Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Skipping School

Today my eldest daughter decided she wanted to skip school because she was soooooo tired.  She sent it all via text messages because I was in the shower.

Her exact verbiage was, "Can I skip school today?  I am sooooo sleepy.  I've got all my work turned in and my grades are good.  Mom always let me when my grades were good."

To which I kindly responded, "I'm not your mom.  Save your sick days for when you are sick.  You better hurry or you are going to be late.  I don't lie and I don't think your school would look too kindly upon a note that said, 'My lovely 17 year old didn't feel like going to school today.'"

To which she said, "I can get mom to right the note."

I didn't respond fast enough before she corrected her error, "*write".  It was going to be a classic about skipping English.  It's interesting that she knows her mom will lie for her.  I wonder if she's ever thought about that.

Anyway, it has completely disrupted my whole day and it started at 8 AM.

Thanks for listening.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Weekends and Predictions

I am now officially certified.  No wise cracks.  I'm certified for open water diving.  In case you missed it.

I went to Lake DeGray, Arkansas over the weekend.  I couldn't ever see more than, what seemed like, 10 feet so it was mostly disappointing, but I'll be going to the Caribbean in October and I bet things will be clearer there.

Tonight the Cowboys face the Redskins.  Although Romo's status is listed as "questionable" (really, tell us something we didn't already know -- he's questionable when he's healthy), if he does play he'll be on pain killers.

I therefore predict that if Romo plays the game and is on mind altering pain killers the Cowboys will easily defeat the Redskins 35 to 17 (Romo plays better on mind altering medications).  If Romo does not play, then the Cowboys will beat the Redskins 21 to 17.  If Romo plays with just pain killers (not the mind altering sort) then the Cowboys will lose 17 to 10.

I won't blog about this tomorrow.  Well, unless I'm right.  Then it will be necessary.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Romo Proves My Point

Last week I opined that Romo should start drinking at halftime so the Dallas Cowboys could win some games without him crumbling under pressure.  Well, he did one better!  He did drugs (I think)!

Now, I don't really know this, but let's look at the facts.  He whined about a  rib injury early on in the first quarter.  By the second quarter he was playing like a debilitated school boy.  It was funny listening to it on the radio as I was driving back from Louisiana.  The guys on the radio were very pro Romo.  So, he went three up and three down for like, I don't know, it seemed like, 10 series in a row.  The radio announcers are like, "Well, Witten must have run the wrong route because Tony hit the corner back in the head with that ball."  Then, immediately afterwards, they were, "Austin Miles must have heard the play call wrong because he was nowhere near where Romo threw the ball."

I'm guessing at halftime they took Romo in and gave him an injection of cortisone.  He came back out after the half and looked like he was going to play, but then went back to the locker room for most of the third quarter still whining about his injured ribs.

Common sense dictates that the doctors in the locker room gave him an injection (better than cortisone) for the pain.  I'm no narcotics expert, but that boy came out and won the game in the fourth quarter proving my theory from last week.  He needs to start drinking at halftime, but hey, drugs work too!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Gar Fish

This weekend I learned to swim...underwater...for long periods of time.  In typical Gar fashion I drove all the way to West Monroe Louisiana to do it.  Many of you are probably thinking, "Gar lives in Dallas, Texas, why would that silly boy drive all the way to Louisiana to learn how to Scuba dive?"  Well, those people would not know Gar very well because that's the way Gar rolls.

I took my lessons at Bayou Diving and J.P. Pritchard was the mighty fine instructor capable of putting up with my idiosyncrasies in a submersed environment.  If you live close to his shop or are driving through I highly recommend stopping in and doing some shopping there.

Next week I'll be meeting him at Lake DeGray to finish my open water scuba certification.  I'm all atwitter.

I passed all but one task with flying colors.  At some point during the training Mr. Pritchard asked me to remove my mask underwater and then put it back on.

When I was about 9 years old I realized that my nose doesn't get along with water.  So for the last 30 years or so I've been holding my nose under water.  The idea of removing my mask underwater and exposing my tender proboscis to the choking horror that is H2O was very close to terrifying.

On day 2 I was comfortable enough with the scuba equipment that I was able to complete the task. I'll have to do it again next week at the lake.  I'm all atwitter about that too.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Romo Must Go

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't decide whether to be mean, nice, honest, understanding, or all of the above.  I've decided to go with all of the above.  I warn you now, this is going to be crazy random.  Good luck keeping up.  D'ngo says I need new material.  I'm not sure it's possible.

I only do this kind of thing once every four years because I avidly believe football is a detriment to our education system.  We build new high school football stadiums while simultaneously firing math teachers because of budget shortfalls.

I've been bowling lately.  If you've ever bowled, you know if you bowl a strike, the next two balls are added to the strike for a possible 30 points total per frame.  This causes me great amounts of anxiety after bowling a strike that I can't seem to fix.  The best I've ever bowled was in Germany after drinking a liter of hefeweizen.  I bowled a 166 (out of a possible 300).  Beer helps the condition.  It causes a reduction in anxiety.

I strongly believe Tony Romo has the same problem.  He gets so worked up that he can't play.  This is evident in his playoff stats (which I assume are more stressful games than normal) and it was evident last night.  Everything was going relatively peachy until the Jets had him pinned at his own 5 yard line.  Suddenly the anxiety took over and Romo melted.  He scrambled, lost yards and the Cowboys were finally forced to punt.  That was the tipping point.

