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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:25PM
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a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dHmav2z1o1o/SgAOY1ofgKI/AAAAAAAAGxw/3y3jp3kGFoc/s1600-h/julia_roberts_tattoos-1.jpg"img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dHmav2z1o1o/SgAOY1ofgKI/AAAAAAAAGxw/3y3jp3kGFoc/s200/julia_roberts_tattoos-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332277778683232418" //a |
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:25PM
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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I was once on over the top, organized, anal-retentive freak. You know, to the point where it was quite annoying. I was pressed, waxed and sporting a handheld label maker with pride. My apartment was always ready for guests on a moments notice. I could have it visitor ready during their elevator ride up to my place. I recall a time when April 15th would roll around and I could pull my files out of my desk, run a report on quicken and my taxes where done. If I needed a receipt for the purchase of a battery from three years ago, I could find it in a heartbeat. My wife remembers that guy and wonders where he went. I donât know where the old JB is, but I can tell you when he left. He departed on November 26th, 2001. This was the day that I became a father and my mind warped and my priorities changed. Parents, you know what Iâm talking about. Those of you who have not yet had children or are expecting, I am about to give you a glimpse into your future.br /br /Let me take you on a little visual tour of my house. Just to be clear and avoid us coming across as slobs, my house is always clean. You could eat off the floor. It just has the distinct markings that a child lives there. Next to our front door youâll always find my daughters backpack, jacket and shoes. Our daughter can slip them off in one fluid motion when she walks in the door. Our living room is filled with extreme toys. Next to our lounge chair is an electric scooter that is charging. Next to the sofa is an electric car that is also charging. On the kitchen table is an remote control helicopter this is, you guessed it, charging. It seems every outlet is filled with a charger of some sort for portable dvd, ipods, DS Nitinendo or something. Whenever we sit on the sofa something needs to be moved, a pogo stick, hulk gloves or possibly and critter from outdoors, being held against itâs will. br /br /I always envisioned a quite office where I could find solitude. Itâs become the most chaotic room in the house. My office has become the office/playroom/family room/exercise room. The shelves meant to organize my work, taxes, books are filled with dinosaurs, board games, and puzzles. Itâs not uncommon to be working in the wee hours of the morning, the only time I am alone, only to have Squeeky the hamster cruise across my keyboard. The exercise equipment that âfolds for easy storageâ has lost its motivation to fold and store. At least itâs being used. On our tour, I can take you quickly from the family room to the bathroom because we have our choice of transportation available anywhere you look; skateboards, bikes, stilts. The bathroom is filled with gimmicks to entertain. When you pull back the shower curtain you literally canât see the bottom of the tub. Itâs a porcelain toy box of squirt guns, dolphins, mermaids and animal shaped bath gels. When I was growing up I donât recall needing scuba gear.br /br /Outside our home isnât much different. We have a small yard filled with nerfs, balls, bats, kites and inflatableâs. Not being much of a judge of size while ordering online, I apparently purchased the largest trampoline known to mankind. You open the door, walk to the end of the deck and all you see is my Ringling Brothers approved larger than life trampoline, leaving no yard whatsoever. Oh well, less mowing. Iâm not sure if our garage is organized or not. Itâs more of a magical David Copperfield sort of trick. Itâs really a mess but itâs all on the ceiling. Using every imaginable hook, shelf and pulley known available at Home Depot, Iâve managed to hang upside down every outdoor sports mechanism you can imagine; a Canoe, tent, surfboard, or fishing gear. What I basically have is an upside down REI. If you can find the right rope you are welcome to borrow anything you like. If you grab the wrong rope, they all come tumbling down.br /br /As crazy and chaotic as this all sounds, itâs also comforting. To walk into our home and find everything perfectly stowed away wouldnât feel right. I fully expect to walk up to the front door with the dog scratching at the glass, as if I hadnât been home in years, even though I just went to the mailbox. I expect the place to look as if a seven year old is loving every minute of being seven in this home, just as they did at six, five, and so on. Dinner wouldnât be the same if there werenât rubber frogs in the chair and fake poo on the table. I wouldnât know what to think if a dvd was actually in the correct case, or in a case at all. br /br /Priorities change when kids start taking those first steps. Itâs almost sad when we box up a years worth of her favorite toys and take it to our storage building, something I said I would NEVER have. We pull out a jumbo marker and write âRaleigh age oneâ and so on accordingly each year. She only gets to be a kid once and I hope she remembers how fun this house was. We always wanted it to be a creative, inspiring place to learn even if it meant mommy and daddy would have army men and jacks permanently embedded in their feet. There will always be plenty of time later in life to return to the old JB, but I donât miss him for now.br /br /I would like to make one last stop on our tour. I would like to show you my car but unfortunately melted crayons have jammed the doorlocks. But if you look inside and to the left youâll see a lovely design made of crushed goldfish⦠|
