To The 3 People Who Still Check On This

Sorry I suck at sharing my thoughts. I know that you want to know more about what it's like to be a man with million dollar hair. Naturally, you want to emulate me and you miss my deep, innermost thoughts.

However, life unfortunately has intruded on my ability to make myself available as a role model for you lesser haired individuals. You'll be happy to know that I'm sporting executive silver, still under-appreciated by People Magazine, and still working on that Nobel Peace prize.

New Goals

It has become apparent to me that the whole process surrounding People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive moniker is just a popularity contest. In fact, as crazy as it is, I suspect that my Microsoft Excel skills will have little to no impact on their choice.

Therefore, after learning that Barack Obama won $1.4 million dollars in cash as part of winning the Nobel Peace prize, I've decided that I should now set a goal of winning the Nobel Peace prize instead. I don't exactly know the criteria, but I am sure my hair valuation or my Excel skills will have more of an impact on this contest than the Sexiest Man Alive contest. And besides, if I'm named Sexiest Man Alive, all I get is a magazine cover. If I win the Nobel Peace price, I get some serious cash and I get a wine testing medal that would make Flavor Flav jealous.

2009 - A Sherwood Story

Rules For Camping

I don’t know if there are any rules to camping. And there probably are. The first rule is probably something like, “I know the bear cub is cute, but stop hugging it” or “No matter how good beef jerky is for a morning snack, don’t sleep with it stuffed in your pockets.” And those are fine rules. But those are rules for people showing an elevated dumbass level. If somebody is going to hug Gentle (how ironic) Ben’s offspring, it’s probably best for society if they die by being mauled by a bear.

I think there need to be rules for people who are just plain busy and only camp occasionally. Therefore, I present to you: Sherwood’s Rules of Camping

Sherwood’s Rules of Camping

1. Make sure you’re bringing what you actually think you’re bringing. Take the time to actually double check what you have is what you think you have. Otherwise, you could go to open what you think is your bed roll after carrying it all the way into the museum for your special overnight only to find that you’ve lugged a tent all the way in from the parking lot and it won’t do you much good when you’re sleeping on a VERY HARD floor which is incidentally INDOORS so you really need a bed roll so you can get some sleep to ignore your kid and having a tent isn’t going to cut the mustard.

2. Bring all of your medications. Make sure that you have vital medications on hand such as Prevacid or Prilosec for heartburn, insulin for diabetics, and cough syrup for kids. BECAUSE COUGH SYRUP IS WHAT YOU SHOULD BE GIVING KIDS WHEN YOU WANT THEM TO SLEEP AND NOT CAFFEINE.

3. Don’t eat anything that gives you gas beginning within six hours of camping. ‘Nuff said.

Oddly Enough, No Reply Yet

12/23/09
To People Magazine


Dear Sir or Madam:

I am writing because I wish to be considered for People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive designation. I believe I would be an excellent choice for the designation.

I possess the experience you are seeking. My qualifications include the following:

· I have hair that has been appraised at a value exceeding $1 million for over 20 years.

· I am confident in declaring that I am an advanced user in both Microsoft Excel and Microsoft Access.

· I do all kinds of sexy things.

I am attaching some pictures that further demonstrate my sexiness. I would welcome the opportunity to discuss this designation further with you. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sexcerely,

MY NAME

Attached Pictures:

Hiatus

In the spirit of Jon & Kate Plus 8, I will be taking a hiatus from my blog. As you can see, my posts have been sporadic as of late. I really just need to take some time and focus on haircare. I hope to return to more consistent blogging by the end of the Summer.

The Dialogue In The Old Sex Ed Movies Was Different

The following family exchange illustrates how children eventually start learning about sex.

Me: The kids are really swinging wild at soccer today. Maybe we should get the boy a cup.
The Wife: Maybe.
The Girl: What’s a cup?
Me & The Wife: Ummm...
Me: It’s protection...for a boy’s stuff.
The girl: What’s stuff?
Me & The Wife: Ummm...
The boy: My nuts!
The girl: Ewwww! (pause) OK.

Growing Concerned

I am becoming concerned that my campaign to be named People Magazine’s Sexist Man Alive is not gaining the necessary traction. It’s almost like I just wrote it in a blog and it didn’t go anywhere from there.

