Adam Thomas's Blog, page 40

Mars, Venus, and the root of communication evils

So here it is.  The post I eluded to in ‘catching shit’ .

Believe it or not, I just finished the book  MEN ARE FROM MARS, Women Are from Venus   by John Gray.  By the way, that is exactly how the title is presented on the cover.  I’m thinkin’ there’s something subliminal behind that, but … .  Let’s come back to that.

I’ve often thought of myself as a good communicator.  As you gathered from this blog, I usually speak my mind AND listen to what others have to say.  Lately though, I feel I have faltered.  I needed help.  Many have referred to this Mars/Venus scenario; especially women.  Come to think of it – only women.  Besides, the book sold a gazillion copies so I figured maybe… give it a try?

Bad decision – Good blog material.

What a bunch of shit.  Yes, I know (and I am reminded on a daily basis) that men and women communicate differently.  But for women to look to this book for the answers?  It almost insults their intelligence.  I had good intentions on reading the entire book, but realized that after only a few chapters that WAS NOT POSSIBLE.  So, I skimmed the subjects presented in each chapter and read what I could.  But I did take notes.  For the sake of keeping this post as tightly worded as possible, I will present only a few and keep my comments to a minimum.  Unfortunately for you all,  that will be hard.

- the constant reference to Martians(men) and Venusians(women) was unbearable.  There was even a Martian/Venusian Dictionary and a Martian/Venusian  Phrase Dictionary.  One dictionary wasn’t enough?

- Men are like rubber bands ;  women are like waves.   Anyone?

- Why women don’t ask, Why women panic  and, of course, How men are confused.  Why wouldn’t men be confused if women panic and never ask?

- Then there was this whole ‘cave’ concept explaining how men withdraw into ‘the cave’ to cope, think, … .  The ‘How to support a man in his cave’ section strongly urged women to wait patiently, providing a list of things to do while the man was in the cave.  Furthermore, the author strongly urged women NEVER to go into a man’s cave or “you will be burned by the dragon”.   Yes, this book is ‘dated’ amongst other things, but urging women to read a book or paint their nails until a man came out is insulting, maybe even infuriating, to say the least.  And that’s comin’ from a dude IN THE CAVE!  This is also a good time to bring up how the title was typeset.  No women’s group had a problem with that? This was a huge bestseller remember.  If women want men to relate, give us some good material to work with.  None of this Martian/Venusian Dictionary shit.  To be quite frank,  if the ‘real dragon’ was allowed to come out a bit more, men would definitely listen.  Well, at least until we fell asleep.  AND there would be less secret reasons to argue – yes that was another sub-chapter.

- There are more; many, many more.  But I am done.  Remember I wanted to keep it tight. I will, however, leave you with what I consider the fundamental evil of all Martian/Venusian communication.

To fully express their feelings, women assume poetic license to use various superlatives, metaphors, and generalizations.

Which single-handedly explains why -  Men respond like this (another sub-chapter) .

Though I must say, knowing this communication technique explains a lot.

 

 

Lights, Camera, and the wrong definition of ‘extreme emergency’

Working retail for so long has aged and jaded me.  My toleration for the general public is virtually nonexistent.  And, rightfully so.  People are pain in the ass.

Take this past weekend for example.  My daughter had her yearly dance recital.  A staged event to showcase the work each dancer has done throughout the past year.  All attention is supposed to be on them.  Not the fucking bitch changing seats after every number to entertain her two year old that is ‘just so cute’ dancing in the aisle. Or the several people who have no idea what the words - please don’t leave the theater unless it’s an extreme emergency - mean.   There was actually one woman who went on stage after a number.  I’m not privy to the specifics of said situation, but I’m certain the success of the show teetered on her intervention.

I’m sure everyone has been there – the stage mom, the t-ball dad, the perfect couple that insist Johnny is the next ‘big thing’, etc.   They make reality shows about these idiots.  Unfortunately, people watch.

Oh well.   I’m just thankful for this - my writing; this blog, my next project.  By the way, there is a next project.  I just have to get this current project a bit more exposure.  Remember just click that book cover icon.  Then there’s reading, of course.  Neither can be influenced by any one else unless allowed.

So, read on!

P.S.  I raspberried the bitch.  And, to be perfectly honest, her kid really wasn’t that cute.

The Cake Test

Memorial Day always make me think of a friend of mine – for the sake of this post, let’s just call him Paul.  His birthday always falls within a few days of the holiday.  And there was always some celebration of that day in one way or another.

Back in my college days, road tripping for no apparent reason was just the thing to do.  Besides, it was way fun.  Since The University of Iowa was conveniently located on Interstate-80, road tripping was beyond easy.  Now I live in Traverse City, MI.  Nothing from here is either convenient OR easy.

