Odds and Ends

Kids say the Darndest Things

We were at the mall, looking at displays of women's clothing.

Max: God, it looks like Dad was the fashion designer.

Kate: Oh, it's not that bad.

As it happened, I was wearing one of my more – shall we say flamboyant? – Hawaiian shirts. It worked, too. No salespeople crowded up to pester us.

A little while later, in front of another display:

Kate: Suddenly, I remember what I hate most about clothes shopping.

Me: The clothes?

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Another holiday has come and gone. It was a good one, very busy. Lot of phone interviews with radio stations across the U.S. and Australia. For me the day started as I ran out early, dressed in pirate finery of course, to Krispy Kreme to pillage a dozen doughnuts.

Mark and I used to do them sitting in his living room. He had two extensions, so we'd sit in his living room for about a day and a half, taking calls from all over the world, one year 80 in a 30-hour period. Now, of course, most of the interviews are solo, either him or me, which allows us to double our range.

Afterward, Tori and I decided to take a break and went out for dinner to a place that was supposed to have great ribs. It was a bar, Moby's. Didn't look like much from the outside. We parked around back and, as we walked to the door, Tori noticed a rat scampering along the fence. Hmmm. Well, he was outside. That's something. He was on the fence, not actually on the bar's property. And he was half the size of the cane rats we used to see on the island.

Inside it was – a bar. Long and narrow. A few tables. A bunch of people standing around the bar and in groups at the side talking loudly. It was one of those places where the acoustics magnified everything and we could barely hear each other over the clatter and din. (Clatter & Din? A noisy legal team? A bad folk duo?)

So the ambiance was far from ideal. But the ribs?

The ribs were magnificent. We decided to split a whole rack instead of ordering our own plates. A good thing. I could have eaten a whole rack, don't get me wrong, but it would have been a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

So you can't judge a book by its cover, a pirate by the cut of his jib, or a rib joint by anything other than the ribs.

On Television

You know those ads for a satellite TV service touting all the football games you can watch? You can become "the world's most powerful fan," or some similar BS.

Well, judging from those ads, the worlds most powerful fans are the world's biggest jerks. They don't mind destroying property or tearing up the neighborhood or just generally behaving like asses.

Please, save me from the world's most powerful fan.

Speaking of TV

Tori and I were at Best Buy drooling over the TVs. You have to understand that we got our TV for $25 at a garage sale. It's fine. Works great and I can see everything I want to see. But these TVs at the store were amazing, especially the big, curved screen set. We stood in front of it in awe of the clarity and the almost vertigo-inducing sharpness. As another scene came on, this one from a network TV show, I could actually see the actress had a little acne on her forehead.

"Whoah!" Tori said. "People are going to have to get better looking."

The set cost $8,000, so we won't be adding it to our living room any time soon.

Although, there was that great game yesterday, Broncos at Seahawks, that seesawed back and forth, had me on my feet shouting, went down to the wire, with an unbelievable finish by Manning, then an even better coup de grace by Wilson and cousin Marshawn. (I'll explain that another time.) When it was over, I was spent. Didn't even bother watching the Sunday night game, which is rare for me.

Imagine how overwrought I'd have been watching on that big, curved set. Probably better for my health that I stick with the garage sale TV.