A Sides to Every Story

Sorry I missed posting last night, I uhm, oh yea, fell asleep. Tonight I'll continue with the school theme this week. Ever had a teacher that made you miserable and you seriously considered murdering them or you wished they were in a car wreck? That was my relationship with coach Sides. Remember I'm still going to a small private school at this time and coach Sides was the coach. I mean THE ONLY coach we had. If you played a sport, coach Sides coached it. There was a couple of things about Sides as I grew to call him, leaving the coach part off as a dig at him. First, he was from Michigan but found it necessary to spread his brand of misery in Texas, particularly in the town where I was born and raised. Secondly, he was from Michigan. Sides was about 6'1" and lean, with a rosy complexion, maybe even a rosatia case. He was the Basketball, Baseball, Girls Basketball, Volleyball coach, he also taught P.E. and one year he taught a Bible class, and Health. He was one of these that catered to those that played sports as most coaches do, but I also learned something else, that he changed my view of coaches for the rest of my life. I really believe there is a cookie cutter mold for coaches, the only thing that changes is the color of eyes, hair, and what sport they once excelled at and now coach. Coach Sides and myself gained a history very quickly, the first incident was I had gone hunting over the weekend and had taken my BB gun, some BB's fell out in my pocket, I thought nothing of it, they were harmless BB's but at school a classmate had reached into my pocket for some reason (I forgot why) and pulled out a handful of BB's. He then decided that it would be great fun to chunk these at everyone. It quickly got back to Sides that BB's were being thrown and he was on the scene to investigate, after interrogating the one that threw the BB's he came looking for me wanting to know why I had brought them to school, of course it made perfect sense that I had decided to bring a weapon, in the form of BB's with NOTHING TO PROPEL them with! I quickly found myself in the principles office scared to death. After explaining numerous times what had happened I was finally released on my own recognisance after promising not to bring BB's to school anymore. Coach and I carried on like this every year we had to spend together we were a lot like oil and water. Some other highlights, include a P.E. soccer game in which Sides was playing goalie and I was open with the ball and coming down the field quickly, I got as close as I could and I think subconsciously I planned this part, but, I kicked the ball with more force than ever, and planted it squarely on his chin. Secretly, I laughed until I was crying but on the outside I had to show some concern until a classmate spoke up "Now coaches face is even more red". This statement drew Sides ire and my classmate was banished to running laps for the remainder of the class period. There were other incidents but I would rather not bore you, just know that after the five or so years I spent with him, I learned to hate coaches, all coaches in general, they were all overly macho A**holes with a chip on their shoulder who do anything to look good in front of their athletes, to be accepted not as a teacher but as a peer to those they were supposedly "Teaching". I hold this feeling to this day, I can walk in a school and spot a coach a mile away, I get irritated to the point of being loud and causing a scene when I hear about how the local school hired another coach to fill a position instead of another full time teacher who used to hold the same position. My sophomore year coach Sides left, I heard he was forced back to Michigan by his wife, all I knew was that he could have left sooner and I wouldn't have missed him.

7th grade...

