Weird things I do

This has been spurred on, in part, by Glenna's Randimonium post.

I only roll in one direction in the bed - clockwise if you're looking from the foot of the bed. No matter what position I switch to, that's the way I roll. And yes, I've been known to roll a complete circle and wind up in the same position. A side-effect - because I'm on the right side of the bed, I end up taking the covers from my poor little wife, who needs them more than I do.

I have a soundtrack constantly playing in my head during the conscious hours of my day. This is a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, a song will get stuck in there - curse you, Taylor Swift! And Drew! - and the only way to get it out of my head is to make up my own song. At this point, I have written more than Bach and Beethoven combined... in my head.

I don't like to sit in the balcony at church, though it has nothing to do with a fear of heights. It's because one of the first thoughts in my mind if when it starts to wander is if I could make the jump from edge of the balcony to the chandelier. No reason, I just wonder.

When I take a shower, before I begin any part of it, I have to make sure the sides are perfectly sealed and that the shower curtain is evenly distributed so there are no big gaps in the bottom of it.

I sigh. No reason needed. That's just what I do.

I can name all 50 states in alphabetical order on the spot. Thank you Mrs. Bearden's 5th Grade Choir.

I think of funny things all the live-long day, about half of which are completely inappropriate for the setting I'm in. Remember that the next time you see me trying to hide a smile - you really may not want to know!

I spit in the toilet. It drives my wife insane. Haven't figured out yet where she'd prefer for me to spit.

Rules of the Royal Throne Room

I'll go ahead and tell you right off the bat that this is potty humor. Literally. If this brand of humor offends you, turn the radio dial to the right. I just feel the need to inform all of you, mainly the men, of transgressions made in that most sacred of places - the public restroom. While this will generally only cover the work "office", it can (and in my opinion should) apply to other public halls of semi-indecency.

For starters, at no time in that room should there ever be any handshaking. Period. For that matter, there shall not be any rumpshaking, either. The only shaking that should be occurring in there should happen once - no double-clicking the mouse.

Next I'd like to address conversations. When you go to salute the loo, there is to never be eye contact with the person next to you. This is most important to you remember if you are a tall people - us hobbits aren't too sure what you're looking at. Furthermore, the newest office joke or a hot piece of gossip is not something that I need to hear when I'm trying to ring the Cheerio. If you feel chatty, go to the women's lavoratory. And for crying out loud, none of this "man that water's cold!" business. No standing six feet away either - it's gross and just makes you look like a tool.

Taking the conversation piece one step further, when you're on the royal throne doing your duty for queen and country, don't talk to me. It's not a nasty thing, but more self preservation. You see, my inner child is only 12 and not growing up any time soon. If we're mired in a deep conversation while one of us is going to brown town and there is a main shuttle bay decompression, I'm not going to be able to talk - I'm going to be quietly, but literally figuratively, laughing my butt off. All together now - fart is funny.

Finally, and this may only apply to certain workplaces where Crackberries are prevalent, but I don't need to here the clickety-clacking of you typing away an email, text, making an appt, or whatever else you would be doing on the thing while in those hallowed halls. I certainly don't need to hear you discussing TPS reports or the latest stock tips. It is a land of peace and tranquility - don't pollute it.

Wear your 6" stilletos on Sunday morning

Tampa's gonna be a heckuva commute on Sundays...

A pastor has a new challenge for his parishioners. It involves sex - a subject that may be taboo in many congregations.

The Relevant Church in Tampa's Ybor City has issued a 30-day sex challenge.

"It's going to be tempting and awkward at the same time for sure," said parishioner Brent Cayson.

Single men and women can't have sex for 30 days, and married couples are urged to have it every day.

"If you look at studies, studies say in 30 days you can develop a habit," said Pastor Paul Wirth.

It definitely caught wives in the church by surprise.

"Our married people are far more fearful than our single people," said Wirth.

"Sex is about more than intercourse and that's what we're trying to tell people," said church member Jarret Haas.

Wirth has found biblical references that he says suggest Jesus disapproved of pre-marital sex and promoted sex in marriage. So, he believes people connect to God through life-long commitment.

