All in all....

Our weekend began about Thursday last week, with the arrival of my brother and his family from North Carolina. Usually, this puts matters in a state of higgeldy-piggeldy for a number of days, as my mother will call to get all the kids together and hilarity - some of it extremely dysfunctional - ensues.

In some ways, the weekend that was was no different. In other ways, it was a nice departure from the norm.

Thursday evening my mom dropped by with my 2 nieces and nephew in tow, on her way to the movies. Somehow, the 6 of us joined in the fun and dropped the older girls at the movie "Inception" whilst the rest of us (3 boys: 3, 4, and 10...then my wife and I, and my mom) took in supper at Uno's (buttery gooey fatty but good) and strolled the Mall in Columbia. Since the little guys get on so well, it was kinda easy.

I admit, I was irked that teenage girls saw Inception before I could, but that's not much of a thing to be whining about.

I think I got to bed after 11pm.

Friday was Lake Cascade in Hampstead, Maryland. My mom had the idea to have us meet up there and spend the day. Whilst that plan was in motion, another plan for the evening was brewing (taking in the Oriole/Twins game). The lake had waterslides and other fun stuff for the kids. I was mostly relegated to lifeguarding the little guys and clowning for their entertainment. Apparently, it is endlessly funny for the daddy/uncle to be dunked over and over and over and over and over. My youngest brother and my baby niece also made it out. The lake wasn't as clean as I'd have liked it to be, but the older kids ran whereever they wished while the little guys either dunked me or bugged me to escort them to the bathroom. This left my mom free to take a swim or sit on the beach and play with the baby.

Alot of vigilance, yeah, but a nice way to spend a hot-as-hell day in the sun.

So.

After that was the run home to wash everyone and feed them before running to Baltimore for the ballgame. Somehow, this was accomplished with very little fuss. In fact, we were in Baltimore an hour after getting home from the lake (world-record time for this crew). Carol and I were sipping beer across from the Yard waiting for my brother to show up with the club level seats he'd gotten for us (and, thanks to a last-place worst-in-all-baseball team, the crowd was thin- which is SAD). The seats were nice but it was 2,000 degrees up there and we moved lower as the game progressed to an eventual rare win for the home team over the Minnesota visitors.

Well, I glossed over important points (we missed the streaker). My brothers both showed up with their wives and our pal Mike. The gals wanted to leave the game and go to a bar, and Mike escorted them while the 3 of us stayed and watched the sweaty win. We found the gals, and Mike, across the street. Then we split to Little Havana across the water.

And, in all my zealousness to re-tell the "story" of the weekend I'm neglecting to mention other salient points. Between us, my brothers and I have 8 kids. It's rare that we ever get together without kids or our parents. So, as we hung out at the game and the bar together, we morphed from a bunch of parents to simply a bunch of 30-somethings enjoying a night out together. The wives all talked to each other and seemed to get along well, and my brothers and I (and Mike) did what we always do - drink heavily and goof off. Silly pictures were taken. I spilled my beer on my own foot.

Like I said, this never happens.

The natural question is "why?" I don't have an answer. Maybe it's easier not to, or easier to think you know all there is to know about your family that you don't need to bother. I think we all make assumptions about each other based on past behaviors and are mostly comfortable with those.

But, get together like this, and some of those assumptions get challenged. People aren't as dumb or as smart as you'd thought. Or stuck-up. Or whatever.

I think, to a degree- this is what Mr. Obama sought with his "beer summit" awhile back. Break down some barriers. Find commonalities you might not have known existed.

The night didn't end with "kumbaya" but it ended with smiles and hugs. And Carol snoring in the passenger seat on the drive home. Sorry, dear. I think we were in bed by 2am.

Saturday was the co-birthday party for my son Jack and my nephew Tommy. My sister-in-law made gorgeous cakes (and somehow iced them in the sweatshop known as my parents' un-air-conditioned home) and we all pitched in for some fine BBQ food. Sleep-deprived, we didn't get into bed till 11 or so.