Most of my friends were from school, you know, kids you see one or two years and then they disappear to another school, maybe move to another town (Like Eric with River Raid, can you tell I'm still bitter about this?). There were two friends that I had known since birth, Barry and Lezlie, our parents went to church together which meant we went to church together. We were like the three musketeers. Looking back I was probably closer to Lezlie than Barry, we went to the same school for first grade, she lived two streets over from me so we could play together a lot. Barry lived on the west side of town which, where we grew up, was the "nicer" part. His Dad was a dentist and he lived in a really cool two story house and had 4 older brothers and sisters and by older, I mean the next one to him was probably 10 years older. Anyway, I was slated to go to Cathedral and the Pines for the rest of my student career, that quickly changed one day at the Y when Barry and I were swimming. He convinced me that Christian Schools of Beaumont was where I needed to be. The kids were nice and they played a game called Dungeons and Dragons. Through warting my parents and the fact that the school was gaining public accreditation that year, I was allowed to attend Christian Schools of Beaumont. It was quite a shock to the system, I suddenly was surrounded by 45 kids who were all my age and grade, quite a difference from the 5 the year before. Barry and I had no classes together, he was in 7A and I was in 7B which I later found out was a way to divide the smarter kids from the not so smarter kids. I was told by Barry a few days before that the game took place at lunch, if we didn't have classes together it was OK, just show up at lunch and be ready to play. As the bell sounded I made my way to lunch, books in hand, ready to take a stab at playing D&D. I walked to the table and said hi to Barry, he said hi back and told all of his friends who I was and that I would like to sit in with them. A kid with glasses named Walt who apparently led this crew didn't seem to think this was such a good idea, there was no room and I would probably just slow the game down. Barry turned and looked at me and shrugged and went back to his game, and just like that I was out. There was no getting to know you, no friendly kids that said hi. I slinked off to the end of another table and ate by myself, I couldn't wait for the day to be over. I hated Walt for being Walt, I hated Barry for not standing up to him. Barry and I didn't talk much that year or the rest of our lives, I secretly hated him all through school, I loved it when he got hurt at recess, I made it my mission to, if possible be the one that hurt him. He didn't make the cut for the basketball team and I loved it even though I didn't make it either. Something changed that year, suddenly it was important to have the right clothes and shoes and friends, none of which I had nor could my parents afford.The kids at this school (all schools) placed a lot of emphasis on looking just right. I had never had to deal with that before and it kinda blew my mind that people could be that vain. I tried for a while to desperately fit in only to end up being the butt of a joke ( maybe they could sense the desperation) or made in one way or aonother to feel inferior. I made a decision that I really didn't care what people thought about me I was going to be me. I payed for it all through school but to this day it doesn't really matter to me what people think about me or how I conduct my life, my mom has said on several occasions that I didn't have enough peer pressure. I ended up making friends with a guy named Chip, he was also on the outside looking in (you know what they say, birds of a feather...) Kristi who also attended school with me broke up with me to go with Chip. I found it kind of funny that they never hooked up, she wanted to but he wouldn't, I don't know if it was out of loyalty to a friend or if he just didn't like her that much. Looking back, we kind of became a Beavis and Butthead type partnership but I don't ever remember feeling bad about that, I also don't ever remember us ditching each other because someone else didn't approve of one of us, if you got one, you got both of us, a true friend. More tomorrow!

It was the Best of Times It was the Worst of Times...

