how he wants to celebrate, and won't take "I'd rather just be totally ignored and not have anyone acknowledge my existence" for an answer.
  
  
• At the beginning of the month I travelled to Asheville, NC for the North American Serials Interest Group (NASIG) Annual Conference. Sounds thrilling, doesn't it? It was actually pretty cool in a way, since most of the other conferences I've gone to for work have not had a whole lot of relevance to my job, whereas this conference was directed precisely at people who do what I do. Kinda nice. Plus, while exploring the streets of Asheville one night, we happened upon a drum circle and a huge mosh pit of college kids dancing wildly to primitive beats; don't get to see much of that around here.
  
  
• The one down side to attending conferences is that they force me to try to get outside myself and meet new people, not exactly my forte. After my first night, I instigate the following texting conversation with fellow wallflower TopGun.
  

  Me: Now I remember why I hate going to conference: MINGLING.
  Him: I'm about to start a workout then just hang out. No mingling for me!
  Me: Just for that, I'm throwing you the biggest birthday party in the history of the Singles department. Mingle *that* bucko!
  Him: Hahaha! You clever bastard!

  Yes, this is definitely the beginning of a beautifully smartassed friendship***

*Okay, actually we were talking about Taco Casa, but that required talking about rappelling.
**Oh, who am I kidding? I could come up with at least 25.****
***Last weekend when TopGun and I were synching up our smartass natures to pester Slick, she looked at us and said "You guys just feed off of each other, don't you?" We both instantly went into wounded innocence "I don't know what you're talking about!" mode . . . I don't think she was fooled.
***Crap; I am now seriously thinking about what my list of 25 things would be. Thanks a lot, creativity-driven borderline-OCD, thanks a lot!

Move Over, Li'l Random, There's a New "Grey Man" In Town!

At the beginning of May, another poor soul found himself subjected to the psychological torture that is being my roommate. I learned pretty early on that TopGun shares Li'l Random's desire to be the Grey Man and fade into the background; so, naturally, I'm doing a special spotlight post all about him.

When I moved into Shack-Fu's house last November, the arrangement was that after he finished the academy and moved out, I would search for someone to rent out the extra room, a process I wasn't really looking forward to. So, when Shack-Fu called me to say that a friend of his was going to be moving to the area and needed a place to live, I was more than happy accept the excuse to avoid the roommate interview process for a bit longer. I was a bit leery about having someone I'd never met move in; I figured that the Shack-Fu Seal of Approval meant he'd be a stand-up guy, but that didn't necessarily mean that our personalities would mesh well. After all, when I asked Shack about my future roomie, he told me "he reminds me a lot of you, actually," and, well, let's face it: historically I have not always been my favorite person -- luckily, while TopGun and I have discovered some similarities, none have been of the overly-neurotic nature.

One personality trait that we discovered in common on his first night in town was that we are both people who don't do so well being thrust into new groups of people, and both tend to keep to ourselves in the beginning until we get a good sense of the group. Being cognizant of that, I tried hard to be a bit more outgoing in our initial conversations, in order to overcome the awkward zone. Luckily, we found our own ice breaking commonality pretty easily -- swapping Shack-Fu stories. And while that definitely opened up avenues of conversation, I think our burgeoning friendship really began to gel when Shack-Fu came back into town for a week. TopGun and I had been getting along pretty well, but I think the presence of our mutual friend made us both a little more comfortable letting our true selves show, and I quickly discovered another common bond: the bond of smartassery. Granted, thanks to his generally laid-back persona, TopGun's brand of smartass behavior is a bit more dry and deadpan than what I've grown accustomed to after the past few years of hanging out with The Lovable PigPen and Cap'n Peanut, but as they say, variety is the spice of life.

