Shoulder to Shoulder No More!

Warning: If you are not interested in urinals, and how they are being used to humiliate men, stop reading now.

For those of you who have seen Pretty in Pink, you will doubtless remember a scene where the lovestruck Ducky Dale is thrown into the women's restroom by some tough-looking high schoolers. After the initial shock wears off, Ducky looks around and sees a "candy machine" and -- more importantly -- doors on the stalls. Ducky immediately becomes irate: "You got doors on the stalls? We ain't got none of this stuff in the boys' room!"

Although I shared Ducky's angst as a youngster, that issue has largely resolved itself; thankfully, most "grown up" men's rooms today do have doors on the stalls. (And as for the candy machines, big deal. I so rarely want candy when I'm in the bathroom.) But one wrong remains unremedied: urinals in close proximity to one another. That topic -- one that is unfortunately close to my heart -- came up today in carpool when Madd Dogg asked about it.

It was then, as I was telling Madd Dogg about my discomfort with being required to stand unreasonably close to another person while peeing, that I realized that we should not stand for it any longer. Do we not deserve the dignity of, oh I don't know, not having to rub shoulders with another person while engaging in one of life's top five most private things? Shouldn't we demand privacy barricades that actually provide privacy? (Hint to the manufacturers: If you can see over the barricade, chances are others can see over it too.) Or better yet, shouldn't we each get our own stall?

We must take action. We must stand shoulder to shoulder -- this time, outside the restroom -- and demand restroom dignity. Don't we owe it to the men who peed before us? Don't we owe it to good ol' Ducky Dale, who refused to leave the women's restroom and demanded to talk to the high school principal about the inequities of men's bathrooms? Vive la revolution!

[Photo by yewenyi]

Pet Profile: Houston

Each of us has a pet. Some of us have more than one. I think that I have the most, at four. Mumbles has the least, at like 1/2. More about that later....

This week's pet profile is on my dog, Houston. He is, of course, the most perfect dog in the world. We adopted him about two months ago from the Humane Society. He's a chocolate lab/Chesapeake Bay retriever mutt mix. As you can see from his pictures, he's dashing. Initially, he treated the car like the plague, but once it became associated with Burgerville (more on that below) and the dog park, all was well. I'm the softie/pushover mom, and his other mom attempts to be the hardass. And yet, when I went away for a night, I learned that he got to sleep on the bed. And tonight, when I left the room after being admonished for feeding him off my plate, I come back into the room to find mom #2 letting him lick the plate. Honestly. It's those eyes. We're helpless to defend against them...

More on Houston:

Favorite Toy: His hedgehog ("Hedgie"). See picture. He takes it everywhere with him.

Favorite sleeping spot: The bed. Of course.

Favorite food: Whatever his moms are eating.

Favorite activity: Chuck-It at the dog park. Or in the house. He doesn't care....

Favorite person: His grandma Joanie. She takes him through the Burgerville drive-thru for a plain burger.

What he's doing right now: Chewing on a cardboard box that has all my work in it. Cute!!

Who he voted for in the last election: Clinton. Hillary, that is. Our boy is so ahead of his time.

Three things he would take to a desert island: Matches. His hedgehog. And he's reserving the right to his third item until he gets to the island and sees what he needs. Or possibly the Bible (he thinks that's what he's supposed to say to get into Doggie Heaven).

Bunnies

I promise you all, this is the last I will speak on this subject.

Today, while three of the four members of the pool were on a lunch outing, the subject of "chicks" came up again. Chicks as in women... Fidget, god bless him, doesn't understand why referring to women as chicks is offensive to me, and thinks I'm being too hard on our dear Mumbles. His theory is that there has to be an underlying reason - whether it be sociological, historical, or whatever - that something is offensive. Merely asserting that the word is offensive is insufficient. So I inquired whether he knew, for instance, why those of us who are not complete bigots would all agree that calling a lesbian "word-that-rhymes-with-bike" is offensive? In other words, where does that word come from, how did it become to be associated with people like me, and how did it come to have such a derogatry meaning? Fidget didn't know, but agreed that that word is nevertheless offensive. So crumbles his theory...

Our conversation ended shortly after it began, thank god, but not before Fidget suggested another word to which we could refer to women. See photo at right.

