My New Year’s Resolution for 2009: Be Less Fat.



I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but 2008 is just about over. It doesn’t seem possible that another year has left us (time to do the taxes again and my last dental appointment was in 2008… crap).

Just yesterday it was 1999 and I was in our basement stockpiling water, guns, Twinkies, and beef jerky. The next thing I know (after noticing Y2K was yet another shame by the government) another decade is coming to a close.

Actually that last sentence is a lie.

Not a big one, the usual smaller type of lie with which I used to move along the plot of the blog (I am sure there is some sort of “official” English term for this, but my knowledge in that area is limited at best).

When I was stockpiling survival items, we couldn’t afford a basement. But basement is way funnier than small closet in the 2nd bedroom/computer room/storage area of a small apartment (just for the record, we thought we were living large).

So the end of a year can only mean one thing.

It’s time to make a resolution. Like everyone else in the world, I will undoubtedly keep this resolution for the entire year.

It’s time to make myself a better person.

Sure, I could do this on any day of the year, but to make it official I must wait until December 31.

My motivation for resoluting seems to be at its highest when college football bowl games are on (don’t ask me why, it’s just the way it works… and yes, I know resoluting isn’t a word, so save your emails).

Since I only have this one shot at improving myself, I really need to focus.

Why do I do this? Why do I feel such a need to make myself better? Why do I put myself through such torture?

Because. Just because.

It’s the American way. Everyone has to make a New Year’s Resolution. If you don’t make one, you are a complete failure as a human being.

You are a loser. I hate to use such harsh language, but it’s true.

Yes I am talking to you, loser not making a resolution.

If you don’t make one, it’s like you are snubbing the rest of us. Like you are so perfect, there is nothing that you need to change about yourself.

And don’t forget it’s the law. I read that somewhere.

This would explain why Americans are so focused on making resolutions. It will be on the news, in the papers, all over the internet, and even in moderately read blogs (I would name such a blog, but I can’t think of one off the top of my head).

And you know if it’s on the internet, it has to be true.

When I make a resolution, I try to commit myself to something that I have a snowballs chance of actually doing.

One year it was to sleep more. Check.

One year it was to take up smoking. Check. Although that didn’t last long.

One year it was to eat fewer vegetables. Check.

One year it was to watch more television. I don’t mean to brag, but I nailed that one (got off to a fast start on January 1 and never looked back).

This year will be no different. The only question is to which resolution shall I commit?

I toyed with the idea of reading more, pursuing a doctorate, writing an intelligent blog, or possibly volunteering at a nursing home.

Let’s not kid ourselves. All of these are well beyond my reach.

So I have settled on the tried and true.

My resolution for 2009 is to be less fat.

I am guaranteeing that on December 31, 2009, I will weigh less than I do today.

Why? Because I don’t want to end up being that guy on the Discovery Channel who needs an intervention and a chainsaw (the chainsaw is to cut a huge hole in the side of my house so that they can roll me into the yard).

Plus, who likes bedsores?

You may be asking yourself, how much weight will he lose? 10 pounds? 20 pounds? Or even 50 pounds?

Let’s not get crazy.

We are talking less fat, not a lot less fat.

The official number is at least 1 pound.

Sure it sounds like an unreachable goal, but I can do it. Even if it takes running an extra 3 yards each day. Or another 15 seconds on the exercise bike. Or possibly, cutting down to 12 Oreos per serving instead of the tried and true 13.

Just so this is an honest and fair competition (and please remember, there will be no wagering… unless you are feeling brave), my official weight today is 188.5.

So at the end of 2009, I will weigh at least 1 pound less.

This resolution will be like all of my others…an unbridled success.

And you know it’s true because you read it on the internet.

If you want to join me on the Resolution Train 2009, feel free. It’s wide enough for all of us.

Have a good and prosperous new year. If you need me I will be in the weight room.

Or at McDonald’s (getting my two Quarter Pounders, super-sized fries, chocolate sundae and small Diet Coke… after all, I have to watch what I eat).

