600 Subscribers. 200,000 Visits This Year.


TMuch to my dismay, this blog continues to grow.

And grow.

It now has over 600 subscribers.

It will also have close to 200,000 visitors this calendar year.

These really bored people will visit close to 275,000 pages of mediocre to inept blog entries.

Who knew there was such an audience for matters dealing with education, the Evil Spawn, and Buddy the Dog?

Who knew there were so many people who had so much free time?

Now, if I could just convince each visitor to pay me a dollar a visit, I could retire.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

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Are You Thankful?


The Evil Spawn is.

She has a list of 25 items for which she is thankful.

I’m happy to say I made the list.what are you thankful for

Right underneath…

Mom.

Buddy the Dog.

Food.  Water.  Air (the girl has her priorities).

Chocolate.

iPads.

Her teacher.

Coats (?).

Friends.

Art.

Softball and basketball.

Dogs.

Beagles (evidently, not covered under the categories of “Dogs” or “Buddy the Dog”).

Pokeman (it’s a phase I won’t miss).

Earth (fair enough).

4-H.

Flip-flop socks. (What are those?)

Color (?).

Creativity.

Desserts.

Computers.

And the woman who answers questions on my iPhone, Siri.

And finally, last but not least, her dad.

I guess I should be thankful I made the top 25.

It would have been discouraging if I got bumped out by “Coats”.

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January is Over. Seriously?


 

How is it possible that January is gone?  Where did it go?

I need more than 31 days to get used to writing 2010 on my checks.  Never mind, I don’t use checks anymore… it’s 2010.

It’s been 67 days since Thanksgiving.   37 days since Christmas.

This amazes me.Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock...

And saddens me.

It’s been 164 days since my school year started (which means the countdown is on and we may just make it… and this doesn’t sadden me).

All of this is hard to believe.

There’s never enough time.  And the time I have goes way too fast (i.e. weekends).

When I was a kid, time went so much slower.

A math teacher explained this concept to me.  When I was 8 years old, every year was 1/8 of my life.  Now that I’m 42, every year is 1/42 of my life.

That means at the age of 8 each year accounted for 12.5% of my total life.  Now each year accounts for 2.4% of my life.

Time is going more quickly because it is a smaller percentage of my lifetime.

I’m no mathematician, but this is only going to get worse (when and if I’m 80 years old, each year will be 1.25% of my life).

This math story problem makes me feel old.

It’s amazing that it’s been 15,467 days since I was born, so I guess technically I am old.

The good news is I will never be younger than I am today.

Either way I look at it (or use the calculator to figure it), I realize I really need to be more productive on a daily basis.

The clock is ticking.

Faster every year.

 

“Time is an illusion.  Lunchtime doubly so.” – Douglas Adams.

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Holiday Stress.


It’s December.  Which means we are in the middle of another jam-packed holiday season.

This sounds like a good thing.I Need a Vacation.  And Not to Disney.

It’s not.

I’m not saying the holidays are bad, just busy.  Way too busy.

When I was a kid, Thanksgiving and Christmas constituted the most exciting time of the year.

The anticipation.  The gifts (even the socks and underwear).  Snow.  Time off from school.

It was great.

It was a nice change of pace from the rest of the hectic year.

Today, holidays mean a lack of sleep and not enough room on my Google calendar (I don’t really have a Google calendar but I’m trying to make a point and promote technology use in schools all at the same time).

Each year, around the 20th of November I know my time is no longer my time.

It is merely a block of minutes in which I’m required to be somewhere doing something with some people.

These people come in all shapes and sizes.  Friends, co-workers, relatives, and acquaintances.

And other people you may want to rain blows down upon (everyone who emails me an explanation of this line wins… nothing).

Now before you email me about my Bah, Humbug spirit (with the word Scrooge in the subject line), hear me out.

The time between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day is filled with the following:
 

Thanksgiving dinners (2)

Christmas Parties (1… I’m really not that popular)

Christmas Parade

Winter Concerts (2)

Christmas Program at church (2)

Christmas Gift Openings (3)

Christmas dinner

Girl Scouts (2)

Requests for Fundraising Donations (1 gazillion)

School board meeting

Basketball practice (2)

Basketball games (5 or more)

Wife’s workshops (5)

Vacation to Disneyland or world (thankfully only 1… I just don’t know which one we are visiting)

A 5k

Piano Lessons (7)

Dog walks (75… Buddy drinks way too much water)

Presentations (4)

Meetings (more than I can count)

Interviews (1 … again, not that popular)

Blogs (10 at least)

Naps (0… or 1 if I’m lucky)

Holiday lunches at school (2)

Emails (over 1,000… really)

Shopping (actually I don’t shop, so scratch this one)

 

These are just the things I could remember without looking at my non-Google calendar.  I didn’t even mention the getting fat from too much food and too little exercise.

