Potty training and the Target Demographic

My two year old is finally learning to use the potty. Whew. Biting the bullet, going through this experience for hopefully the last time.

He's doing pretty good at it, he's only soiled the carpet twice. I can live with that. In a couple of years I'll have forgotten what an arduous task it is to potty train a child. It's a lot more effective to give positive attention for his successes than to reprimand failures. So, as a reward for dropping a deuce into the terlet instead of his pants, we get to go to one of his meccas. Yep, as you might have guessed, it's the Thomas the Tank Engine Store at the not-so-local mall. OK, so you didn't guess it. But he was happier than a pig in slop to be there.

But that's not what this blog is about. It never is.

You see, a shopping mall is about the last place on earth that I enjoy spending time. Something happened between the time I was 17 and um, let's say more than 29. Oh yes, that's it. I am now responsible for all of my own living expenses and therefore wince at the thought of having to pay more than $40 for a pair of shoes or $25 fo a pair of jeans, let alone all of the other crap they have to sell there. Nowhere else have I ever felt like such a curmudgeon, so far out of the target demographic. God, I miss being in the target demographic for that which is hip and current.

Now, it seems like malls target only a) teenagers b) teenagers that do not yet have faceplates for their cell phones covered with flashing LEDs, c) women who need extreme makeovers, d) women who have had extreme makeovers, and need a bit of touch-up paint, and e) gay men who care about their appearance.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing anyone who identifies with any of the above group, but Tad here is a straight, soon-to-be-middle aged man who doesn't give 2 shits about his appearance. Maybe a shit and a half, but definitely not two. I don't care that deeply about what other people think. I'm in the software industry, where wearing a shirt with a collar is enough to get my teammates wondering what company I am interviewing with that day.

It's just that the mall to me is a crowded, overly-effeminate place to be. Again, nothing wrong with that, but it's just not where I am meant to be.

Yet I find myself there, amazingly and agonizingly, about twice a year. Usually once before Christmas (note - NOT the HOLIDAYS, it's Christmas, goddamit) and once invariably during the summer months. Each time, I find myself usually on the hook to find an obligatory gift for someone, and I find myself wandering aimlessly, looking for perfect obligation-fulfilling item to present itself in a display window, with regular retail price of hundreds of dollars conveniently marked down to my obligatory-gift-comfort level of about $4o.

I generally wind up gravitating to something that I imagine that I would enjoy, and usually that's in the tool department at Sears. They got them some tools that I wish I knew what they were for, and that I had a regular use for. Then I wonder if it would pass for the holy grail for which I've made this journey. "Would Mom like this belt sander? She's been talking about getting that dining room table refinished."

But today I had this freedom not. It was Thomas the Tank Engine store, and then search for new shoes for Thing 1 and Thing 2, which is how The Cat in the Hat would identify my two cherubic offspring. They're really good kids, and I know I'm really lucky to have them, but even good luck eventually gets old without a little bad luck to make things interesting.

OMIGOD what a sea of cosmetic displays, lotion shops - yes, entire stores dedicate to foo-foo skin care, and gay-mens fashions - again, not that it doesn't have its place. But that was another part of my good fortune - we got to leave after being unable to find a pair of shoes that did not hurt Thing 1's feet, and no two pair of size 8 kids sandals that were actually the same size.

I suppose that I am forever destined to be a self-unrealized unfashionable hetero-curmudgeon that would be a prime target for the Fab 5 at Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

Nah, I'm probably out of that demographic too.

Have a Nice Day,

Tad

Good Luck, Margaret

This is getting old. 

 

Two days ago I get a phone call from what my caller ID referred to as a Gastroenterology group.  I do have a phone with an extra wide LCD display, you know.

 

"Hello?"

"Is Margaret there? This is Dr. Chen's office." The voice stated.

"Uh, there is nobody here by that name at this number."

"Is this 555-3353?"

"Yes it is.  You must have the incorrect information".

 

That is how it went, roughly, to my recollection. 

 

Should have been end of story.  But you're reading a blog.  Of course it is not.

 

Today as I am just walking in the door at around 5:30, I hear that the phone has just finished ringing and that a message is being left.

 

"Margaret, this is Dr. Chen.  I just wanted to let you know that the polyp that we removed was benign.  If you have any questions, please call me." 

 

I grabbed at the phone, but Dr. Chen had just hung up.

 

So being a good citizen I check my caller id and see that it's the same office as the prior incident.  I call it back and explain that I had received the good news intended for someone named Margaret, and that they should perhaps try to reach her in another manner.  This was met not with a polite apology, but a rather indignant tone and a very harsh "Thank You!".  It was a thank you, but it was harsh.  So I'm annoyed a little.

 

Ah good. I'm over that now.  I sure hope Margaret finds out.  Since it was already 5:30, I'm sure that the front office staff won't be able to find the time to do a zabasearch on good ol' Margaret.  No doubt another sleepless night for her. 

 

Tad

 

 

What the puck?

