So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

If my wife and I take up smoking pot, then we will officially become hippies. We have already given up meat. Well, at least for Lent. Yes, my wife and I are using the most holy of Catholic seasons as a “trial run” to figure out whether or not we can give up meat on a full-time basis. After all, Jesus hated meat. (He was mostly a bread and fish kind of guy…ba, dum, ching!) Almost two weeks into our endeavor, I am fairly certain that we can do this, sporadic hankerings for a bacon double cheeseburger notwithstanding. Actually, that sounds pretty good. I am not sure if we can do this. Let me also say that the news of our quest has been met with increased skepticism, and much hatred. Upon hearing that we are aiming to become vegetarians, people that we otherwise believe to love and trust us have reacted as if we pooped in the trunk of their car, and didn’t tell them for two weeks. “What?!…Why?!” I am fairly certain that people’s disdain for our meatlessness has less to do with their concer

I have not yet written about college basketball this year, and I’ve only had the opportunity to watch a few games here and there. With March Madness on the immediate horizon, and with every sports fan in the nation cramming to learn about as many teams as possible heading into their office pool, I would not want to come across as an expert in the field, or even, OF the field. However, please let it be known that before I got married, I would consistently stay up to watch the midnight games on ESPN, and there was nothing you could tell me about the WAC Conference, or any other conference for that matter, that I didn’t already know. Now, most of the college ball I get to see is during commercial breaks of random reality television shows where people I’ve never heard of are dancing, or ice skating, or trying to lose two pounds in the span of seven weeks. That said, I’ve brought in an expert to consult us all on this year’s NCAA Tournament – the one and only Dick Vitale! Dick is extremely

Today I am going back to Old Navy to return a pair of pants. I am not exactly sure what compelled me to purchase these pants in the first place, besides the fact they were on the sale rack and were technically my size. But they are tight. They are very tight. They are extremely tight. They are also khakis, and when I initially tried them on at home, I am fairly certain that, to an imaginary person who was standing 20 feet away, I would have appeared as someone who was not wearing any pants at all, and who was also naturally hairless with no genitalia. I can tell within a nanosecond of trying on pants whether or not they are going to be too tight, which makes the fact that I don’t just try them on in the store all the more inexplicable. But I hate trying on pants in stores. It strips away at the remnants of my masculinity. In fact, not too long ago, while in Kohl’s, my wife made me try on pants, and accidentally sent me to the women’s dressing room. You would think that would be impossi