If I get a free second and I sit down to watch TV, all I see are commercials where beautiful people are giving each other gifts that I know they can’t afford in real life.

My point is the holidays aren’t really holidays.

At least they aren’t as peaceful and restful as I think they should be.

I’m not sure what the answer is, but there has to be a better way.

**Note from “the wife”…  I DO have a Google calendar and promote technology use in the schools.  I am what you call the real deal… and according to that aforementioned calendar, I too am overbooked!

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Maybe It’s Not the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. But It Should Be.


It’s that time of year.

The honeymoon is over.

The fat lady hasn’t sung, but she is warming up (is this an insult to fat or skinny people??).

If you work at a school it’s very likely that your patience is getting shorter, shorter, and/or gone.

We’re a long way away from the happiness the beginning of school brings and an even longer way from the next sweet sweet summer vacation.

It’s too early to start the year-end countdown (although I’m willing to bet each and every reader can name the person in their school that will start the countdown… usually by January 1) and it’s too late to remember how restful last summer was.Do You Ever Feel Like You're Getting Buried.

Each year fall arrives and brings a special feeling I like to call “I’ve Got to Find a New Job” or “I Hate Everyone Shorter Than 4’10”” or “I Should Have Been a ________________ (fill in your dream occupation here).”

This feeling is so recognizable.

It has an unmistakable look.  A sort of fake smile (or grimace).  There’s also an overall brooding.

This time of year, every school has employees who absolutely hate their job, their class, their school, and anything resembling a child.  It’s like every family has a crazy person (and if you think your family doesn’t… that means it’s you).

In general, teachers are tired.  They are beginning to feel like they are getting buried.

To compound the problem, parents have also had it.

And Principals need a vacation.

Notice I didn’t mention students.  That’s because they aren’t infected with this feeling, but they are carriers.

If the general malaise of the school year isn’t bad enough, we have two major catastrophes headed our way (and I use the word catastrophe in the best possible way).

The holidays and testing.

Thanksgiving, Christmas and Festivus (and any other holidays you may or may not celebrate) ruin November and December (I use ruin in the nicest way possible).

Actually the holidays aren’t so bad, but the music stinks (I hate those holiday songs… every last one of them).

Testing gives us all a giant noogie around March and April (I use giant noogie instead of a kick in the …).

These events (and 20 more just like them) are exhausting.

There is no other way to say it… working in education is flat-out tiring.

People who have regular jobs don’t understand this.  They get less time off than we do, so it’s hard to relate to our working conditions.

Educating students is draining.

That being said, I think we can often be our own worst enemy.  It’s easy to fall into the trap where we think our jobs are harder and more stressful than any other profession.

They aren’t.

Being an educator is hard.  It’s just not that hard.

Lawyers, doctors, trash collectors, waitresses, construction workers, welders and everyone else (if they are lucky enough to be employed in this day and age) also have difficult jobs.

It’s not just us.

It’s not just our class.

It’s not just our school.

It’s not just this year’s parents.

Shockingly, it’s not even the administrators (at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).

All jobs, when done correctly are difficult, time-consuming and tiring.

Teaching (or anything in education) is no different.

I don’t think we are wrong in pointing out the challenges we face.  I just think we are wrong when we throw ourselves a pity party.

Maybe this year’s class is more difficult than usual.

Maybe they don’t listen or aren’t as respectful as they should be.  Our job(s) is to make them better.  At least a little better before we send them on to their next grade level (if we send them on… and if they are really bad… they are so getting sent on…).

Administrators face some of the same challenges.  Maybe our employees aren’t all perfect.  Our job is to help them improve.

If it was easy, everybody would go into education.

And we don’t want that.

Because if that happens, they just might figure out how good we really have it.

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I’m Not Sure I Want to Work for a Magazine That Will Hire Me.


In the last few weeks, I’ve been writing more blogs about a subject that makes my skin crawl.

Me.

I feel sick just thinking about it (I was going to say I just threw up in my mouth… but that’s just gross and has no place in a family friendly blog).

