Sometimes when I'm driving, I'll visualize myself losing control of the car and smashing into a guard rail, or running over a curb and plunging into a holding pond. I'm not sure what triggers this latent paranoia, but after spending the last few days with my parents, I'm pretty sure I know where it came from.
It was getting late last night, and my parents and I were babysitting my nephews and neice so my sisters could go out and have fun for once in their lives.
My parents communicate primarily in sighs. Dozing on the couch between them, I wondered whether they have developed a kind of Morse code during their 40+ years of marriage that only they can interpret. Were they talking about me?
After ten minutes of sighs, coughs, and throat clearings, I heard my dad say "maybe you should ride home with Evan to make sure he doesn't fall asleep at the wheel." Now, just so you don't think I'm a narcoleptic in denial, during my cross country trek this summer, a friend and I took turns driving from Macon Missouri to West Palm Beach. We drove a 24 foot box truck for 25 hours straight. I drank two 16 oz red bulls in a row at 5 in the morning to fend off fatigue. I'm not recommending this to anyone, but driving the 0.75 miles to my house at midnight is a walk in that park after that trip.
Last year when I made the mistake of telling my mom I was going skydiving, she said "if God had wanted us to fly, he would have made us angels." When I told her I was statistically 40 times more likely to die in a car accident on the way there, she offered me $100 not to go.
I remember when I was 15 or 16, I came home from a party. My mom was sleeping in her recliner, her friends at Fox News singing her a lullaby. She has an interesting wardrobe. At night, she wore an African robe and matching headdress to mask her curlers. She lunged at the door when I opened it. It was terrifying, like being bum-rushed by Nelson Mandela. I screamed as she slammed the door on my shoulder that it was just me, Evan, her son. She returned to her La-Z-Boy, sat down, deployed the footrest and said "I thought you were a robber."
I can only imagine a world where all of the things my parents are nervous about come true. There would be an Amber Alert every three minutes. People wouldn't leave their houses without assault rifles, and would drive cars only when they wanted to attempt suicide.
I'm still relatively certain my car won't inadvertently go sailing off the PGA bridge any time soon, but after spending the last week with my folks, I'm starting to really wonder.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Man Arrested for Shoplifting Embarassing Products
Donald Jacobs was arrested Wednesday evening for shoplifting a number of decidedly embarrassing products from Wal-Mart.
Employees said they immediately suspected Jacobs, and surveillance footage confirmed their suspicions.
"I could tell he was up to something," said Marla Brown, a supervisor at the store. "He was anything but a smooth criminal. He had a hat pulled down over his eyes. I noticed him browsing the feminine hygiene products, and there was just something so strange about that."
When Jacobs was stopped by security, he was frisked and found to be harboring a box of Preparation H in his waist line. When they searched his messenger bag, they found a box of condoms, a bottle of KY liquid , a tube of Vagisil, a bottle of Imodium AD, a box of Ex-Lax, a box of tampons, and the bottom of a toilet plunger.
"I was preparing for the worst," said a sheepish Jacobs. "And besides, some of that was for my wife. I mean, what am I going to do with a box of tampons? Give them to my wife, that's what."
Employees said Jacobs was cooperative with security, but that it is Wal-Mart's policy to prosecute shoplifters to the full extent of the law.
"He probably thought he could sneak out of our store with all that stuff, but we're on top of our game here at Wal-Mart. You ain't getting out of my store with so much as a candy bar," said Brown. "If he was so smart he would have just ordered that stuff on the Internet."
Jacobs, thinking long and hard about what he has done.
Employees said they immediately suspected Jacobs, and surveillance footage confirmed their suspicions.
"I could tell he was up to something," said Marla Brown, a supervisor at the store. "He was anything but a smooth criminal. He had a hat pulled down over his eyes. I noticed him browsing the feminine hygiene products, and there was just something so strange about that."
When Jacobs was stopped by security, he was frisked and found to be harboring a box of Preparation H in his waist line. When they searched his messenger bag, they found a box of condoms, a bottle of KY liquid , a tube of Vagisil, a bottle of Imodium AD, a box of Ex-Lax, a box of tampons, and the bottom of a toilet plunger.
"I was preparing for the worst," said a sheepish Jacobs. "And besides, some of that was for my wife. I mean, what am I going to do with a box of tampons? Give them to my wife, that's what."