1982 - 83 was my 6th grade year, this was a big year for me, there were a lot of firsts and some lasts. I attended a private school called Friendship Baptist Academy. I had gone to school there since the second grade. When I look back it was sort of a redneck version of a real school, for instance we had a teacher (many of them members of the church, hmmm) who made it her goal to call me by my real name and had dandruff in her eyebrows! I swear, it was in her eyebrows. We had more leniency because the state had no say over what we did but it was also a small school, maybe 150 or 200 people from Kindergarten to 12th grade. My 6th grade year was the last year that the school was open, this was a place I had been my whole life, I had never had more than 8 classmates that entire time which meant you hung out with kids your age and grade but recess and things of that nature covered several grades. I'm convinced that I became a much better athlete, and had a quicker mind because of this. It also meant that since I was in the sixth grade I was picked on a lot in a brotherly sort of way, nothing malicious. The school year started the same as any other year, connecting with people you haven't seen all summer, looking for new kids, the same thing that happens at every school. There were 5 other 6th graders, we were grouped with the 4th and 5th graders and I can still recall 4 of the 5 names of my classmates. Anyway this was the year I had my first girlfriend, her name was Kristi and she was a preacher's daughter, although I liked her (I guess, I don't recall having fireworks go off in my brain when I saw her) I was terrified of her too. Knowing that she wanted to do things like 'gulp' kiss me. This was the year I found out I excelled at the not so sport of ping pong, I beat everyone but the principle on my way to claiming the school championship, turns out this was the first in several ping pong titles I would hold, including a single and doubles championship at camp and numerous wins at various church functions. I had my first job, my grandfather and one of his friends had a quail farm, yes like the bird. People and restaurants would buy the birds live as well as "dressed" or dead. My job was to feed and water them, I helped keep the ones they killed in the bucket and for all my labor I earned a whopping dollar a day. I didn't care, I could have made nothing and loved it, I was with my grandad, I was outdoors and doing things that no other kid I knew got to do. I had the world in the palm of my sixth grade hand. The second half of the school year turned out to be not so great and kind of a sign of things ahead. My grandfather died that year, ending the quail farm. He had gone into the hospital for heart bypass surgery and died from a heart attack a few hours before the surgery took place. I forgot some books at home that day and when I called my other grandparents to ask them to bring them to me, that's when I was told. My granddad was a John Wayne outdoors tough guy type. He could do anything, ride horses, hunt, fish, he owned cattle, you name it he either did it or could do it. This was a huge blow to me. I remember crying right after I was told and then spending the rest of that day at my house, with my other grandparents. I went through all the things he had given me in his lifetime, a horse whip, a bird call, I had a metal lunch box full of empty 30/30 casings and firing caps, he used to repack his own shells (yes he was hardcore) and other various things that probably against my parents wishes he had given me, knives, BB gun, a bow he made from a limb, fishing poles. I didn't cry at his funeral, I guess I had already done all of my grieving. Years later I found out that no one knew he had a heart condition until the doctor told him he would need surgery, he had been going to the doctor and taking nitroglycerin tablets and never let anyone know he was sick, not even my grandmother. I find a lot of myself in him. For instance I love to trade for stuff, "horse trading" my mom and dad call it, Paw paw Chilton was big on that. I think I learned to be non aggressive from him, but if pushed I will fight back. Later that year, I found out the school was closing, it seems they grew too much too fast and the funds wouldn't keep up so the only school I had ever been to was closing and the chances were I would not see many of these people again. The problem was the school wasn't accredited which meant that if I went to public school I would probably be placed somewhere around third or fourth grade. That school year ended with me being in a series of short skits for the end of year school program. I was the bad guy in Daniel and Lions Den, I was Noah in a version of Noah's Ark and a boxer in a skit that I really don't remember other than my opponent was a junior in high school, he found it great fun to punch me harder than was really needed in the fight scene and that when I knocked him out with my punch I made sure it counted. I would have won an Oscar for one or all of my performances if you had asked anyone in the building that night. I cried most of that night, I think it was the uncertainty of my future, I had finally managed to establish myself as "somebody" even if it was in a small pond and I knew that things wouldn't be the same. Friends went to other schools, my best friend Eric moved to Woodville with his family and my River Raid game for the Atari 2600 (look it up). I don't remember that summer, at all I don't know why, I think I spent it playing in a summer soccer league. The one event I do remember was my friend Barry convincing me to come to the private school he attended. I was promised it would be great, the kids were nice and they played this great game called Dungeons and Dragons and if I was going to fit in, I had the summer to get it down. That is where we will pick up tomorrow.

I Sat in my car, and contemplated...