People (high-powered, very influential corporate types that I’m not at liberty to name… mainly because they are neither high-powered nor influential) tell me that I need to reap some benefits from my work here at PrincipalsPage.com.

Under their extremely complicated marketing plan, I need to turn the tremendous amount of traffic this Blog doesn’t have into name recognition.

Step 2 is to take this name recognition and cash it in (I must admit, I do like cash… and free t-shirts… hint, hint…).

To accomplish this, I have to self-promote. This involves writing blogs about my experiences as I travel, speak, or get interviewed.

This marketing strategy brings up a couple of questions.Converge Magazine Headquarters????

One, instead of name recognition wouldn’t a nap be more fulfilling?

And two… actually I don’t have a second question.

Frankly, I am too tired to come up with anything which means I could really use a nap.

Writing the Blog has become strange to me. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I feel like I’m an employee of the Blog.

A caretaker if you will.

Which is why I go out of my way not to anger the Blog.

I need this writing gig… actually I don’t. Especially since the income it provides me is somewhere between Jack and Squat.

Then it happened.

I started writing (as always the thought of me “writing” cracks me up and embarrasses every English teacher I ever had) for the suits at Converge Magazine.

Technically it’s not the actual magazine but their website (I’m at the card table at the Converge Family Thanksgiving dinner).

A few months ago I sent a nasty hate filled email to the suits at Converge demanding they address my contract situation.

I envision the suits sitting in their corner offices in big leather chairs smoking cigars as they decide the future of the magazine and the peons who blog for them.

For some reason, I think they all have mustaches.

And drive Corvettes.

And wear thick gold chains from the 70’s.

But who knows since I have been banned from the Converge Campus (you see, I also daydream they have a big glass building that sits high upon a hill on 15-acres where they can look down and crush all the little people… or maybe I just had too much pepperoni pizza for dinner last night…).

Back to my mean spirited email.

Which if I’m being honest, I forgot I sent.

And it wasn’t actually angry or mean-spirited.

It was really more of an off-handed smart aleck comment (go figure). I didn’t give it a second thought after I sent it.

Low and behold, the suits put their cigars down just long enough to get back to me.

Much to my surprise, they have offered to pay an insane amount for my weekly blogs.

Through a series of highly dramatic emails, we negotiated a salary that is much higher than I could have ever imagined (technically two emails… they offered… and I accepted).

They are now paying me 10 times what they were (since I was getting $0, you can do the math).

While getting paid is nice, it has occurred to me this opens up a whole new set of problems.

I now get paid to write (or whatever you call it).

I’m in the same profession as John Grisham, Stephen King and J.K. Rowling (except they write books… and sell them… and have a little thing I like to call talent… other than that, we are exactly the same).

While the cash is nice (didn’t they know they could have had me with a free t-shirt?) it does bring added pressure.

Being a “highly” paid blogger is bound to be stressful.

What if the suits start demanding quality instead of just quantity?

What if they proofread what I write (?) before they post it on their website?

What if they fire me when they discover I’m a no-talent sham?

Actually, what do I care?

If they fire me, I can write a blog ripping the out-of-touch suits and their crazy decision making.

I will certainly have a good case.

After all, they did hire me. So how good can is their judgment…really?

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A Pretty Girl Asked Me Out for Corn Dogs.


One of the Best Dates I've Ever Had.As I sit here on the day after Thanksgiving, I have a couple of thoughts.

One is that I need a bigger chair.

The second is that last piece of pumpkin pie was a bad idea. I feel like a bloated rotting hog that has been lying out in the sun for too long.

Too graphic? Sorry. I get cranky when I am too fat to fit in the shower.

Honestly, I am one more scoop of mashed potatoes away from needing a hand rail to successfully bathe.

Why?

Because I am going to have to sit down in the shower while the water pours over my humungous carcass (take away the c-a-r-c….). Eventually I am going to have to stand up.

It would be inappropriate to call 911, so the hand rail is a must.

I really need a glass of water and a small salad. A really small salad. And do they make diet water?

Why do I overeat on Thanksgiving? I know it is going to happen, yet my self-control fails me.

I am pathetic. And uncomfortable.

It got so bad that loosening my pants didn’t solve the problem. I was thinking long and hard about just taking them completely off (yet another reason to always wear clean underwear kids).

If I never eat again it will be too soon.

This got me thinking about the last meal I enjoyed when I still weighed less than a Ford Focus (you are welcome for the gratuitous plug Ford… I am doing my part to save the auto industry).