However, while we do have some traits in common, there are also some pretty big differences. First of all there's the whole "Grey Man" thing; as I've noted before, although I am prone to Cap'n Cellophane moments, I actually kind of like being the center of attention. TopGun, on the other hand, is not likely to perform a humorous interp in front of his co-workers or dance his fool head off at a New Year's Eve party or sing the Popular song in a crowded restaurant. But at least that's a fairly innocuous difference, and not one that's likely to cause many problems; some of the other differences though . . . I mean, look, I'm a pretty tolerant guy for the most part, but even I have my limits. Seriously; rooming with a laid-back, self-motivated, productive person who eats healthy food and works out every day? It makes me shudder just to think about it! I frequently accuse him of only working out so diligently because he's trying to shame me into getting off of my butt and doing something, and have threatened to make his nickname "Showoff" of "Showboater"; even worse, it's actually worked -- he's got me to agree to do the P90X program with him. I think he may have gotten some mental-manipulation tips from Count Shackula

All kidding aside, I'm very surprised at how quickly I've felt comfortable just being myself around him; as all the loyal blog monkeys know, it usually takes me several months before I let down my guard around new folks. Whether my new-found openness is a product of our personalities clicking just right, or my feeling generally more comfortable with myself than I used to, or something else entirely, I don't know; whatever the reason, I'm glad that I've been able to bypass most of my neurotic hangups and just let the real Todd manifest, and even more glad that getting to know the real Todd has not sent him off running, screaming into the night.

Then again, it's early days yet -- it took PigPen at least a couple of months of rooming with me to start plotting my death . . .

Welcome to the roller-coaster ride that is being my friend, TopGun; hope your sanity survives the experience.

Fragmented Friday - Giant Goofball

Yes, I'm back; no, I haven't any good excuses; yes, I plan to post regularly again; no, I don't guarantee it. In order to kick-start the blogging process, I figured I'd devote today's posting to the one man who has provided me with more blogging fodder than anyone outside of The Lovable PigPen: everyone's favorite action hero, Cap'n Shack-Fu.

In my last Fragmented Friday post back in April, I mentioned that I would be heading up to Quantico for Shack-Fu's graduation from the academy. I had a really good trip; would have been a great trip except for this nagging little "couldn't get a decent night's sleep for almost a week and so was pretty out of it most of the time" issue

I will admit to getting a little teary eyed at the graduation, although it was at a sort of strange time; before the graduating cadets even came into the auditorium we got to watch a video about what people at the academy go through, and as I sat there watching it, thinking about all the struggles my best friend had to get through to get to that graduation day, well, I got a bit choked up. Was pretty much back in control by the time Shack and his classmates came in; at that point, all I felt was intense pride in Shack.

Probably the question I got asked most often right after I got back from the trip was if the academy had changed Shack-Fu any; initially my answer was "no." He seemed like the same giant goofball I'd known and loved like a brother for the last several years. But during the week I took off work to help him move, I did get to see that his time at the academy had taught him how to handle stressful situations better -- so, for example, when there was a huge miscommunication with the movers that took several days and several iterations of plans to straighten out, Shack handled it all with great patience and grace instead of turning into Disaster Mode Shack-Fu which, trust me, is never fun to be around. Still a giant goofball, though.

Speaking of changes, as I was riding with him a few hours after his graduation, I asked him if he felt any different; he responded that it hadn't really sunk in yet, and that he really just felt like he was breaking the law because he was going around in public fully armed. Within a week, though, he was so used to it that he felt awkward when he wasn't packing heat. Honestly, if there was any job tailor-made for my gun-loving buddy, it was this one.

During his all too brief time back in Denton getting things organized for his move up to OK, I encouraged him to cover as many of the usual Shack-Fu activities as possible, and I think he did a fairly good job: had at least one meal at each of the usual restaurants; did the usual work-out routine at the UNT gym; had a couple of Guys nights and a couple of All-Singles gatherings; went to the firing range with PigPen; organized a game of flashlight tag; used his inhuman powers of persuasion to make me play flashlight tag even though I don't care for the game; and last but certainly not least, kicked my butt in a wrestling match. All in all, a pretty action packed few days, but what else would you expect from Super-Shack?