Chicks

Poor Mumbles. He's probably sporting a small bruise on his arm, where I hit him the other day. But before you get the impression that I engage in random acts of violence, you should know the whole story. I hate, hate, hate it when people refer to women as chicks. Now granted, chicks - like these ones on the right- are really really cute. But seriously, come on. Women in no way resemble these things. In essence, to call a woman a chick is to equate us to what typically are young, undeveloped barnyard animals.

I've tried to explain this to Mumbles. Then, the other day, perhaps in an attempt to avoid my iron fist, he stopped short of calling a woman a chick. But, instead, he called a woman a "honey." Now, why referring to women as a product of a bee is better than referring to women a barnyard animal is beyond me. I banned him from calling women that too. But apparently I've been less than clear in my distaste for those terms, because yesterday he resorted back to "chick," resulting in the bruise on his arm. Sorry 'bout that, Mumbles.

Is it so hard just to use the phrase "women"?? I suggested that, if he must, he could come up with a whole new term to refer to us. I recommended Joans of Arc. I'll keep you posted on what he manages to come up with....or how many more bruises he insists on collecting.

NEWS FLASH. . . . . .

. . .this just in from the SfZ:CT newswire. . .

"Madd Dogg quotes. . .yes. . .Madd Dogg quotes Top Gun." Let's go to the coorespondence in the field to learn more about this breaking story.

"Yes, despite all her eye-rolling and groaning anytime someone in the 'pool merely mentioned Top Gun, let alone quoted a line or two, we at Searching for Zentra: Carpool Tales (SfZ: CT) newswire have learned that Madd Dogg quoted Top Gun without the normal implict disapproval normally associated with the movie."

"SfZ:CT newswire has obtained the incriminating e-mail chain, which has Madd Dogg telling Mumbles quote: 'we'd be your wingman anyway (Top Gun speak for hell if I know what).' We are also told that both Fidget and Sparky were copied on the e-mail."

"We thought about contacting Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr., the writers of Top Gun, for comment on this wild phenomneon, but figured they were too busy colloborating on the script for the much anticipated sequel. Suffice it to say that the rest of 'pool was very surprised as demonstrated by the following exchange that was caught on tape:

Madd Dogg: Good morning, gentlemen, the temperature is 110 degrees.

Mumbles: Holy sh#*t, it's Madd Dogg!

Sparky: Madd Dogg's up here, great. . . oh sh#*t. . .

Fidget: Great, she's probably saying, "Holy sh#*t, it's Fidget, Sparky, and
Mumbles."

Sparky: Yeah, I'm sure she's saying that.

photo from wikipedia

Here's your carrot...

In a comment to one of my Suri watch postings, "just passing by" suggested that I should use "less stick, more carrot" to entice Mumbles and Sparky to post on the site. That, of course, assumes that they exist. But just in case, Mumbles, Sparky, if you're out there, here's your locally grown, organic carrot. (I tried to put the picture in the post, but blogspot isn't letting me do it).

But I've started to think, Mumbles and Sparky don't strike me as big "carrot" people. In fact, I know for a fact that Sparky would be much more enticed by this. And Mumbles? Well, I think he would be 2% more likely to post by this. We'll find out! 27 days and counting...

And what kind of name is "Lita" anyway?

We rarely listen to the radio in the carpool. But yesterday, Madd Dogg and I (the only poolies in the carpool that day) ran out of things to talk about near the end of the ride, so Madd Dogg turned the radio on. After frantically pushing her "preset" buttons in the manner of a shorthand court reporter, she finally settled on 107.5. That station's choice of songs for that particular moment -- Lita Ford's Kiss Me Deadly.

I remember that song from the 80's, but I had never before really listened (really listened) to the lyrics. The introductory lyric is, I'm embarrassed to repeat, the following:

I went to a party last Saturday night,
I didn't get laid, I got in a fight, uh huh . . .
it ain't no big thing.

O-kaaay. So, Lita, we've got some questions. First of all, what kind of party was this that you attended? Was it a get-laid-or-fight party? Couldn't you be content with just showing up at the party, drinking a beer or two, and having a piece of the Subway party sandwich like the rest of us? Was a promise of sex and fighting on the invitation? Or did you just decide going in that, "I will either have sex at this party, or by God, I will fight"? Also, did you get into this fight because you didn't get laid, or was the fight completely unrelated?

And what about this fight? Who won? Do you have any cuts or bruises as a result? Your nonchalant line "it ain't no big thing" makes it look like you fight all the time. Is that true? And why is it not a big thing? Are you saying that fighting is no big deal? Or are you saying that, given the choice of getting laid or fighting, you could pretty much take either?