Sunday was getaway day for the NC contingent, just as my Aunt and 2 cousins drove in (from St. Louis, by way of Columbia). That was a nice visit. Though we've never really stayed in touch we're still family (my uncle unexpectedly passed 12 years ago - he was my family's rock star when I was a kid), and I salute my Aunt's efforts to keep the roots strong. My cousins (much younger than myself) are growing up smart and strong, I think my Uncle would've been proud of them women they've become.

Of course, I mucked it all up by having a hockey game last night and wasn't in bed till after 11. And up at 6 this morning to split wood with Mike. At least it wasn't as hot.

So, though I am sleep-deprived at this point simply prattling on, all of that was the preamble to the Ultimate Point of this Nonsense.

Someday, in the natural course, our parents won't be here to help us or hinder us. It'll come down to our connections betwixt and between each other that'll keep us a large family. And, realistically, it takes effort to maintain those relationships. It's easy to make the assumption that simply being related by way of blood is a strong enough bond, but that's not really true. You don't have to like your relatives, but it's a bonus if you do. In order to like each other, the petty barriers that can be erected need to be taken down, the scorecards we all keep with the lists of slights or little hurts need to be tossed out. Easier said than done, I know.

If you don't end up fighting...it helps if y'all go out drinking together. I, for one, had fun.

Sarah Palin is a nitwit!

Oh, I'm sorry, I was just amusing myself by trying to see if I'd get more "hits" on my blog simply by mentioning her name. I'm not a fan, nor am I a hater. But I do wish that her brand of 21st century neo-McCarthyism is relegated to the back pages of our future's history books. "Momma Grizzlies," indeed.

Nope. I'm really writing about me again. Took my 3 younger kids (3, 9, and 10) to the beach last week alone and barely survived. I think on Day 4 I heard "I hate the beeeeach!" and "why do we always come to the beach?" and "can we just not go to the beach?" This was not fun, really. Perhaps you can imagine why. We did go see "Despicable Me" which struck me as Shrek-redux, but was amusing in parts. They loved it. We rode bikes, at ice cream, and did very little else.

So I'm home now, and after 12 days of looking soft and hairy on the beach I'd like to look a little more awesome [this is in part because all the other guys out surfing looked more tan, more toned, and more "better" than me]. Just a little. Y'know, this may sound silly but once upon a time (not that long ago) I could bench press a good amount of weight. I was pretty proud about how much I could lift, too. But I injured my shoulders and tried to let them heal by resting them, which didn't work -- but acupuncture DID. Unfortunately, I never got back to the weights mostly due to guilt-imposed time constraints wherein I felt bad about spending 30 minutes lifting weights inside when I could have my kids playing outside instead of sitting in a gym's nursery.

All excuses aside, I simply neglected the ole' muscles. For about 10 years.

OK, so Monday I try to knock out 100 reps at a low weight and...y'know...get it all back quick. Which doesn't work, in case you were wondering.

I think every part of my upper body feels sore from my foray back into weightlifting. ow. It's a (small) miracle that I can even type this or lift my arms over my head in order to pull on a shirt (I won't even discuss the abdominal work here, but I can breathe pain-free, so far).

The hope here is that I'll get into a good groove and won't look quite so old and flabby when I return to La Playa in a few weeks. Though I'm not likely to succeed, I remain stubborn enough to fool myself into believing I can. Ugh. This aging process is.....a shi%&y one.

Surf fail

She's already better than me, and better looking to boot.

It's summer and nearly time for my relocation to Southern Virginia, the location of what was my grandmother's house. It's still in the family and a cost-effective way to have an extended beach trip. No more blogging for me for awhile.

So a couple years ago I had the bright idea to learn the old sport of surfing. Every now and then I'm sitting around my house watching the wheels and I get these ideas, often painful to those around me, and run with 'em. One year it was ice hockey, another collating pictures, and another was extended correspondence with catastrophic results.

I also saw the benefits of this for the kids: get 'em out of their comfort zones, something new and different to do at the beach. Sounded good, right?