I contemplated not going into to work, even though I had just drove the 50 miles to get there, I contemplated not going to church to do the RA thing. I contemplated a lot today. I feel like I haven't seen my family except in 30 minute spurts all week. Monday, there was a mad rush of calls that kept me at work until five meaning it was six before I got home. Tuesday I had gathering of the guys that started at six which means I came home at five changed clothes and left. Today, well it was work and then off to church after seeing my family a grand total of 45 minutes. Tomorrow there will be no delays, Mr. B is making it known in his 3 year old way that he is not happy about how this week has gone. I'm making up for it, he and I are camping out here in blog central station/ recording studio Friday night, if the weather is nice and not too windy we're going to start a campfire outside and roast marshmallows, yes in 90 degree weather. Then we're watching a movie and then a rare 10 o'clock bedtime for me. We'll be up no later than 7 Saturday, he'll make sure of that. The thing is I'm looking forward to this, I feel like I'm a kid again when he and I are hanging out. There is no work, there is no family duty, just trains, games, movies and lots of laughing about boy stuff. Made up words that make us laugh repeatedly when we say them, gases that emit from all the wrong places that make us laugh harder, and my wife, ever the mom, rolling eyes and telling us to calm down. I can't wait for Friday. On another note, next week is graduation week around here, I'm going to post a story everyday from my Junior High/High School days. I have been thinking about this a lot, what stories I want to tell, looking back I see things that happened that made me turn out the way I did. I think this will be very therapeutic for me.

The Roll of the Dice

I love a game called Dice Wars, if you have never played this before, and you like strategy games give it a shot, it will drive you insane. I'm pretty sure I have lost my mind and this game proves to me why I suck at checkers and never joined the military. The basic concept is that of Risk, there is a map of a made up country, you have four plots of "territory" with dice on them. The object is to roll your dice against dice of a neighbor, all controlled by the computer. This part of the game is luck and how the computer feels about you at the moment. You could have 6 die, the country you are attempting to take over could have two, but inexplicably you lose. I know statistically it is possible to out roll 6 die to 2 die but realistically, I have a better chance of being asked to join the Bon Jovi tour as a second guitarist rather than get beat by two die. Which brings me to ol' "No effing way" game basically this theory says that if you are doing too well the computer gets mad and decides there is no effing way you are going to win. This happened to me tonight and has happened many other eliciting foul language and cries of anguish on my part. But for some reason I keep coming back, hoping the computer will smile on me and allow me to win. I have a co-worker who has spent countless work hours on this game and seems to win often. Is it he is a better strategist or that the computer likes him better? I have my opinions on that,but would prefer to keep them to myself so as not to get sued for liable. On another note, Motley Crue has released a new album and the first single I think is called "Angels of L.A." this song rocks like the Crue are 20 years old and hungry again, in other words it's right up my alley. Niki Sixx also has a side project called Sixx A.M. every song is great. Check it out on youtube. Time for me to play one more No effing way game before bed...

My kind of weekend

This is the kind of weekend I like, nothing pressing to do, no one to go see, just hanging at the house. We are the biggest bunch of hermits in the East Texas area, if it were possible I would never leave my house, I would just stay here a play with my toys. Friday was the wife's birthday so we celebrated that by getting her a couple of presents. She loves this series of books by a lady named Janette Oke, from best I can tell, its a series of love stories that follows one family from generation to generation right now there are approximately 6000 books in the series and we own them all. They have also decided to torture husbands everywhere by making every book into a movie, the latest installment just came out so that was present one and it came from Mr. B. My wife also happens to be a nut about scrap booking, she has this thing called a cricut that you buy cartridges for and it makes all kinds of stuff. She even has it hooked up to her computer (yes we have separate computers, mine is full of music and video stuff and hers is photos and scrap booking stuff) well I decided to buy a new cartridge for her. She has a list but I went out on a limb and bought one not on the list, I was in a predicament, I could have either bought a gift card (which I had been warned in one of the few times I was let in on what women think) that gift cards are cool if they come from anyone but your husband. From him a gift card conveys "I was lazy, waited until the last minute and then got you a gift card, Happy Birthday!". So I took a friend with me, at the last minute and sweat out what cartridge to buy, we made a good choice because she used it all day today. We also took her out to eat at the local favorite Mexican food joint and then it was to the grocery store for a cake. I "worked" outside most of the day, cleaning the car and installing patio tiles until an ant bed heeded construction, they bit me, so I poisoned them, construction will continue as planned now that the ants have decided to see it my way and die. The NASCAR all star race was tonight so we went into full redneck mode around 6ish and watched it and then I came out and worked on my CD that I am pretty sure I will finish about December, just in time to work on that Christmas CD! Anyway it was a great weekend. One other thing while I'm here, Mr.B is three and I have noticed a change this last week, I am no longer needed as a playmate, in a way I am thrilled because I can do things I want to do and in a way I'm sad because the thing I do from the time I get home from work until he goes to bed is play, that's happening less, he will still ask me to play but its not the same, I'm more or less an audience member than actually playing. I know it's a part of him growing up but I don't have to be happy about it. That revelation was the only bummer in an otherwise perfect weekend. Can't they start giving warnings when the kids start going through these changes? Something like "Dad, I am about to go through a phase where I want you to watch me play but you can't play with me, just watch got it?" It would be easier on me.