Lita, your song is troubling -- both because it leaves so many questions unanswered, and because it was popular enough to be a hit that, some 20 years later, is still on the radio. Maybe the vague nature of your song is what has given it the staying power that it so richly enjoys.

[Photo by Kevin Trotman]

Vote Early, Vote Often

The Sparky and Mumbles "Suri Watch" is at 23 days. And still nary a post from either of those poolies. I don't think that Madd Dogg or I have wanted to admit it, but it is quite possible that those guys simply don't exist. Maybe we have multiple personalities, like Sally Field in Sybil or John Cusack in Identity.

Help us out. Are we unstable?

Do Sparky and Mumbles Exist?
	Yes, they are just flaky as hell.
	No, you guys are seriously losing it.
	Hmm. I don't really give a crap.
Free polls from Pollhost.com

21 DAYS AND COUNTING....

Yep, we're at three full weeks now. It's entirely possible that Fidget and I played a game of tennis all by ourselves. We'd never know, since Mumbles and Sparky have yet to make an official appearance here. Tom Cruise's kids (the ones with Nicole Kidman) weren't photographed until they were 1 and 3, respectively. We may very well be faced with similar odds here.

And, hot off the presses, assuming without deciding that Sparky exists outside of the imaginations of Fidget and I, he may have said that he is the type of person that, when faced with an ongoing countdown of how long it takes him to post something, he's likely to wait just that much longer. If only to piss me off.

Results (and Awards) Show!

I have in my hand the results of the 2006 Carpool Tennis Smackdown Challenge (CTSC) (see Post "Smackdown," July 10, 2006). But unlike Ryan Seacrest -- who undoubtedly would go to commercial break, like, 12 times before finally revealing the winner with a confusing double negative -- I’m just going to come right out with it:

The winners of the 2006 CTSC were Sparky and me (Fidget). But the match was, by no means, a lopsided affair. In fact, the teams were pretty well matched. The final score: 6-4 in the first set, 7-5 in the second).

Because I was voted the carpool member most likely to post the results -- and let’s face it, you all knew it wasn’t going to be Sparky or Mumbles (see Post “19 Days and Counting,” July 13, 2006) -- I took it upon myself to designate some awards:

Most Consistent Player: Madd Dogg. She managed to hit more first serves in than anyone else on the court. And she double faulted only after she made a point of saying that she had not yet double faulted. (Isn’t that always the way it goes?)

Best Actor: Mumbles, in the role of Wimp Writhing in Pain on the Court. One of Fidget’s only decent volleys was directed at Mumbles's feet. After the ball hit him in the ankle, he dropped his racquet, fell to ground with a dramatic flourish, and grabbed his ankle in "pain." He would do well in World Cup Soccer.

Best Motivator: Sparky. With encouraging, yet vague, statements like “High percentage, high percentage,” he is the clear winner of this award. But if that weren’t enough, his patronizing quip to Mumbles -- “What, is your wuss gland flaring up?” -- would definitely seal the deal.

Best Oreo Bringer: This one goes to me. I brought a package of Double Stuff Oreos. We learned that the ordinarily waxy filling tastes really good after the package has been sitting in the sun for awhile. Mmmm.

Most Anti-Climactic Moment: During one hard-fought rally, Sparky sent the ball high in the air, but not deep enough. Mumbles, his eyes as big as saucers, stepped up to bash the ball into Fidget’s forehead. Instead, his leg cramped and he fell down. The ball bounced harmlessly into the net.

22 hours and 10 minutes

Well, Madd Dogg's vow of cussing silence has been effectively taken out back and put out of its misery. Although she was not in the carpool today, I received a call from her at 4:12pm; she was in her car on her cell phone. The conversation was as follows:

Fidget: Hello?
Madd Dogg: F*ck! F*ck!
Fidget: What happened?
Madd Dogg: I just called a fire truck a "bitch ass"!

Are we glad that Madd Dogg is back to her old surly self?

Sh*t yes.

--------------------------
ADDENDUM: Pursuant to Madd Dogg's comment (July 15, 2006), I must correct one misstatement. She did not call a fire truck a "bitch ass"; rather, she directed that pejorative at a city bus. My mistake.
--Fidget

19 days and counting...

