Observationally Speaking - Richard Timothy

Primping for the 4th, Unintentional

by Richard Timothy | Jun 29, 2012 | My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking

You know how sometimes you’ll make a statement that you were in full support of, but then find yourself in a situation where that previous statement becomes null and void. I think the most common example of this is the morning after a night dedicated to the mass consumption of alcohol. I had a roommate that would wake up at least twice a week and mutter, “I’m never drinking again.” Usually it just took offering him two aspirin with a can of beer to wash it down to change his mind, but every once in a while he meant it for at least a day.

Well, yesterday I found myself it this type of situation, except without the hangover, or the night of drinking, or the alcohol, or . . . okay it had nothing to do with that type of situation. See, in a past Smirk I talked about my first and only experience getting a pedicure. I had no plans on ever going through that experience again . . . at least that was the plan until my sweetie-baby-cutie-wifey-pooh felt compelled to get one yesterday as part of her birthday—and well, umm . . . so maybe my toenails are now blue and have glitter on them, but in my defense it was her birthday.

It wasn’t as painful as last time, which was about 5 years ago, and that was a definite plus. For the record though, I am never doing this again . . . you know, unless it’s my sweeties birthday, or I lose a bet or something.

This experience was very different from last time for a few reasons. First, I was not at a beauty school being worked on by some shy girl that was clearly not keen on poking, prodding, picking, clipping, and rubbing my feet. This time it was a place in the mall and was staffed by Asian women who spoke in broken English.

The lady that worked on my feet made up her mind what my toenails were going to look like even though Angela and I had mentioned at the beginning that we wanted matching colored toenails. Oh no, purple toenails were not acceptable for my toes and my “toe lady” (I’m not sure of the correct term to use here) informed me repeatedly while working on my toes that I needed to get fireworks painted on my big toenails.

When the time came for me to get them colored, the lady working on Angela’s toes was using the purple nail polish that I was expecting to be used to paint my toes. Instead of waiting my “toe lady” went to the wall of colors and grabbed the bottle of blue fingernail polish that she wanted to use for my toes, and a bottle of glitter polish.

When she came back she held out the blue and informed me, “You get this color.” She then sat down and got to work painting my toes. Then she asked me again while nodding her head up and down in a no so subtle attempt at Jedi mind control, “You want firework?”

She clearly had her heart set on painting a scene of fireworks exploding in the night’s sky. I figured, why the hell not, gave up and conceded to her “suggestion”.

As she started painting the scene on my toes, exclaiming, “See, I told you, firework beautiful!” the stranger sitting to my left finally lost her cool and started giggling. This in turn got Angela and I laughing as well.

My toes are now ready to celebrate the 4th of July. I haven’t felt this patriotic about the holiday in years. Who knew that getting theme nail polish would help out with that?

I love my wife and was happy to get my toes done with her in celebration of her birthday. I just hope she never has the urge to do an impromptu legs waxing one of these years.

Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: sleeping in funny positions, pedicure tools, and
a picture Angela took using her cell phone.

Trading Birthdays with Dad

by Richard Timothy | Jun 19, 2012 | Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid

Sometimes it’s the simple acts that create memories that last a lifetime. When I was a kid it always felt like my birthday was the last one of the year. In truth, it was always the first one of the year, but due to the way the birthday season in my family works out my birthday was always last. Yes we have a birthday season in my family. It starts with my sisters, who were both born in September, then my brothers, both born in October and finally my parents who were both born in December. Then there was me, leading up the rear as the only one with a birthday in January.

I was probably six or seven when I first realized that my birthday was last. As a typical six year old, being last is not something I was ever fond of. If I could get away with it I’d sneak an extra 100 from the Monopoly bank when I passed go, and when playing Yahtzee if one of my dice fell on the floor and came up the number I needed then of course it counted, but if I couldn’t use it, then it was obviously a do over. As a kid that hated losing, I tried to get the edge when I could. I’m happy to say this didn’t last.