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My Job as a Dad: Less Presents, More Opportunities.



One of my main concerns is being a good dad.

I have come to realize that I only have these responsibilities for another 11 years. After that she is society’s problem.

Actually, I hope she is never a problem.

Hope is the key word here.

Time will tell how I have done at my part of the job as a parent (by my calculations I am responsible for 37.98% of the child rearing… the rest is all mom).

I only get one shot at this.

From learning to ride a bike, to hitting a softball, to keeping her room clean, to clearing the dinner table, to boys (ugh… I think I just threw up in my mouth), to changing a flat tire… the list is long of things I have to teach her.

I have no previous experience in raising a young lady. No qualifications. I didn’t take any classes to learn the skills of fatherhood. I haven’t passed any sort of standardized test. And I am not even required to have a license.

The state makes me buy a fishing license every year. But when it comes to raising a child, they just turned me loose. However, putting a worm on a hook and throwing it into a pond…. that takes $10 and two forms of ID.

Even with this lack of experience, my hope is she doesn’t grow up being a complete mess.

And I don’t mind saying, so far so good.

She will be turning 8 this spring and has never been convicted of a felony. Key word here, convicted.

And she doesn’t have any tattoos. That you can see.

By all accounts, my child rearing skills have to be rated at least average.

As a father, my original plan was to look back at my childhood for guidance on how to raise her.

But, I decided that might not be the best idea.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining about how I grew up. It was great.

I just want better for her.

Isn’t that what makes a successful society? Our kids (our replacements) being better than us. If we are being honest, they are already smarter.

I have settled on a plan that is focused on giving her opportunities. Not gifts. Not money. Not stuff. Just the chance to see and do many different things.

Lots of things.

All sorts of things.

Sports, movies, books, museums, travel, piano, skiing, swimming, playing pool, going to historical sites, crafting, exercise, politics, and this list also goes on and on.

Most of these activities don’t cost a lot of money, just time.

My master plan includes exposing her to different things and all kinds of people. With these experiences she will be in a better position to figure out what she loves.

Then maybe she can help make society better, not worse. And hopefully, at the same time she finds happiness.

And with that I will consider her successful. And me a slightly above average dad.

But who knows. Like all parents, you get one shot per child and you hope for the best

Truth be told, I don’t have a plan.

I am just winging it.

And counting on mom.

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The Meanest Kid in School is Almost Always a Girl.

This is a Mean Looking Girl.A big part of being a school administrator is working with students. Unfortunately, it isn’t always the biggest part (see: staff and parents and assorted other dramas… mostly involving bathrooms), but it plays a large role.

The majority of time that you get to spend with students involves working with them on discipline problems.

I say working with them because it isn’t just about handing out discipline. I think this is a common misnomer of new principals.

Often times you aren’t just handing out punishment, but guiding students through the process of how they can make better decisions (and when they have mastered this skill they will stop interrupting the principal’s lunch hour… it’s a win-win).

For me, teaching these skills is easily the most rewarding part of my job.

The other day I was reminded of a situation where I had the “opportunity” to help a young lady in a discipline matter.

If you have spent any time reading this blog (and shame on you if you have), you may have noticed that I don’t write about students or teachers with whom I presently work (see: Legal Department).

You may also have noticed that I have to be reminded of many of my stories (see: I am aging at a rapid rate).

That is the conundrum of getting older. On one hand you have lots of experiences that make for good stories, but on the other you can’t remember many of them (unless reminded or you have a flashback).

This particular situation came rushing back to me when the young lady in question asked me about it.

The conversation started with “Do you remember that time when you suspended me…?” As you can imagine, after a few years in administration you get this question a lot.

And as usual, I had to respond by saying “I kind of remember…” (translation…I have no idea what you are talking about… and it is quite possible that I have no idea who you are).

What is a big ordeal to a student is a small blip in a busy career of an administrator.

Former students can recite situations word for word while I am lucky to remember even bits and pieces of it.