So last summer I enrolled them in a surf camp and learned the basics of pushing a kid into a wave. Thanks to the generosity of the instructors at this camp (Wes Laine's Quiksilver camp in Va. Beach, I am not a paid endorser) I took a little funboard (all foam) and gave the sport of Hawaiian kings a try.

Too heavy for the boards. Oops.

But the kids loved it (my 3 older ones, that is). I got funboards for them all and took 'em out a few times. The 8 and 9 year-old (Bobby and Camille) loved it, and made it look easy, they just popped right up. My eldest had some trouble but seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

I kept on trying, all summer. Couldn't stand up, could barely paddle out. I tried paddling into the swell during Hurricane Bill last July or August and wished I hadn't. I now know what clothes in a washing machine must feel like.

So, I sucked it up and bought a lesson. A fellow named Dylan who owns a shop in Pungo, Virginia (The Pungo Boardhouse) was really cool and lent me a real fiberglass board. It was night-and-day, would support my weight, and I got very very close to actually surfing.

But I didn't, never actually stood up. Yet.

I'm stubborn enough to continue to try. I'm convinced I'm not too old yet. On quiet mornings I can paddle out and enjoy the peaceful bobbing amongst the waves. There's hardly ever anything EPIC about the swell in Virginia Beach, so it's mostly peaceful and calm and there are dolphin pods nearby to observe in between trying to catch a wave.

I know I'm awful, and look ridiculous. I don't think I really care, it's one of the best things I've participated in the past few years and the chance to do it with the family makes it all the better. If I can actually get the hang of it, I see a future where all 6 of us paddle out and ride free and easy.

Or we'll kill each other, be shark bait..... something like that.

Don Vs. Mike

Well, the picture's old and outdated now.....

Growing up in the DC suburbs during the 1980's afforded radio listeners the chance to hear some great ones. Among them, and depending on your tastes, were Howard Stern (on DC-101 and later WJFK), the Greaseman (on DC-101 and later bounced around), and - my favorites - Don and Mike.

I ran across Don Geronimo between 8th and 9th grade (1985, I think) when he was on WAVA's afternoon show. My folks sent me from Mt. Airy, Maryland to DC to go to high school, so I was a commuter like all the other miserable putz's on the roads. My dad would let me pick the station, and Don's show was OK by him. Later on that year, WAVA teamed up Don and Mike in the mornings for a "zoo" show that I started to follow semi-religiously.

I grew up with it, from '85 on. They were the soundtrack to my little life: my first date, my driver's license, my first real girlfriend, my first job, graduations, and - later on - marriage and parenthood. They started out playing silly games, and kinda jive radio bits between Top-40 songs. Mike was the voice guy and Don was the MC. Together, they were great. They took lots of calls from freaks like me who were loyal listeners. Don would argue or pester his wife, Freda, on-air, and she and their son became part of the show.

They moved to afternoons in '91, I think, the show evolving into more of a talk show. I loved it, listened all the time.

Yeah, I think there were periods of time in the show when they imitated Stern and there were others when they moved away from imitation and moved into their own niche. Their chemistry was potent, Mike's talent for imitation was - and remains - amazing. Don was always able to make the most innocuous schlub an interesting and funny member of the show (like the phone screeners or sales folks). Some "cast members" (what is this, Disney?) grew into great contributors - like Robb, the intern who became the jock he apparently always wanted to be. Or long-suffering Buzz, the new guy, who was interrupted about roughly every second syllable.

There were always weird work-stoppages, unexplained suspensions that would be explained later on. I don't know, I guess I missed the shows where they'd explain everything. There were rumors about how D and M didn't really get along, etc etc. I think I always thought of them as the indivisible team, like they were "radio parents" who were stuck together, I couldn't imagine them independent of each other.

Don's wife died after being injured in a car crash in 2005. I can't even imagine, I don't want to imagine, how painful that was for he and his son. The show continued, and as time went by it seemed to me that they found a better place as a show.

