In my younger years, I used to treat my body like a temple. But lately my body has become more of a Temple of Doom. So I’ve decided to do something about it. 

I tried various fad diets: the Nothing-but-fruit diet, the Everything-but-fruit diet, the Mango & Salmon milk shake diet, the “All-You-Can-Eat-Just-So-Long-As-It’s-Cabbage” diet. None of them worked, in part because I usually gave up after about 40 minutes. 

I recently discovered – much to my chagrin – that there are no short cuts to fitness and good health. So I came up with eight very simple daily commitments in the areas of fitness and nutrition. I once raced in the New York Marathon. (Okay, meandered might be more accurate description of my pace.) Heck, by comparison, this should be a piece of cake. Drat! Now I’m craving a piece of cake. 

I knew I would not succeed unless I wrote down my new commitments.  I was later informed that writing them down and shoving the list in my file drawer would not be enough to ensure success. I had to actually track my progress. So far, I’m off to a bit of a shaky start. 

I have to say, this is much harder than I thought. It’s now day 21 and frankly, my progress has slowed down a bit. Today my exercise consisted of channel surfing. So technically, that’s a kind of surfing. And surfing’s aerobic. 

And while I was channel surfing, I saw this infomercial about a breakthrough new miracle fat-burning pill that melts away fat while you sleep. One customer claimed she lost 50 pounds in two weeks. I have to try this out. And here’s the best part: No flossing required. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a. Better yet, why not set a goal to forward this post to 500 of your closest friends. Better write down this goal before you forget it. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

But not anymore. I’ve decided life’s too short. I’m not going to be a conformist sheep following the herd anymore. I’m going to zig when they expect me to zag. I’ve decided to shake up my button-down life – starting by unbuttoning my collar. Hell, I just might not even wear a tie for work tomorrow. And there’s not a damn thing my boss can do about it (since I’m working from home tomorrow).

Lately I’ve turned into a rebel. It feels so liberating. My natural hair color is coffee brown. But last week, feeling in a dangerous mood, I dyed it mocha brown. I feel months younger. And look closely at my hair. I’ve started wearing my left sideburn an eighth of an inch lower than my right one – my silent protest to The Man that I will not conform to society’s rules anymore. 

At sporting events, I now do the wave two seconds after the rest of my section. Sure it pisses off some fans. I’m living life on the edge. 

At work, I sometimes will print out a ten-page document without using the two-sided paper setting, just to shock the environmentalists in my office. 

The other day, when I took my daughter to the mall, I parked my minivan in a “compact cars” parking space. At first I felt guilty but then I said, screw these oppressive rules. I’ll park wherever I damn well please (so long as I’m not taking up two spaces or a handicapped space, of course). 

Last weekend, I mowed my yard and instead of my traditional parallel rows that go the length of the lawn, I mowed diagonally. Next weekend I’m actually thinking about not edging my lawn, just on principle. It’ll blow my neighbor’s mind. 

The other night, while watching CSI Miami on TIVO, I fast-forwarded through the show and only watched the commercials. My wife was like, “Do I even know you anymore?” What a rush. 

This past Saturday morning, I decided to take a stand against my oppressive wife. I am sick and tired of her harping all the time how I need to scoop the kitty litter by 7:30 am. So today, to show her who wears the pants in this house, I refused to scoop the kitty litter…. until 10:30 am. My wife is not going to tell me what to do – unless it’s something she feels is fairly important. 

And last week, I deliberately parked in my boss’s parking spot every day. Nobody was going to dare try to stop me. Not even my boss (coincidentally she was on vacation that week). 

A couple weeks ago, I conducted a yard sale, even though the homeowners’ association bylaws for my housing development specifically state that yard sales can only be conducted between June and September. You want a piece of me, homeowners’ association? Bring it on. Besides, I held it at a friend’s house four miles away, so I’m pretty sure they can’t touch me. 

My kids barely recognize their new, rebel-rousing dad (in part due to my bold new hair color and uneven sideburns). I refuse to drive my daughter to gymnastics practice on Tuesdays anymore. (Because that’s my wife’s day to drive. My day is Thursday.) 

Every day, I look for new ways to make a personal statement that I will not be oppressed. I won’t conform to society’s rules anymore. My days of doing whatever my wife, kids, siblings, mother, and federal authorities tell me to do are over (with the limited exceptions of immediate family members, the IRS and state and local police). 

Sure, I may still do the vacuuming, as I promised in our wedding vows. But I just might conveniently “forget” to do under the beds. And the next time my wife orders me to kill some icky spider, I will demand she say “please” if she expects this man’s help. 

I have been keeping a bucket list of things I hope to do in my new life as suburban rebel. Things like getting my picture taken feeding penguins at the zoo, right next to a sign that says Don’t feed the penguins. And  telling my boss I have to leave at 3:30 instead of 5:00 because I have a doctor’s appointment, when really I’m just leaving early to take my kid to her cello recital. (I still have to build up the courage for that one). 

