Weathering the proverbial storm

Well, since all of the other guys I "hired" to write on this blog have disappeared (or are spending their time shooting their resumes to other bloggers in hopes of landing one of those "paying" gigs), it appears as if you, dear readers, are stuck with me and my futile attempts at humor.

While I pride myself on a firm grasp of the vernacular (that's what she said), this job is quite a lot to handle for just one man. With the sudden surge in readership, I am physically unable to keep up with the demanding mob that has effectively stormed my email inbox. Between post requests, hate mail, and marraige proposals from modestly hot women (mainly convenience store cashiers), I find myself in need of a stiff drink in the mornings, just to be able to deal with the pressure. In addition, a budding addiction to Twizzlers and banana Laffy Taffy is making me more well-acquainted with my dentist than I ever desired (Sorry Dr. Miller, you're a nice guy, but I don't want to hang out with you anymore!). In short, life is not the same when you have responsibilities and a reputation to manage and uphold.

How will I "weather the proverbial storm" you ask? Simple - I will keep on keepin' on, despite the best efforts of "the man" we call life to bring me down. I am committed to bringing you, my cherished readers the best damn coverage anywhere of what goes on inside my brain. If, by chance, the others decide to grace us with their presence, I will welcome them back with open arms and empty pocketbook. This blog isn't, hasn't, and never will be about the money. It's the love of the game. I think that's why Michael Crabtree finally just signed with the 49ers after a long-ass holdout. The money didn't matter to that guy, he just wanted to play football. Just like me, I just want to blog. Groove on that.

Until next time, PEACE!

~Lucas

Emasculation Station?

While it's amazing how big a role confidence plays in the modern man's attempt to be manly, it's even more amazing how the simplest of circumstances can squeeze that confidence to down to a mushy pulp.

Say, just for example, you've just finished an awesome weekend of manly musical gigs in Omaha, and are preparing for a manly 12 hour overnight drive back to Cincinnati, where your manly football team has just won a manly victory, and you walk into a gas station (= manly) to make a manly purchase. Your confidence is at an all time high. And just for the heck of it, since it's our example, let's say your name is Lucas.

Strolling out of the store, you casually shove up against the door in a manly, cool manner. You have no real time for doors. Your normal walking motion is enough to reduce the door to a swinging pile of gelatinous rubble. But the door does not move. Why has the door suddenly become a more stalwart, powerful object than you? Ah, but you are pushing on the hinge side, where approximately 381 times the normal force is needed.

You find yourself in a quandary. Do you look like a pathetic weakling by throwing all of your apparently not-so-manly might into trying to slowly open that door on the hinge side, or do you make yourself look like the most blithering fool by stopping the door-opening process and restarting on the other side?

Whatever you decide, you can be sure that any opportunity you had to look like Mr. Coolguy McSmoothy-Pants has been shot to hell, and that modestly hot cashier will never go out with you now. Every person in the station and beyond (since it's a glass door) can see your fruitless struggle to open a door that you're pretty sure a pregnant woman half your size just walked through without a thought. The battle has already been lost.

For my part, I choose to look the weakling instead of the fool and continue my hinge-side pushing until blood vessels burst in my eyes. For your part, manly men of the world, attack these confidence mushers in the middle, where the hinges will not affect.

Or just kick that $#!+ open.