Back to Paul’s birthday.

My roommates and I decided to travel to Omaha for some silly, yet extremely important excuse for a road trip over the long weekend.  As we were approaching Des Moines,  IA on our return to Iowa City, the idea of crashing Paul’s house for his birthday celebration just had to be done.  No, Paul was not having a ‘birthday party’ by any means.  It was his birthday and his mother was making cake.  We were in college.  There was cake.  You can see why this was a needed stop.

Before I continue, I need to explain Paul.  He’s a lawyer.  An outwardly calm, reserved person that is amazingly unselfish in all aspects f his life.   He does, however, take communicating seriously, asking direct questions and actively listening.  Remember he is a lawyer.  Taken out of context, an innocent bystander might view any interaction with Paul in full attention to the conversation that has gone off course  as … hostile. But soon the laughter begins and it’s a fuckin’ free-for-all .

When the cake was finally served, I, of course, had a piece shoved in my mouth with another on fresh plate.  Paul approached with a gracious host smile and asked the infamous question.

“What kind of cake is it?”

“It’s good.  You should have some,”  was my immediate response.  I actually think I even raised the plate in his direction.

Immediately the gracious host smile galvanized.  He leaned forward with intent.

“I didn’t ask you how the cake was,” he insisted, rapping the fore side of his right hand fingers into his open left palm. “I asked you ‘what kind of cake it was’!”

“Lemon,” I responded.  “It’s good.  You should have some.”

There  was a moment of silence.

Then, Paul took the plate with the cake and starting eating.  The fuckin’ free-for-all of laughter ensued.

 

Another FIVE STAR review

5.0 out of 5 stars *

 

More from this author please!

Excellent character development. I would like to hear more about

Adams life after because of the rich context and character interaction. This

book has humor, drama, close relationships and relatable experience that just

pulled out my own memories. This book is for everyone.

 

*Yes, I’m a computer putz. I tried numerous times to Copy/Paste the damn stars and it wouldn’t co-operate.  Maybe this planetary alignment Sunday will help, but I’m not holding my breath.  So just imagine five wonderful stars atop this review/post.  OR just click the book cover icon and see for yourself.  There really are five stars there.

Happy Birthday to … Mother’s Day

A good friend of mine has three children.  I highlight this fact because the circumstances surrounding the children’s birth is fun and especially fitting for this time of year.  The Thomas twins were delivered at 9am on a Tuesday in June in a scheduled C-Section.  So, for me, this is awesome!

The first child, a son, was born on a Saturday the day before Mother’s Day at 1:44pm some sixteen years ago.

The second child, a daughter, was born on a Saturday the day before Mother’s Day at 8:44am three years later.

The third child, a daughter, was born on a Saturday at 12:44am at the end of March another three years later. But, believe it or not, it was the Saturday before ’Mothering Day’ in England.

God really does have a sense of humor!

Happy Everything to everyone involved.

 

 

I’m gonna’ catch shit for this one

Why the hell can’t women let men have anything their own?   They’re always trying to manipulate something that’s been previously  male-orientated or, more appropriately, ‘make it better’. (Note – sarcastic tone is implied) .

Yes, that was a harsh opener.  I did have something else written, but it was lame.  So I just decided to get right to the point.  That said, I will present the evidence.

Case in point #1 -

I refill water containers at the local Culligan dealer.  Our tap water sucks, a softener isn’t in the current budget, and my wife is a water snob.  So the dealership is an affordable alternative.  However, every time I exist the establishment parking lot the sign – “Hey, Culligan Lady” glares back at me.  I’m not sure whether this is just a local franchises ’update’ , a cute little joke, or what.  I don’t fuckin’ care, but come on.  Wait  I really DO care.  Still, come on! The Culligan Man has been around for like 75 fucking years.  Actually, I’m surprised the poor guy has  lasted this long.  Though he’s probably castrated by now.  The ironic thing is that no one on the service team is a woman.

Case in point #2 -

His favorite recliner, now available in “hers”. *

Well, isn’t that special? It’s probably available in a rainbow of awful pastel colors that is certain to enhance any decor, too.  Right? Even if it is uglier than all get out no woman would admit the fact that it was a bad idea.  The recliner has been conquered, so who cares?   If a man came along and tried to makeover a chaise lounge or even a love seat, for that matter,  he would be branded some derogatory, but ‘nice’ term that totally demasculinized his sexuality.  But when  a woman does it,  it’s totally acceptable of course.

I realize this is pointless.  Especially since this issue has been around since she decided the cave needed a remodel.  It ain’t over, yet.  All I’ll say is that this post does preface something I’ve been working on.  Until that time, I’m gonna drink some Culligan Man water while sitting in my favorite recliner.

