Sunday, September 30, 2012

Me not so smart

I am the first to admit my wife is smarter than I am - a lot smarter
If we were in the fish world, she would be a dolphin and I would be a sea sponge. I know that technically neither one are a fish, with the dolphin being a mammal and the sponge being a, well, I don't really know what a sponge is, but the comparison still stands.
She be smart, and I be not so smart.
It is not very often I am called upon to help the kids do their homework. When it comes to math I am about as sharp as a river rock and twice as dense. Me and numbers just do not get along. We never have and likely we never will.
My wife on the other hand is very good with numbers and can figure out where X goes and what it means.
All I know is X goes between W and Y and is not a member of the numerical family. I also know that if you put three Xs together, you are looking at something you probably shouldn't.
But for those with a mathematic capacity greater than that of a turnip, X can mean all sorts of things.
It can mean a variety of numbers and solutions to some of the worlds greatest math challenges. But often you have to mash several letters together to come up with a brilliant mathematical answer that I would not be able to figure out if I had X number of days to do so.
When it comes to helping the kids with math, it is The Missus who shoulders the brunt of the work. She is also in charge of the family accounting. If it were up to me, our finances would show us somewhere between being broke and having a million dollars in the bank.
But I do step in when it comes to English and social studies - both were courses I did well at in school.
English was by far my favourite course all through high school, mainly because I barely had to show up and I still got decent grades. If I had actually studied and applied myself I probably would have received good grades, but being young and not overly bright I decided to just skate my way through English.
I suspect the editor proofing this column wished I would have tried a little harder as well. I did finally knuckle down and study, but it was not until I reached college that my brain finally decided to learn a few things.
My high school math marks were barely passable, and I do mean barely. Once out of the seventh level of hell, er I mean high school, I tried to avoid all math equations that insisted on substituting letters for numbers.
In sharp contrast to my little brain, my wife's big brain brought in a bevy of brilliant grades. She was on the principal's list more than once.
I too made the principal's list one semester, but for an entirely different reason.
We both made the list based on what we were doing in class, but unlike my wife, it was strongly urged I stop doing it.
Anyway, my wife is very smart and that is a good thing. It has rubbed off on our children and with her continued help with their homework, my kids will continue to do well despite my intellectually inferior genes dragging them down.
But in my own defense, I am not a knuckle-dragging Neandrathol with the IQ of a toaster. I was smart enough to graduate high school - barely - and I actually did very well in college.
My grades were near the top of the class both years by actually applying myself and studying.
Perhaps my brain is not so small after all. Who woulda thunk it?

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Keep the fame, just give me the money

I would much rather be rich than famous.
I think being famous would really suck.
Being rich might suck as well, but I am willing to give it a try, so if there is anyone out there with a lot of money they are tired of holding on to I am more than willing to take it off your hands for you.
If not, I am also willing and able to work for my money. So if there is a job out there that pays a truck load of cash that I somehow qualify for, just let me know.
But making a ton of money quietly, away from the public glare would be pretty sweet indeed.
That way you can quietly go about enjoying your money and not have to worry about people recognizing you. If you win the money on the lotto your name and face is splashed in newspapers across the land and suddenly you will have more friends than you know what to do with.
People you have not seen in years will be 'your best friend.'
"Hi, you remember me, right? I sat behind you in third grade for a month. We were great friends and seeing as how we are such close friends, can i have some money?"
Family members will also be eager to spend time with their 'favourite relative in the whole wide world,' even if you have not seen or spoken to them in years.
Weddings, funerals and winning a huge chunk of change are guaranteed to bring the family together.
Like I said, it would be better to be rich than famous.
Once you reach a certain level of fame your life is no longer your own and no matter how much money you have, you can not buy privacy.
You also can not buy love, but having a boat load of cash would sure make being lonely a lot more fun.
It would also make being miserable a lot more enjoyable. You have admit, it would be a lot more fun to cry in a BMW than to weep on a 10-speed bike.
But with fame, you could not do either one without a lot of people knowing about it.
And there are some very unscrupulous people who will do whatever it takes to make a buck off of your fame.
The royals have long been a favourite target of the paparazzi. Poor Princess Diana was virtually hounded to death.
The paparazzi just loves to catch someone famous with their pants down - literally.
Prince Harry of the Buckingham Royals was recently photographed playing a game of 'strip pool.' But c'mon, this is Harry the wildman of the royal clan and based on the support he received, his showing off of the 'royal jewels' did not exactly have the masses in an uproar. It would seem people really didn't give a darn that Harry was frolicking naked with members of the lady pursuasion. Many people took to the Internet to show their support for the royal bad boy by posting pictures of themselves in a compromising states of undress.
However, there is another royal who is being 'exposed' by the rags. Kate, Prince Williams beloved, was snapped wearing nothing more than a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms.
Her royal attributes were on display for all to see and someone with a camera and a very long lens managed to get some blurry pictures of her, um, royal pair.
But unlike the boys-will-be-boys attitude people took towards Harry, people are upset about the Kate nudie pics
Many people are in an uproar, as well they should be. Kate was at a private beach and was photographed from a long distance away by some sneaky person with a telephoto lens.
Don't get me wrong, I am all in favour of boobies, but she was not prancing around the shores of Okanagan Lake, nor was she flashing the crowd at Spring Break. She was at a private estate where she should be able to frolic with her husband like any other married couple enjoying a sunny getaway.
The bozo with the camera had no right to take such an invasive and embarrassing photo. But for future reference, Kate when you have the potential to be the future queen of England, perhaps its best if you wear your entire skimpy bikini.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Bald is beautiful baby