Has anyone else been following the Suri watch? For those of you less versed in pop culture than I, Suri is Tom Cruise's and Kate Holmes' new baby. She almost 3 months old, but people are mystified because no one has actually seen her in public. Some speculate it's simply the couple adhereing to the ways of Scientology, I think it's more just two people wanting, and deserving, some privacy for their child. So, due to the lack of a public coming out for little Suri, some trashy news source started counting how many days it has been since Suri's birth. Presumably, the countdown will stop once she's finally seen in public...

We here in the carpool have our own Suri. Two of them, actually. Anybody who reads this blog on a regular basis may note that Fidget and I are the only two who have ever posted anything. Sure, someone named "Sparky" has commented to one of our posts a time or two, but has never created a post himself. And Mumbles. Who's Mumbles?? He has yet to appear on the website at all, except in Fidget's posts. Perhaps some of you probably think that Fidget and I are actually only a two person carpool, but that we have made up alternate egos to keep ourselves busy during long commutes. Entirely possible, but until Sparky and Mumbles come out and make an appearance, you'll never know. So herein begins the counting of days until they post...19 days and counting... (the 19 days is arbitrary, but I can't remember when we actually started the blog. about 19 days ago).

Madd Dogg Attempts to Shed "Firecracker" Image

I don't care what Tipper Gore says. Cuss words are ok with me. And they used to be ok with Madd Dogg. But today, Madd Dogg learned that her foul language had, in part, contributed to her image as a "firecracker" in the mind of at least one person whom she had never met.

Madd Dogg wasn't angry when she learned about her image. But she did seem genuinely surprised that someone would think of her as a firecracker. And Madd Dogg's surprise was, in turn, genuinely surprising to the rest of the carpool (and probably anyone who knows her).

At any rate, Madd Dogg decided that, by golly, she was going to stop swearing as of 6:02pm today. And her definition of swearing is truly ambitious. In addition to all of the ordinary cuss words -- e.g., those pertaining to genitalia, poop, pee, and female dogs -- she also vowed not to say several words that parents now let their four-year-olds say -- e.g., damn, Hell, Jesus Christ, and God.

Now if you know Madd Dogg, you immediately understand that this just cannot work. (I mean, really, can a fish live without water?) But, hey, who are we to get in the way of self-improvement? And more importantly, won't it be fun to watch Madd Dogg cringe and try to keep mum when George Bush comes on the radio?

I give her until 8:08 am tomorrow. . .

[Photo by happy via]

Vocabulary

You may recall that, in yesterday's post, I unilaterally dubbed Madd Dogg "the acerbic" -- at least for purposes of the upcoming Smackdown Tennis Tournament. As it turns out, Madd Dogg is not such a big fan of being called "the acerbic." Oh, let me be clear: She doesn't object because of a belief that she is not acerbic; she just doesn't know what the word "acerbic" means.

In subsequent questioning about why Madd Dogg didn't just get a dictionary and look the word up, Madd Dogg was acting very sour toward me. She was suddenly harsh. One might even have described her temper as severe. Oh, I don't know. Maybe she's not acerbic after all.

In related news, Madd Dogg jabbed me in the back of the neck with Mumbles's emergency divining rod (in case he ever gets stuck in the desert). Because Madd Dogg was in the back seat at the time, I had to reach back to defend myself. Well, big friggin' surprise, the divining rod broke. Mumbles said that I was 51% to blame, and that Madd Dogg was only 49% to blame. Sparky (my tennis buddy) leapt to my defense, but to no avail. (No sweat, Sparky. We'll just have to take it out on them at Saturday's Smackdown.)

At any rate, Madd Dogg did not know what a divining rod was either. Sheesh. Well, Madd Dogg, here you go: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Divining_rod.

(DISCLAIMER: Madd Dogg is, in truth, a smart cookie. It must simply be dumb luck that, in the span of one day, we came across the only two words/phrases that she doesn't know).

[Photo by raemin]

Smackdown

I think it's fair to say that we in the carpool talk a fair amount of smack. Usually, the smack-talk revolves around the intellectual, or at least, the non-athletic. It's not that we wouldn't enjoy ripping on each others' athletic prowess, it's just that we don't have a sufficient basis for doing so. We don't often get the chance to see other carpool members in any sort of physical activity that doesn't include sitting, steering, and occasionally using a turn signal.

