My Wife The Exponent

The Over-Due Online Ode To My Wife, The Exponent

Today’s our third wedding anniversary.  Do you know how many times I have thought the thought “She is beautiful”?  More than I can count, and I can count pretty high.  It’s an astronomically high number.  The thought occurs with great frequency.

But do you know how often I’ve said it?  Almost zero by comparison.  Infinitesimally Small.  The Number of Times I’ve Thought The Thought divided by The Number of Times I’ve Said It Out Loud is so small, it would undoubtedly return #DIV/0! in the Spreadsheet Of Our Life.

I can admit this due to three facts:  A) She is, in fact, beautiful, and knows that I’m thinking it constantly; 2) I am completely & unequivocally exactly the type of nerd who writes blog entries containing references to Life as a spreadsheet; and D) neither one of us enjoy Carrot Top.

There are, however, other maths on which I would like to pontificate, if the reader will so oblige.  Ahem.

Me + Her = Balance.

Me – Her = Lost Soul/Puppy/Boy, depending on my mood/haircut.

Me / Her = Less Than Half, and the Worse Half.

Me x Her = We Had A Baby.

But Me ^ Her = Best Of All Possible Members of the Set {Me}.  I am who I am today because of her (well, okay, the haircut is totally my bad).

She’s my exponent.

Happy Anniversary to my beautiful wife.  I love you, and I’m so happy we’ve created our little family & we get to put down some Nerd roots.

First Official Burger & Trampoline DaY

Note the Twitter above. I don’t know what it is about the day right before a long weekend, but I ALWAYS wanna play hookie or somehow make that day go away. The last day of my high-school career, I wore a plastic grass skirt & sandals and flirted with girls I never even see any more. The last day of class in college, I took a flask of Uncle Jaeger with me and flirted with professors I only see on occasion.

Today’s not even the last day of anything. It’s just the day right before I get to have a three-day weekend & take a break from this exceptionally long project I’ve been working on. And a three-day weekend isn’t even all that exciting – it’s no Christmas in July, it’s not Thanksgiving weekend, it isn’t even a day off to go take motorcycle lessons in South SF (best birthday gift ever, given to me by the lovely Wyf; slightly outranks the awesome screenplay softward I got from her stepmom and the new man-purse my Mom & sister got me. Dad got me Bose headphones I’m just not sure about yet, but don’t tell him that.)

So that means today is special in some way but for no good reason. What I really want to do today, instead of wrap up a few loose ends on one part of this Project That Won’t Die, is to spend the day jumping on a trampoline and then eat a really huge Garbage Burger. Nothing else. I don’t wanna feel productive, I don’t wanna catch up on the phone with my friends, I didn’t even want to blog. Bouncing on a huge rubber table and clogging my arteries while simultaneously pleasuring the buds o’ taste. That’s all I want. (Note: I think our arteries and our buds o’ taste are in a constant feud; they may even be arch-nemeses. Which reminds me that I don’t even want to check “Meet arch-nemesis” off of my to-do list today.)

Because I don’t know WHY this day feels like it should be special but it can’t be, and because I don’t know WHY I only want to bounce around & fiend on animal carcass, the two are inextricably and undeniably linked. That can only mean that, when these forces combine, they are… Burger & Trampoline Day! July 3rd, 2008. First official one. Aren’t you glad you were here? T-shirts to come shortly. No, for reelz. I’m designing them and then taking them to Mingle to have them printed. But not today.

You might be thinking that, by the time I’ve designed, printed & purchased these shirts, there will be at least 350 days until the next B&T Day. Ahh, but that’s what makes this holiday so special – it happens five times a year!

1) The day before Memorial Day weekend starts.
2) July 3rd. (Red Dot = You Are Here)
3) The day before Labor Day weekend starts.
4) The day before Thanksgiving Weekend starts.
5) The day before Christmas Holidays start.

AND, this is a holiday for the masses. While it will officially go down in the record books as Burger & Trampoline Day (because I said so; First-sies!), you can make this holiday anything you want. You pick one non-productive activity, and one cardiac-arresting type of food (unless your non-productive activity is eating, then pick as many as you want), and that’s ALL YOU DO THAT DAY.

It makes you feel special, but you didn’t need a card or flowers or a present or a stuffed bird (unless you want one) to make you feel that way. All you needed was Official Endorsement of your impulse to Slack (with a capital S, because Capitals Are Under-Utilized. EspeciallY capital Y’s, because theY alwaYs look so excited to be here.)

Consider this your Endorsement Capital E. HappY Burger & Trampoline DaY, everYbodY.

Happy 21st Postday, Blog!

Yeah, alright, I don’t have anything particularly deep (or ostentatious) to write about today, so I picked a title that’s self-promoting. (Surprise!) Here’s a little birthday card I’d write to my blog, now that it’s old enough to drink.

Dear Wyltie,

Happy frikkin‘ 21st dude. Know it felt like a long time coming, but I hope it’s worth it. Remember when you turned 18 and you thought it was gonna be SO GREAT to be able to buy porn & cigarettes? Then you realized the Internet doesn’t check ID, and buying cigarettes is like lighting perfectly good money (for porn) on fire, then swallowing the ashes so that your lungs still get that tar-coated freshness & youth-destroying cancer. Well, turning 21 and being able to legally buy alcohol (and ALMOST rent a car! can you believe you’re almost old enough to be able to RENT a CAR!?) will be a let-down too. It’s the same scenario really, except wasting money (for porn) by swallowing it (on fire or not) & getting a little tipsy may actually get you laid, which means it wasn’t wasting porn money at all – it may actually be a smart investment.

Here’s a little tip your Great Uncle Roger passed along: buy alcohol for your friends, especially the female ones – assuming you’re not going free-agent over to the other team – because buying alcohol for just yourself is like buying yourself TWO plane tickets to Paradise just for a little extra leg & elbow room. You’ve got your ticket, you’re in your seat just waiting to, er, lift off, but you need a companion for the flight if you really wanna explore the destination. And who makes the best travel companion? A drunk chick.

So Happy 21st Postday, Wyltie. It’s been great watching you become the blog that you are, and I know that you’ll do great things. You’ve got pithiness, verbosity, AND hesitant self-promotional tendencies laced with codependent guilt complexes. A chip off the old writer’s block. (rimshot)

Take ‘er Easy From Behind,

N. Bitouine-Herrbreasts

You Suck

You suck because you can’t keep up with anything that requires daily attention unless there’s some sort of external motivation. You told yourself for MONTHS that the next time you started blogging, you would do it DAILY, even if for twenty seconds. You fell down after, what, like 3 days? Seriously. You suck.


Celebrate the failures.

Learn anything yet?