I can’t tell you the rush I feel now that I have broken free from the chains of conformity. Sometimes it’s a bit scary. But I am committed to living life without a safety net (except for when I use my Groupon ticket for a free trapeze lesson, in which case, yeah, I’ll still want a safety net). 

Welcome to the new me. I even refused to make our bed this morning even though it was my turn. Besides, there was a cat spit-up so the sheets really needed to be washed. But this time, I’m going to mix the light blue bed sheets with the white laundry. And there’s not a damn thing my wife can do to stop me – because she does not get back from her business trip until tomorrow. Booyah! 

That’s the view from wild side of the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base. But I’m willing to take that chance. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, be a non-conformist. Do something way out of character and get outside your comfort zone by sharing this post on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  Do what I am telling you and show The Man that nobody tells you what to do. But don’t forget to pick up your kids from soccer practice at 6:30. You know how they hate to be kept waiting. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

This got me to thinking about next fall, when for the first time in 19 years, there will be no kids in our house. We’ll be joining the ranks of a rapidly growing demographic: Happy People (otherwise known as “Empty Nesters”). Many couples look forward to this phase of life. But for me, it’s going to be a difficult adjustment. So I took time this weekend to look at old photo albums and watch old family videos.  It brought back wonderful memories of many happy times with our daughters. 

Like the 1,284 times I changed our daughters’ diapers when they were young (which, according to my rough estimate, is approximately 1,284 more times than my father changed his own kids’ diapers when we were young). 

Or, speaking of diapers,  the time I was lying on the bed holding our baby Emily over my head, staring into her eyes as she beamed an innocent smile, right before she had a volcanic eruption of poop. Now, of course, that would not have been a problem had she been wearing diapers under her pajamas. Unfortunately, however, someone (my wife Michele’s name is being withheld to protect her identity) accidentally neglected to put diapers on her. Someday, perhaps years from now, when I have forgiven my wife, I no doubt will laugh about this. 

Or the time Rachel, then three, decided to help her daddy water the house plants by hauling our garden hose into the house, then proceeding to water the house plants… and the living room carpet …and the wood-stained floors… and her sister’s diaper… and the TV… and the cat. 

Or the time Emmy, age five, decided she wanted to give herself a new hairstyle and cut off all the hair on the left side of her head. We had to shave off the other half so that people wouldn’t think she was being raised by drug-addled Goth punkers. Then strangers complimented us on our cute son. 

Or the time, Rachel, age eight, was learning to throw a baseball and decided that the perfect time to play catch with daddy was while he had his back to her, shaving in the bathroom. Her wild pitch ended up shattering our bathroom mirror. But I have to say, I was impressed by her form. Pretty sure it was a split finger curve ball. 

Or the time, when Emily was nine, that I taught her to ride a bicycle. Every dad treasures this moment. I remember proudly watching my little angel as I shoved her off and yelled, “Keep pedaling. You’re doing great!!!” just before she veered sharply right, screaming in terror, and smashed into our neighbor’s tree. She barely needed seven stitches, but the experience somehow traumatized her about getting back on a bike for several years. Even more tragically, the tree is still in therapy. 

Or the time I took Rachel golfing for the very first time on a real golf course. I remember it so well. We went to the driving range to warm up. She reached for her driver, which was stuck in her golf bag. When she finally pried it out, the club head slammed into her forehead – resulting in a severe concussion. We never did make it to the first tee, but the accident spared her from the even deeper emotional scars of actually playing golf (which I know only too well). So it all worked out. 

Or the many times over the past ten years I counseled Emily about ways to organize her bedroom more efficiently. Her room at the best of times resembled a village after a Tsunami. We would often engage in delightful banter as she would “evaluate” [translation: “ignore”] my suggestions about ways to remove articles of dirty clothing and three-week old pasta to make it possible to actually see the dirt on the carpet; and then I would cheerily remind her who paid for this house and inquire how she planned to pay for college on her own. 

Or the proud day when Rachel, age 16, earned her learner’s permit, and we celebrated by having her drive me home from the DMV test center. It was a lovely summer day. I remember it so well, especially the somewhat abrupt ending to our drive, when Rachel smashed my car into a landscaping rock as she pulled into our driveway. That was $1,400 in repairs that I will never forget. Ah, precious memories. 

I am going to miss my girls next fall when it’s just me and Michele alone in the house. Our lives just won’t be the same without their laughter, smiles, and text messages at 12:15am on a Saturday night saying “I need a ride home from Alice’s house NOW!” 

I can’t believe that, in just a few months, my little girls will be leading their lives on their own and will no longer be under our roof – or on top of our roof, as we scream and wave at them not to move until the fire department arrives with a ladder. 

I will do my best to adjust to my quieter life. I’m trying to force myself to look forward to next September, when Michele and I are all alone again. I just might have to call my kids now and then, perhaps from the deck of a cruise ship somewhere in the Mediterranean…with my own private bathroom and with not a single piece of my daughter’s dirty underwear in the sink. 

