25 Things I Wish I Could Say About Myself


A bunch of Facebook friends have tagged me on a survey in which they list 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about themselves. Recipients are asked to do the same. Never one to go with the crowd, here’s 25 random things I wish I could say about myself.

1. I completely respect and understand, and in no way think less of, Katie Bonk since she admitted to never having seen – or liking – Star Wars.

2. Matt McNaney stole my coding skills.

3. Before I make any major decision in life, I always ask myself, what would Chris Cannady do? (It’s never steered me wrong!)

4. I have never been jealous of Crispin Boyer and his, uh, “job” straight out of college – playing video games. Then writing about playing video games. For money. In Chicago. Near the United Center. During the Jordan era. What’s to envy?

5. Jay Jordan stole my dance moves.

6. I have plenty of time each day to accomplish everything I want to do. Just today I taught Gabby how to read, practiced a slant route with Gavin, got all the laundry done and read two books, all before lunch.

7. Adam Lindsay stole my three-point shot.

8. I never once … even for a sec .. desired attending any college other than Appalachian. Especially not any “blue” ones. Never. (I was just joking. Seriously. I was.)

9. Simon Cowell once complimented my singing.

10. I never associate Marla Rock with doughnuts.

11. Jeff Braun stole my fashion sense. (I never should have left my closet unlocked)

12. Trish Kemerly treasures the days she was my boss. I was a model employee.

13. Marie Freeman stole my shooter’s eye.

14. My tears can cure cancer. Too bad I never cry.

15. I’ve always been jealous of the birthday parties Carleen Talty Dender’s mother threw for her.

16. Greg Nazario stole my banana-pancake recipe.

17. I bankrupted the open bar at Christie and Brandon’s wedding.

18. I made good use of that guitar I once bought.

19. My Panther PSLs are on the 50, mid-lower level, but I spend most of my time in the box suite.

20. I once survived a torrid love affair with Jodie Foster. I refer to it as “the Lost Weekend in Rio.”

21. I taught Jared Everett how to grill.

22. My wife appreciates it when I repeatedly correct her grammer. (Remember, it’s “Rob and I,” not “me and Rob”). Not once has she ever smacked me.

23. My brother Johnathan stole my golf swing.

24. Alan McNeil stole my taste in music.

25. I am NOT addicted to the internet. Nope. Can stop browsing any time. … (Just, uh, give me five more minutes, okay?)


How to ruin a sweet photo

Taken by her Bonkishness, at the recent App game

I enjoy the occasional beer. Usually I partake during football season, and only because I *really* enjoy some Cottonwood Pumpkin Ale. And given that the latter is only available during the former, it’s karma, really. I don’t overindulge. I don’t chug. I don’t get, as the kids say, bombed. I just enjoy a good beer.

Well, I did.

Yesterday my preacher – a devoted man of Christ who Baptized me one year ago today – gave a sermon on his role of being a watchman. He quoted from Ezekiel, chapter 33.

8: When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand.
9: Nevertheless, if thou warn the wicked of his way to turn from it; if he do not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but thou hast delivered thy soul.

As our watchman, our preacher said it was his job to tell us when a sin was a sin. He stepped down and said, as his first example -“Drinking beer is a sin.”


Now, I am no Biblical scholar, but my interpretation was always that the sin was in overindulging, not in piddling. Enjoying the occasional brew was no different that a soft drink or coffee. The sin is in allowing that vice to become your idol. But my preacher was in no mood for splitting hairs, or cases. No beer. (Or smoking or over eating ill food. Yes, he had a brief list).

I felt chagrined, but confident in my interpretation. Not everyone agrees with their preacher on all things, right? (I’m looking at you Obama).

But then something rather unusual happened. I’ve been attending this church for close to five years. I was married there. I was baptized there. My children are being raised there. I love being there. But something happened that has never occurred before.

After the preacher concluded his alter call and no one had a word, he looked to me and said, “Rob, will you close us in prayer?”

Me? ME??? The occasional beer drinker??? ME???

Close I did. Uncomfortable I was not. I pray often, though not in public, and this was most definitely a first. But why was I called? Why me? Then?

*SIGH* (And yes, I know this is an inappropriate reaction)

Somebody had a case of the Fridays

Most mornings lately I eat a PBJ for breakfast at work. Saves money, and fills my tummy.

This morning I was walking down the hall carrying my jelly back to the frig in the kitchen when I passed the office secretary. She’s a sweet old lady who said nonchalantly “It’s jelly time I see.” To which I responded,

“Peanut butter jelly time! Peanut butter jelly time!”

Sometimes I really hate myself.

Waiting for the penguins

gabby first’ santa visitI am buried by work this week. It’s one thing to prepare for what you know is coming up, something else entirely for what you hope is coming up. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, well click here.

I’ve got bloggy ideas bouncing around this empty head of mine, but no time to shoot them out my nose. The wife is working evening shifts, Gabby continually becomes more fun everyday, and lately I’m a math tutor for the preteen. (We’re working on scale factors this week.)

So as a bookmark please enjoy this slideshow of Holiday Panic, 64 photos of jolly ‘ol Saint Nick scaring the bejeezus out of lil kids. Actually, the sight of some of these Santas make me want to start crying. Do they not drug test at the North Pole?