Shortly afterwards, he threw a pass to Witten which Witten managed to run down to the 1 yard line.  Romo, feeling immense pressure to finish off the drive, (how hard can it be to go 1 yard anyway -- as hard as it is to hit 5 pins after a bowling a strike) fumbled.

This was followed devastatingly quickly by a blocked punt and ensuing touchdown which tied the game.  At this point Romo is a sniveling little kid incapable of any kind of performance.  I was thinking maybe Garrett should keep a bottle of tequila hidden in the cooler.  I wonder if there are any rules about alcohol during the game?  Perhaps if Romo  had a double shot before the pressure filled fourth quarter things would have worked out differently.

But all is not lost.  Final drive for the Cowboys and all they have to do is go about 30 yards and kick a field goal to tie the game!  Romo, in his anxiety ridden addled mind throws the ball to the wrong player (the Jets wear green man).  Game over Romo.  Either start drinking at halftime or retire before they come up with a better ranking system for quarterbacks.

For those of you still not convinced, I'll leave you with an old adage: "If it works, don't mess with it".  Then go back and look at the Cowboy's record last year.  First look at the record with Romo, then look at the record without Romo.  Granted, Garrett was also a difference.  I like his coaching style.

With Romo as quarterback last year, they won 1 and lost 5.  With Romo not as quarterback they won 5 and lost 5.  With Garrett as coach they won 5 and lost 2.  Do the math.  Stick with Garrett and no Romo (I wrote that because I suspect Jerry Jones may have a problem with simple arithmetic).

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Textual Frustration

Since I was a wee little tike, I have disliked talking on the phone.  I think it's my dad's fault.  He used to make the phone ring and pretend to be the evil Easter Bunny after I answered.

When I went to Germany the first time back in 2001, I was introduced to, what they call, SMS (short message service).  To me it was an instant way to send someone a message without the fear of talking to the Easter Bunny.  I loved it.  I was an instant addict.  I texted (SMS'd) all day long.

As many of you avid readers of my readerless blog know I also have no social skills.  To attempt to combat this enormous lacking in my persona, I have taken to trying to meet new people once a month.  A bar is the best place to do this.  It has the necessary components:
  • Random people sitting around the bar
  • Liquid courage
Lately, I have come to realize that more and more people are going up to sit at the bars alone and play with their freaking phone.  It makes me...irritated.  My first counselor used to tell me that irritation is just a form of anger, but I don't get mad so it can't be true.

I've also recently started toying with the idea of trying my hand at the mobile app market.  I'm thinking I'll write the Bar Fly Application.  You turn it on when you go to the bar and it will broadcast whether or not you are single or maybe, more generically, whether or not you are at the bar for some random socializing.  Then, you turn on your phone with the Bar Fly App, you get hundreds of indicators from all around the bar and you can send them a text message, "Hey Lonely Girl #2567, can I buy you a drink?"

There are obvious flaws.  The first one is how do you know which person you are texting?  I suppose part of the app could be a ping feature that makes a phone squelch.  Then you could ping Lonely Girl #2 through #2000 and listen for the squelch coming from the correct pocket.  Once you've keyed upon the appropriate squelch you can offer to buy the correct person a drink.  If you haven't been thrown out for staring at asses (with pockets).

There would also always be the token "hot" Lonely Girl whose phone would be in permanent squelch mode.

But then how would Lonely Girl #2567 know who sent her the message?  Would she look around the room trying to find Lonely Guy #813 with a sly look in his antisocial eye?  I rhymed that on purpose.

The obvious fix seems like it would be having a Bar Fly Application profile which contained a picture along with identifying features.  Each time you went to a bar, you could update your profile with where you were sitting and what color shirt you were wearing.  Underclothes or lack thereof would be cool as well, but not pertinent to the identification process.  Well, not unless you were really lucky.  Or unlucky I suppose.

Look for it coming your way soon: "The Bar Fly App" by Gar the Social Misfit.  I'll have to sell it for 99 cents or something.  We don't want a bunch of cheap socially inept people running around with the Bar Fly App.  Nobody wants to be texted by a cheap social misfit.

Friday, September 2, 2011

My Kids Think I'm Getting Married

I often point out that D'ngo the semi-professional blogger and purveyor of the obvious has reading comprehension problems.  I point it out to him in hopes that he'll be able to improve.  Apparently those who can spew out verbiage ad infinitum have a bit of trouble taking it in.

My previous posting (the one just below this one), had my children quizzing me about my marriage plans.

Now I can't help but wonder if people, and my lovely children, gloss over things to save time.  They read, "Marriage and Surnames" and it immediately translates, in their glossy little heads, to: "Dad's getting married...again."

My last post also forced D'ngo to write me a formal apology for all of his wrong doings so I have no idea what he got out of it.  I'm really rather afraid to ask.

I've re-read it twice.  I'm kind of starting to think I have a hard time expressing myself adequately.  Maybe the transformers reference threw things into a tailspin.

Yesterday my eldest daughter said she was going to get to sing so low in choir this year.  I told her I thought she was a soprano.  She seemed irritated. *shrug*