Happy Birthday!

Today is my wife's birthday, thats right, mothers day and then her birthday. She took the day off and has yet to return home, spending our money I guess, she had to take Mr.B and from what I could hear on the phone, they had a good time. So this is short I maybe back later tonight with another post but I wanted this one to be about her, Happy Birthday Baby.

Wednesday Night Fights

Wednesday nights take me outside the home until close to bedtime, it's never good when I get in. I battle Mr. B until bedtime he usually is crying about something, I haven't eaten yet and won't until everyone else is in bed because I'm painfully slow at putting food together. So my night looked something like this. Go watch 6 third and fourth graders for an hour, come home, fight with Mr.B about getting in the tub, getting out of the tub, letting water out of the tub, putting on pajamas, what we are going to play after and if he ever gets dressed. Getting him to go to bed, getting him to stay in bed, getting him to be quiet in bed. Having a brief half fight with wife over boxing on television, eating and going to bed. I hate Wednesdays.

Getting a grip on reality

I missed posting yesterday. I have this thing, I'm recording a CD oooohh! Nothing big, I just do it in my house with my fancy toys, any way I decided about a year ago I was tired of dreaming about what it would be like to make a CD and just started making them. I give them to family and friends, they are nice and tell me it's awesome. I just do guitar covers of songs I like, although I did take a leap of faith and actually sing on one on this one. Anyway to keep the fantasy in my head going I set deadlines, labor over the sounds and what guitars and effects I use, it gets me by without actually being a star. I'm about 3 weeks over due on this one and I still have 2 and a half songs to record. I am starting to realize why it has taken GnR (Guns n Roses for the less rock savvy) 15 years to complete their latest album, this one has been a pain and I'll just be glad to be through with it so I can move on to something else like creating a movie of Mr. B. All of this is not the point of this post though. I want to say Happy Mother's day a day late to all the moms of this world, you keep it turning. My wife loves reality TV, I loathe it for the most part the exception right now being Gene Simmons Family Jewels, this is classic. My wife likes the competition shows, Dancing With The (Semi) Stars, Big Brother (her personal favorite), Survivor. I for one am tired of reality shows, when CBS unveiled their newest "Americas Smartest Pet" I had to draw a line in the sand. Do we really care who has the smartest pet? Have we really become so dumbed down or lulled to sleep that there is a TV exec somewhere getting paid millions of dollars to say "I've got it! Lets do a version of American idol for pets!" I watch reruns of The Office for a TV fix or wrestling, at least it's pretend and we know it from the start. So if there are any TV execs reading this (or anyone for that matter) listen up, I don't care about your next model, dancer, cook, remodeling guru, singer, actor, super hero, inventor, dog, cat or imitator of an actual star! You already steal all of your ideas for real prime time TV from England! Get off your duff, think of something original, if you can't, call me or my brother or any number of my friends and we'll be happy to sell you our ideas but I'm warning you, when you come out with "Americas Most Loved Snell" reality show, I will find someway to get to California, scale your little ivory tower your living in and tear it down! whew! I feel better now.