On Wednesday, I didn’t have school but my wife and daughter did.

There are some advantages to working in a different district than the rest of the family.

One, my daughter doesn’t have to hear my name used as a curse word on the playground.

Another is she can invite me to eat lunch with her when I have a day off.

At this point in her life she considers this fun. And so do I.

You would think that eating another school cafeteria corn dog would be the last thing I want to do on a day off, but in this case it is an honor and a privilege.

And one that won’t last forever.

I don’t know how much longer I have, but I am trying to milk it for all its worth before I get banned to Daddy Dork Land.

It’s coming. It’s just a matter of time. I can feel it.

Sure my corny jokes play well to a 2nd grade audience, but in a few years she will have to disown me.

I can’t blame her. She can’t afford to risk her social status by letting me show up at her middle school for lunch.

By then my best hope is she doesn’t tell her friends that her father was killed in a horrific coal mining accident. Or worse, she tells them she is a test tube baby (again, I apologize about the graphic nature of this particular blog… I am not myself as gravy courses through my veins).

I can live with dropping her off two blocks from school each morning, but I don’t want her to have to fake my death. Or lie about her conception.

Anyway, she let me eat with her and I even got a special bonus.

Yes, I was a proud recipient of a very public kiss and hug (I can feel these slipping away…).

So while I have been on lots of hot dates (not really), I think I will always remember when a pretty girl asked me out for corn dogs on a special lunch date.

And I might add. Pineapple, corn, and my choice of white or chocolate milk.

I felt like a prince.

Soon, I will be the frog.

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As God as my Witness, I Thought Turkeys Could Fly.


Thanksgiving has arrived.

This is my effort at writing the annual Thanksgiving themed blog (and of course by annual, I mean just this once).

The title of the blog comes from one of my favorite episodes of WKRP in Cincinnati (it was good to be raised by the television). If you haven’t seen it, you should. Note to Self:  Turkeys Can't Fly.

The short version of the story is the radio station gives away turkeys by throwing them out of a helicopter. Needless to say, they plummeted to their deaths.

As we head towards the holiday season, I continue to be perplexed on how time flies by so quickly (especially on weekends). I think the only way to get the world to slow down is have the principal place the worst kid in school in your class.

Then time stops.

If fact, time may actually go backwards depending on the student in question’s level of obnoxiousness.

And by student I mean future felon. Why is it teachers always think the worst kid in school is going to end up in prison? They can’t all end up doing hard time.

But that is a discussion for another blog. Back to the time issue.

My memory isn’t what it used to be, but the last thing I knew it was August 10th.

Summer was winding down and we were getting ready for the start of school. It’s easy to remember the date because each summer there is a certain sense of dread that overcomes me right around that time.

As usual, school began, then I glanced up and we were dismissing early on the day before Thanksgiving break.

Yet another school year is flying by. This always happens, but this year seems to be moving at an unusually fast pace.

Maybe it is my advancing age.

This little fun fact was pointed out to me the other day when a junior high student asked me if I would still be working at the school when he graduated from high school.

I said sure. As far as I know, I am not planning on leaving (unless of course you have heard something, and in that case please email me).

He responded by saying no, he meant would I retire before he graduated?

I am 41.

Or in junior high years… evidently 107.

Whatever. One day, if all goes well, he will need me to sign his diploma. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.

But I don’t want to get bogged down with the challenges of trying to evade the Grim Reaper in the hallway.

It is the holiday season and I think it is important to stop and take a moment (and maybe a nap) to recognize the things I am thankful for.

Here is my list (feel free to add your own):

Summers off
No school on Saturdays (unless you are bad)
Holidays
Early dismissal on the day before a holiday break
Food in the lounge
The fact that teachers can’t smoke in the lounge
Juniors and Seniors (mainly, because the students in question are no longer Freshman or Sophomores)
Copy machines
Graduation (see: Seniors)
NCLB (before this, what did we complain… I mean talk… about? The lounge must have been awfully quiet in those days)
Kindergarten students and their tiny little desks and chairs
Free t-shirts (coaches and ex-coaches never grow tired of getting the free t-shirts), Recess
Snow days (the occasional one, not too many)
Lunch (particularly corn dogs or chili)
A paycheck/job (in these times we all need to be appreciative)
And technology of any kind

There you have it. Everything that I am thankful for.