Apparently, the on-air improvement wasn't translating off-air and Don left in 2008 with a pretty good sign-off. He needed to heal his life after his tragic loss. I think I held a little too tightly to Don's talk of perhaps re-uniting with Mike "someday."

Nowadays, Mike has a podcast (www.mikeomearashow.com) he produces, which is pretty good. It's similar to his canceled show but condensed into an hour. The guys are opinionated but funny - it's an entertaining hour.

Don's recently returned to radio on a station (KHTK) in Sacramento and I've been listening. I admit it's weird to hear Don without Mike and vice-versa. Being a dorky radiophile (or just too big a fan) I keep listening for the odd verbal nods or disses that they're perhaps throwing at each other. I honestly can't tell if there's a D & M feud or not. I find myself hoping that they're still pals and that "hey hey the gang's all here" is something I'll get to hear in the future. I realize I sound like I'm too emotionally invested in all this - and sound like a nitwit. Well, that's what I am, quit reading.

Truth is, they're fallible human beings like me. I'm sure there's more behind-the-scenes drama than I ever knew, and that there are hurt feelings and issues between the guys. If all 4 Beatles were still alive, I'm sure folks would be clamoring for a reunion. Hell, Pink Floyd reunited for a hot minute in 2005 (I'm a big fan). I'm allowed to root for one, right? But for a reunion to ever happen it takes the resolution of those issues (if any exist - like I said I have no idea).

In the meantime, I'll just shut up and listen. Don was correct when he described the "intimacy of radio." It's different than the Ken and Barbie dolls on TV, it's almost like someone's voice in your head. Somehow, through the radio, the intimacy of the radio makes guys like me care about the lives of the folks on the air. There ya go, douchebag city for me.

Thanks, D&M (and everyone else) for all the fun.

RIP, Sen. Byrd

So it's Wednesday and I've been irritated at myself for choosing to babble like a ninny about sports when one of the Senate's old lions roared his last. So, I'm late to the party.

I'm not from West Virginia. I'm not a particularly partisan fellow. As anyone who knows me or has read this crapola blog before knows, I lean to the left. I've voted for both parties in gubernatorial and presidential elections - which has led to some (and those people were and probably remain asshats) informing me that I'm: 1) naiive; 2) insane; or 3) seriously confused.

Which has no real bearing on what follows, it's my blog and I write about myself. If that surprises anyone, piss off.

West Virginia Sen. Robert Byrd passed on Monday at the age of 92, about the age my maternal grandfather should've passed had he not been intent on exacerbating his alcoholism. I was only mildly familiar with the Senator, a mere by-product of growing up in the suburbs of D.C. and reading The Washington Post. I'll remember him for his flourish with the spoken word and his well-reported pocket copy of the Constitution.

I'll also remember the superficially critical title bestowed upon him by his colleagues as the "king of pork."

It's apt. But as is often the case there's more to the story. And I've got a sliver- a teeny tiny sliver of personal experience to toss in.

West Virginia is the poorest State in the nation, somehow even moreso than remote Alaska. In parts of the state, what we in suburbia would call basic necessities (water, electric, sewage) are rare. Sen. Byrd was, I'm certain, well aware of this and used his position in DC to assist his constituents back home. I'm not sure how this was a bad thing. Any elected public official's job is to help the people who sent them to Washington - and failure to do so leads to political estrangement.

Rush Limbaugh once stated that acting in one's own radical self-interest was what made America, and capitalism, great. I think he meant that the drive to succeed, and the ambition to do great things propels society forward (and can line your pockets). Though Nietzche said it more poetically. So it is with politicians in Congress. 100 Senators all look out for the best interests of their own home states, regardless of party, race, or creed. They all know the penalty for failure.

So, a trip to Wheeling Jesuit University will uncover the Robert C. Byrd National Technology Transfer Center. The Senator has also been credited with assisting the continuing operations of Wheeling-Pitt Steel, which helps provide some jobs to an area that remains at or below the poverty line.

I find it difficult to find fault in this instance. I was put off, for example, by the lavish spending in Utah around the Salt Lake Olympics - it was temporary and ultimately unhelpful. Yes, the workers hired for the Games were employed, but the Games ended and....zippy.