My wife and I will miss them dearly. But we’ll just have to manage on our own…to pay for their college tuition, housing, meals and cell phone bills. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  I regret to inform you that once my daughters are both off to college, I will have even more time to dedicate to this column. And for that, I deeply apologize. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

Someone has to take action. Why not the President? I discovered this great web site called We the People, which lets you directly petition the White House. It gets over 300 petitions a day, many from people able to construct nearly complete sentences with nouns and verbs. 

The We the People Petition-the-White-House web site was launched in September 2011, and has since received more than 142,000 petitions and 9.2 million signatures. The volume of petitions has spiked since Obama’s re-election in November 2012, mostly from disaffected white southerners furious about Obama’s apparent plans to take away everyone’s guns and require us all to convert to Islam. I must have missed that news story. 

In recent months, thousands of average Americans – not to mention even more sub-average ones – have been speaking their minds to the White House. They have signed petitions on a wide range of issues critically important to the future of our great democracy. Here is small representative sampling of actual petitions submitted to the We the People web site (and I swear I am not making any of these up): 

• Stop printing the penny – This petition has received several thousand signatures, along with more than $500 in donated pennies.
• Deport CNN’s Piers Morgan back to Great Britain – for repeatedly arguing the USA needs to enact tougher gun control measures – more than 100,000 signatures in the first three days.
• Don’t deport Piers Morgan back to Great Britain – approximately 25 signatures, mostly by relatives of Piers Morgan back in the U.K.
• Each state should have its own official Pokémon character – sort of like a state bird, only nerdier. Only 700 signatures so far; it would have been more but apparently many potential signers’ moms told them that it was bedtime and time to turn off the computer.
• Bar Beyoncé from singing at presidential inaugurations – I’m guessing for lip syncing. 500 votes so far. Question: Is it just me, or didn’t it look like Obama was also lip syncing when he gave his Inaugural Address?
• Build a death star like in Star Wars, to protect us from an eventual alien attack – over 34,000 signatures, presumably mostly by people dressed up as Princess Leia or Darth Vader.
• Give everyone a unicorn and a lollipop for Boxing Day – Since Boxing Day is a Canadian holiday, I suspect this one won’t get enacted any time soon. Besides, we have a severe unicorn shortage due to over-hunting. It may take years before they again roam the Great Plains in large numbers.
• Let Texas to secede from the USA – Over 150,000 people have signed this petition to date; I’m guessing mostly fed-up Oklahomans. Come on, people. Let’s help out Texas and sign this important petition. Who’s with me?
• Grant Canada the right to secede from the USA and become its own country – Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen, Canada. Texas has a better chance. 

A word about Texas’s petition to secede. That started a domino chain of events with 30 other states petitioning to secede, each with more than 25,000 signatures (Canada was not among them). Perhaps not surprisingly, this rash of secession petitions spawned yet another actual petition: Deport Everyone Who Signed A Petition To Withdraw Their State From The USA, which currently has just under 30,000 signatures. Rumor has it someone is already working on a new petition to deport everyone who signed the petition to deport everyone who signed the petition to secede from the USA. 

Admit it. Suddenly my petition to get my neighbor Bert Zablinski deported is starting to sound pretty reasonable by comparison, isn’t it? I have even created my own SUPER PAC to raise money for my cause: VFTB America. I’m thinking it will stand for Victims Fighting to Take Back America. But then again, I’m kind of partial to Vegetarians For Teddy Bears. I can’t decide. 

My SUPER PAC will also target other important social issues I that demand President Obama address in his second term. I’m still compiling my list, but here are a few items I plan to include in upcoming petitions: 

• Force my daughter to clean up her room; Alternatively, at least declare it a Federal Disaster Area, so I can get matching federal aid. 

• Don’t let NBC cancel my favorite TV show, Parks and Recreation. Amy Poehler is just too adorable. 

• Issue an Executive Order to ban four more months of endless clouds and rain here in Seattle. I’m sick of it. Donate our rain to a more needy region, like, say, Chad. 

• Make Starbucks stop calling their coffee sizes Grande, Venti, and Trenta. This is America, God damn it. Make them speak American. 

• Make Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough the official ice cream flavor of the USA. I really don’t think any additional justification is necessary. 

Please help me make America a better, more tolerant country by signing my petition to deport my neighbor Bert Zablinksi. While you’re signing, could you just make a tiny $100 donation payable to VFTB America? I may not be able to convince the White House to kick my annoying neighbor out of the country, but God willing, I just might collect enough donations to pay off my kids’ college loans. And that’s a start. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  And while you’re at it, please sign my petition to make this humor blog the official humor blog of the USA. It’s the patriotic thing to do. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

When you ask an American what comes to mind when you mention Australia, the first thing they think of is drunken Australians. But the second thing they think of is shark attacks – no wait, actually, second would be the Sydney Opera House. Third would be shark attacks, perhaps tied with Rupert Murdoch, but those are basically the same. 