Oh yeah. And students, teachers, staff, and families.

And the fact that certain students give me at least a 50/50 chance of living until their graduation… which may happen in 5 years (I haven’t decided if I will let them or not).

Which are better odds than I would give a turkey to seeing Friday.

At least I have that going for me.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

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You Can’t Just Hand a Microphone to Anybody.


I spent my weekend at a convention. Actually, I shouldn’t use the word weekend because that implies restful time away from my job.

But all is not lost as Thanksgiving Break is right around the corner. And I might add that it comes at a perfect time.

It was a stroke of genius when our early settlers decided that schools needed to take time off in late November.Not the Microphone from School... but This One is Pretty Cool.

As a kid, I had no idea that the Pilgrims were so well-versed on the academic calendar. I thought they were simply people who looked good in hats, enjoyed big meals, and loved their football (and by football, I don’t mean the Detroit Lions).

While I am tired, I did learn a few things at the convention.

I learned that I miss my bed, refrigerator, and shower.

In the past I have talked about the horrors of hotels, so I won’t bore you with the details of sleeping in a bed that has previously been “occupied” by thousands of strangers (I am sure some were more strange than others, but I try not to focus on that little tidbit of information).

But missing my refrigerator and shower are different. These are issues that need to be addressed.

I mean I really missed them.

It amazes me that people can eat out all the time. After a couple of days, I find myself just wanting an apple or a sandwich. Or 27 Oreos, but that discussion is for a different day.

Also, the showers in hotel rooms continue to be a riddle to me. Why do they always run out of hot water? Don’t hotels realize a large number of guests will be bathing between 6:00 and 8:00 a.m.?

It is like they are surprised. Like we snuck up on them. They must know we are all going to wake up at some point and wander into the bathroom.

But, these are minor inconveniences as I attended the convention to learn. Specifically, I was hopeful to pick up some new information about technology for my school.

It didn’t happen, but I feel like I did my part. I showed up. Which for a lot of convention attendees seems to be a challenge.

Educators always say they want to go to conventions and then once they arrive they work so hard at not attending workshops. Why is that?

Maybe they should hold these events in North Dakota instead of nicer places (let the emails from North Dakota commence…).

Actually, I wish the presenters had showed up.

Actually, that is a little harsh. They were there and they did their best.

It’s just that they presented the same information I have heard over and over for the last few years.

Our students are farther advanced in technology than adults. Educators should allow cell phones in schools because they are mini-computers. We should use Skype because it is free (we do and yes it is). Schools need to be proactive, not reactive to changes in technology.

I get it.

Enough already.

I need tips or strategies to implement technology and not the same old rehashed PowerPoint presentation with 187 slides (by the way… I can read, so you don’t have to pronounce every word on every single slide for me).

If I seem angry that is because I am (see: not sleeping in own bed and haven’t had a decent cookie in days not to mention the dodging of so many PowerPoint bullets).

I know we are falling behind with technology in schools, but now I am convinced we may be falling behind in presenters.

Just because someone is willing to talk into a microphone doesn’t mean we should allow them (see: President George Bush… let the emails from North Dakota Republicans commence…).

Not everyone talking into a microphone is an expert.

Point in case: a new principal handing the mic to a sophomore on the football team during a prep rally. Bad idea.

Really bad idea.

I would like to comment further on this, but once again a court order prevents me.

Same goes for presenters. We need to be more careful as to whom we allow to use the microphone.

Just because someone has a snappy title for the presentation, doesn’t mean their information is timely and high quality.

Could it be possible they are just there to pad their resumes? Which for the record, I am all for… just not on my time (note to self… update resume on someone else’s time).

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for their efforts because I am sure they spent a great deal of time putting their PowerPoint together (after all 187 slides just don’t just write themselves… especially if each one has 97 words in a really small font…did I mention the bullets?).

Plus, they had to spend several minutes downloading the “Did You Know” video off of YouTube.

Great video, but is there anyone involved in education who hasn’t seen it? And by seen it, I mean at least 10 times.

I think we have to be more particular to whom we listen regarding issues in education.

If we aren’t careful, soon everyone will have a platform. People will be just throwing out ideas with no rhyme or reason.

Trust me, this could get bad.

The government will start coming up with half thought ideas about testing, administrators will begin to think that their every thought is ingenious, and maybe… just maybe people will start up their own blogs just to shove their ideas down our throats.

These people will believe they are experts just because they have an audience.

I am not sure I like where this is heading.