By contrast......

In West Virginia, the aforementioned Tech Center at least gives students the opportunity to develop and create new technologies for the future. Anyone can take a million buck of federal money and cynically "create" 100 new janitors earning $100k for a year. Investing in the future, well, at least it's not 100% cynical. I'm not arguing the guy was perfect...he wasn't. His former membership in the Ku Klux Klan has been well-documented - this can either tarnish him completely or serve as an example that, yes folks...men can change for the better. I'm sure he was a preening publicity-starved loudmouth Politician like all of 'em are, and enjoyed going to his home state to bask in the love of the little people. What I am arguing is that he did a hell of alot for people who needed someone to do it for them.

I attended Wheeling College, as it was known, for a year. Good school, made some great friends, and left to be closer to a girl I later married. I've lost some of those friends along the way, some for good reasons and some just because Time Marches Ever On. The town had once been a shining city on a literal hill, 100 years before I got there. My paternal grandfather grew up in Martin's Ferry, Ohio - right across the river from Wheeling, he joined the Army to leave there but now he's buried up there, too. By 1989, the place was right outta Springsteen's "Your Hometown", a dying city. I had alot of good times, but on my gloomier days I'd feel sick and sad there, the town slowly being beaten into dusty extinction.

I hear it's better, I've not been up in years. I know that the College provides many good jobs and is a pretty good school, all the folks I knew graduated and have moved on to be bright and productive citizens. Sen. Byrd was a tremendous benefactor of the school, so they all owe him a small debt for his service, as do the citizens of West Virginia. They're the butt of alot of jokes, and have been a long time. But he looked out for them and was their Advocate when no one else was.

I especially like one of his later quotes, on his former support for segregation, but there's wisdom in the words that bears on anyone who's committed wrongs against their fellow man:

" I know now I was wrong. Intolerance had no place in America. I apologized a thousand times....and I don't mind apologizing over and over again. I can't erase what happened."

That's what an honest man or woman does. Stand up, take your lumps. Yep, you might have to take them over and over again. In a world where stubborn pride seems to be the behavioral norm, a little humility shines like the proverbial beacon in the dark.

Godspeed

Rah Rah Rah blah blah blah!

Hi gang! It's baseball season and I stayed up way too late last night watching the Dodgers/Yankees game. Sadly, my team lost - quite unbelievably to some but to those who follow the Dodgers the sight of Jonathan Broxton walking a tightrope is not entirely unusual. Sorry, JonBoy, I bought your tee-shirt at the Top of the Park store and you're friggin' doomed. But it looks good on me.

So....which way to go? Another blog entry about my self-image? Hmm. A polemic about Life and It's Many and Varied Wonders? Meh. Free advice? Not today.

Today it's the SHPORTSH Page. I'm creatively checking out and replacing anything interesting (and that is - admittedly - a stretch. When is any of my crap interesting???) with A DAMNED LIST!!!

Are you like me? Do you hate lists? The Top 100 celebrity bowel movements!!! The Top 10 Funniest Things My Wife can do with her Rump! My Personal Top 10 greatest Farts........

No, I guess you're not like me. Well......THE EASIEST TEAMS TO ROOT FOR!

Interested? No? Bollocks to ya, go watch soccer.

First, a preamble. I'm not shooting for "where we've been lately." So, kids, the Indy Colts are off this list. Yeah, they're good now, but they haven't always been (see, e.g., 1983). Ditto for my New England Patriots - when I was a kid they were a joke. New Orleans? Nope. Tampa Rays? Puuuhhh-leeze. I'm talking about consistent "greatness" and popularity

In no order at all:

LA Lakers/Boston Celtics: I'm lumping them together. The Lakers just won another title two weeks ago, and deservedly so. Lots of titles, combined. The Celtics have more, but the Lakers have more flash, more "star power". The Yin and Yang of basketball - all offense or all defense. I'll give Honorable Mention to the Chicago Bulls when Jordan was there.