 

*Recent La-Z-Boy ad with Brooke Shields no less

HWWMR

Apparently some insurance group claims that 62% of all distracted driving accidents can be blamed on the “seemingly innocuous act of being ‘lost in thought’ “.  Furthermore, it is supposed to be even more dangerous than texting.

Well, I doubt that especially when the definition of distracted driving is “any activity that takes your eyes off the road, hands off the wheel, or mind off the primary task of driving”.  As far as I’m concerned, that is texting.  But that’s beside the point.  My first reaction to what this insurance agent had to say and  all I could possibly think about was - How  Would  Walter  Mitty  Respond ?

In case you didn’t know, Walter Mitty is the amazing main character in the short story The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber. Unfortunately Walter Mitty leads a mundane life constantly belittled by his overbearing wife.  Hmm… .  Life does imitate fiction.  Anyway, in order to cope the dude mentally escapes, imagining himself in desperate situations.  Then, he  saves the day.

Been there, done that.  Correction.  Still there, doing that!

In Walter Mitty’s defense (and my own, of course) countless self-help books focus on the fact that this IS what you should do to succeed;  imagine yourself in positive situations.   Take me for example.  I am constantly imaging myself at book signings with hoards of people frantically pining for my autograph.  Better yet, my book  My  Life  As A  Retail  Pharmacist – A Fictionalized  Memoir  is number one on the New York Times Best Seller List.  By the way, if you haven’t purchased a copy, please help this cause.   Click that little book cover icon on the upper right.  Still only $3.49!

All I know is that if I didn’t Walter Mitty my life I’d be … challenged.  Especially at work.  My God, if only those people knew what I was really thinking.  Rest assure I do concentrate on the tasks at hand and maintain professionalism while doing so.  But after that,  it’s up for grabs, man.

To continue would be … mundane? But I will leave one last thought, though.   I am truly convinced that Walter Mitty officially coined the phrase reality sucks.  And if he did so while he was driving, which I’m certain he did, both hands would have been on the wheel, looking directly at the road before him.

 

Act 1; Scene 2 – Take … Ande’s Mint

INT. RESTARAUNT – LATE EVENING

Open with wide shot, panning restaurant until stop on WAITER.  Follow waiter from table 1 to table 2 where he delivers dessert to COUPLE holding hands.  After coffee refilled, waiter departs.  Couple smiles coyly at each, then attention changes to dessert.  MAN begins immediately, while WOMAN  methodically removes rectangular mint from top of cheesecake and places it on side of plate.  Man finishes his dessert, sips coffee, and spots mint on side of plate.  Minutes later mint remains untouched; conversation is light/whimsical.  Man reaches over, retrieves mint, and brings to mouth, then stops.

MAN

You weren’t going to eat this, were you?

WOMAN

(horrified look on face)

I was saving it for last.  But not any more.   You breathed on it!

In my defense, I really didn’t think the mint was going to be eaten.  Far be it from me to let something, especially a dessert item, go to waste.  To this day,  I still plead ignorance.  IT WAS NOT INTENTIONAL, OKAY! Though it falls on deaf ears; my wife never lets me forget THAT story.

But it does resonate an ugly habit that is becoming all too prevalent lately.

It is easier to ask forgiveness, than it is permission.

A minor ‘cutting in line’  incident happened to me while loading the chair lift in Snowmass.   Since I was on vacation, I did not let the rude behavior of a stranger bother me.  I just flipped the bitch off and was on my way.  This perpetrator neither asked forgiveness nor permission.  So she got a double flip.  Later that day, I was sharing the story with a friend and he introduced me, if you will, to the phrase bold-faced above.  It didn’t take long before I realized how frequently the concept is abused.  Let’s not even talk customer service situations.  That has cluster fuck written all over it.

Unfortunately there is little that can be done.  Since the majority of the general public is comprised of idiots, the options are limited.  But … I’m still hopeful.

For me, I’m changing remember.  I’m no longer polite.  Moreover that creative retaliation I mentioned in a previous post will definitely be put to good use.

So, this will be fun. Very fun.

 

Here’s lookin’ at you, Roy’s*

Our coffee is as hot as your girlfriend’s sister.

and

Our beer is as cold as your ex’s heart.

 

Neither of these inspirational phrases need additional commentary.  Though I’m unsure which made me smile wider.  Hot coffee is key, but the cold heart, I mean beer,  is classic.

 

*Roy’s is a general store/gas station that’s been a staple here in Traverse for years.  I don’t know who’s been gettin’ philosophical, but keep it up.  It’s hilarious!

TARGET practice

Oh the irony.  And on the same day as my last post

http://finance.yahoo.com/news/whoops-target-apologizes-offering-manatee-173537848.html