But oh well, I have problems of my own.

I have a blog to finish, then I need to wrap up a PowerPoint.

Only 186 slides to go.

I am thinking about using lots of clip art, hundreds of bullets, and a bunch of transition sounds.

Wait a second.

It just occurred to me. I’m an expert.

I may need business cards and a manager.

And of course, I am going to need a microphone.

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Thanksgiving is Over, TV Stinks, and I Have a Man Crush.


Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs.Now that Thanksgiving is over, I thought I would watch some TV. Turns out there is nothing on, because television stinks.

What other industry in the last 20 years has grown and diversified like television, but has steadily gotten worse?

I think we were all better off back in 1980 when I was a kid. We lived in the country and had a TV antenna that provided us with four television stations. Of course this could change if it was raining, then we might pick up additional stations or have none at all- it was a roll of the dice.

Maybe I am getting old and cranky (who am I kidding?….maybe?… more like definitely), but I think TV was better when we had less choices.

I have no idea what is on TV tonight, but I can still remember what was on when I was 12 or 13. That would have been somewhere around 1979 or 1980 (please feel free to check and see if my memory is as good as I want to believe it is- although I can never find my truck keys or remember what day of the month it is).

On Sundays, I watched Disney’s Wonderful World, Chips, and Trapper John M.D. I would have preferred staring at Charlie’s Angels, but my mom considered that pornography. She was right, but I would have still loved to have a Farrah Fawcett poster or t-shirt (for you youngsters- she was hot before bad plastic surgery and the insanity set in).

Mondays were all about That’s Incredible and Monday Night Football. Where have you gone John Davidson and Fran Tarkenton? The football game was a huge deal, because this was before you could watch 20 pro and college games every week on TV.

Arguably, Tuesdays were the best television night of the week. Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, and Three’s Company (funny and rude, although I didn’t get the rude part back then- evidently my mom didn’t get it either or this would have also been considered pornographic).

Wednesdays brought us Eight is Enough or Real People, Different Strokes, and Facts of Life (this was before all the kids on these shows were on drugs). As I got older, I would also watch Vegas or Quincy (Quincy was old, grouchy, and cool- he was CSI before Grissom).

Thursdays were the next best thing after Tuesdays. Our viewing choices were Mork and Mindy, Bosom Buddies, and Magnum P.I. (man those guys were cool- although in retrospect, Magnum’s shorts could also be considered pornographic).

Four words sum up Fridays- The Dukes of Hazzard. Magnum was cool, but couldn’t hold a candle to Bo and Luke. They gave country boys the hope that they too could be cool (all we needed was a fast car and some flannel shirts- scratch that we already had the flannel). Plus they had Daisy and that in combination with puberty was a recipe for disaster. It is my understanding that “Daisy Duke” in French means- pornographic.

Saturday was Barbara Mandrell and her less talented sisters (dad controlled the TV on Saturdays). Don’t even get me started on Hee Haw (Sunday nights I think- maybe that is why I still dread Sunday nights- this is like therapy).

Back then TV had fewer choices, but I think it was so much better. When you went to school everyone had watched the same thing, so we all had that in common. Maybe having 500 stations isn’t such a great idea.

HD is nice, but it doesn’t make a bad show any better.

Now that I am older and have all of these stations to watch, I have no idea what is on.

The only day I even feel the need to watch is on “Man”day’s (that is Monday for those of you who don’t live in my house). Prison Break, Heroes, and 24 are the only shows I have to watch. Except for…

my friend, my pal, my hero, my man crush- Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs. If he is on, I am watching. If you have no idea who I am talking about, you have my condolences on the sad and pathetic life you are stumbling through.

Mike Rowe is a hunk of man candy and without a doubt a genius. He goes around the country helping regular people do their terrible, often unappreciated jobs and he gets paid (I am guessing a lot) for it.

I wish he was my neighbor, but it is probably for the best that he isn’t. I would stalk him and he would probably never be home anyway.

There are a ton of bad jobs out there for him to shadow. And as long as there continues to be 500 stations with nothing on, there will always be a place for Mr. Rowe.

And with my luck, my next neighbor will be Mr. Roper or Ralph Furley.

Please feel free to Google: John Davidson, Fran Tarkenton, Mike Rowe, Mr. Roper, Ralph Furley, or any other pathetic 80’s or TV references that I have made. I am sure you won’t be alone. Please don’t Google pornography on my time. Thank You.

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