Montreal Canadiens: ugh. The Yankees of hockey. I'm not even bothering to look up how many Cups they've won, but it's twice what any other team has won. Blanc, bleu, and cheesy. I'd thrown in the Detroit Red Wings, but that's a fairly recent development. Honorable mention goes to the NY Islanders (yes, they were outstanding once), and Edmonton Oilers.

Oakland/LA Raiders and Pittsburgh Steelers: Yeah, a joke lately. But from the mid-70's to early '90's they were consistently good and perennial contenders, and had a good run there earlier in this decade. The silver and black are everywhere, from Northern Cal to South Florida. Coined the whole "commitment to excellence" thing. Of course, the Steelers are much-beloved by many across the country, winning 6 Super Bowls does that for a team. The NFL has many honorable mention teams, like the recent Colt and Pats teams, or the old Dolphin, 49-er and Packer teams.

Boston Red Sox: in terms of titles this is Jonny-come-lately. But the Sox are over 100 years old and part of the fun of pulling for the Sox is the futility. Nowadays that's less of a negative. I think alot of fans gravitated towards the Sawx when the Yankees had that great run in the late-90's. Yankee-haters united under the Sawx banner. Just my opinion, I was baptized during the infamous Sox/Mets 1986 Series. Why lose Bruce Hurst??? Why? I'll toss in a few teams here, like the Dodgers, Cardinals, and Braves - all really good teams but without the "ease of rooting for" that I'm referring to. It aint tough to be a Red Sox fan right now.

NOTE: I can't include the Cubs. I WON'T include the Cubs.

Dallas Cowboys: the second-worst type of fan is the Alaskan Cowboys fan. "America's Team." Yeah, in this life ya really do go out on a limb when you declare your allegiance to this f-ing dungheap of a football team. Why are there so many Cowboy fans? I'm a little clueless and - as a Skins fan - biased as all get-out. The Star? eh, ok. The history? OK, if history was the barometer there'd still be lots of Cleveland Browns fans out there. I know that just about every NFL team has it's own passionate following, but Dallas seems to be a universal....some sort of unknown universal nexus. They've had some great teams in every decade and have lately come up far short of the expectations of their rabid fans, but their popularity is as undeniable as it is inexplicable.

I recall some DJ on a sports station opining that in the 1970's alot of dads raised their sons as Cowboy fans so as to enhance the child's self-esteem, to make them feel like a winner. The hypothesis lacks for any kind of scientific method, so I'm not convinced. More likely, in my estimation, is that the kids knew the Cowboys were winners and wanted - of their own accord- to root for a winner.

Which leads me to the Absolute Worst, the Final Circle of Hell, the New York Yankees. An undeniable team full of f-sticks who consistently buy titles. Yes, that is bitter, go eat one. Politicians, celebrities, soldiers, muppets, and Emperors doff the Yankee cap. It's almost more American than the stars and stripes. In its' excess, it represents us at our worst. 27 titles, the most in professional sports - AND YET LAST NIGHT ESPN CUT TO A G-DAMNED SHOT OF A LITTLE KID PRAYING FOR ANOTHER YANKEE COMEBACK!!!!

Shit, junior, if God isn't a Yankee fan, He doesn't exist. OK? Ok.

In my imagination, I see a kid in Kentucky and in Alaska wondering which baseball team he wants to pull for - and the KY kid knows he just can't wait for Johnny Bench and Pete Rose to come 'round again for the Reds, so - independently of the other they each pick THE BESTEST TEAM EVAH! It's fun to pull for winners, right?! Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for Goliath to crush David....the odds are just stacked in Goliath's favor.

Tick off some great Yankee players...Jeter, A-Rod, Jackson, Winfield, Tartabull (oops!), O'Neill, Gherig, Ruth, Mantle, Berra........I'm willing to bet that the Yanks have their own wing in Cooperstown (I haven't been yet). Almost seems unfair.