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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I was once on over the top, organized, anal-retentive freak. You know, to the point where it was quite annoying. I was pressed, waxed and sporting a handheld label maker with pride. My apartment was always ready for guests on a moments notice. I could have it visitor ready during their elevator ride up to my place. I recall a time when April 15th would roll around and I could pull my files out of my desk, run a report on quicken and my taxes where done. If I needed a receipt for the purchase of a battery from three years ago, I could find it in a heartbeat. My wife remembers that guy and wonders where he went. I donât know where the old JB is, but I can tell you when he left. He departed on November 26th, 2001. This was the day that I became a father and my mind warped and my priorities changed. Parents, you know what Iâm talking about. Those of you who have not yet had children or are expecting, I am about to give you a glimpse into your future.
Let me take you on a little visual tour of my house. Just to be clear and avoid us coming across as slobs, my house is always clean. You could eat off the floor. It just has the distinct markings that a child lives there. Next to our front door youâll always find my daughters backpack, jacket and shoes. Our daughter can slip them off in one fluid motion when she walks in the door. Our living room is filled with extreme toys. Next to our lounge chair is an electric scooter that is charging. Next to the sofa is an electric car that is also charging. On the kitchen table is an remote control helicopter this is, you guessed it, charging. It seems every outlet is filled with a charger of some sort for portable dvd, ipods, DS Nitinendo or something. Whenever we sit on the sofa something needs to be moved, a pogo stick, hulk gloves or possibly and critter from outdoors, being held against itâs will.
I always envisioned a quite office where I could find solitude. Itâs become the most chaotic room in the house. My office has become the office/playroom/family room/exercise room. The shelves meant to organize my work, taxes, books are filled with dinosaurs, board games, and puzzles. Itâs not uncommon to be working in the wee hours of the morning, the only time I am alone, only to have Squeeky the hamster cruise across my keyboard. The exercise equipment that âfolds for easy storageâ has lost its motivation to fold and store. At least itâs being used. On our tour, I can take you quickly from the family room to the bathroom because we have our choice of transportation available anywhere you look; skateboards, bikes, stilts. The bathroom is filled with gimmicks to entertain. When you pull back the shower curtain you literally canât see the bottom of the tub. Itâs a porcelain toy box of squirt guns, dolphins, mermaids and animal shaped bath gels. When I was growing up I donât recall needing scuba gear.
Outside our home isnât much different. We have a small yard filled with nerfs, balls, bats, kites and inflatableâs. Not being much of a judge of size while ordering online, I apparently purchased the largest trampoline known to mankind. You open the door, walk to the end of the deck and all you see is my Ringling Brothers approved larger than life trampoline, leaving no yard whatsoever. Oh well, less mowing. Iâm not sure if our garage is organized or not. Itâs more of a magical David Copperfield sort of trick. Itâs really a mess but itâs all on the ceiling. Using every imaginable hook, shelf and pulley known available at Home Depot, Iâve managed to hang upside down every outdoor sports mechanism you can imagine; a Canoe, tent, surfboard, or fishing gear. What I basically have is an upside down REI. If you can find the right rope you are welcome to borrow anything you like. If you grab the wrong rope, they all come tumbling down.
As crazy and chaotic as this all sounds, itâs also comforting. To walk into our home and find everything perfectly stowed away wouldnât feel right. I fully expect to walk up to the front door with the dog scratching at the glass, as if I hadnât been home in years, even though I just went to the mailbox. I expect the place to look as if a seven year old is loving every minute of being seven in this home, just as they did at six, five, and so on. Dinner wouldnât be the same if there werenât rubber frogs in the chair and fake poo on the table. I wouldnât know what to think if a dvd was actually in the correct case, or in a case at all.