They say you don’t really appreciate something until it is gone
I don’t really know who ‘they’ are, but ‘they’ are right, because at this moment I really miss my hair.
Yes, I am a follicly challenged individual. There are many of my forehead-enhanced brethren running around out there and I am sure they have faced similar woes.
I know in the grand scheme of things, losing one’s mop of locks is not exactly an earth-shattering crisis – at least that’s what we keep telling ourselves.
I started losing my hair shortly after high school and I decided then to not worry about it. I would go bald gracefully and embrace my inner Kojak. (The younger people have no idea who I am talking about.)
I vowed never to do a comb over, wig or any other feeble attempt to hide the fact I am losing my hair.
I have known people who were very upset they were losing their hair at such a young age and would carefully craft their locks to look like they still had plenty.
At first this is possible. You can change your hairstyle to hide the fact your hair is abandoning your head at an alarming rate, but only for so long.
Eventually you reach a point where it doesn’t matter how you cut or style your hair, it is obvious you are going bald.
As the years march on and the hair falls out, the only person you are fooling is yourself. But you do give other people a good chuckle as you strut around with your ‘full head of hair.’
My hair started falling out when I was 20. There was nothing I could do about it and I did nothing to try and hide it, but that does not mean I was thrilled to be future a chrome dome.
Now, as the F-years slap me around, I am a chrome dome.
Being over six-feet tall and having less hair on my head than my 78-year-old dad has made me realize hair plays more of a role than just something that sits on top of your head and looks pretty.
Hair acts as a sensory shield to give you a split second warning you are about to crack your cranium. I cannot count the number of times I have smacked my head on something. Actually, considering how many blows to the head I have taken it is amazing I can count at all.
However, if I had a glorious, flowing head of hair I would have that warning system and been able to avoid cranial interaction with immovable objects.
But I dislike being hair challenged the most when it is raining outside. When a bald man tells you it is raining, believe him. We know when the moisture is falling from the heavens because we have this weather panel at the top of our bodies that detects rain and harsh sun with a sensitivity hair-enhanced people do not enjoy. It’s kind of a bald dude super power.
And I am taller than most people so the rain will hit my bald spot (which is pretty much my entire head) before it reaches the height-challenged masses.
There are solutions to the rain dilemma. I could get an umbrella, or even use the Hair Alternative Treatment – commonly known as H.A.T. I do own such devices, but there are times when I do not have either with me when the rain starts a falling.
That is something all the hairy people don’t have to worry about because where ever you go, your hair goes with you.
You never have to think, “Hmmmm, now where did I leave my full head of hair?”
Nope you just head out the door confident your head is covered with the protective shield that will keep the rain from pounding your bean.
Meanwhile us baldies are gathering up hats, umbrellas, newspapers, cardboard boxes or whatever else we can get our hands on to save our noggin from a splashing.
Oh well, at least I save money on shampoo and conditioner.