Well, that's my lame little list. It's not ironclad. Every team I picked has had High Times (see, e.g., South America's Team) and Low Times (see "Red Sox, Boston; 1919-2004), even those damned Yankees (the late '80's to mid '90's). I guess that's part of the fun. If I was going for FUTILITY I'd mention "any Washington baseball team" and the Lions and Bengals. In fact, what's with the State of Ohio and championships? What did you people do to deserve such lousy luck, especially you folks in and around Cleveland? Must be the water, the bad teeth, or Drew Carey.

Well, there's always that OSU marching band channel, where ya can watch highlights of the Buckeye Band's greatest, um, marches. Yup.

Thanks, Carol? BMW? SMB...Oh, hi! It's the hair ball!

No, that's not me in the photo above. Just clearing that up.

Summer has arrived and with it the inevitable unveiling of my furry body. I am blessed with what a kid on my son's baseball team termed "The Hair Curse." Yep. Though my skull is currently balding, my hair-to-skin ratio seems to increase annually at an alarming rate. As Drew Carey once wrote - I'll paraphrase - my hair is migrating from my head to my ass.

It's probably been true since I was about 18, but I didn't notice it until I was in my twenties. Like my father before me, I've got a lush, thick coat of hair covering my chest and back. It goes without saying - but I'll say it because this is my friggin' FORUM, that my extremities are likewise luxuriously coated with black, grey, and now the occasional white hair.

This makes me something of a FREAK on the beach, or at the pool.

I think I can recall a time in the 1970's where guys sported body hair and chicks dug it. I was only a kid, but I think that used to be true.

Nowadays, guys are mostly as hairless as the little boys running around playing with sand buckets. I know from what I hear on the radio or read in the papers that men now remove their unwanted body hair because women these days prefer the "no-hair" look. I can't figure out why I'd want to do this simply to conform.

But, I must admit, being hairy is OUT.

Tattoos are cool. Piercings are cool. Body hair aint. This is awesome! Another chance for me to cast myself in the role of the outcast!

Nah. Maybe not.

The hairy guy on the beach is the guy everyone laughs at and says "thank God I'm not like him." Or, and I'm only imagining here, the guys who meticulously shave down their bodies can look nervously around (and reach back to make sure the stubble aint too long) and THEN bust on the hairy guy.

I guess, personally, I don't care.

Oh, I would. If my wife or girlfriends had ever said "you look fine, but you'd look better without that fur, Wolfman" I'd get it removed. I would. Not because I'd feel better about myself but I'd do it to please the S.O. in my life. I'd also do more situps if asked, etc. I guess I like to try to please people and if they complained I'd try to "fix" myself. I think psychiatrists call that "co-dependency" but - and I'm being honest here- I'd want my S.O. to listen to me if I thought something similar.

But I'm 38 years old, my wife's known me for over 20 years and has never asked me (directly or indirectly) to endure the hair-removal process. At this point, the fact that I'm hairy elicits a resigned sigh to the slings and arrows of Those Who Hate on the Hairy, and an exhaled "whatever." A verbal shrug. I can't get motivated to give a sh*t.

I don't get the "metrosexual" guy. I can't imagine spending all that time grooming and shaping like Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho." I mean, I don't want to appear unhealthy so I exercise. I clip my nails. I shave my face. I shower (!!!!!) But...to properly shave all of my body hair would be an investment in time and razors that I'm not prepared to undertake. I have clothes that range from grubby to nice, but I'm not terribly thoughtful about fashion.

No - I'm not Johhny Tough Guy driving a pickup and hunting small game, either. I think of myself as very unremarkable - a schlub, really. Not the worst-looking guy on God's Earth and not the best.

So, if you happen to bump into me at the pool and I shed on you, I humbly apologize -I mean no offense. Or, if you see me at the beach, give a howl. When I get to surf I pull on a rash shirt, so that'll spare you the horror. Or, if I can ever learn to surf worth a damn, pull out that camera and snap a photo of me riding...then sell it to Weekly World News as :

SASQUATCH SURFS!

It's cool by me, maybe you'll make some cash off the picture.