Employees said Jacobs was cooperative with security, but that it is Wal-Mart's policy to prosecute shoplifters to the full extent of the law.
"He probably thought he could sneak out of our store with all that stuff, but we're on top of our game here at Wal-Mart. You ain't getting out of my store with so much as a candy bar," said Brown. "If he was so smart he would have just ordered that stuff on the Internet."
Jacobs, thinking long and hard about what he has done.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
"Angry Birds" Phone Ap Tears Family Apart
A Palm Beach Gardens man is planning to sue Finland-based Rovio Mobile, designer of the phone application Angry Birds.
Mark Malnick claims that Angry Birds was directly responsible for the destruction of his marriage and subsequent loss of custody of his children.
"A friend from work was playing it one day on break. He told me I could download it for free," said Malnick as he ran his fingers across the touch screen of his phone. "Before I knew it, I was slinging birds every chance I got. My wife asked me to stop during dinner one night, and I shouted at her. I'd never so much as raised my voice during our twelve years of marriage before that. I was stuck on this level where you've got to use one of the little yellow birds to demolish the base of the structure to kill all the pigs. They kept oinking at me."
Heidi Turner said she tried to be understanding about her ex-husband's obsession, but could not come to terms with it and had to leave.
"Mark had gone through phases before, with cars, or with golf, but never anything like this," a downcast Turner stated. "It just got worse and worse. He would promise to only play on weekends or after the kids went to bed, but then he'd be in the bathroom for hours and I'd walk by and hear chirping. One night I took his phone after we'd had a big argument about it, and he nearly broke the door off it's hinges. When I told him I had dropped his phone in the toilet, he stormed out of the house, pawned my grandmother's wedding ring and went to the Apple store. Ultimately, I had to do what was best for the children."
Malnick stood firm in his opinion that the game should never have been on the market. "What they did is just really despicable. It grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. I used to be different. I used to be a man of integrity, a man who meant the world to his kids. Sure, big tobacco is responsible for thousands of deaths a year, but you don't hear about people missing their kid's only base hit in the little league play-offs to smoke a cigarette," said Malnick.
"I haven't found a lawyer that will take my case yet, but when I do, it's over," said Malnick, not looking up from the 21st level of Angry Birds, Holiday Edition. "Will you look at this? They've got a freaking advent calendar for the thing! I stay up till midnight every night waiting for the next level to come out. What they're doing is worse than genocide."
Mark Malnick claims that Angry Birds was directly responsible for the destruction of his marriage and subsequent loss of custody of his children.
"A friend from work was playing it one day on break. He told me I could download it for free," said Malnick as he ran his fingers across the touch screen of his phone. "Before I knew it, I was slinging birds every chance I got. My wife asked me to stop during dinner one night, and I shouted at her. I'd never so much as raised my voice during our twelve years of marriage before that. I was stuck on this level where you've got to use one of the little yellow birds to demolish the base of the structure to kill all the pigs. They kept oinking at me."
Heidi Turner said she tried to be understanding about her ex-husband's obsession, but could not come to terms with it and had to leave.
"Mark had gone through phases before, with cars, or with golf, but never anything like this," a downcast Turner stated. "It just got worse and worse. He would promise to only play on weekends or after the kids went to bed, but then he'd be in the bathroom for hours and I'd walk by and hear chirping. One night I took his phone after we'd had a big argument about it, and he nearly broke the door off it's hinges. When I told him I had dropped his phone in the toilet, he stormed out of the house, pawned my grandmother's wedding ring and went to the Apple store. Ultimately, I had to do what was best for the children."
Malnick stood firm in his opinion that the game should never have been on the market. "What they did is just really despicable. It grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. I used to be different. I used to be a man of integrity, a man who meant the world to his kids. Sure, big tobacco is responsible for thousands of deaths a year, but you don't hear about people missing their kid's only base hit in the little league play-offs to smoke a cigarette," said Malnick.
"I haven't found a lawyer that will take my case yet, but when I do, it's over," said Malnick, not looking up from the 21st level of Angry Birds, Holiday Edition. "Will you look at this? They've got a freaking advent calendar for the thing! I stay up till midnight every night waiting for the next level to come out. What they're doing is worse than genocide."
Monday, December 20, 2010
Woman in Critical Condition after Toys"R"Us Brawl
A Palm Beach Gardens woman entered the hospital in critical condition Saturday after what is said to be the worst brawl in Christmas shopping history.