Priorities change when kids start taking those first steps. Itâs almost sad when we box up a years worth of her favorite toys and take it to our storage building, something I said I would NEVER have. We pull out a jumbo marker and write âRaleigh age oneâ and so on accordingly each year. She only gets to be a kid once and I hope she remembers how fun this house was. We always wanted it to be a creative, inspiring place to learn even if it meant mommy and daddy would have army men and jacks permanently embedded in their feet. There will always be plenty of time later in life to return to the old JB, but I donât miss him for now.
I would like to make one last stop on our tour. I would like to show you my car but unfortunately melted crayons have jammed the doorlocks. But if you look inside and to the left youâll see a lovely design made of crushed goldfish⦠|
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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I can't believe it's already February. In case you missed it, here is the txt from my January article for a href="http://www.rareaustin.com/"Rare Magazine./a It will make you feel better if you have already stopped your new years resolutions of working out. If you want to see the magazine in PDF, including pics, click a href="http://issuu.com/raremagazine/docs/january2009"here:/adivbr //divdivbr /I just posted this ad on craigslist.br /br /Average adult white male looking for friends who want to share an average life.br /No sports. No running. No cycling. If you have a gym membership, need not apply. If you have a coach or take more than one vitamin, please move on. If in the past 24 hours you have made mention of your heart rate, metabolism, or body fat count, you are not for me.br /Do you ever find yourself sore from an evening of drinking, horseshoes, beer pong and general horseplay? You might be my new best friend. Please reply with all pertinent information, although Iâm dubious that such a person exist in Austin, Tx.br /br /O.k., I didnât really post this ad, but I am seriously considering firing all my friends and recruiting all new ones. Iâm not sure if itâs just my circle of friends or all of Austin is so fitness obsessed itâs ridiculous. Maybe I need to move to a less fit city. Houston is actually looking rather appealing, having been the top rated âfattest city in Americaâ in several recent years.br /br /Donât get me wrong. I like fitness. I only do it as a means to enjoy the finer things in life, like Stella Artois, Herradura or the holiday cheese Fiesta from Hickory Farms. It seems as if every year another close friend of mine becomes so fitness crazed they are about as fun as Al Gore at the Burning Man Festival. Itâs annoying. Itâs as if they have joined a cult. They lose all social skills and become little nutrition robots. Unless you are getting paid to do a sport, it should never define you. If you are known as Bob the Triathlete, and youâve never won a dollar doing it, someone needs to bludgeon you with a warhammer! br /br /Iâve come up with an official fitness freak loser test. Again, this does not apply to those who get paid for sport, purely amateurs. Answer yes or no to the following questions.br /br /1. My profile picture on myspace, facebook, etc⦠is me participating in a sport.br /2. I have a printed photo of myself larger than 5x7 participating in sports hanging in my house.br /3. I wonât have a beer the evening before a race although I typically come in somewhere after 3,000th place each year in the Capital 10k.br /4. I have used tape, lube or band aids to to prevent chaffing on my reproductive organs.br /5. I have a collection of my event number pin-onâs and or bracelets displayed somewhere in my home.br /6. I have talked to my nutritionist, coach and massage therapist all in the same day.br /7. I have a tattoo related to my sport of choice somewhere on my body.br /8. I am concerned about the color of my pee.br /9. I have turned down nookie because it was within 24 hrs of an event.br /10. I laugh at fitness infomercials instead of thinking âHey, the Pubic Shockerâmight be just what I need.br /br /If you answered no to all of these, I love you. You are my new best friend.br /If you answered yes to 1 or 2 of these, itâs good to see you are taking care of yourself. Drop a workout once in awhile and go tubing on the Guadalupe or something.br /If you answered yes to 3-5 of these, itâs really time to get yourself in check, stop wearing Pilates pants to lunch.br /If you answered yes to 6 or more, you are a sick F#@$. Get help a.s.a.p. You are annoying and no one wants be around you. Youâre probably too busy weighing your food or rubbing Tiger Balm on your ass to even read this.br /br /There was a time when I would have answered yes to more than 6 of these questions. What an annoying human being I must have been. Why didnât an innocent bystander beat me up? I could have used it. I am officially done sharing my athletic endeavors with innocent bystanders.br /br /The joke used to be on the guy who couldnât let go of his sports prowess in the past, much like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. Now I think the joke is on the adult who canât let go of their future accomplishments. No one cares if you are planning an Ironman, Iditarod and Base Jump in Dubai in January. WE DONâT CARE!!!!br /br /br /br //div |
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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I can't believe it's already February. In case you missed it, here is the txt from my January article for Rare Magazine. It will make you feel better if you have already stopped your new years resolutions of working out. If you want to see the magazine in PDF, including pics, click here:
I just posted this ad on craigslist.