Well, move over, sharks! A newspaper in Newcastle, Australia, the Newcastle Herald, recently reported a rash of terrifying guinea pig attacks throughout New South Wales, Australia (see actual headline below right).

New South Wales is a region with a worldwide reputation for shark attacks. But paramedics there say this past summer, they have treated as many guinea pig attacks as shark attack victims. While technically, the number of shark attacks and guinea pig attacks reported in New South Wales this past summer were two each (compared to 22 cat attacks, 230 dog bites and one kangaroo punching) authorities are taking no chances. In one shocking case, the guinea pig bit deeply into the hand of a five-year-old boy who required a rabies shot and four stitches.

Many Americans think of the guinea pig, whose sinister origins can be traced to some sinister region in South America’s sinister Andes Mountains, as a cuddly, adorable pet, perfect for young kids. Authorities warn that this naivety can spell tragedy. They remind people in denial to look no further than the scene with the killer rabbit from the documentary film Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 

Guinea pigs are not only dangerous, they can breed like, well, guinea pigs. It is not uncommon for a family to start with two guinea pigs and within 12 months have over 9,000 of them (assuming they purchased 8,700 more guinea pigs over the course of that year). And guinea pigs gnaw constantly, which has resulted in this reporter’s losing more than $700 in security deposits due to chewed-up carpets and irreparably damaged furniture. 

For years, most parents who bought guinea pigs as pets for their kids viewed them as harmless –  extremely annoying, obnoxiously loud, whistling, stupid-as-a-brick, but harmless (talking mostly about guinea pigs here) whose only mission in life was to gnaw through everything in sight and poop constantly. But few realized they were putting their children within striking distance of an 8-inch-long killer. 

If your young child is attacked by a guinea pig, veterinarians recommend taking immediate action to prevent a catastrophe. Wash the affected area with soap and water, apply a Band-Aid, and pray. And euthanize the guinea pig immediately, before it has time to breed more killer offspring. 

Animal rights advocates point out isolated anecdotal 40-year longitudinal studies documenting a small number of children (defined as less than 40 million) who have raised guinea pigs as pets and miraculously escaped death or serious injury. But NRA officials urge families not to take chances in light of the recent wave of New South Wales tragedies. As a precaution, they recommend arming your children with semi-automatic rifles in case one of the nasty rodents gets loose and comes hunting for their defenseless human prey. 

Meanwhile, elementary school counselors agree the best solution is to give away your child’s pet guinea pig to some other unsuspecting family you don’t particularly care for. And while you’re at it, they also recommend removing any gold fish from your home, as they represent a possible choking hazard. 

The latest safety warnings about guinea pigs have caused some state and local child protection agencies to question the safety of dogs and cats as pets, after news broke about one child in Amarillo, TX who was badly scratched on her arm by her Labradoodle when she attempted to perform acupuncture on it. 

For centuries children have nagged and pleaded until their parents caved in and gave them cuddly, furry animals as living companions, like bunnies or hamsters or wolverines.  But increasingly, authorities are looking into the issue of whether having any animals in the household is worth the inherent risk of loss of life and possible damage to the 60” high-def flat screen. 

If families insist on having a house pet, authorities recommend choosing one that lacks sharp claws, is more docile in nature and is unlikely to crap on your lap. That’s why they recommend buying an anaconda – the ideal house pet, just so long as you have a 30’ by 50’ industrial-strength glass-enclosed pen, keep the room temperature a constant 93 degrees, and always keep it well fed, preferably by serving the snake its favorite meal: live guinea pigs. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  True story: As a child, I had many guinea pigs as pets over the years. While I was never hurt badly by any of them, I never trusted them. I still think my guinea pig Barnabas stole $20 from my wallet and ate it. That bastard. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

Hi, I’m Emily. My dad, Tim Jones, writes some stupid humor blog called View from the … Something or Other. I really have no idea what it’s called. I never read it. Because it’s like totally lame. He thinks he’s really funny, like the time he wrote that the dishwasher almost destroyed his marriage to my mom. Yeah, like my mom is ever going to cheat on my dad with the dishwasher. 

Not that I would blame her. My dad is so boring. He’s always telling me stuff like “Kevin needs to leave by 9pm. It’s a school night.” That’s so unfair! All my friends’ parents let their boyfriends sleep over on school nights. And he’s constantly getting on my case if I get less than a B on a test. Gimme a break. He always likes to remind me that he was valedictorian at his high school and got straight A’s. And I tell him, “Wow. That’s impressive. And now you write a humor blog that five people read. I see what you mean about the importance of good grades, Dad.” 

And what is his obsession with me keeping my room clean? He drives me crazy, always telling me to hang up my towels, or put my three-week-old leftovers in the wastebasket, or not to leave my curling iron lying on the bed still on when I leave the house. Like that’s going to start a fire. It’s never started a fire the other 9 times I left it turned on. SRSLY!  What is his problem about putting things away? None of my friends keep their rooms clean either. And then he says something about “if all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?” No clue what my old man is talking about. What’s my room got to do with a freakin’ cliff? 