Sharon Hess being taken into custody
The fight erupted near the toddler section of Toys"R"Us Saturday afternoon when two mothers simultaneously grabbed the last Baby Alive on the shelf. The two began shouting obscenities, and it wasn't long before the situation became violent.
Sharon Hess was taken into custody by the Palm Beach County Sheriffs Department. Hess was unrepentant about putting her adversary, Claudia Hiles, in the hospital.
"I mean it was obvious that I was there first. You can ask anyone in the store. I'll be damned if anyone is going to stop my daughter from getting a baby doll with anything less than a complete digestive tract. I'm teaching her a lesson - that she does not want to get pregnant at sixteen. I don't care what MTV says," said Hess.
They were like animals," said Michelle Muller, who observed the incident from behind a stack of Pillow Pets. "They were all bared teeth and flailing arms. I saw one of the women grab the other by the throat and start choking her. Then they went to the floor. It took several employees to break up. The staff had to use cat litter to soak up all the blood. When my daughter asked me what all the red stuff was, I had to tell her that they got into a Kool-Aid fight."
Muller encourages mothers throughout the country to take precautionary measures before they go shopping. "I used to think it was safe. I used to think all I needed was a can of pepper spray and a rape whistle, but times have changed. My husband bought me an early Christmas present Sunday - a taser. I'd like to see someone try to grab my daughter's Sing-a-ma-Jig from my shopping cart when they've got 1,200 volts surging through their body.
Hiles was in critical condition Saturday, but doctors say she has stabilized and is expected to make a full recovery.
Sharon Hess being taken into custody
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Parents Secretly Celebrate the Death of Family Pet
A local mother and father have admitted to secretly celebrating the death of the family's black lab, Cocoa, on Monday. Cocoa died of natural causes Monday morning.
"We adopted her thirteen years ago. She used to be so happy and full of life," said
Kim Reynolds, as she attempted to scrub a stain out of her living room carpet. "Toward the end though, she was anything but fun. She kind of just sat around
and whimpered. Every once in a while I'd come home to a pile of feces in front of the television. She really knew how to make the lady of the house feel special," said Mrs. Reynolds.
"I mean, the kids loved her, but they'd just as soon fall in love with a pet rock. A pet rock doesn't grow disgusting toenails or have to go outside every five minutes, or look up at you with big, brown, baleful eyes every time you try to eat dinner, or hump your friend's legs when they come over for cocktails," said Mrs. Reynolds.
Tom Reynolds was found dismantling the poorly constructed wire fence in the back yard. He shared in Mrs. Reynolds contempt for Cocoa. "Don't tell my kids this, but that little son of a bitch was the bane of my existence," said Mr. Reynolds, wiping sweat from his brow. "If I could have predicted the 3 grand in veterinary expenses I shelled out this year, I would have drugged him and buried him alive instead of holding a back yard funeral for my children."
Mr. Reynolds lamented over Cocoa's wake of destruction: "Have you ever had a pair of loafers that fit just right, that defined comfort, that were official enough for the office, but casual enough to wear around the house? Well, I have, and that flea bag tore them to pieces. I'll never find another pair like that one," he said with a sigh.
"The night Cocoa expired, Kim and I waited for the kids to go to bed and uncorked a bottle of wine we had been saving for our anniversary. We talked about our future, and how nice it will be not to have to use that damned lint roller every time we leave the house," said Mr. Reynolds.
"We adopted her thirteen years ago. She used to be so happy and full of life," saidKim Reynolds, as she attempted to scrub a stain out of her living room carpet. "Toward the end though, she was anything but fun. She kind of just sat around
and whimpered. Every once in a while I'd come home to a pile of feces in front of the television. She really knew how to make the lady of the house feel special," said Mrs. Reynolds.
"I mean, the kids loved her, but they'd just as soon fall in love with a pet rock. A pet rock doesn't grow disgusting toenails or have to go outside every five minutes, or look up at you with big, brown, baleful eyes every time you try to eat dinner, or hump your friend's legs when they come over for cocktails," said Mrs. Reynolds.
Tom Reynolds was found dismantling the poorly constructed wire fence in the back yard. He shared in Mrs. Reynolds contempt for Cocoa. "Don't tell my kids this, but that little son of a bitch was the bane of my existence," said Mr. Reynolds, wiping sweat from his brow. "If I could have predicted the 3 grand in veterinary expenses I shelled out this year, I would have drugged him and buried him alive instead of holding a back yard funeral for my children."