I have G.A.S.

No not that kind, you silly, G.A.S. is an acronym for Guitar Aquisition Syndrome. If you play guitar you know what I'm talking about, the addiction can be as bad as any drug. My addiction is beyond help, they say you can't help someone until they hit bottom, well I refuse to hit bottom. My days are filled with scheming how to get the next guitar. Let's put it this way, I have a sign that my dad gave me that says "My old lady said she would leave if I bought one more guitar! ...I'm sure gonna miss that girl!" in my home it's almost that bad. You find ways to justify buying them "I don't have one like this", "but this one has an extra knob that provides 5 more sounds!" "This is my church guitar" I have even lied about guitars I have bought! Yes folks it can be serious, at last count I owned, in my house, in my possession, about, are you ready for this? 13 guitars, that's just guitars and doesn't include the ones I have traded or sold after the new wears off. People don't want their kids to be rock stars because of the crap they will collect as a result not because of the pitfalls of fame and fortune I'm almost certain of this. I also have auxiliary instruments, lap steel, banjo, Ukuleles. My wife has given up hope that there will be a cure and just turns the other way when I come home with something new. You see, you also have to have accessories, I have more pedals than I can shake a stick at, enough amplifiers be able to play a large arena with ease, and it never ends. I have a list of things I want, no need! It's silly a boy and his toys, if my son learns to play we may have to have another house just for the instruments... I'm sure gonna miss that girl...

The Family Jewels Rule!

I am into music, big time, like it is almost an obsession with me. I work very hard at keeping up the latest music even though I hate about 95% of it. It's partly what I'm known for, I can tell you every member of Van Halen, past and present. I know who Phish were, I own a couple of albums by The Cure, I have tons of country music. This is something I pursue constantly, to be the first person I know to know who the new hot bands are. The down side to this is that I end up thinking I know more than I really do and then look like an idiot, which leads me to my story. A friend of mine, PJ asked if I watched the Gene Simmons show Family Jewels, I replied with some snobby BS answer about how all he is interested in is making a buck and blah blah blah, I don't even remember most of what I said. So now I'm saying to PJ, I was an idiot, I watched two hours of Gene Simmons tonight, I even missed wrestling because of Gene Simmons, and I loved it. To the point that I wouldn't even turn the channel during commercials because I was scared I would miss something. (I'm convinced that men flipping channels during commercials is some kind of modern exhibition of primitive nomadness, is that a word?) and none of that stuff I said would run through my head ever even entered. I was too busy laughing.
Props also to PJ for designing my new header which looks way more awesome than the standard one I was sporting. So thank you again PJ, this is just PJ day!