The next year when birthday season started, so did my realization of being last. This resulted in me whining relentlessly to my parents about how unfair it was that my birthday was last. I may have even whined myself into a crying fit once or two about the subject as well (not proud of it then, not proud of it now). It got so bad that even mentioning the word birthday would set me off, which made planning upcoming birthdays a little difficult.

Finally in a last chance effort to shut me up about it, my parents came up with a solution to my complaint. With a smirk on his face my dad offered to trade birthdays with me. Instead of the week after Christmas, my birthday that year would be in the first week of December. I eagerly accepted and happily stopped complaining about the matter.

I couldn’t believe it. My birthday was going to be almost a full month earlier than it had been in the past. It also meant that it was three weeks before Christmas! As a kid with a birthday a week after Christmas I can tell you nothing sucks worse than having a birthday close to Christmas. More often than not when you are given a gift it will have both Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday written on it. Then you have to pretend to be grateful when all you are really thinking is, “You cheap bastard.”

Giving two toys (birthday and Christmas) to friends each year only to have them reciprocate it by giving you one gift to cover both occasions is one of the most distressing forms of adolescent injustice that any child will experience. Any child with a birthday close to Christmas will tell you the same thing. It’s complete and total crap! The prospect of having my birthday earlier meant that the chance of me getting separate Christmas and birthday presents was quite high. It was a realization that would even Eeyore would smile about.

When my “birthday” rolled around and my friends started arriving for the party, there was something I hadn’t expected. I had a feeling that kept lingering in the back of my mind. It was there through all the games, singing, the blowing out the candles and making a wish, and cake eating. Through all of that I couldn’t get past the feeling that it really wasn’t my birthday.

I’ll admit I was excited to get gifts that just said “Happy Birthday” on them, but it wasn’t my day. This feeling was reinforced when New Year’s finally rolled around and as a family we had to sing Happy Birthday to my dad instead of me. Turned out I liked that feeling even less than getting just one gift for both my birthday and Christmas.

I didn’t like having someone take my day. It took me a while to realize that my dad might like his day just as much as I liked my own. Who knows, maybe seeing me happily celebrating his birthday as my own was what made it worthwhile to him and a day worth remembering. For me, I didn’t need someone else’s birthday after that. My dad definitely deserved his own day where we all happily celebrated him on the day he entered this world, and do did I. When I told my dad I wanted my birthday back for next year, he happily agreed, but let me know if I wanted to trade again it would be okay.

I never complained about being last in the birthday season after that. I think it is what started my appreciation for birthdays in general. People deserve to be celebrated and what better way to celebrate them than on the day they were born.

I know that Father’s Day just passed, and as groovy of a holiday as it is, it pales in comparison to the day my dad was born. A day he gave to me as a gift one year so I could learn about the importance of my own day, where I said hello to the world.

Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: sad at birthday, throwing a tantrum, birthday and Christmas, and dad hug.

June . . . All This and Days Too

by Richard Timothy | Jun 11, 2012 | Holiday Banter, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking

With the start of a new month it is once again time to look at a new month and lean things you may not have known about our sixth month of the year.

The Roman poet Ovid explained in his work Fasti that the month of June was named after the Roman goddess Juno, which sounds just like the type of thing a Roman poet would day. The big holiday that most of us remember in June is Father’s Day. Of course, this is mainly because we have all have fathers, that and Hallmark has spent years of marketing to get us to believe the best way to let our father know how much we appreciate their fatherliness is through a card. As for the rest of the month, well let’s take a look at some of the themes that comprise this month.