Well that's all about to change. Because on the way home today the carpool decided, by unanimous vote, that on Saturday morning we are going to drop our car keys, pick up our rackets, and "get our tennis on." Ladies and gentlemen, the carpool gives you (pregnant pause):

The 2006 Carpool Tennis Smackdown Challenge

That's right, we in the carpool are actually choosing to see each other outside of the usual 7-to-6:30 grind -- and on a Saturday, for crying out loud. As of now, the 2006 CTSC will feature Mumbles "the poser" and Madd Dogg "the acerbic" matched in a battle of wills against Sparky "the sarcastic" and Fidget "the angry." Please stay tuned for results. We shall see who steals defeat from the hands of certain victory!

[Photo by fotogiraffee]

Carpool Haircare Products

Summer traffic is back. With a vengence. Which means that we have even more time in the carpool to talk about inane subjects. Like haircare products. For the record, Mumbles uses a pomade that, when exposed to temperatues over 90 degrees, liquifies. Fidget admitted to using a wax, but then expressed concern that it made his hair too stiff. He had both Madd Dogg and Mumbles verify it wasn't so. Although Sparky was noticibly absent in carpool yesterday, we're pretty sure that he uses a gel of some sort, perhaps something like this. For her part, Madd Dogg uses a defining cream by Modern Organic Products. Fascinating, huh?

Sparky and Mumbles Earn Bragging Rights, Coffee

Don't ask me how we got on the topic, but yesterday's carpool ride carried with it a rousing discussion about the "master thespian," Sylvester Stallone. And here is how a seemingly innocuous topic like Sylvester Stallone ends up making Sparky and Mumbles one coffee richer, and Fidget (me) two coffees poorer (and a jackass to boot):

(1) Fidget mentions a "tid bit" that he once learned about Stallone, specifically, that Stallone wrote, directed, and starred in the movie Rocky.
(2) Sparky and Mumbles say that Fidget is full of crap; although they agree that Stallone starred in the movie, they challenge the notion that he wrote and directed it.
(3) Indignant, Fidget challenges both of them to a bet (one coffee each).
(4) Sparky accuses Fidget's "ego of writing checks that [his] body can't cash."
(5) Fidget debates whether that quote from Top Gun is even correct as a practical matter. (I mean, really, does a person's "body" ever cash a proverbial check that his or her "ego" has written? Or does someone else, like a payee or a bank, cash the check? Hmm.)
(6) Sparky and Mumbles accept Fidget's bet. (It is an "all or nothing bet" -- Fidget loses if he is wrong about any of the three allegations.)
(7) Fidget gets home, checks www.imdb.com, and . . .
(8). . . Fidget learns that, alas, although Stallone indeed wrote and starred in Rocky, he did not direct it. That honor went to John Avildsen. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075148/).
(9) Feeling like a jackass, Fidget says, "Crap."
(10) Fidget remembers why he should be barred from betting. But he is happy that Madd Dogg was not in the carpool, lest he owe three coffees.

[Photo by surplusparts]

Carpool Profile: Sparky

Sparky is 100% organic. He's made from reclaimed and recycled materials, without the use of pesticides. He operates entirely on renewable resources. He is energy efficient.

Although all of those characteristics sound pretty new fangled, don't be fooled. Sparky is also somewhat of a throwback. He's into lunch-counters and handkerchiefs. And he longs for the days of yore, when people could work out their differences with a good old-fashioned fistfight in the back alley, and then share a soda.

Nowadays, Sparky settles for verbal sparring. A true "contrarian," Sparky can argue any side of an issue, even one that you know (or at least strongly suspect) he disagrees with. Example: We once spent an entire carpool ride (about an hour) arguing about firearms -- me saying that they should be banned, and him saying that they were a necessary part of ordered liberty. It is Sparky's tendency toward such disputes -- especially with Madd Dogg -- that earns him the oft-repeated label of "jackass."

Sparky's most immutable trait, however, is his love of the underdog. In the carpool, Sparky is the great equalizer. If a carpool argument has tilted too heavily in one direction, Sparky will wake from his snoring slumber in the back seat and, without opening his eyes, defend the defeated. It's truly maddening if you were the one winning the argument; but if you were on the losing end, Sparky's rescuing feels damn good.

For all of Sparky's jackassed contrarianism, he is indisputably the guy who would stand by your side and help you face an oncoming horde of thugs. As the thugs approached, Sparky would roll up his sleeves and tell you, "Don't sweat it; we can take 'em." And the thing is, you'd believe him.