Dad Scores a Hole in One

I have a 3 year old, Mr.B, we are very tight as dads and sons go, and even more so than most dads and three year olds I know. We have a friend with a son about Mr. B's age and he told me that his son runs and cries for mom when he gets home from work. Unfortunately my wife gets the opposite treatment, it's almost like he tolerates her until I get home and then she gets no love. Not that he doesn't love his mother and there are times where ONLY mom can take care of the issue. But for the most part he comes to me. I announced today that it was such a nice day it would be cool to go golfing. I golf about as often as the return of Haley's comet, most of my golf comes in the form of hitting Nerf golf balls around my yard and hoping the neighbors dog does not make off with it. My wife made the suggestion, wait for it... that I should take Mr.B with me if I was going...I'll give you a few minutes to let that sink in... OK, Back. So, now the three year old and I are going golfing, right, I see me paying for 18 holes of golf and getting to play about 4. I tell Mr.B that after his nap, me and him MIGHT go golfing. To a three year old and his mother hoping to dump him for three hours, MIGHT means it's been written in stone and will happen. I decided that 27 dollars was ridiculous to pay to only get to play 4 holes of golf. My better half reminds me of a nearby golf course that was about 10 dollars cheaper to play. Better yet, it's a nine hole course that you play through twice, and no hole is over 180 yards long which means this is basically golf for the ADD people. There is little down time, You tee off, you either hit the green or miss it by just a little, you tap on, putt out, and move to the next hole. I actually thought this would be a great place to have what I would call a speed tournament, I just made it up so I don't know what all the rules would be but it would involve completing the course as fast as you can with the lowest score. This could even be done in relays or some kind of crazy scramble or be used as a drinking game, every odd numbered hole you swig a beer before tee off. OK, I'm rambling now. So, Mr. B and I take off for the course at about 3:30, the course has actually raised rates by about 4 dollars that irritated me but my son was excited to get started, it was his first time in a cart. I'm happy to report that all turned out well, he loved it! I would tee off and then when we hit the green he would drop his ball (he has a play set) and would sink the ball. I let him keep score and turns out I had the best day of golf ever, by his scoring formula, I had three holes in 1! I'm certain that is some kind of record. Anyway we were exhausted when we returned home at 7:30 Mom and Now (his grandmother), were able to scrapbook for three and a half uninterrupted hours. Mr.B played his first round of golf, got to drink a bottle of water, two apple juices, and a Gatorade AND pee on hole 6 of the golf course. That alone made it worth going to him, (peeing outside is a very important thing to young boys, and honestly, who am I kidding? Men like to do it just as much). Any way I got the night off, absence really makes the heart grow fonder, Mom had to bathe and dress Mr.B and got the added bonus of reading first and no one was able to sub in for her. She got the attention she wanted, I got to play golf and spend the afternoon with my son. It doesn't get any better than that...well only there had been a Motley Crue, Poison, Guns N Roses concert after the golf it might have been better.

Almost Died!

Well not really, that is my favorite saying from The Crocodile Hunter though so I thought I would use it. Friday morning at work was quite exciting, we had a tornado warming and had to hide in the stairwell, it just so happens that I recieved a new digital video camera for my birthday so I put it to good use. I'm hoping to have something edited together. Some of the Co-Workers were acting like they Junior high kids let out for recess. Very loud, I think PJ would agree. Anyway the tornado actually struck further down the road although several people were not as lucnky as we were. There were severe storms in about 4 states and some homes and businesses were in shambles. Please remember these folks, I know I will.

Night Time Is The Right Time

I think I mentioned in my first post that I tend to be a home body. A better description would that I would be a hermit if possible. Except I do need interaction with others to a certain degree. It's been an unwritten rule in my house that after 10 p.m. it's my "alone time" as my wife refers to it. The rule works something like this, I will help bathe and put Mr. B to bed. I will stick around and watch tv and be a good husband and talk. In return my wife lays down on the couch at 9 p.m. sharp, I take control of the remote and watch whatever thing it is I want to watch. Usually wrestling or whatever documentary, how it's made, or gangser documentary happens to be on. Tonight, it was flipping between Low Life, a 30 minute episode into the world of Low Riding cars and Miami Ink, a show about people getting tattoos. Exciting stuff for any woman. The point is the showing has to be boring enough to put my wife to sleep. At 10 o'clock, asleep or not, I exit to the back room where I watch really interesting things like who killed the electric car, record music, or watch Youtube or some combonation of at least two of these. My wife asks no questions unless something we have discarded but won't fit in the trash comes up missing. I usually tell her that I can't give out that information as she would become an accessory to whatever I happened to do with it and Mr. B would have to live with family while we pay my debt to society. This is my alone time, it allows me to unwind and do what I want to do and I stay in favor with the family. I think I will bring this up and try to get it passed as an amendment at the next "What the heck do our wives want from us?!" meeting. I'm sure this has never donned on a lot of men. The down side is, work starts early and I usually stay up late, so the morning starts with a round of "if you don't get out of this bed, I will put my feet in your back and kick you out!" but by 5 o'clock that eveing the morning is forgotten. So I live for 10, see you tomorrow night.