June is:

Aquarium Month
Candy Month – This was surprising to me. I’ve always considered October to be Candy Month since it is always the month of the most candy purchased, given away and consumed.
Cancer from the Sun Month – Also known as “Don’t forget your sunscreen” Month.
Dairy Month
Fight the Filthy Fly Month – This one disturbed me a little at first. Was I going to need to invest in a fly swatter? It actually took a little more researching than normal to find out what this was all about. Apparently this is more of an awareness thing for people who own horses. June is the month to make sure you have your fly spray to you can dowse your horse in it so the flies leave it alone. Yeah, not nearly as cool as I was hoping it would be.
Gay Pride Month – I’d like to point out that apart from all the people that embrace their gay lifestyle this is also the month for all the old ladies named Gay. Embrace your name and be proud, ladies!
National Accordion Awareness Month

National Adopt a Cat Month – As a personal request, if you have more than three cats, please do not adopt any more cats until you get rid of the ones you already have. I helped a “cat lady” move once, and she had seven or eight cats living with her at the time of the move. The entire time I felt like I was in a perpetual state of wanting to vomit and cough up a hairball at the same time. Hence, the strong feelings about a three cat limit.
National Fresh Fruit and Vegetables Month
National Pest Control Month – I wonder if getting your neighbor who keeps borrowing tools and not returning them would count? We all know their pests. Control them long enough to get your tools back.
National Soul Food Month – Yum!
Potty Training Awareness Month – Make you spend the month acknowledging you are aware that the people around you are potty trained and that you support their decision to be thusly trained.
Turkey Lover’s Month – Contrary to popular belief that November is Turkey Lover’s Month, November is actually Turkey Haters Month . . . you know because we kill and eat so many of them.

There are also some week long celebrations in June as well. The first week of June is National Fishing and Boating Week. It’s a good think my office mate didn’t know about it. He normally only needs a small push to skip work and go fishing. Had he known that the entire week was dedicated to the cause I wouldn’t have seen him all week. In contrast to this the last week of June (well, June 27 through July 4) is Fish are Friends, Not Food Week, which did make smirk.

As for special days in the month of June, I managed to find 50+ different “Days”. For the sake of avoiding a ridiculously long list, I’ll highlight a few of my favorites:

June 1 – Doughnut Day, Heimlich Maneuver Day, and Say Something Nice Day – I love that Doughnut Day and Heimlich Maneuver Day are the same day this year (Doughnut day is always the first Friday in June). Looks like people learned their lesson and are thinking safety first.
June 2 – National Bubba Day – This day is to honor anyone named Bubba. The nice thing about this day is that way everyone who wants to can take part in this holiday can. You just need to choose to go by the name Bubba just for that day.
June 6 – National Yo-Yo Day – The Yo-Yo originated in China, between 500 and 1000 B.C. This day was initially established in honor of the man who in the early 1900’s introduced the Yo-Yo as a toy for people of all ages to enjoy, Donald F. Duncan Sr.
June 11 – Hug Day – Yep, today is hug day. So make sure you give at least one hug to someone today. Note: You want to make sure you are hugging consenting people. I highly urge you to avoid performing any walk-by hugs to random people. It can be extremely disturbing for some, oh and cops don’t like it either.
June 17 – Father’s Day

June 23 – Take your Dog to Work Day (also known as, “Nothing will get done at work” Day, mainly because people have to make sure their dog doesn’t freak out and attempt to eat, mount, or lick your coworkers dog . . . or your coworker.
June 28 – Paul Bunyan Day – This day is the only reason I still own a red flannel shirt. It’s also a great excuse to spend the day singing Monty Python’s “I’m a Lumberjack” song.

That’s it for my highlight of a few June Holidays. I hope you enjoyed a little more awareness about this month, and maybe, apart from sending your father another power drill or more barbeque grilling equipment and calling him up on the 17th to say thanks for being your dad, you’ll get a little more out of this month than you have in years past. Cheers, and a Happy June to you all.

Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: roman goddess Juno, adopt a cat, gone fishing, and take your dog to work day.

I’m Happy and I Know It

by Richard Timothy | May 31, 2012 | I Think There's a Point, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking

I don’t know about you, but when I am placed in a situation where I’m introduced to things, usually music, in a non-formal manner, I am left to rely on my own musical frame of reference. Non-formal introduction are those where I hear a song I like on the radio, but the DJ never announces who the artist is. Another example is when I’m watching a commercial or tv show and I hear a song that I find delightful, but have no way of figuring out who sings it.

