I always find it amusing when people start talking about getting tattoos. Invariably there's someone nearby who wants to give you advice about what you should or shouldn't do when considering getting some ink. "Don't get something you'll regret!" Oh no? I thought for sure the intent of a tattoo was to permanently scar my body with something that is only relevant for the very moment I was getting it done. Damn the future I say, put Wiley Coyote on my back with an Acme M-16 blowing away the Road Runner, and make it as big as possible. People will laugh when they see it, but not a great long term tattoo.
One of the pieces of advice I've often heard is "Pick something out, and in a year if you still want it, then go ahead and get it." This sounds like a great idea, but I still think it's a bit silly. Having an idea now and agreeing with it in a year is not nearly the same as having it on your body for that time. Here's my advice: Pick something out, sleep on it for a little while and ask some of your friends what they think. Don't pick your polite friends, because they won't save you any future embarrassment. Go straight to your biggest asshole friend, he'll tell you if you're about to make a mistake.
But the point of this post is not really tattoos. I think what's far worse then a tattoo is a vanity license plate. People appear to go into the vanity plate market with little to no thought about the message they're sending out, or the long term ramifications. You know who sees my tattoos? My wife, my kids, and occasionally some people at a friend's pool party. The vanity plate is seen constantly by people who immediately make a decision about what kind of person you are based on some clever short version of a phrase or nickname.
The reason I'm so annoyed by this right now is because I drove behind this woman today, late thirties, bleached blond hair in need of redo driving a 8 year old hyundai accent. Her plate: BBDOLL. Babydoll? That's what you want advertised everytime you leave the house? Who gave you this nickname, and how long ago? I can only imagine this lady 20 years ago in the DMV saying "Is DCHBG available? No...ummm...ok, well Billy Bob calls me babydoll, how about BBDOLL?" Now Billy Bob is gone, you're not the little hoodsie that ordered that stupid plate and you're too lazy to go back and get rid of it. And I guarantee she's telling people to think about their tattoo before they get it.
A couple other gems I've noticed recently. RDSXFN. Although I've come up with various clever alternatives for this one, it's Red Sox Fan....in Massachusetts. In case you're not familiar with the state of MA, everyone is a Red Sox fan, and if they're not, they won't admit it. But this guy is the fan. So much so, he needs to advertise it with his vowelless announcement of loyalty. Not only is this plate a waste of money, it's poorly allocated money. We can get perfectly nice Red Sox plates with a nice logo, vowels and all, and money goes to the Dana Farber Institute, a far better decision.
Lastly: BATMBL. I'm sure this guy picked up this sweet plate right after he bought his jet black mustang. Driving around like a badass, sporting the batmobile plate, the envy of males everywhere as he performs brake stands at the lights. You wish you could be as cool as this guy. Except now he's driving a minivan, and it's not even black. I keep thinking he's waiting for his new plates, SCCRMM, but probably not. It's seems more viable that after he gets one child into the car seat and moves around to the other side to put another in, he catches a glimpse of the batmobile plate and reminisces about his days cruising revere beach with the bass at ten.
So you decide what's worse, a tattoo that you like but show only when you want, or a ridiculous vanity plate that makes everyone think you're an DCKHD.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Don't be that guy...
Of course you shouldn't be the guy with the band shirt on going to the concert, but this has nothing to do with that. Recently my son started playing soccer, the ultra elite division of 5&6 year olds that primarily consists of 6 kids on either side chasing the ball wherever it goes. There are a few six year olds who have an understanding of the purpose and can dribble the ball with a certain elegance, the rest mostly toe the ball in the direction they're facing with little regard to the goal they are attempting to score on.
Soccer at this age is not about winning and losing, it's about learning. For most this is the first competive endeavor outside of a fierce game of chutes and ladders with their families. The levels of interest vary as do the emotions of the parents. What has shocked me most are those parents.
The majority of parents and grandparents swell with pride seeing that their sons are growing up, too quickly in most cases, but they've moved on to the next stage of their lives. Seeing your son make a play is exhilirating. They don't have to score, no bicycle kick or volley from the 18 is necessary, just a few kicks in the correct direction. For me, I'm reminded of my days in youth soccer and the lessons my dad taught me. They weren't about soccer, my father knew very little about that, it was the principles of sportsmanship and selflessness. The good of the team, the right way to do things, all those things pro athletes use as cliches in soundbites that are key learning points for kids in athletics. Then there's that guy.
You know the guy, the one that is convinced his son is the next Pele. His son isn't that good, not that that's important at this point. What is important is he's not having fun. The father paces the sideline ensuring he's within shouting distance of his future blue chipper. His son wants nothing but affirmation from his dad, but today he gets corrections and demands of improvement and hopefully dominance.