The NHL labor dispute is finally over. Whoop de doo.

I am a former season ticket holder for the local NHL team, which if you must know, is the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim. Maybe you've heard of them, perhaps have even seen the movie. 3 seasons. Upper deck, last row, red line. Right in front of the announcers booth. Wicked awesome. Well, it used to be, anyway.

The NHL is the first major sport ever to have an entire season cancelled because of a labor dispute. Only in (North) America. This has hurt not only the players, but all of the employees of the league and the teams whose positions were made obsolete because of the dispute. It also hurt the fans, who bankroll the entire operation by purchasing a bit of diversion from their own lives. Oh yeah, the owners probably lost a few bucks (both Canadian and American).

But, if you were to believe the owners, they probably lost less money during the dispute than they would have if the season would have been played. You see, this labor dispute was not a strike, but a lockout. The owners shut everything down, took their pucks, and went home.

Why, you ask? Because the owners were losing too much money. The players were taking it all. Only they players weren't actually stealing it. It was sort of promised to them by the owners themselves.

Whwhwhwhwhat? Yep. The whole labor dispute is that the players wanted the money contractually owed to them for services to be rendered, and the owners do not want to honor the contracts they signed.

I would like to point out that I am annoyed.

These fat bastards, most of them being billionaires or major coroporations, sign players to contracts and then cancel the whole shebang because they woke and found themselves in bed with one ugly payroll that they were now committed to. How did these clowns get their megabucks in the first place?

But now the whole 'dispute' has been resolved, as the player's union finally caved and succumbed to a 24% pay cut. Now there's a union chief worth reelecting.

All I can say is that it will be a cold day in Anaheim before my ass graces a seat at the pond to watch a team named after a lame kids movie. The owners have earned themselves a 100% revenue cut from yours truly.

In the words of Red Green, "Keep your stick on the ice."

Grand Theft Auto and The Oval Office

I've been on vacation for the last couple of weeks, catching up with the family. My younger brother, who has no kids, brought along his PlayStation and a copy of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.

What a riot. This is a video game in which you control a character who roams the streets of a fictional city, stopping pedestrians and beating them or shooting them randomly, stopping traffic, carjacking vehicles, driving around firing automatic weapons and exploding incendiary devices. You can also stop in on any number of safehouses to change into some sweet pimped-out outfits. Or, you can have an encounter with a prostitute and then beat her to death and take back your money.

I laughed non-stop when I saw this. I guess that this portrays something so far outside the realm of reality, at least my reality, so it hit me as absurd.

And like many video games, this one has a number of "cheat codes" that are implemented, whether to aid the testers during the development cycle or as treats for the fanatics. According to an LA Times article, a cheat code was recently discovered/made public on the internet that unlocks hidden interactive sex scenes. (Code name: Hot Coffee.) Sign me up!

But not everyone likes this idea. The Software Ratings Board revoked the game's "Mature" rating and raised it to "Adults Only." (I guess you can portray the beating of a hooker and that's OK, but show the sex and that's crossing the line.) This prompted major retailers like Wal-Mart to pull it from the shelves. Which is understandable. It also provoked comments from lawmakers like Washington state Rep. Mary Lou Dickerson and - get this - Hillary Clinton.

This, is great. Good Ol' Hillary getting upset over teenage boys being exposed to some good old fashioned faux-porn. She's even calling for a federal investigation.

What's the saying? Charity begins at home? I guess it's true for sexual depravity as well.

I'm waiting for the first idiot parent to file a lawsuit claiming that this feature is corrupting their little Johnny.

"Yes, your honor, I thought that I was buying this game so my son could pretend to roam the streets committing senseless acts of violence and cruelty - but never would I have expected that he would be exposed to the visual equivalent of a Ken and Barbie doll bumping cods. Now give me my $15 million to help me get over this trauma. Oh, and add some for Johnny too. He'll need a few extra sessions at his therapist."

Here we go again

Need I post anything about this one, folks?

My heart goes out to the family and friends of the victims of the London bombings. It also goes out to all of the innocent people of race commonly stereotyped as being affiliated with terrorist organizations. (There is no monopoly on this one, folks.) These terror mongers not only destroy property and take lives, they make the quality of life worse for everyone, including their own kin. I don't pretend to understand the religious tenets or principles of most non-Christian religions, but I cannot seem to get my head around anyone believing that their higher power condones and encourages such an insane assault on humanity.

I don't know what to say, and, once again, have not let that fact stop me.

Bend it like Cobi

The best football, er, soccer team in the world, Real Madrid, featuring David Beckham and Ronaldo, is coming to Los Angeles to play the LA Galaxy. The game is just 10 days away, and for some reason there are still tickets available. The Home Depot Center, the Galaxy's home venue, seats 27000 people. I find this hard to believe, even for $50 a seat. Don't people realize what they're missing? This is a cultural opportunity here.

Now I'm not a basketball fan, but if Michael Jordan were to make an appearance playing at the arena down the street and there were tickets available, I would consider ponying up 5o bucks to see him play, just to be able to say that I did.