There are also the unwanted non-formal introductions to music, which is commonly introduced to entire city blocks by young kids that roll down all their windows while some crap music is played as loud as the cars inefficient sound system will go. The good thing I’ve found from these experiences is that most the time you can’t understand a damn thing because the subwoofer installed in the trunk is making the entire car rattle every time the base drum is hit, which is usually quite frequent.

In the past I’ve mentioned that Angela has a surprising affinity for music that I am not partial to. Apart from her love for butt rock bands (aka 80’s and 90’s rock or hair bands) like Bon Jovi and Guns & Roses, she also has the occasional mood swing and gets a rather strong hankering to listen to R&Bish, hip-hoppy, poppy, dancey type music. Things like . . . well I really don’t know, but everyone once in a while when we get in her car to go somewhere together she’ll start up the car and some song starts loudly blaring—GAGA! Yeah that’s one of those dancey music people she listens to.

She’s usually quick to change the station, but every once in a while she’ll wait for a few seconds and she sings along to the tune. Clearly she listens to this stuff more than she admits, or it could just be that their lyrics are so redundant that after one listening, you pretty much have the entire song memorized—that’s right! I’m talking to you Black Eyed Peas and your I Got a Feeling song.

So the other night while we were sitting on the couch watching tv, some redundant commercial came on, you know one of those obnoxious ones that comes one every single commercial break. To avoid paying attention to the inane ad Angela said in a tone that suggested she was singing to herself, “I’m sexy and I know it.” Left to rely on my own musical frame of reference and promptly and loudly clapped my hands twice.

She looked at me a little surprised and confused and asked, “What was that?”

“I was taking part in the song,” I replied. “If you’re sexy and you know it, clap your hands . . . right?”

She laughed at me. Then laughed some more. Then stopped laughing and looked at me, and then promptly started laughing at me again. All the while a smirk stayed on my face while I waited for an explanation.

Eventually, once the laughter became more of an occasional giggle, she explained that there was a current song titled Sexy and I Know It by some LMA-something group that was making the rounds on the radio.

And even though I had never heard this song I insisted that I like my version better, and you know what? She completely agreed. This made me happy—so I clapped my hands again, twice.

Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: listening to radio, black eyed peas, and clap clap.

Men Hate the “What are you thinking about?” Question

by Richard Timothy | May 25, 2012 | Confessed Confidentially, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking

Men hate the “What are you thinking about?” question. It is the ultimate battle of the sexes question. Having experienced the last 38 years as one belonging to the male gender, let’s just say I’ve picked up a few things about how my mind works and assume that that is how other male minds work as well . . . usually.

Men hate the “What are you thinking about?” question because we know it’s a test, and even if we’re implicitly told that it is not a test, we still know it’s a test. Sometimes we’ll attempt to confirm that we are thinking about the person who asked us that question. Sadly, we aren’t always believed when we give this answer. The thing is that this is literally the truth, due to how our brains have a tendency to work.

When men are asked, “What are you thinking about?” we instantly begin, regardless of what we were thinking about the second before, to think about the question itself and wonder why you are asking us that question.

See, we are thinking about you.

The question women really mean to ask is, “What were you thinking about just then?” because that would mean you want to know what we were thinking about prior to you asking the question. We figure this is what you probably mean, but we are a little more literal minded and chances are we’ll ruin the mood if we answer that question the way you intended it.

It’s not that we are thinking disgusting things, angry things, inappropriate things, things that make us smirk, or naughty things, well sometimes we are on those last two, but most of the time we not thinking of anything to evoke mushy feelings in that exact moment. Instead we are thinking of a very random topic that is vaguely related to the moment.