I, like many dads would love my son to be the best at everything, to excel, to fill my bumper with stickers of his accomplishments. I'm also a realist. He may be good, he may be very good, but the odds of reaching professional levels in sports is unbelievably difficult. And in my opinion the determination and competiveness needs to dwell deep in their heart, not their father's. I've seen throughout my childhood and into my teen years the dads who drove their children insane, embarassing them from the sideline to the point where the game was no fun any more.
So before your child is a teenager or heading off to college and your memories of him at 5 playing soccer are more filled with shouldas and couldas, sit back and relax. Provide your advice and coaching in a healthy conversation on the way home. Let him have fun. Let him learn the right way to do things. Let him earn your pride by exemplifying the attributes of a great kid, not cause he crushed his enemy. Whatever you do, don't be that guy.
Soccer at this age is not about winning and losing, it's about learning. For most this is the first competive endeavor outside of a fierce game of chutes and ladders with their families. The levels of interest vary as do the emotions of the parents. What has shocked me most are those parents.
The majority of parents and grandparents swell with pride seeing that their sons are growing up, too quickly in most cases, but they've moved on to the next stage of their lives. Seeing your son make a play is exhilirating. They don't have to score, no bicycle kick or volley from the 18 is necessary, just a few kicks in the correct direction. For me, I'm reminded of my days in youth soccer and the lessons my dad taught me. They weren't about soccer, my father knew very little about that, it was the principles of sportsmanship and selflessness. The good of the team, the right way to do things, all those things pro athletes use as cliches in soundbites that are key learning points for kids in athletics. Then there's that guy.
You know the guy, the one that is convinced his son is the next Pele. His son isn't that good, not that that's important at this point. What is important is he's not having fun. The father paces the sideline ensuring he's within shouting distance of his future blue chipper. His son wants nothing but affirmation from his dad, but today he gets corrections and demands of improvement and hopefully dominance.
I, like many dads would love my son to be the best at everything, to excel, to fill my bumper with stickers of his accomplishments. I'm also a realist. He may be good, he may be very good, but the odds of reaching professional levels in sports is unbelievably difficult. And in my opinion the determination and competiveness needs to dwell deep in their heart, not their father's. I've seen throughout my childhood and into my teen years the dads who drove their children insane, embarassing them from the sideline to the point where the game was no fun any more.
So before your child is a teenager or heading off to college and your memories of him at 5 playing soccer are more filled with shouldas and couldas, sit back and relax. Provide your advice and coaching in a healthy conversation on the way home. Let him have fun. Let him learn the right way to do things. Let him earn your pride by exemplifying the attributes of a great kid, not cause he crushed his enemy. Whatever you do, don't be that guy.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Initial Post, what's the plan?
Alright, so I'm caving and putting a blog out there. So here it is, nothing fancy yet but let's see if I actually post with any regularity before I start getting into some domain names and fancy html editing. For now, we'll sport one of the templates and go from there.
My brother and his wife have blogs of their own and others they contribute to and I read them and a number of others. Due to the overwhelming number of visitors this blog will undoubtedly attract I'll post their links so you can visit them, it's here and here.
I've been debating what on Earth I could possibly write that would be of any value to some who might be redirected here and what I concluded is I find the times I've wished I had a blog is either when someone really pissed me off, I witness the feats of unbelievable stupidity, or when my kids did something over the top amusing or impressive (to me). So I imagine that will be general gist of this blog.
Those of you worried about a blog in which I detail the various potty training accomplishments, a timeline of firsts, or anything of the like, fret not. I have one daughter still in the baby stage and she barely amuses my other children with her accomplishments, so she certainly won't impress too many of you. If however the laws of Physics stopped applying to her or she demonstrated an outrageous memory of world capitals, that I would surely pass along.
My brother and his wife have blogs of their own and others they contribute to and I read them and a number of others. Due to the overwhelming number of visitors this blog will undoubtedly attract I'll post their links so you can visit them, it's here and here.
I've been debating what on Earth I could possibly write that would be of any value to some who might be redirected here and what I concluded is I find the times I've wished I had a blog is either when someone really pissed me off, I witness the feats of unbelievable stupidity, or when my kids did something over the top amusing or impressive (to me). So I imagine that will be general gist of this blog.
Those of you worried about a blog in which I detail the various potty training accomplishments, a timeline of firsts, or anything of the like, fret not. I have one daughter still in the baby stage and she barely amuses my other children with her accomplishments, so she certainly won't impress too many of you. If however the laws of Physics stopped applying to her or she demonstrated an outrageous memory of world capitals, that I would surely pass along.
So there it is, round one....
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