My dad just does not get it. His favorite TV show is something called Downtown Abby or something like that. If you ask me, a show about some urban advice columnist sounds bogus. Meanwhile he deleted all the recordings of my show Gossip Girls. He says he asked me eight times if he could delete them before he did it, but I only recall him asking me five times. Totally unfair. 

He’s also been “teaching me” how to drive – like I need any help from him. I’ve played over 60 hours of Grand Theft Auto, so I think I know something about how to drive safely through city streets at 80 mph. He’s so bossy when I’m driving, always muttering crap like “Do you think it’s a good idea to text while making a U-turn?” or “Are you aware you just ran a stop sign? Did you even see the lady with the stroller in the crosswalk?” Well, d’uh! Of course I saw her. I drove around her, didn’t I? He’s so worried about his stupid car. Like a stroller’s going to scratch it. 

And he’s always nagging me about being online all the time, saying, “How about getting off of Facebook for five minutes and spending a little time with your family?” What’s that all about? I mean, we’re already in the same house, so why does he have to make it even worse by all of us being in the same room? He probably wants us to watch The Amazing Race together. Good show, but why would I watch it with my parents when I can catch it on Hulu.com in my room while texting my friends and updating my FB status at 2am? 

Speaking of FB, my dad is such a control freak. He said that he wouldn’t let me have a FB account unless I friended him and mom. Hello? It’s not like I am going to post pictures of me getting drunk and making out at a party or anything. For those photos, I would always change my FB settings so only my close friends can see them. 

He’s always giving me advice about making “good choices.” So boring. Like last Tuesday, when he stopped me as I was heading off to school. This time it was “You’re not wearing those 5-inched spiked banana yellow hooker shoes to school!”  Come on. It’s not like I was wearing a push-up bra and a skin-tight dress. (That’s for the party at Jeremy’s house this weekend.) 

And look who’s talking. He tries to dress like he’s still young and hip, wearing blue jeans and rainbow-colored sneakers and sometimes not shaving for a couple days. It doesn’t matter. Whatever he wears, it’s always an epic fail. His favorite is a lame T-shirt that says Support your Right to Arm Bears, with a cartoon of a bear raising its arm. I refuse to be seen in public with him wearing it. The dude’s 58 years old. He still likes Skittles. He can be such a dweeb sometimes.

Sometimes my dad’s a bit of a creeper, too. Like when he comes home from work and tries to give me a hug, then kisses me on the top of my head and asks how my day was. Eek. Srsly, dude. Thanks for violating my personal space. And why does he always have to tell me he loves me? Got the message the first time. 

Uh oh. POS. I have to wrap this up B4 my old man asks me what I wrote. I will just change the title to 12 things I admire about my dad and he’ll be thrilled. Probably start to tear up. He never had time to review my high school term papers, so I’m pretty sure he won’t bother taking the time to read this post either.

OMG gotta go. Jessica just texted me that Brandon dumped Monica. BFN

By Emily Jones

Oh, right. I think this is where I am supposed to write “That’s the view from the bleachers.” I guess my dad thinks that’s clever. If only he had a clue how lame he sounds. 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post by my daughter, please let her know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  I am so proud of my daughter. I can’t wait to read what she wrote.] 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

If you’re like my wife, then after you’ve been married for about two years you probably realize your decision to get married was a serious mistake. Marriage is difficult, especially if your husband is a humor writer or if you have kids. If both of those conditions apply to you, then may God have mercy on your soul. 

My wife Michele (who prefers not to be mentioned by name in my columns, so will henceforth be referred to as “the woman who prefers not to be mentioned as Michele”) and I have been married for 26 years. Like any married couple, we’ve had our ups and downs. We’ve squabbled over trivial disagreements like why I always pull all the covers over to my side of the bed at night, what was I thinking the time I taught our 9- and 8-year-old daughters how to hitchhike, and my minor lapse of judgment when I hired a police officer stripper for a surprise party for my wife’s 40^th birthday. Turns out my wife was not quite as impressed by Officer Cinnamon’s sexy pole dancing skills as my poker buddies and I were. 

So yes, we’ve endured our fair share of marital misunderstandings. But there is one issue which for years has caused more heartache and strife than any couple should have to endure. That’s right. I’m talking about the differences in how we load the dishwasher. It is still painful to talk about in public.

I’m an efficiency expert by profession, so I know a thing or two about the right way to load a dishwasher. My wife, on the other hand, is an artist, which apparently means that she thinks the inside of a dishwasher should resemble a Jackson Pollock painting.

Anyone who knows anything about the proper way to load a dishwasher knows that you load silverware with the handles down (except for sharp knives), like-sized plates go next to each other, facing the same direction, fatter items like bowls go around the edges, and you should hand-rinse any item that has a large amount of food on it, so as not to clog the drain – anybody, that is, except the woman who prefers not to be mentioned as Michele. 