The shortened version of the story: This girl was going to beat up another girl. And she felt confident enough to scream this fact down a hallway for all to hear.

Simple enough.

Except with girls it is never simple.

When this young lady arrived in my office she was angry. On an Angry Scale of 1-10, I would say she was about a 47.

My job was to figure out why she was angry. Easy enough. Even a rookie principal could simply ask her “Why so angry?”

Being more of a veteran principal, I also wanted to add “Why are you crying, shaking, talking so fast, and is there any chance you may beat me to death with my stapler?”

But if you have spent any time around teenage girls, you know there is really no reason to antagonize.

I stuck to the basics of trying to find out about the anger.

It turns out she was upset with the other young lady for flirting with her former boyfriend.

You see, the happy couple broke up 8 months before she made her appearance in my office. She hated him. With a passion. Not even a love/hate thing. She really hated him and had shared that with me on numerous occasions.

Knowing this, my next question was why, if she had broken up with the young man and hated him, was she upset with the other girl.

The answer was obvious. How I overlooked it, I will never know.

Evidently, the young lady about to get pummeled flirted with the former boyfriend two years ago at the county fair.

There you have it. She was going to beat up another girl in the hallway, all because she flirted with a boy (two summers ago) whom she now hates and refuses to be in the same room.

It’s the classic story of girl dates boy, another girl flirts with boy at county fair, first girl break up with boy, and then comes back to annihilate second girl in high school bathroom two years later.

I have seen it a thousand times.

The moral of this story is if you want a successful career as a school administrator, don’t worry about disciplining boys. That is pretty straightforward. One throws a punch. They wrestle. Fight is over. Boys shake hands. Friends for life.

Girls aren’t that simple. You might even say complicated.

Fear the girls. They are scary. And mean. And they come with long memories.

One last piece of advice. Never leave your stapler on top of your desk. Always keep it in a drawer.

It’s for your own safety.

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The Oil Change Guy Wants My Job.

This Guy Has His Eye on my Job.  And He Could Do It.I got the oil changed in my truck this morning.

Yes, as a real man I know my way around the dealership.

This is what a manly man does. He drives his vehicle across town and waits patiently in the lobby as someone fixes his truck. And just to prove that I can multi-task, I watched the Today Show as the project was being completed.

Who says all of the good ones are gone, ladies?

Something struck me as I waited. I overheard a couple of employees talking about their upcoming vacations.

At first I was a little confused as I wondered how long they were shutting down the car lot.

I felt badly because I assumed they had to close because of the economy.

Were they closing for a week? Two weeks? A month? Forever?

That wasn’t it at all.

They were simply talking about being off for the next day and a half. That’s their vacation.

And they were excited. Really excited.

They get off today, Christmas Eve, at noon. And they don’t have to return to work until 7:30 am on December 26.

A whole day and a half. Did I mention they are thrilled?

It reminded me that my dad used to be the same way. When you work 6 days a week all year long, a short vacation is valued and appreciated.

And here I am just beginning two entire weeks off, in the middle of the school year, with days that don’t even count against my regular vacation days.

Did I mention we just got back from Thanksgiving Break?

As an added bonus, we were off 3 days in a row for snow last week. Plus, on most days I am off work at 4 o’clock.

How excited would the guy who changes my oil be if he had my schedule?

And more importantly, I question my own appreciation of my schedule and career.

As an educator, I sometimes think we spend too much time wallowing in our own self pity about how hard we work, how little we get paid, and how parents don’t respect us.

Working in a school is far from perfect, but on the other hand I don’t come across a lot of people who are in a hurry to change careers.

I am 100% sure that I wouldn’t switch jobs with the guys at the dealership (mainly because I am incapable), but I am fairly certain they would like to have my job.

If they are this excited about a day and a half off, how excited would they be with my schedule?

So on this Christmas Eve please take a moment to be thankful that as educators, you have the ENTIRE day off (plus at least another week) to spend with your families.

On second thought I am counting the days until I can get back on my much needed regular schedule.

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An Open Letter to Superintendents and Principals: You Should Blog.