Average adult white male looking for friends who want to share an average life.
No sports. No running. No cycling. If you have a gym membership, need not apply. If you have a coach or take more than one vitamin, please move on. If in the past 24 hours you have made mention of your heart rate, metabolism, or body fat count, you are not for me.
Do you ever find yourself sore from an evening of drinking, horseshoes, beer pong and general horseplay? You might be my new best friend. Please reply with all pertinent information, although Iâm dubious that such a person exist in Austin, Tx.
O.k., I didnât really post this ad, but I am seriously considering firing all my friends and recruiting all new ones. Iâm not sure if itâs just my circle of friends or all of Austin is so fitness obsessed itâs ridiculous. Maybe I need to move to a less fit city. Houston is actually looking rather appealing, having been the top rated âfattest city in Americaâ in several recent years.
Donât get me wrong. I like fitness. I only do it as a means to enjoy the finer things in life, like Stella Artois, Herradura or the holiday cheese Fiesta from Hickory Farms. It seems as if every year another close friend of mine becomes so fitness crazed they are about as fun as Al Gore at the Burning Man Festival. Itâs annoying. Itâs as if they have joined a cult. They lose all social skills and become little nutrition robots. Unless you are getting paid to do a sport, it should never define you. If you are known as Bob the Triathlete, and youâve never won a dollar doing it, someone needs to bludgeon you with a warhammer!
Iâve come up with an official fitness freak loser test. Again, this does not apply to those who get paid for sport, purely amateurs. Answer yes or no to the following questions.
1. My profile picture on myspace, facebook, etc⦠is me participating in a sport.
2. I have a printed photo of myself larger than 5x7 participating in sports hanging in my house.
3. I wonât have a beer the evening before a race although I typically come in somewhere after 3,000th place each year in the Capital 10k.
4. I have used tape, lube or band aids to to prevent chaffing on my reproductive organs.
5. I have a collection of my event number pin-onâs and or bracelets displayed somewhere in my home.
6. I have talked to my nutritionist, coach and massage therapist all in the same day.
7. I have a tattoo related to my sport of choice somewhere on my body.
8. I am concerned about the color of my pee.
9. I have turned down nookie because it was within 24 hrs of an event.
10. I laugh at fitness infomercials instead of thinking âHey, the Pubic Shockerâmight be just what I need.
If you answered no to all of these, I love you. You are my new best friend.
If you answered yes to 1 or 2 of these, itâs good to see you are taking care of yourself. Drop a workout once in awhile and go tubing on the Guadalupe or something.
If you answered yes to 3-5 of these, itâs really time to get yourself in check, stop wearing Pilates pants to lunch.
If you answered yes to 6 or more, you are a sick F#@$. Get help a.s.a.p. You are annoying and no one wants be around you. Youâre probably too busy weighing your food or rubbing Tiger Balm on your ass to even read this.
There was a time when I would have answered yes to more than 6 of these questions. What an annoying human being I must have been. Why didnât an innocent bystander beat me up? I could have used it. I am officially done sharing my athletic endeavors with innocent bystanders.
The joke used to be on the guy who couldnât let go of his sports prowess in the past, much like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. Now I think the joke is on the adult who canât let go of their future accomplishments. No one cares if you are planning an Ironman, Iditarod and Base Jump in Dubai in January. WE DONâT CARE!!!!