About a week or so after graduation, Shack-Fu decided to reward himself for all his hard work by buying a new car -- this car, to be exact.
Yup, that's a limited edition, numbered, 2008 Dodge Challenger. You would not believe how many comments, double-takes, looks of lust and/or envy I witnessed during my brief time riding around with Shack in the new Shack-mobile. If nothing else, the car is definitely a conversation starter . . . because, y'know, Shack needs so much help with meeting new people, shy, retiring wallflower that he is . . .

Shack only stayed at Wicker Way one night during his time off, and that was pretty much just so he could pick up some stuff and head up to OK for his house-hunting trip. When he came back from house-hunting to move his stuff out, he actually stayed at Li'l Random's place. Why? Because a couple of days after Shack went on his house-hunting trip, my new roommate -- a friend of Shack-Fu's who just moved to the area for work, tentatively nicknamed TopGun -- moved in. Things were a bit cramped for a few days as TopGun moved in his stuff before Shack-Fu was able to move his out, but we seemed to manage okay.

I can't tell you how awesome it was to have Shack-Fu around again for most of a week; unfortunately, getting used to having him around again meant that I had to get used to not having him around all over again when he finally packed up the last of his things and drove off into the sunset in his shiny new car. Man, I really miss that giant goofball.

Fragmented Friday - Easing Back Into Blogging

It has now been over two weeks since I last posted, and even the posts I had done before that were quite anemic -- sad state of affairs, I know. I have no really valid excuse other than a hectic schedule and a lack of blogging motivation.

A few of the things that have been going on in the past couple of months

• A few weeks ago, Parkerite GMC got married, which led to a mini-Parkerite reunion. The bulk of the Poker Football League crew made it, as did Coronela and Little Man Stud, although Clan Flunky was unfortunately unable to attend, to the disappointment of all.
  
  
• I started taking Brazilian jiu-jitsu classes the last week in Februay at TXElite MMA here in town. Once again I tried to keep it a secret from PigPen so I could try to catch him off-guard with improved grappling skills, and once again I let the cat out of the bag sooner than I had planned. I'm enjoying the class a lot; it has a more informal structure than my karate and judo classes -- no bowing as you enter and leave, the instructor isn't "Sensei" but "Coach," etc. -- which actually makes it a much more inviting learning environment for me, and most of the guys there have been really cool, helpful, and encouraging. I've gone to MMA class a couple of times as well, and while I'm not as big a fan of the striking as I am the grappling -- the whole "have trouble seeing this far in front of my face without my glasses" affects punches and kicks much more than it does chokes and submissions -- it is a great workout, and I plan to attend it at least once a week. I've taken this week off because I hurt my shoulder a couple of weeks ago and wanted to give it a chance to heal up, but I plan on jumping back in next week.
  
  
• Two weeks from today I will be in Quantico, VA for Shack-Fu's FBI graduation ceremony; can't wait. There will be a few other Denton folk heading up for it as well, which is cool, so I won't feel quite so odd-man-out as I probably would have if it had just been me and his family.
  
  
• Tonight the Singles are hosting another Murder Mystery; the theme this time is "Murder Me, I'm Irish." Like last year, we had more people wanting to participate than we had roles, so I created 9 additional characters with clues, plus my own character who will serve as M.C./host. I will be playing Rick O'Shea, well known spiritual medium and host of the cable TV show "Bouncing Back from Beyond with Rick O'Shea." And yes, I plan to speak in an accent all night long, and no, I do not guarantee that it will be stable.
  
  
• I recently informed Li'l Brother that I was instigating a new policy; for every day that goes by without him returning my phone call/email/text/carrier pigeon/etc., he shall incur a penalty: 30 minutes worth of being practice dummy for my jiu-jitsu and MMA. After first being informed of the policy, he responded very quickly, but it's now been over a week since I left him a message which he has not yet returned, so it looks like I'm going to have to prove to him I'm serious . . .

Fragmented Friday - Who Watches the Watchmen's Man-things?

Latest diet update: as of yesterday morning, I was down 25 lbs since the beginning of the year.