Blogging... It's the Wave of the Future.Superintendents and Principals should blog.

Well that is not exactly what I mean. Plus I feel like I am repeating myself.

They don’t have to necessarily blog, but they do need to keep up with the technological times.

It is almost 2009 after all.

You can’t be a leader in education without leading. And you can’t lead by using pencil and paper when everyone behind you is Twittering. Or Plurking. Or doing 50 other things that I don’t completely understand (yet… I am working on it slowly but surely).

How can we expect students and teachers to stay current, when we are set in our ways?

If we don’t want to get outside of our comfort zone, how can we expect others to tackle the changes and challenges in technology?

How can we make financial judgments on what is good for the school district when we don’t understand the tools being purchased?

How can we tell technology directors that have to block certain websites when we have no idea what the sites are and why they are being used?

How can we let ourselves be considered old, out of date, out of touch, closed minded, and well just really old?

Aren’t we risking looking ignorant when we stand up in front of teachers and say we expect them to use technology?

And then we don’t?

Aren’t we risking looking even more ignorant when we evaluate teachers on using technology and yet we struggle with email?

Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying every administrator should be a tech geek (a term that I use with love, not with judgment …after all, my wife is the biggest geek I know, and I love her dearly… yes, she wrote the last 15 words).

I am saying that we need to put in the time to advance ourselves if we want everyone around us to be taking these same small steps.

In Open Letter Part 2 (or the Deuce as the hip kids will surely call it), I will tackle the sure fire excuses that administrators will send me (if they email): I’m too busy, if I had a blog no one would read it, I don’t want my thoughts on that internet thingy, and of course the very popular Blah.. blah… blah… blah… blah… blah.

This is a big subject, so I can’t change the administrative mindset myself. This is going to take all of us.

And just one blog won’t cut it. I may be looking at a series here. Possibly even a manifesto.

But I have time. Lots and lots of time.

And cold hard cash. Actually, this part is a lie. I have don’t have a lot of money, just a bunch of change in my desk drawer (mostly pennies).

But I am willing to spend it if I have to. Although I don’t really want to because that is my morning chocolate milk money.

So I will stick to logic.

And if that doesn’t work, I will move on to Phase 2… guilt. And if that doesn’t do the trick, I may invest in frickin’ sharks with frickin’ laser beams attached to their frickin’ heads (I do love Dr. Evil from Austin Powers).

So it starts here.

Bombard your administrator with this first blog (in what may become an ongoing series… unless of course I get distracted but some other issue).

We can change them. We must change them. We have to do it for the kids.

Wow, I just had an Obama moment there.

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The Snow Day Has Violated Me.

Snow Days Used to be so Peaceful.The glorious snow day used to be an all day celebration of sleeping in, overeating, watching bad TV, and taking at least 3 coma-like naps.

Now it is dead to me.

I can’t look at it, speak of it, or think about it.

I have been crossed and jilted for the last time. I feel dirty and used. I am not going to lie, I could use a shower.

You see, I used to be in charge of our snow day schedule.

I decided what time we rolled over in bed and turned on the television. I decided that we finally needed to shower around 4 in the afternoon. I even helped make the traditional dinner of freshly baked brownies covered by vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup (aka: a Hot and Cold Treat… if you haven’t tried it, you should).

As a snow day came to an end, I would decide when we needed to put our belly aches to bed. Often times it was around 7:30 pm (you can’t nap that long while mixing in bowls and bowls of junk food without getting stomach cramps…and the only thing that will fix stomach cramps is 12 straight hours of shut-eye).

Now these powers that I cherished for so long have been ripped away from me.

Ruling the snow day was my last bastion of power.

My reign is over.

The one I helped create has tossed me aside like a piece of trash.

My daughter is now in charge.

It started yesterday when she woke up shortly after 9:00 am. Within 2 minutes of crawling out of bed and making her way to the couch, she announced “I’m bored.”

I should have recognized that by making this statement she was insane, but I didn’t.