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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Just in case you missed it. :)br /br /br /âIâm sorry honey, I completely underestimated the purpose of your closet and I will do everything within my power to respect your space, your things and the overall sacredness that is YOUR closet.âbr /br /My wife would be thrilled if I wrote that statement 100 times on a giant chalkboard, but the problem is⦠itâs not going to happen. I hate to further perpetuate the obvious differences between men and women, but the way we think of our closets is a big one. Itâs hard for me to get our brains around how women feel about their closets. The key word is âfeelâ. Itâs complicatedbr /br /To men, there is no attachment to a closet. Itâs a space where we shove our stuff. I literally mean, shove our stuff in there. It starts when we are kids. Mom says to clean up your room or you canât watch Monday Night Football. So, we scoop everything up into our arms and shove it into the closet. As soon as you open it, baseballs, basketballs, skateboards and race car sets come tumbling down. We never really outgrow this. Our closet is eternally a hidden space to hide things for a surprise inspection. br /br /I have talked to several adult women about their relationships with their closets. They were all very passionate about the things they love and hate. I found them all very interesting.br /br /I was shocked at the number of married couples that donât share a closet. Some because they are well off and have the his/hers setup, just off the master bedroom. More often they have the setup that means she got the master closet and he gets dressed somewhere else. I donât think she really cares where. The men that are not in the master closet are typically newlyweds that are so fresh, excited and willing to please their new bride they make this move right off the bat. Bad idea guys. You will spend years trying to fight your way back into the master, especially when you find yourself sharing space with your toddler. It doesnât really make a man feel like a power executive when he accidentally tries on his three year olds Spiderman undies. I was in the guest room as a newlywed, didnât want to wake up my new bride with my early hours. I still love her, donât get me wrong, but sheâs the first person Iâm waking up if I canât find my keys.br /br /Women love to be able to see every single pair of shoes they own at a glance. This takes a lot of space. This problem has arisen from the shoe boutiques that display their items in what I call âshoe condoâsâ. Little private residences for your footwear. Women want this same sort of glam treatment for their shoes at home. For most, this is not very realistic, so we go to The Container Store on mission to organize our closets. I have a theory on those shelving systems they sell. The only oneâs that have ever been built and actually exist as a complete setup are the ones on display in the store. When you attempt to replicate this in your home closet, the boxes you buy that are supposed to mimick these systems are just misc spare parts that are not intended to go together whatsoever. How many of us have fallen for the Elf system, only to be left on our closet floor in the fetal position wimpering?br /br /Women like to break down their closet into specific sections, casual, dresses, t-shirts, jeans, etcâ¦br /They are way off base with their labeling. If they were being honest their sections would be more like this; fat clothes, skinny clothes, out of style, too fancy, not fancy enough, not mine, shows too much cleavage, donât know why I still have this, all of my friends have seen me in the recently, and letâs not forget the stained/ripped/torn needs attention section.br /br /All women love the concept of having something new in their closet that they have NEVER worn, preferably still with the tag on it. It makes them feel special. Iâve found an easy, affordable remedy for this situation. I make the rounds to all the finer boutiques in town with some fresh cupcakes. I offer the cakes in exchange for some high priced tags which I take home and attach to my wifeâs old clothing. Women will either fall for this or think they are going crazy. Either way, itâs entertaining.br /br /Iâve always been fascinated with the number of purses women will keep. They typically take up all the upper shelf space in their closets. They hang on to them forever knowing full well that they are never going to go back to an older purse. Why wonât they part with these things? Have you ever given any thought to the amount of money women will drop on designer purses? Iâve always been perplexed by the fact that women will spend far more on a container for their money than the amount of money they posses. Thatâs completely illogical and unreasonable. Of course, if I wanted logic and reason, I could just marry my computer. The day they design a computer with breasts, women are in trouble. br /br /I know there are a lot of other things my wife would like for our closet, besides me moving outside into a Rubbermaid shed. Just to name a few, I think she would like twice the size, a full length mirror with rotating stage, a balance bar on the wall, matching hangers throughout (a chick thing and completely ridiculous), a lock on the door to keep me and the kid out, a tv, a pedicurist, a chocolate fountain, a hot tub, a young shirtless towel boy for when she steps out of the hot tub, and live performances from latin boy bands on the weekend and/or Oprah. Other than that, I think she loves our closet. |
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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Just in case you missed it. :)
âIâm sorry honey, I completely underestimated the purpose of your closet and I will do everything within my power to respect your space, your things and the overall sacredness that is YOUR closet.â
My wife would be thrilled if I wrote that statement 100 times on a giant chalkboard, but the problem is⦠itâs not going to happen. I hate to further perpetuate the obvious differences between men and women, but the way we think of our closets is a big one. Itâs hard for me to get our brains around how women feel about their closets. The key word is âfeelâ. Itâs complicated
To men, there is no attachment to a closet. Itâs a space where we shove our stuff. I literally mean, shove our stuff in there. It starts when we are kids. Mom says to clean up your room or you canât watch Monday Night Football. So, we scoop everything up into our arms and shove it into the closet. As soon as you open it, baseballs, basketballs, skateboards and race car sets come tumbling down. We never really outgrow this. Our closet is eternally a hidden space to hide things for a surprise inspection.