Last night I went to a birthday dinner at Chili's in honor of Sunshine and Trouble, even though Trouble had declared multiple times that she was not having a birthday this year. Because of the timing of the dinner, I didn't get to watch OSU and OU play in the Big 12 quarterfinals, and had to settle for checking the score regularly on my cellphone. It was probably a good thing I didn't get to watch it, as the close score probably would have given me a heart attack. By the end, I had set the ESPN site to refresh automatically every 15 seconds, and so it was that it popped up the following info: "OSU 69 OU 70 FINAL." I sighed and announced it to the table, saying I was sad but was at least glad that the Cowboys had played them close. About 5 or 10 minutes later, one of the other guys said "Hey, Todd -- OSU won." Turns out he had just gotten a text from our former Singles pastor Freezeout who was actually at the game, and who is a big OU fan. I went back on my phone, and sure enough, the score now read OSU 71 OU 70. I later learned that OSU had gotten fouled with only a couple of seconds left and made two free throws to win the game; ESPN.com had just jumped the gun.

It amuses me greatly that most of the complaints I have heard from people about Watchmen have all centered around Dr. Manhattan's penchant for total nudity and the blue CGI private parts that accompany said penchant; who cares about plot, or acting, or direction or any of that jazz, just don't make us look at Dr. Manhattan's special purpose!*

My first time playing racquetball after the night of multiple buttkckings, I had made my first hit of my first game when Trouble said "What's wrong with your racket?" A quick glance showed that the top strings had broken. I went ahead and finished the game as is, since Trouble herself was playing with a cracked racket and had been for a few weeks, only waiting for payday to go buy herself a new one. Later, I emailed Cap'n Peanut to let him now that I had decided that the only possible explanation was that when he had borrowed my racket to play PigPen he had warped my racket with his crazy gorilla strength, and that a bill for a replacement would be forthcoming; he replied that it was nice to know that it was my shoddy racket that had been responsible for his less-than-stellar play that night.

Have you ever found out a piece of information that you were kinda glad to know, because you would hate to have been kept in the dark about it, but at the same time you kinda wish you didn't know, because that little piece of secret information fills you with concern and worry? Welcome to my world.

Last weekend the Singles had a game/movie night at Mei-Mei's parents' house; as always, the movie was shown out-doors, projected onto her parents' garage door. When the email invite went out, Cap'n Cluck urged everyone to remember lawn chairs and blankets. When I saw that, I decided to do one better than bringing a regular blanket, and instead brought one of my Christmas presents from my mom. So it was that about 20 minutes into the movie, as I started to get a little chilly, I wrapped myself up in a nice warm Snuggie**. The rest of the movie was spent with me looking for excuses to move my Snuggie-wrapped arms around for some reason, as every movement would sent Trouble and Lizard into paroxysms of laughter. One of those "you had to be there" times, to be sure, and I know most everyone else was lost as to what the three of us were dying laughing over.

I know I need to start up with the TV Tuesday posts again, but until I actually get around to it, I'd like to take this chance to say that this season of Lost is shaping up to be my favorite season, and I can't wait to see where it all leads. I also want to make sure everyone who is without the joys of TiVo/DVRs knows that Scrubs is moving to Wednesdays at 7:00. I'm also looking forward to the new sitcom which will be on between Scrubs and Lost, Better Off Ted.



Just looks like my kind of weird, doesn't it?

*Yesterday Zinger asked me if I had heard anyone make a "Dongtor Manhattan" joke yet; I assured him he was the first I had encountered.
**For the record: not only did I not request a Snuggie for Christmas, until I opened my present I had no idea that such a thing existed. It was a week or so later before I finally saw an actual Snuggie commercial.