Therefore, in order to make sure more people are aware that I am a candidate for the honor, I am going to begin to preface my conversations and e-mails with the fact that I am potentially the next People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive.

I hope that’ll do the trick. I don’t want to have to work too hard for this. After all, us sexy people are supposed to take it easy.

Numb3rs Starting To Get On My Nerves

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m getting pretty annoyed by Numb3rs. It seems like every criminal case can be solved by having a mathematical genius on staff. I’d like to have one episode where Charlie doesn’t butt in and offer to solve the case by using a technique that approximates where the drops of a sprinkler will fall so they can match the bomb residue pattern and find the mad bomber right before he sets off a bomb that will kill Charlie and the other guy’s father.

I’d like to have an episode where Charlie hears about the case and says “Wow. That’s a real dome scratcher. I can’t offer any help whatsoever. You guys should do whatever that Columbo guy does to solve cases.” And then spends the rest of the episode unable to balance his checkbook.

I Don't Have Million Dollar Domestic Skills

A craftsman never blames his tools. But I am not a craftsman and there’s only so much I can do with a handsaw.

Not long after graduating from college, the wife and I lived in a townhome. We lived there with our two cats, Rocky & Bullwinkle. Prior to moving to our townhome, we lived in an apartment. The apartment had large, wide window sills where the cats could lay and look out the window. Our new townhome didn’t have wide window sills. It had small, puny window sills. Like all good pet owners, we felt guilty.

Shortly after moving in, I went to the pet store and purchased the solution. It was a hammock consisting of a comfy blanket that was suspended from a plastic frame. The frame was designed to be hung from a wall flush with the sill so the cat could lie contentedly and gaze out the window…at other townhomes. But the view wasn’t important. It was being content that truly mattered.

Unfortunately for our cats, they’re big boned. Along with those bones comes other stuff that netted them out to 15 pounds. It soon became apparent that the hammock wasn’t going to hold their weight. The screws in the wall just weren’t enough. And wall anchors weren’t going to cut it either.

I was initially demoralized. But then I came up with an idea. The hammock needed reinforcement on the side opposite the wall. I had taken wood shop. I built the gum ball machine. It worked. I did a kick ass job working the lathe, the drill press, and the miter box. I would build the support that I envisioned by myself!!

Exhibit A below depicts the support that I envisioned.
Unfortunately for me, I didn’t own a lathe, a drill press, or a miter box. I owned a TV, a Packard Bell computer, a Sega Game Gear, a bookcase from Ikea, and a Saturn SL1 and that was about it for my post college life. So I set out for Home Depot (or someplace similar). In addition to not having the aforementioned woodworking tools, I also didn’t have much money. So I returned home with some wood, a clamp (because I couldn’t afford a vise), and a 12” hand saw (because I couldn’t afford anything else better).

One evening after work I began constructing my “vision.” Unfortunately, my vision wasn’t coming together quite as I envisioned. The clamp wasn’t quite cutting it. The saw wasn’t helping much either. The ruler worked as intended. But considering I spent most of the time holding the wood between my knees and couldn’t cut a straight line, that wasn’t much help. After a few hours and some cuts on my hand, I emerged from the garage with something slightly different than my vision.

Exhibit B below depicts the support as constructed. Wobble lines not shown.So the cats never got to look out the window when we lived in the townhome.

I would like to point out to my wife that I’m old enough now to afford a vise, a miter box, saw horses, or a power saw. And I even have a tape measure now. Because the true disappointment isn’t that the cats couldn’t look out the window. The disappointment is that my wife unjustly pictures Exhibit B in her mind any time I suggest doing something around the house.

My Father Normally Didn’t Swear

I played baseball in 5th grade. I played it other years, but I remember playing on a team in 5th grade. I had a friend on my team. I can’t remember his name, but I think it was Eric. He had blond hair. I do remember he had a brother named John.

Eric (if that’s his name) lived pretty close to me. One day he came over to my house for the first time. I showed him around. He seemed particularly enamored with the fact that my room had two doors with one that opened right to a bathroom. He just couldn’t stop talking about it. I had that room all my life, so I didn’t really see what the big deal was. I guess if you need to pee in the middle of the night, proximity really helps.