My wife, for all her many great qualities, does not have a clue about how to properly load a dishwasher. She also has no idea how to record a TV show using TIVO (Hint: Press the red button labeled “RECORD”). Her idea of loading the dishwasher is to fill it to barely 25% of capacity by randomly dropping dishes and glasses wherever they just happen to land. She will also load dishes caked in three-day-old egg yolk or two inches of dried up pasta, blissfully unaware that there’s about as much chance of that crap being scraped off by the dishwasher as the chances the Seattle Mariners will win a World Series in my lifetime.

But perhaps the most annoying thing about my wife’s adversarial relationship with our dishwasher is that she believes the dishes, once clean, will magically put themselves away in their proper cabinets. We take turns putting the clean dishes away – by which I mean that on odd days I put the clean dishes away, and on even days my wife lets them sit there in the dishwasher until the calendar turns to an odd day. The result is that dirty dishes pile up on the kitchen counter like some grotesque modern art sculpture involving spatulas and cheese graters. Our three cats, licking their whiskers, seem impressed by her artistic presentations.

I tried to offer up compromises that were painful for me to accept.  I was even willing to let go of my insistence that silverware should go in handles down. It was a stormy period of our lives. In retrospect, I suspect it also deeply confused our kids, who to this very day are not really sure whether drinking glasses should be loaded with the opening facing down or lying sideways underneath a crusty salad bowl. How will they ever make it out in the real world if they believe the proper way to load a dishwasher is to put knives and spoons inside of coffee mugs? 

We’ve fought over this issue for years. Most of our debates begin by me saying, Honey, you’re not doing it right. You need to put all the plates in facing the same direction… and the woman who prefers not to be mentioned as Michele then presenting her cogent counter-argument, consisting of barking, Will you just shut the hell up about it already! 

Because I want to save our marriage, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that my wife suffers from DLIS (Dishwasher Loading Impairment Syndrome). So, in a way, it’s really not her fault. Unfortunately, there is no known cure. I have decided to give up my battle and show my wife patience and understanding about her impairment.

Besides, it’s just a dishwasher. As I think about it further, in the grand scheme of life there are much thornier and more serious issues that couples need to resolve, like how to raise their children, how to manage the household budget, and whether the toilet paper roll should go OVER or UNDER. 

Of course, the correct answer is the roll goes OVER. But my wife ALWAYS loads the toilet paper roll UNDER – I think mostly just to piss me off. Okay, so I caved about the proper way to load a dishwasher. But there are times when a husband needs to take a stand. When it comes to the proper direction of toilet paper rolls, I refuse to roll over – wait a minute. That’s not what I mean. That’s why as a matter of principle, from now on I’m leaving the toilet seat up until she converts to OVER. I can play this game as long as she can.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  The person who shares this post with the most people may win a new DISHWASHER. [Offer not valid in any states containing the letters “a” or “n”.] 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

Greetings, visitor. Welcome to Seattle. If this is your first time to the Emerald City, we’d like to share some fun facts about our great city to help you plan your trip. 

Hey, did you ever wonder why they call it the Emerald City? It’s because everything here is always green. And that’s because it rains in Seattle 342 days a year. Isn’t that fascinating? So bring your bumbershoot and get ready for some fun out of the sun! 

When packing for a trip to Seattle, don’t worry about packing your sunglasses – because you won’t need ‘em! 

FUN FACT: Many Seattle residents live their entire lives without ever seeing the sun. 

Some Seattleites believe the existence of the sun is a myth, sort of like Mount Olympus of ancient Greek legend. (Ironically, there actually is a Mount Olympus in Washington State – but thanks to the clouds no one from Seattle has ever seen it.) 

There is so much to do in Seattle, or should we say so much to dew? If you’re coming in April, don’t miss the annual Moss Festival, and be sure to catch the always-popular slug races. By all means, set aside five minutes to visit the Seattle Sun Museum, where you can see the amazing mural of photos taken during the legendary SUN-ageddon of August 1935, when thousands of Seattleites feared the world was coming to an end because the sun shone brightly for seven consecutive days. 

FUN FACT: Baseball caps weren’t always worn backwards. That fashion trend originated right here in Seattle, when fans watching a baseball game finally realized there was no need for a visor to block the sun from their eyes. 

If you’re here in June, check out the popular Sleepless in Seattle tradition of the Summer Solstice – a day each year when thousands of our residents come together to celebrate the longest period of daylight without sunshine of the entire year. 

Did you say you’re coming in July? Well then, keep your ears open for the breathtaking sounds of our popular Fourth of July fireworks. You’ve never heard fireworks like these! But don’t forget: If you’re coming in summer, bring plenty of sunscreen (sun protection factor #1 should suffice).

FUN FACT: People from Seattle have never learned how to squint. 

Seattle is only 60 miles from Mt. Rainier. At 14,410 feet, Rainier is one of the tallest mountains in the world. Its slopes are snow-covered 12 months of the year and it’s considered one of the most beautiful mountains in America – or at least so we’ve been told. We’ve never actually seen it here in Seattle. 