Hanging Out

A couple of weeks ago, Cap'n Peanut mentioned that he and PigPen were planning on going somewhere to watch UFC 96 and invited me to tag along and I, of course, said sure. However, a few days later Peanut let me know that the plans were off because his parents were having a birthday dinner for his older brother that evening. In the end it worked out, since I would have had to have left early from the Singles Game and Movie Night to meet up with them, and thus would have missed out on tormenting Trouble and Lizard with one of my Christmas presents while watching Back to the Future on Mei-mei's parents' garage door*, but I was still a little bummed not to get to hang out with PigPen and Peanut. Since I'm trying to be more proactive in maintaining my friendships and not not sitting around waiting for people to come to me, I emailed Peanut earlier today to ask if he and PigPen had any plans in place for this weekend, or if they might be free to hang out with me. Peanut replied that they were both free, and wanted to know what sort of plans I had in mind.

I really wanted to reply "I already said: to hang out. Duh!" but thought that such a tone might be counterproductive to actually getting them to hang out with me.

Peanut's reply asking what I wanted to do is a pretty good example of a difference in mindset I've noticed between several of my friends and myself, with my friends being much more action/event oriented while I often couldn't care less. It happens often with Peanut, who isn't much of a sit-around type of guy; it happens with Shack-Fu, who is very task-oriented at times; it happens with Li'l Random, who is difficult to pin down even with very specific plans, let alone nebulous ones; and it happens with Zinger and Pooh-Bear, who will often meet my requests to come visit with questions of if I had anything special I wanted to do. And almost every time my friends try to get some solid plan out of me, I respond with a "doesn't really matter to me" sort of attitude.

It's not that I don't want to go out and do stuff; it's just that, for me, going out and doing stuff isn't necessary for me to enjoy myself. When I call someone up and ask if they want to hang out, it's because I want to be around them, talk with them, joke with them, pick on them, etc. To me, it doesn't matter if this happens waiting in line at the movies, in the middle of an amusement park, or just sitting at one of our homes around the TV set. As long as I'm spending time with my friends, I'm content. And, yeah, some of my favorite memories stem from going out and doing stuff with my friends: the birth of Hyper Force 3000; Bumper Bowling; St. Valentine's Day Meal of Doom; any number of trips to Texas Road House with Cap'n Shack-Fu . . . the list goes on and on. But by the same token, I have incredibly fond memories of just sitting around the house with my friends, swapping stories and goofing around.

Once upon a time, such a focus on activities would get to me as, in my usual neurotic way, I would turn it around in my head as a sign that people really didn't want to hang out with me without something else going on to distract them from me. But as I've matured, I've come to accept that this is just another one of the personality quirks, much like the True Colors system or the Languages of Love/Appreciation; I may be content to sit at home and gab, but others need more stimulation, need to get out of the house and experience something. And as long as both sides understand that about the other, things can run much more smoothly, and with luck not devolved into "What do you want to do? I don't know, what do you want to do? I asked you first" territory.

So, which category do you fall into, my blog monkeys? Are you a "go-go-go-go-go!" person? Or a "Stay or go, it doesn't matter as long as I'm with my pals" person? Comment hungry bloggers want to know!

Back to my email conversation with Peanut: I did respond with a crack about how if I had to plan things the deal was off, which followed by some ideas about what we could do -- ideas that I had already come up with before my original email because I pretty much knew that a request for concrete plans would be forthcoming.

Who says I can't learn?

*A story for another time . . . perhaps

A Dynamic Shift

As I've mentioned before, I often spend great portions of my time dissecting the ins and outs of the interpersonal chemistry and group dynamics of those around me. While my previous posts focused on questions of what forms the basis of such dynamics, my blog post the other day brought to mind an example of a dynamic in which I have observed a sizable shift in a positive direction. Gradually over the last couple of years, I have reached the point that time spent with PigPen and Cap'n Peanut leaves me feeling like part of a trio of good friends, and not just a third wheel tagalong.

It's not that I always felt like a third wheel when hanging out with them, but more often than not, if I was around the two of them for an extended period of time, I would eventually slip into that self-defeating, Outsider state of mind. There were several things which contributed to this, on both ends. On my end of things, there was my natural, neurotic Outsider tendencies, which are really always just a moment away from kicking into full gear in any social situation. But there were a number of factors in the PigPen/Peanut dynamic that exacerbated my neurosis. To start off with, PigPen and Peanut had been best friends for years and years before either one of them met me, breeding a bevy of inside jokes, commonalities, and shared experiences that can be daunting to a newcomer at the best of times, but even more so when you factor in the specifics of the duo's behavior.