Anyway, we were hanging out that day going back and forth between our houses. On one trip to my house, his brother John accompanied him. We were in my room and Eric stood up and proudly strode to the bathroom door to show off the key feature of my room. He cleared his throat and announced to his brother, “Look at the luxury.” He then flung open the door. It revealed my father sitting on the toilet going to the bathroom.

We all stared at my father dumbfounded for what seemed like an eternity. My father broke our foggy haze when he yelled, “Shut the fucking door!” Eric reached over and slammed the door back shut.

I don’t remember much of what happened after that. But I do believe I pointed out to John that the wasn’t the luxury Eric had in mind.

Being Sexy By Working

I've been being sexy by working a lot of hours. I've also been wearing my reading glasses while working a lot. I look ultra sexy in my glasses. Generally it helps my appearance if other peoples' vision is getting blurrier over time, but I have to take what I can get.

Shaved My Beard

I shaved my beard yesterday. That should make me sexier.

I walked around for 20 minutes with a mustache. Mustache was definitely not sexier.

My New Year's Resolution

In the year 2009, I will be named "Sexiest Man Alive" by People Magazine.

I Wonder If The Pirates Dress Like Jack Sparrow

Apparently, there are pirates operating off the coast of Somalia. Today, I read a story that the Indian Navy sank one of these pirate ships.

Everybody who was shocked to hear that India has a Navy, please raise your hands.

I thought so.

The Family That Haunts Together…

One of the best lines I heard this Halloween season was from my neighbor to her daughter. And the remarkable thing is that I don’t think the little girl will be repeating it in a therapy session years from now.

“I want you to gather all the body parts and put them in this bin.”

The Signs Are All There

I believe people who know my wife and I would say that we make a good couple. They could point to the fact that we get along well, have similar temperaments, and seem to complement each other. And they would be wrong.

My wife and I are a horrible match and our relationship is doomed to a colossal failure. We lack the one basic ingredient every successful couple has: a name that the paparazzi can join together and refer to us as one entity.

They're not going to call us "Koshua." Let's not even entertain "Jelly." Same problems with "Kelosh" or "Keloshua" or "Joshly" or "Jolly."

Sorry to say, we’re doomed. I hope we can keep it together until the kids go off to college.

Other Quotes That Didn't Make The Holiday Letter

Some more quotes that just didn’t make the cut for our Holiday Letter…

· The boy: I have a great idea.

The girl: Is turning off the light your great idea?

The boy: Yes.

The girl: It’s not a great idea.

(Didn’t want to show the girl as being too cynical with her brother. Unfortunately, as I recall it wasn’t such a great idea.)

· The boy: There is something wrong with this blanket. It doesn’t work.

(I paid good money for that blanket.)

· The girl: Julia (the doll) was sneezing last night.

The wife: Did she catch your cold?

The girl: No. I still have it.

(Don’t want to let anybody think that she doesn’t have a future in medicine ahead of her.)

· The boy: (After I asked him what a little girl was saying to him...) I have no idea.

(Too much of an explanation. When he was 3, I took him to Hooters to spite the wife. The food took forever so I let him check out different things around the restaurant. While checking out the jukebox, a little girl came up to him and talked to him for 2 or 3 minutes. He nodded and seemed to follow the conversation. When he returned and answered, I knew that he had the essence of dating down.)

· The wife: It’s just nice that we can sit and get our stuff done and just talk.

The girl: We can always talk…except when the vacuum cleaner is on.

(We had to leave it out after being threatened by the vacuum industry lobby.)

Deep Thoughts About A Side Job With Satan

I’ve got Reaper on the Tivo. It brings up so many questions.

Is Sam the son of the devil? What is up with his parents? Should he be so friendly with those demons? Is my DMV office populated by demons? Was that girl the devil’s daughter? Can Sam ever have a long term relationship with Andi? What if Sam wants to go on a vacation to someplace like Cancun or Disney World, does he need to clear it with the Devil first? And most importantly, with him being zipped all over the place by the devil, what does his time card look like?

Bigger Than A Bigfoot Sighting...Hair Raising Too

I finally sat down this past weekend to try to organize our family photos. We haven't kept photo albums since before we met in college and we haven't done too much to get them started since then either.

After several hours of organizing and thumbing through photos, I did confirm what has only been a legend up to this point. My hair has not always been valued at one million dollars.