The look in her eyes should have told me I was dealing with a full blown case of the crazies, but admittedly I am a little slow on the uptake.

I compounded my mistake by engaging her in conversation.

I simply should have walked away, but I didn’t.

Being the genius I am, I asked what she wanted to do.

She certainly has lots of options: TV, Wii, books, coloring, crafting, going outside, playing games on the computer… the list goes on and on.

Of course all of these are boring. She is living the life I could have only dreamed of, but 2 minutes into a snow day she is bored out of her mind. Must have been nothing to watch on the 842 TV stations that I provide for her.

Her solution. Have a friend over.


Did she just say what I think she said?

Having loser friends over is not on the list of pre-approved, very quiet and restful snow day activities. What happened to watching Regis? Or more importantly, watching Kelly? Or spending an hour catching up on the sad an pathetic life of an 80’s hair band?

Did they all waste their money on cheap beer and cold women (or vice versa)?

I thought we had an understanding in this house.

All of a sudden it is like the Wild West. Every man and child fighting for the snow day power.

What was wrong with bad TV, naps, and Hot and Cold Treats? We had a system. I though everyone was happy. And by everyone, of course I mean me.

But, it gets worse.

In her crazy power grab, she decided that 1 friend running/screaming around our house wasn’t annoying enough. She needed 2 friends to help her break out of her abyss of boredom.

This is a child who revels in the fact that she doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. She doesn’t want one because they might touch her stuff or change the channel as she watches the same SpongeBob episode for the 57th time.

And yet, she wants friends over all the time.

This doesn’t seem fair to me.

At least if they were my kids I could punish them. Or smack them upside the head when their mother wasn’t looking.

Needless to say she won this battle. And now that I think about it, every other battle.

So this became my snow day.

Dodging three 2nd graders who spent 6 straights hours of running and screaming. And screaming and running.

Most of the time they weren’t even running after each other or screaming for a reason. Just indescribable movement and noise.

I don’t mind admitting that my ears are sore.

The sad part: I am paid good money at school to keep hundreds of children under control.

Rule #1 – no running and no screaming.
Rule #2 – see Rule #1

Yet at my house these simple rules are mocked. And I am in charge of nothing.

So my lifelong friend the snow day has left me forever. Or at least until my daughter and renegade friends leave for college.

In the meantime, I hope we have school tomorrow. I need the peace and quiet.

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Being a School Administrator Means You May be Too Tired to Nap.

That's One Tired Principal.It is the perfect storm of tired.

Everything is falling into place at just the wrong time.

I am behind on my to-do list at work. The semester ends in two days. I also have a school board meeting to attend and a basketball game to supervise.

And school was called off today because of icy roads.

This means I have been up since 4:00 a.m. That is the middle of the night in case you are wondering.

Meanwhile, my wife and daughter just rolled out of bed. It is 9:00. That is in the middle of the day in case you are wondering.

Did I mention my wife got a call from her school which was also cancelled? Since I was up, I took the message.

I went into the bedroom to let her know since she has to call the next teacher on the list. She instructed me to go get the phone tree, bring it back with the phone, and make sure I don’t turn on the light.

Which made me ask, how will I see to read her the phone number in the dark? Being a quick thinker she had a solution.

Go into the kitchen, turn on the light and then tell me the number.

I am pretty sure this is a form of spousal abuse. To check, I have added “Call lawyer about sleepy and mean wife” to my list of things I need to get done by Friday.

Odds are I will never get that far down the list.

All of this makes me tired.

But yet I don’t need a nap.

I need something, but not a nap.

Maybe some exercise. No, I already did that (see: up since 4:00 a.m.).

Maybe some time off would help. No, I have today off and that is just adding to my tiredstressness (yes, I know it isn’t a word… save your emails).

I guess there is just never enough hours in the day or weeks in the semester.

In the next few days, I will have to be caught up whether I like it or not.

This part of the school year is going to end, with or without my permission.

Worst case, I get rested over winter vacation and I am a little behind starting 2nd semester.

