Happy Monday to you all. Another week, another seven days closer to being a father. I had really reached the point where I was greatly excited about the whole thing and the elements of fear were disappearing. Then we had to invite a coworker of S. over for dinner last night. Jennifer and Jason are proud parents of a three-month-old boy. He’s a total cutie and was well behaved throughout the night. However, there were some issues with his delivery (no long-term issues for him) and his mother being a pediatrician felt obligated to share all sorts of fun details. Funny thing about being married to a physician: they tend to think you want to hear all kinds of medical details. I think it’s part of the Hippocratic Oath, to be honest. “I promise to share complete details of all medical procedures with non-medical people, first in highly technical terms so they’re confused, then in plain language to build on the confusion with disgust and fear.” Or something like that. Anyway, I remain excited about our girl’s arrival, but some of the trepidation about the delivery process has returned. Remind me to pack a flask in my bag for the hospital.
We took a day trip to Bloomington Saturday and I used the occasion as a chance to explore some of my new photo sharing options. I’ll be providing a link to some of the pictures later today.
Friday night, S. was working, so I made a trip to Best Buy then decided to swing by the mall. It was still early, only 6:00 or so, and the mall I went to doesn’t have a theater attached, so I didn’t expect it to be overwhelmed with teenagers. It wasn’t packed, but there were still lots of upper high school and college aged kids cruising about, mostly girls. Here’s the thing: almost without exception, these young ladies were dressed like whores. I realize that may be harsh, but really, isn’t there a point where you’re showing too much skin if you’re not at a pool, in the privacy of your own living space, or “paying your way through law school” at the nearest go-go lounge? I’ll admit, the first 4-5 deeply tanned girls I saw in ridiculously short shorts, stomach baring/cleavage showing t-shirts, I didn’t really mind. But when I realized pretty much every girl in the mall was dressed that way, I started to get a little uncomfortable. I know trends are always changing, times are different, and I’m getting older, but what’s going on now is ridiculous. So I came home and drank to excess to forget that I’m complaining about attractive young women showing off their bodies (meaning I’m old) and the fact I’m about to have a daughter of my own. I’ll tell you right now, no daughter of mine…
I’ve been enjoying VH1’s latest series, I Love the 90s. For obvious reasons, this show hits closer to home than I Love the 70s or 80s. The 90s were our generation’s time to come of age, dominate pop culture, and make our voices heard. Thankfully, we did a few things right, but there’s still plenty to make fun of. Like the Macarena. I remember a female friend asking me if I had done the Macarena in the summer of ’96. I wasn’t sure if I was being propositioned, offered some new designer drug, or what. When I admitted my ignorance, she explained that the Macarena was this great new dance that was “soooooo much fun!” Soon I saw the Macarena in action and I wondered, “What’s so fun about that?” At least YMCA is campy. This was just dumb.
Some shout outs and put-downs for the VH1 crew. First, big props to Media Gadfly Mo Rocca for appearing in a beautiful, blue Rock Chalk Jayhawk t-shirt. I know of no formal connection between Mo and KU, so he probably just has exceptional taste. Either that or the KU alum that is a producer at VH1 slid a freebie over to him. Big thumbs down to Stuart Scott, as always. He’s an idiot. He must come cheap, that’s the only way I can explain his continuing appearances on VH1 programs.
While we’re on the subject of crappy ESPN announcers, Mike Tirico did a great job of making me not want to watch the British Open over the weekend. I first started to hate Tirico back in his late night Sportscenter days. I was neutral towards him until hockey season rolled around. Each night, when it was his turn to start the hockey highlights, without fail he would say, “Now for the night on frozen pond.” When he does golf now, he perpetually refers to the 18th hole as “the last”. Both are completely appropriate terms, why do they annoy me? Because they’re terms that should be used infrequently to mix things up, not at any and every opportunity to make it seem like you’re some great trove of hockey/golf knowledge. Use “the last” once per broadcast and it would be fine. But I heard him use it four times in 90 seconds Saturday. I had this image of Ian Baker Finch, Nick Price, and the other current and former golfers sharing the booth with Tirico rolling their eyes each time he used the term.
By the way, more Windows problems with the work laptop today while the Mac hums along happily. Be watching for pictures here later.