For you see, much as the combination of PigPen and Cap'n Shack-Fu results in HyperTwin activity that dwarfs their usual hyper behavior, and the combination of Li'l Random and myself leads to Odd Squodd weirdness which sometimes makes our individual randomness seem logical, so does the combo of PigPen and Peanut result in a ratcheting up of their normal behavior to a sometimes intimidating degree. In their case, the amplified behavior is of the trash talking, insult/put-down humor variety. Once the two of them get on a roll, it's a sight to behold, as they feed of each other's energy and go all out to one-up each other; woe to any outsider who tries to get a shot in on one of them, for they are then hit with both barrels from the united pair.

Adding to the joy was the fact that my status as PigPen's perpetual whipping boy was also usually amped up. So, for example , if Peanut made a crack at my expense, PigPen would jump in and join in the attack; if I were to take a crack at Peanut, PigPen would retaliate on his behalf, even if my crack at Peanut had me taking PigPen's side; can't imagine how that could spark my Outsider complex, can you?

A brief aside: Since people tend to read much more bitterness and vitriol into these sort of posts than what I intend, let me take a moment to state for the record that as far as I'm concerned none of this was malicious or purposeful. PigPen was just trying to zing me like he always did day in and day out, just like I tried to zing him; once again, our friendship is based on mutual antagonism, and I am as guilty of starting crap with him as he is of starting crap with me. That being said, when Peanut got added into the mix, I couldn't help feeling like I was constantly being ganged up on and marginalized. I know that wasn't his intent, but it's how I perceived it, and over time I began to feel more and more like PigPen didn't want me around in general, and resented me impinging on his time with his best friend in specific.

So, what changed? A couple of things.

I think the first and most significant change was that Peanut and I became good friends. You see, even though Peanut and I had known each other for a while before I even met PigPen, let alone moved in with him, we were more passing acquaintances than friends. For the longest time, I thought he didn't like me for some reason; after I moved in with PigPen and got to hang out with Peanut more, I soon learned that what I had read as disdain and dislike was actually a variation of the same misunderstanding that occurred when I first met iamam and Rebel Monkey -- turns out that Peanut wasn't always comfortable when in a new group, and kept to himself until he got more acclimated. Sound like anyone else you know?

Anyway, over time Peanut and I got more chances to hang out one on one, and I gradually began to dismiss the thought that he only put up with me because I was rooming with his best friend, and started to accept that he considered me a friend in my own right. Once I made that mental shift, and began to believe that Peanut actually wanted me around and I wasn't just getting invited along out of pity, that third wheel mentality started to fade. But it wasn't quite vanquished, because I had only dealt with one part of the equation.

The other part of the equation, of course, was my growing paranoia that PigPen really didn't want me around. How did I confront this problem? By employing a radical solution: I talked to him about it. Using my patented Paranoia Resolution Formula, we each figured out where the other one was coming from, and moved on from there. Sadly, by the time I'd finally burned away all of my self-consciousness regarding my place in the group, it was only another month or so before they both moved to Lewisville, and my chances to see them vastly decreased. But at least now that I do get to see them, I can just relax and have a good time, and not question my place in the group.

Although I'd been cognizant of the shift in our mini-group dynamic on some level, it was the day after the evening of multiple buttkickings that I really started to reflect on how large a change there had been. Yeah, PigPen and Peanut still egg each other on to a crazy degree, and yeah, there are times when they gang up on me; but there are also times when Peanut and I gang up on PigPen, and there are times when it's every man for himself, and there are times when we're all united against someone or something else. I no longer let their long standing friendship trigger my Outsider complex; instead I just sit back and enjoy the moments when their long history manifests itself, and spend the rest of my time forging the bonds of the newer friendship I'm building with both of them now.

Amazing what can happen when I get out of my own way, isn't it?