Actually, worst case is I finally get a nap in and my wife calls her lawyer while I am asleep.

I hope she is nice enough not to turn on the light.

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Can Kids Be Too Busy?

Can They Be Too Busy?  Or Does It Keep Them Out of Trouble?My wife said she had a dream last night. The good news was it was about me (I am pretty sure she doesn’t tell me about her “other” dreams).

The bad news is she said I was old in the dream. Really old. Like age-spots on my big forehead old.

I wonder if I was wearing my pants really high in the dream. I don’t care what anyone says, that it a good look.

Anyway, I had only one thought when she told me about the dream.

No kidding.

I think she missed her calling. She should have been a detective.

I guess she has been staring at her laptop and SMARTBoard for so long that she hadn’t noticed that I AM old.

I would like to point out that since I met her she has aged the same number of years, but since I still can’t cook, I will keep that information to myself.

This did get me to thinking.

Another year is almost gone. While I have mentioned this before, I am still amazed by how quickly the years are flying.

The calendar year flies…as does the school year…summer vacation…and most of all, the weekends.

As we head towards the end of the year, I am faced with the fact that my daughter is also getting older.

While she is 7, she maintains a social calendar of a 20 year old (except for the parties, tattoos, and piercings… knock on wood… seriously, everyone reading this knock on wood).

She doesn’t have much time for me.

If I want her to clean her room, I have to contact someone she likes to call “her people”.

It used to be that I only needed to ask her 30 seconds before I left the house if she wanted to tag along with me. Every trip was fun for her. Games, trips to the gas station, or going to the store.

Now when I ask, she says “I need to check my schedule.”

In the last year she has played on 3 soccer teams, a softball team, participated in Girl Scouts, started piano lessons, taken 3 vacations, gone to science camp, learned to swim, played golf, watched about 18,000 hours of Nickelodeon, read roughly 100 books, attended a dozen sleepovers, and joined a choir which practices once a week.

Last night she barely had time to teach me how to use my new Blackberry Storm.

And oh yea. She goes to school.

Which means there is homework at least 4 nights a week.

Sometimes I wonder if she is too busy. I am torn between encouraging her to participate in everything that interests her and making her slow down.

I have always felt like kids who keep busy, don’t have time to get in trouble.

But I also don’t want her to look back on her childhood and feel like she didn’t have any free time for herself.

I’m torn.

I’ve also thought that my job isn’t being a school administrator, but it is giving her as many opportunities as I can so she can be successful.

When she is older.

And I am actually really old (again, knocking on wood is appropriate).

But is it possible that she can be too busy?

Or that I won’t look good in high water polyester pants hiked up to my nipples?

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Nothing Good Happens After Midnight.

Even This Wolf Should Be Home.I was reminded of this saying last night when one of our smoke detectors starting beeping… every 45 seconds… every 45 seconds… every 45 seconds…

… until I dragged my big tired behind out of bed and pulled the battery out. The official time was 3:53 a.m.

I tried to wait it out until someone else got up and fixed it, but no one seemed concerned that the house might be on fire (my reaction was the same when I heard the baby cry… ride it out and act like you’re asleep).

Did I mention that I had to get dressed, go out into the cold garage, and bring in a 10 foot step ladder?

By the end of this little construction project, I was wide awake.

What a lovely way to start my Sunday. What happened to the days when I could sleep in? What happened to the days when I didn’t own a smoke detector?

Another question: Why do smoke alarms only need new batteries in the middle of the night? They never seem to go bad in the afternoon.

This annoying, slightly exhausting experience reminded me of what my dad used to say when I was a teenager.

“Nothing good happens after midnight.”

It’s true.

In this case and in every other.

Seldom has anything productive or positive happened after the hands on the clock say 12:00 a.m. (or if you are younger than 25… when the digital clock on your cell phone reads 12:00 am).

I believe more parents should keep this in mind. Especially, as their kids grow older and demand more freedom. The first thing young people ask for are longer hours to be with their friends (and a Wii, cell phone, mp3 players, a car, and everything else expensive and electronic).