If you’re coming during baseball season, be sure to catch a Seattle Mariners game at the beautiful Safeco Field, where fans always come to the park in breathless anticipation that this might be the game when the Mariners finally open up the park’s roof. They’ve never not been disappointed. 

Energy-conscious visitors won’t want to miss Seattle’s world-famous 100% solar-powered energy plant. Over the course of just one year, the plant’s massive array of solar panels can generate enough energy to power an electric tea kettle in West Seattle for almost 30 minutes. 

DON’T MISS THESE POPULAR ATTRACTIONS DURING YOUR VISIT! 

• Take a fact-filled DUCKS tour of downtown Seattle. Enjoy the heart-pounding thrill of water splashing in your face without ever leaving dry land. 

• Enjoy an exhilarating elevator ride to the top of the Space Needle and imagine what the city below you might look like. 

• Try our world-famous gourmet coffee. Just look 20 yards in any direction. Despite the curtain of rain, you should be able spot at least five Starbucks. 

• Take a tranquil ferry boat ride from downtown Seattle to nearby Bainbridge Island. If you’re lucky, you may even be able to sneak a passing glimpse of Seattle as your ship propels through the fog. 

HELPFUL TRAVEL TIPS: 

• Seattle is beautiful, so bring your camera. When you arrive, be sure to permanently set your camera to “FLASH ON.” 

• On second thought, bring your sunglasses after all. The constant glare from car headlights (necessary 24-hours-a-day) can be blinding. 

• Seattle in the summer can get blazing hot – sometimes up to 71 degrees. So bring shorts. 

• Consider visiting during our less busy rainy season (which starts in early January and continues until the following January). Bring a good book to read. On second thought, bring a library card. 

HERE ARE A FEW MORE FUN FACTS WE BET YOU DID NOT KNOW 

FUN FACT: Did you know that more sunglasses are sold in Seattle than any other city in the USA? That’s because people go months without needing to use them and then forget where they put them. 

FUN FACT: More books are sold in Seattle than any other city in the USA – which, when you think about it, is a great way to spend your time visiting Seattle, because you certainly won’t be spending it outdoors. 

FUN FACT: Did you know that Seattle has the second highest suicide rate in the nation?  If you’re contemplating killing yourself, what better place to end it all than in the suicide capital of the Pacific Northwest? But don’t come in late January. That’s our peak suicide season, and the waits for window ledges can be long. 

So come visit Seattle. If you’ve had your fill of sun-soaked vacations with palm trees and toasty warm beaches in exotic tropical destinations, why not cool off in the great Pacific Northwest? You’re guaranteed not to get a painful sunburn like that time you visited Mexico. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.  Anybody seen my sunglasses? 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  And the next time you’re planning a trip to Seattle to see some incredible scenery, here’s a hint: Try Portland instead. You just might catch a glimpse of the sun there. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

If you can’t get enough of the First Lady, you’re in luck. View from the Bleachers has gained access to her upcoming schedule of appearances. She is one busy lady. Here is an exclusive sneak peak at her travel schedule for the next 30 days: 

March 15: Travels to Rome to perform a dance video with newly appointed Pope Francis, grooving to the tune of The Harlem Shake. Zips over to Milan to welcome contestants in The Amazing Race to their next pit stop. (We at VFTB are rooting for the deaf lesbian twins. They’re so nice.)

March 17: Travels to Paris to promote the launch of her new fragrance, Eau de Première Dame (which is a slightly sexier name than the original name, Recession). 

March 18: Still in Paris, she will be the featured runway model to introduce Donatella Versace’s new spring line of haut couture fashion. (Spoiler alert – two words: zebra stripes.) 

March 19: Travels to Hollywood where she will announce on Ellen her upcoming recurring guest role as Leslie Knope’s annoying neighbor who hates anyone who doesn’t exercise, on Parks and Recreation. 

March 22: Travels to New York City to begin taping her new fitness show for the Oxygen channel, First Lady of Fitness. You don’t want to miss episode five, where she challenges Denzel Washington to see who can do the most abdominal crunches. 

March 24: Travels to Rapid City, SD to celebrate the grand opening of the city’s first Panera Bread restaurant, where she’ll be helping the staff serve up free arugula-flavored tofu shakes for the kids. 

March 26: Travels to Nairobi, Kenya to briefly run the country for a few days while Kenya’s President Mwai Kibaki goes in for gallbladder surgery. She’ll be performing his surgery too. 

March 30: Travels to Vail, CO, so she can be seen mingling with other fit, beautiful people. Tentative plans include snowboard lessons with Brad Pitt. 

April 1: Travels to Pasadena, CA for an appearance on Celebrity Rehab, where she will shock the world by revealing her struggles to overcome her obsession with wanting to buy anything she’s ever seen Condoleezza Rice wear. 