That's why he tells his single followers to abstain, and his married followers to indulge.

Wirth is a former Baptist. He founded his non-denominational ministry three years ago. And he markets his church by tackling unusual or controversial topics.

On the one hand, I do realize that we're talking about somebody that does this sort of thing for attention getting purposes. Cue-up the church youth group Halo tournaments arguments.

However, I kind of admire him for not ducking something I think a lot of church pastors would just as much leave be. Most will cite scripture on abstinance for singles, but I've never heard any go to the point of challenging them, point blank, to not doing "it."

Letter to my son: Hopes

Dear son,

You don't know me yet. Well, you sorta do. I'm the deep voice you've been hearing for the last few weeks, the one that's usually laughing. Obnoxiously. Sorry 'bout that.

Anyhow, the point of this is I have some songs to sing and some things to say, things that I just don't really want to wait another two months for. While you won't understand much of it now - or any of it - I feel the need to get them off of my chest. Sometimes dad will have a problem with this, other times not so much. Most likely the latter, unless I have laryngitis.

The beginning of life always holds so much hope. It's in this vein, that I give you a small list of my hopes for you:

• I hope you are healthy.
  
• I hope you love baseball.
  
• I hope you only like soccer.
  
• I hope you have Mommy's eyes, hearing, and smelling.
  
• I hope you have Daddy's eyesight.
  
• I hope you have Mommy's blood pressure, teeth, and heart.
  
• I hope you have Daddy's cholesterol.
  
• I hope you don't fall apart like Daddy seems to be...
  
• I hope you have the courage to face your fears.
  
• I hope you love.
  
• I hope you hope.
  
• Most importantly, I hope you find God.
  

Trust me, Rerun, I have many more hopes and dreams (and fears) that I would like to share with you - and a handful Mommy would just as much assume I wouldn't. But there's time - you won't really start talking for quite some time. However, when you do, I have one more hope I'd like to share with you - I hope that your first words are "Payton is a girl."

We are Borg

The new job started this week, and it's outstanding. Amazing. A real "people first" organization. I've mentioned to many people in conversation that I feel this entire process has been guided by God. And, as we all know, God has a sense of humor.

This place uses Microsoft everything. Winblows, Orafice, Scheduling. Even the routers are Windows Server based. And those that aren't will be ported to a Microsoft product within the year - "job security" is the most popular reason I hear. Whatever, bunch of Blue Pill takers.

No, not that Blue Pill.

Outside of that, the job is quite groovy. Hard to complain about having only a 6 minute commute, 10 minutes if there's traffic.

Much ado

I have to admit, the old blog is really suffering - and it might continue that way. Besides being busy, just haven't been in a writing mood. That is, until yesterday...

So there I was, sitting at my new desk, at my new job, looking over my new business cards when my old phone rings (as opposed to my new phone). I look at the callerid and notice that it's my wife's work... only I know she's not there.

She works at a hospital. Gulp.

I answer the phone and it's the other assistant in the office, explaining that she has my wife on the other line (!), she's in pain (!!), and that she's talked to Dr. Huxtable and that I need to go home and get her to the hospital (!!!). Get in the back, Dale Jr. - I'm taking the wheel on this one...

I get home and find lil md upstairs, crying, and trembling - which is only unusual in the fact that she was upstairs. She's part Chihuahua. Anyhoo, down the stairs and in the car we went... to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I saw a turtle pass us, smiling.

I powerslid into the emergency room bay and ran inside, planning to yell "Pregnant lady in pain! Need a gurney, stat!" The only problem was, there was nobody in the waiting room or at the registration desk. Nobody. And yelling in an empty room... well, just wouldn't have been as satisfying.

Finally I get a nurse and soon we're in a wheelchair going in to the Labor and Delivery ward... and that's when it hit me. I just might leave out of here a dad. I mean, technically, I'm already a father, but I'm not a dad yet. That's a heavy feeling, man.

Three nurses, two vials of blood, and one heckuva pain killer later, we have our answer - an abdominal strain from copious quantities of coughing. By 11pm we were discharged and on our way home.

And that's how we roll on a Friday night.