Too often, teenagers (and sadly, even younger kids) find themselves in complicated situations that seem to always happen in the middle of the night.

Usually these events occur well after they should be home. And compounding the problem, these kids are generally completely unsupervised by clear thinking adults.

You rarely pick up a newspaper and read that a young person (or worse, a group) has gotten themselves into trouble between the hours of 5:00 a.m. and 10:00 p.m. (or read about it online, as it is 2008)

These things always happen way later than what should be considered a reasonable hour for a child to be out.

And often it is after midnight.

So the next time a curfew is set, I hope someone remembers the advice that I got and didn’t want.

Nothing good happens after midnight.

Actually, that isn’t true. One good thing can happen.

The teenager can grow up and have their own smoke alarms to worry about.

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You Don’t Own a TV? What’s All Your Furniture Pointed At?

Sadly, this isn’t my quote. I wish it was. It would be nice to be this witty.

It came from that man genius Joey Tribbiani on an episode of Friends (and Tweeted by Scott Elias, an assistant principal in Northern Colorado… good luck on that doctorate degree).

Actually, I guess Joey didn’t really come up with it. Or Scott. It was undoubtedly from a writer on the show.No TV?  That's Crazy.

Most likely the writer in question was really skinny and quiet in school. I bet he (or she) wore black a lot, read a ton of books, and watched hours of TV. I am guessing he always got C’s and D’s in English. Every parent teacher conference likely ended with the teacher telling his parents… “If he would just apply himself.”

Some teachers may have even pegged him as a colossal failure. And look at him now. Living in Hollywood, writing for a hit TV show (although now possibly unemployed), and getting quoted in a major educational blog (yes, I mean this one…).

Turns out he was probably just bored in high school.

I have been thinking about hiring someone like this to ghost write my blog. Let’s be honest, they could certainly do a better job. Plus, it would free up some time for me (I am so behind on my naps).

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked how one becomes funny. What kind of question is that?

How do I know? And if I did, I am not sure I would have told them.

Seems to me this information could be valuable (as I write this, I am doing my best Dr. Evil laugh… mwahahahaha… which reminds me, I need a cat).

If I knew how to be funny, I might teach a class on it. Maybe start a website. Possibly even write a book or a blog. A guy needs paid after all.

Obviously this person who asked the question is not a reader of the blog. If he was he would certainly be asking someone else.

I don’t know what makes funny.

This conversation did get me to thinking.

Why are some people funny and others are not? Or is everyone funny, but we only recognize it if they share our sense of humor type?

Or are some people just cursed with a non-funny gene? Is it possible to go through life and be 100% non-funny? Maybe I should ask Carrot Top?

Should we take these people and teach them funny? Or should we drop them on an island out in the middle of nowhere (as if most islands aren’t in the middle of nowhere?) so they don’t drag the rest of us down?

I say this because I prefer students in school who are funny. There is just something about them that makes them interesting.

They seem to get it (and I have no idea what “it” is, but I recognize it when I see it).

These students are the ones that don’t take themselves too seriously.

The ones that can make a joke and more importantly take a joke.

The ones that aren’t offended by every little comment.

These are the ones that I look forward to seeing in the hallway.

It seems to me that with funny comes a smile and a positive attitude. You can’t really be depressed and funny.

I am willing to bet that funny people even make more money over the course of their careers than people who aren’t funny (mental note: do an elaborate study on funny and money).

Maybe we should add a Funny Class to the list of things that we teach kids in school. After all, we teach them how to drive a car, act appropriately, play sports and countless other things.

One more class on the schedule shouldn’t be a problem.

Especially if the students make us laugh.

Down the line this could benefit all of us.

We would have a much more productive and a happier society (and possibly graduates who make more money… I will let you know when the study is complete… or maybe Scott could do it for his doctorate??).

Maybe, just maybe one of these newly-educated students in funny will graduate and take over this blog?

And I could nap. Seems like a win-win to me.

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