April 3: Travels to Terre Haute, IN, to handle Eye in the Sky morning traffic reporting duties in Chopper 10 for TV station WTHI (Monica, their regular traffic person, is on vacation that week), after which she’ll throw out the opening pitch for the Terre Haute Rex minor league baseball team and play second base. Word has it she batted .317 in Cactus League AA ball. 

April 4: Travels to Las Vegas, to be the opening act for Celine Dion. The First Lady will reportedly be performing her disappearing Bengal tiger trick for the very last time. 

April 7: Travels to Martinsville, VA to compete in NASCAR’s STP GAS BOOSTER 500 at Martinsville Speedway, where she’s expected to give defending champion Tony Stewart a run for his money. Some sports purists complain she’ll have an unfair advantage since, in addition to being given the pole position, she’ll be surrounded by a motorcade of 12 armed secret service agents, which could present serious impediments for the other racecar drivers to get past. 

April 8: Travels to Lakeland, FL for the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the newest West Ridge Lanes & Family Fun Center, “where fun and family come together”, mainly for the all-you-can-eat salad bar. 

April 9: Travels to Los Angeles to take the place of Mariah Carey as one of the judges on American Idol. (But don’t tell Mariah. She doesn’t know yet.) 

April 11: Travels to Pyongyang, North Korea to give the country’s young leader Kim Jong Un fashion tips about his hair and invite him to join her on her First Lady of Fitness show. (She’s hinted he could stand to drop a few pounds.) 

April 14: Travels to Seattle, WA to give an inspirational lecture to restore people’s faith that the sun will one day return to the Pacific Northwest – despite all evidence to the contrary. 

April 15: Travels to New York City to take over hosting The Daily Show while Jon Stewart goes on a 12-week hiatus to direct a film. Rumor has it she mostly plans to make fun of Joe Biden’s hair. 

But the First Lady’s schedule is not without its fair share of down time.  She has scheduled time to relax with her family in Washington, from 6:15 – 8:35pm on March 25. Then it’s off to Nairobi, Kenya. 

You simply have to admire her energy – and her bangs. 

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base… Hey, look. Isn’t that Michelle Obama in front of Costco demonstrating a new, healthier juicer? 

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, please let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a. If I get 1000 likes, I was assured Michelle Obama has agreed to be a celebrity guest blogger for me next week. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013

Sadly, barely two weeks later, another sweet woman, Dina Manfredini, from Johnston, Iowa, who with Besse’s passing had become the reigning World’s Oldest Person, barely had time to enjoy her newly bestowed crown before she too passed away, at the age of 115.

Dina’s heir apparent’s tenure as World’s Oldest Person was seemingly every bit as brief as Dina’s, because last week this shocking headline appeared:  Koto Okubo Dead: World’s Oldest Woman Dies at 115. The accompanying report described a frail, quiet Japanese woman who passed away peacefully in her sleep at her nursing home, barely having had time to thank the awards committee before she too fell victim to this unbroken curse.

The passing of Koto Okubo opened the way for Ingrid Jørgensen, a retired school crossing guard from Trondheim, Norway, to win the coveted title of World’s Oldest Person at the relatively young age of just 114. Ms. Jørgensen is reportedly feeling rather uncomfortable with the news of her achievement, insisting it must be an accounting error. She claims her neighbor Heidi Fjelstad is several months older than she and therefore is the person who should be recognized, not her. (Norwegians are notoriously modest.)

Until now, there has been scant evidence that any government leaders or world scientists have made any efforts to combat this outbreak, which cruelly appears to target only the very oldest and most frail among us. Lest anyone think the latest deaths are isolated coincidences, Nate Silver, the uber-statistician who correctly picked all 50 states in last year’s presidential election, places the odds that the current World’s Oldest Person will die within the next twelve months at 97.5%. Friends of Norway’s Ingrid Jørgensen have reportedly urged her not to put off her once-in-a-lifetime vacation to Greece until next summer.

Millions of senior citizens are up in arms, arguing that this health crisis has been ignored for far too long. The AARP pointed out recently that the United States spends billions of dollars on wars in the Middle East but has invested almost nothing to try to stop the revolving door of World’s Oldest Persons falling prey to the Grim Reaper.

Recent World’s Oldest Person honorees like Besse, Dina and Koto have tended to be shy about shining the spotlight on this global crisis. They tend not to complain, which may be in part due to the fact they’re deceased. But AARP representatives are urging Americans to fight for these helpless elderly victims and are asking people to write their congressperson to demand that they find a cure once and for all for this mysterious affliction that is targeting the most senior of our senior citizens.

As one AARP spokesperson bluntly put it, “Our leaders must stop turning a blind eye as our World’s Oldest Persons continue to die off one by one. If we don’t do something about it, eventually all of us may suffer the same fate.”

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS:  If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by sharing it on Facebook, posting a comment or giving it a.  Remember, for every person that shares this post, I will donate a dollar to the Tim Jones Foundation to find a cure to save our World’s Oldest Persons from meeting a tragic fate. So please share generously. 

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2013