Of course the Galaxy do not make it easy for casual observers like myself. In order to get tickets, you must also purchase at least as many tickets to their match against Chivas USA, the new LA-based expansion team languishing in last place. And the cheapest seats for that is also $50. Now I understand a bit more.

I'm not much of a soccer fan either, but I would definitely want to see this team play. Unfortunately, I have alternate commitments that preclude my attending this event, but hearing that tickets were still available gives me reason to pause.

Hey, wait a minute. Doesn't this annoy YOU? Here I am going on about how people are nuts NOT to go see this match, and yet I beg off because of a vague claim about somewhere else I have to be doing something else I have to do. It would annoy me. So I must invoke blogger's privelege here, and complain about that which I do myself.

Such is the duality of being the complex and mysterious enigma that is Tad.

My Daily Affirmation, with visual aid

I am

I am smart enough,

and doggonit, I don't really give a damn if anybody likes me.

Well maybe just a little bit.

Unsafe and Insane

Happy Fourth of July, sometimes referred to by the cognoscenti as "Independence Day". Time to once again revel in the fact that the colonies are no longer under the oppressive thumb of the King of England. That taxation without representation was really getting on my nerves. That's not to say that taxation with representation is any better.

But to many folks out there, we simply celebrate July 4th, and we don't know why. And how do we celebrate the fact that it's the fourth day of July, which, for some really good reason I'm sure, we got Monday off? That's right. We blow shit up.

You see, in the quaint hamlet in which Tad resides, in the middle of the contiguous suburbian melange of bedroom communities known as Orange County California, the local ordinances allow for the ignition of "safe and sane" fireworks. Nevermind that the tax revenues collected due to their sales probably does not come near to the added cost of having to field more police and firefighters that day. But these "safe and sane" fireworks are a public hazard that the other 98% of OC cities have chosen to outlaw within their boundaries. And it's not so much that the fireworks are a public hazard, it's just that they are a hazard when in the hands of most people who buy them. Are you paying attention, you teenaged boys?

So, say you find yourself in the demographic in which a) you don't know what independence means, b) you cannot spell MTV, but watch it not knowing that it ever used to show music videos, c) you live in the OC, and d) you have more testosterone now than you know what to do with. So what do you do on the 4th? That's right, come to the town where fireworks are legal. You invite your cousins. You find friends who live there. If not, you find the parking lot of an elementary school there. Can't go to a park, however, because the city cleverly sets the sprinklers to come on the evening of the 4th, pissing away its tax proceeds from the firework sales. Further, you don't check the fine print on the legislation, so you are not concerned with which fireworks get the Good Housekeeping seal or not. So you also bring the good stuff you got in Tijuana or from the Indian reservation a couple of months back on spring break.

And you light them off. Blow shit up. Launch 'em. As long as makes a loud boom or nearly blows your buddy Jimmy's hand clean off, it's rad and gnarly. And you do it until after midnight. Hell, it's not like you have a job where you have to go to work the next day or anything. Oh, and nevermind the spent casings from your soiree. Leave them in the street. The city will come by to clean it up.

Morons. Thought I was in Baghdad. And I'm not throwing that out there flippantly.

But I digress...

So, now that the United States has been an independent nation for 229 years, one might think that the novelty of celebrating this would have diminished by now. Sure, it's the nation's birthday and all, but don't birthdays stop becoming a big deal once you've past 21 or so?

In my opinion, we're selling and shooting the fireworks off on the wrong day. We should be lighting up the skies on Memorial Day. Not just celebrating the birth of a nation, but celebrating the lives of those who paid the price for our ability to congregate in school parking lots and blow things up. Not that the original insurgents (they called them minutemen back then) don't get their props, they were the first in line for Memorial Day.

Not that I would wish that anyone would have to go there in the first place, but perhaps all that firework lighting by those in the aforementioned demographic is good experience that could be put to use in Iraq. I'm sure the neighbors there have a more immediate appreciation of Independence.

And that's just my opinion, the stating of which is constitutionally assured. Thanks Vets, you are collectively a braver man than I.

Tad

Another Rant - Now With Less Sugar!

Did you see this one?

Woman Sues Over 'Deceiving' Cereal Labels

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/Health/story?id=625559

Jennifer Hardee of San Diego, CA is suing cereal companies because she claims that their accurate labeling is misleading because she chooses to believe that the claim of a product having "less sugar" equates to "better eat lots because it promotes good health".

I guess I missed the story when it came out a couple of months ago, but noticed it today when reading This is True (see my link to on the right). As far as I am concerned, people like this are correct and deserving in requesting that the whole world know exactly how stupid they really are.

At least when Tad does something stupid, and there is no shortage of that, I don't go out of my way to sue someone else over how stupid I am. Nosiree. I display it in other ways, like writing a blog.

And that's about all I've got to say for now. Uhm, yeah. I'm pretty sure that's it.