Mr. Reynolds lamented over Cocoa's wake of destruction: "Have you ever had a pair of loafers that fit just right, that defined comfort, that were official enough for the office, but casual enough to wear around the house? Well, I have, and that flea bag tore them to pieces. I'll never find another pair like that one," he said with a sigh."The night Cocoa expired, Kim and I waited for the kids to go to bed and uncorked a bottle of wine we had been saving for our anniversary. We talked about our future, and how nice it will be not to have to use that damned lint roller every time we leave the house," said Mr. Reynolds.
Kim Reynolds said her children were at a loss for how to cope with Cocoa's death. "The kids are devastated. It's sad how young and naive they are. Some day when their carpet is covered in paw prints and their feather pillows lie disemboweled on the living room floor, innards strewn about the house like confetti, they will get it. Until then, they are going to have to settle for a fish tank."
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Beardo
I haven't shaved in a little over a week. It started as a bet - one of my coworkers and I started a beard pool with a $20 buy in that would be judged at the end of the month, with points being awarded for style and originality. I have light hair, so right now you might see me from across the room and think, "Hey, that guy looks normal." As you draw closer, though, you will slowly realize the awful truth and think "Ew. Gross. A beard."
I don't understand why someone would grow facial hair if not to earn capital, so I decided to examine some of the popular facial hairstyles and do some research as to why they exist.
According to a caption just above this fine fellow, on this foreign website, "Facial hair help the men either to express or conceal their look just after being stimulated by their instincts." Hmmm, sounds very primal. It's no wonder neanderthals are believed to have been rocking the full beard.
According to Wikipedia, male facial hair is often culturally associated with wisdom and virility, while mustaches are often associated with sexual perversion, serial killers, and law enforcement officers. If you see a man with a beard, you should ask him a question, but if you see a man with a mustache, you should probably get your children away from him, or, if he is wearing aviator sunglasses, give him a donut.
Jeffrey Dahmer is known for dismembering people and refrigerating them. He is NOTORIOUS, though, for his mustache.
The last facial hairstyle I came across is known as the the "door knocker" or "Van Dyke" and is allegedly used to disguise a weak jawline or add the illusion of length to a round face. I understand why it's called a door knocker, because if anyone wearing one of these ever knocked on my door, they'd be knocking for a long time. It's a shame more Jehovah's Witnesses don't have them.
After all of my research, I've concluded that men grow facial hair to look wise, to attract sexual prey, to go with their aviators, to keep people from answering the door, and to scare their wives into submission.
I've decided to shave tomorrow.
I don't understand why someone would grow facial hair if not to earn capital, so I decided to examine some of the popular facial hairstyles and do some research as to why they exist.
According to a caption just above this fine fellow, on this foreign website, "Facial hair help the men either to express or conceal their look just after being stimulated by their instincts." Hmmm, sounds very primal. It's no wonder neanderthals are believed to have been rocking the full beard.
According to Wikipedia, male facial hair is often culturally associated with wisdom and virility, while mustaches are often associated with sexual perversion, serial killers, and law enforcement officers. If you see a man with a beard, you should ask him a question, but if you see a man with a mustache, you should probably get your children away from him, or, if he is wearing aviator sunglasses, give him a donut.
Jeffrey Dahmer is known for dismembering people and refrigerating them. He is NOTORIOUS, though, for his mustache.
In some serious cases, mustaches have been known to multiply like cancer so that they grow down and around the mouth, forming what is known in popular culture as a "fu man chu." This facial hairstyle is typical of men who have been inbred, and may also result from over consumption of Natural Light and/or Natural Ice. Fu man chu wearing men are responsible for the existence of the majority of battered women's shelters throughout the US. Their most notable achievements can be read about in the Darwin Awards.
The last facial hairstyle I came across is known as the the "door knocker" or "Van Dyke" and is allegedly used to disguise a weak jawline or add the illusion of length to a round face. I understand why it's called a door knocker, because if anyone wearing one of these ever knocked on my door, they'd be knocking for a long time. It's a shame more Jehovah's Witnesses don't have them.
After all of my research, I've concluded that men grow facial hair to look wise, to attract sexual prey, to go with their aviators, to keep people from answering the door, and to scare their wives into submission.
I've decided to shave tomorrow.
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