By the way, the photo up top is of Gabby’s first visit with Santa. It was a spontaneous event on Christmas Eve, and we had no camera. A friend took a shot with her camera phone and swore we could get regular prints made. She was wrong.

Still, it’s a pretty photo, if you have a magnifying glass handy.

Let’s go clubbin’

My kind of bathroomDuring my recent flight to Vegas, while high above the clouds, my mind wandered. I looked up and down the ailse, surveyed the peeps around me and tracked the whereabouts of the flight crew. I then glanced at my lovely wife and pondered, “I wonder how difficult it’d be for us to make it in the bathroom.”

Of course, such a thought was doomed to failure. There was a hyper-active toddler to watch, plus a bored preteen who would never tolerate a prolonged absence without a game of 20 questions (example – Rob, why is your arm blue?).

I sighed the sigh of unpleasant realization. The door to the Mile High Club was closed to me, perhaps forever. To prevent my suddenly assuming an uncomfortable, upright position, I began to ponder – is there any club out there for me?

For example, baseball has all kinds of clubs. There’s the “500 Career Home Run Club,” the “30 Homer, 100 RBI Club” and “Home Run Hitters Supeoned by Congress Club.” Last season Alfonso Soriano started his own club, called the “40/40/40 Club.” I’d be lucky to record those numbers playing “Major League Baseball 2K6,” much less in attempting a real-life remake of The Rookie (which itself was a remake of real life played out like a movie).

Besides, I’m not in MLB, or any other sports acronym. Like the airplane potty, entry is denied me. Too old. Too slow. And about as athletic as a blind bowler with no thumbs and a limp.

There has to be some club which recognizes my special skills and abilities, or honors the obstacles I’ve met and overcome. I wonder what they could be:

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Book Meme

I’ve been tagged by her Bonkishness. The ensuing cooty rash refuses to clear up, so I relent and answer 10 questions only a bookworm would love. Thus:

1) One book that changed your life:
The Amazing Spider-Man Issue No. 251. Yeah, I know this is stretching the definition of book more than the Miami Dolphins stretch the definition of competitive football team. But this is one of the first – if not the first – comic book I ever read. It stirred a craving for all things begat by Stan Lee. It also did to my vocabulary what BALCO did to Bonds. I distinctly remember learning the words “omniscient” and “omnipotent” from Marvel.
Stupid Lion!
If that answer is too flaky, then I hearby submit the Sweet Pickles book, “Some Friend.” I haven’t read it in more than 20 years but I remember well the plot. Worried Walrus heads over to see Loving Lion to ask a favor. During his trek he worries continuously that Lion will not grant him his request. By the time he gets to the door, he has convinced himself she will say no. He knocks. She answers. Before she can even say hello, he basically curses her and stomps off.

I remember feeling so bad for Loving Lion, who did nothing but greet a friend and got verbally accosted. That story has always stuck with me whenever I find myself becoming Worried Walrus (or treated like Loving Lion).

I could go on, but won’t other than to mention recent reads “An Army at Dawn” and “What If.” They both added great perspectives for me with regard to what is happening in Iraq.

2) One book that you read more than once:
I’ve read several more than once. Stephen King’s “Tommyknockers” comes to mind. Also Tom Clancy’s “Clear and Present Danger.” And all the Harry Potter books.

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Robservations – Harrison Ford, a great photo, DS9

– Life in Boone this very second, brought to you by Booneweb.com. A great day for football. Our stadium is to the far left. At about 12:30 p.m. I’ll wave from the parking lot. I’ll have the Bud Light in one hand and brat in the other (food, not Gabby).

– I’m not sure why, but I really like this photo. It just captures something special, either the pain of being forced to shop there, or the protests of being forced to leave. It’s taken by the proud parents behind Sweet Juniper.

– My mom dared send me this link. She must be trying to tell me something.

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Playing in my old dorm room

Guess my favorite sport back then

Fifteen years ago last week I began a new stage in life – college. I was a freshman, as oblivious of my future as Maurice Clarett. Sometime during that year of missteps, lessons and late-night Spades, I managed to snap a photo of “my side” of the dorm room.

Looking at it now, I notice various odds and ends. I wonder if you notice them too. So, in keeping with the theme of college life, let’s take a quiz! See what you can find! (And yes, I resisted the urge to stick Waldo in there somewhere).

You can find a larger version of the photo here. See if you can:

1. Guess the college which I attended.

2. Find references to at least three NBA teams.

3. Find the late ’80s/early 90s pop idol.

4. Find a poster based on a popular adult beverage commercial.

5. Find at least two momentos from high school.

6. How many bare knees are visible in this room?

7. What is the ratio of family photos to athletes?

8. How many milk crates are there?

9. How many newspaper clippings are on the wall?

10. Name one item which is obsolete in most dorms today.

11. Name one item which shouldn’t be in any dorm room, empty or otherwise. Hint – younger siblings always point this out to mom.

12. See a blue puppy?

13. Guess the one item which foreshadowed a future occupation.

14. Guess which one item I still own and use.

Answers after the jump.

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