Here’s what I mean:

The other night after, you know, my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh and I were cuddling and she asked what I was thinking about. Of course my reply was her, but what I was really thinking about was playing basketball in the shower.

How is this possibly related to our prior activity? Simple, I was a little sweaty, which got me thinking about getting up and taking a shower after we cuddled a little longer. The thought of the shower got me thinking standing in the tub, the very tub that our two and a half year old nephew uses to take baths when he stays with us. We have all these toys that frequent the tub as a result and one of them is a little hoop with suction cups that you can stick on the wall. The hoop comes with three balls that float in the water and can be used to shoot into the hoop. It was a toy that I would have loved as a kid, but would still probably get a kick out of playing while taking a shower. And THAT is how I ended up thinking about playing basketball in the shower when my dear wife got around to asking me what I was thinking about.

You can see how the mood might have altered if I had answered that question honestly. And chances are most men are thinking of something as equally random as that when they are asked “THE” question. You can now see why we almost always choose not to answer the question honestly.

Most men know that women want a feeling/emotion filled answer. The trouble is that most men rarely think that way. We would love nothing more than to listen while the woman talks about their feelings and leave us to our obscurely connected thoughts about a seemingly random topic instead of being slapped out of thoughts by a question about what we are thinking, which you really don’t want us to answer honestly.

As much as men would love for the “What are you thinking about?” question to never be asked again, we know it’s just not going to happen. I would, however, ask that you don’t question us when we give you a loaded answer; because even if it sounds loaded or rehearsed, it’s going to be sweeter, more endearing, and a hell of a lot less random than the truth.

Note: Should you ask a man “What are you thinking about?” and he responds with, “Nothing” or “I don’t know” please do not pursue it. Chances are they were so caught off guard that you sprained their brain a little and they need a little while to reboot. Just take the lead and tell them what you were thinking about and ask if they agree. Changes are they will and they will love you that much more for not publicly calling them on it and just letting it go.

Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: man rolling eyes, what are you thinking about, couple in bed, and man shrugging shoulders.

Ode to my ABBA Mom

by Richard Timothy | May 15, 2012 | My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid

Last Friday, as I was walking into work a co-worker was trailing a little behind me so I stopped and held the door open for him. As he walking up I noticed he was humming a little turn to himself. Thing that surprised me is that I recognized the tune. The man was humming ABBA, and ABBA always brings a smirk to my lips.

I don’t know about you, but anytime the Swedish pop sensation ABBA comes up in conversation, inevitably, apart from mentioning they were from Sweden, the topic of mothers always seems to come up as well . . . and occasionally gay men, depending on whom you are talking with. In the case of my co-worker, our conversation came around to topic of our ABBA moms.

Some of my favorite childhood memories of my mom are the times when we (my siblings and I) would either be playing a game, or watching television, or just lounging around the house and mom would walk over to the record player, shuffle thought the shelve of LPs, and the next thing we knew there she was, dancing around the living room to ABBA.

It’s one of my perfect childhood moments, where there was no denying how absolutely happy my mom was. Sometimes we’d clap and cheer her on, other times we’d join in and dance around the house with her. Occasionally in my teens when friends were over, I’d leave the room as fast as I could, embarrassed that she would dare embarrass me like that. Fortunately I out grew that phase, and now, it’s just a reminder of what a kick ass mom I have.

My co-worker and I came to the conclusion that there are really only three types of people on the planet:

Those who publicly love ABBA.
Those who secretly love ABBA, but keep it a secret from the world.
And those who have never heard ABBA so have not yet fallen into one of the first two categories.

For me, obviously I’m a fan and most of that credit goes to my dancing ABBA mom. Any mom that is willing to lip sync Take a Chance on Me to you while dancing around the house is definitely a pretty cool mom, and you should consider yourself lucky because you too have an ABBA mom. So, if you didn’t remind her of this this past Sunday on Mother’s Day, you should call her up this week and let her know, because let’s face it, she deserves to be reminded that she is truly a beloved dancing queen.