I have talked to several adult women about their relationships with their closets. They were all very passionate about the things they love and hate. I found them all very interesting.
I was shocked at the number of married couples that donât share a closet. Some because they are well off and have the his/hers setup, just off the master bedroom. More often they have the setup that means she got the master closet and he gets dressed somewhere else. I donât think she really cares where. The men that are not in the master closet are typically newlyweds that are so fresh, excited and willing to please their new bride they make this move right off the bat. Bad idea guys. You will spend years trying to fight your way back into the master, especially when you find yourself sharing space with your toddler. It doesnât really make a man feel like a power executive when he accidentally tries on his three year olds Spiderman undies. I was in the guest room as a newlywed, didnât want to wake up my new bride with my early hours. I still love her, donât get me wrong, but sheâs the first person Iâm waking up if I canât find my keys.
Women love to be able to see every single pair of shoes they own at a glance. This takes a lot of space. This problem has arisen from the shoe boutiques that display their items in what I call âshoe condoâsâ. Little private residences for your footwear. Women want this same sort of glam treatment for their shoes at home. For most, this is not very realistic, so we go to The Container Store on mission to organize our closets. I have a theory on those shelving systems they sell. The only oneâs that have ever been built and actually exist as a complete setup are the ones on display in the store. When you attempt to replicate this in your home closet, the boxes you buy that are supposed to mimick these systems are just misc spare parts that are not intended to go together whatsoever. How many of us have fallen for the Elf system, only to be left on our closet floor in the fetal position wimpering?
Women like to break down their closet into specific sections, casual, dresses, t-shirts, jeans, etcâ¦
They are way off base with their labeling. If they were being honest their sections would be more like this; fat clothes, skinny clothes, out of style, too fancy, not fancy enough, not mine, shows too much cleavage, donât know why I still have this, all of my friends have seen me in the recently, and letâs not forget the stained/ripped/torn needs attention section.
All women love the concept of having something new in their closet that they have NEVER worn, preferably still with the tag on it. It makes them feel special. Iâve found an easy, affordable remedy for this situation. I make the rounds to all the finer boutiques in town with some fresh cupcakes. I offer the cakes in exchange for some high priced tags which I take home and attach to my wifeâs old clothing. Women will either fall for this or think they are going crazy. Either way, itâs entertaining.
Iâve always been fascinated with the number of purses women will keep. They typically take up all the upper shelf space in their closets. They hang on to them forever knowing full well that they are never going to go back to an older purse. Why wonât they part with these things? Have you ever given any thought to the amount of money women will drop on designer purses? Iâve always been perplexed by the fact that women will spend far more on a container for their money than the amount of money they posses. Thatâs completely illogical and unreasonable. Of course, if I wanted logic and reason, I could just marry my computer. The day they design a computer with breasts, women are in trouble.
I know there are a lot of other things my wife would like for our closet, besides me moving outside into a Rubbermaid shed. Just to name a few, I think she would like twice the size, a full length mirror with rotating stage, a balance bar on the wall, matching hangers throughout (a chick thing and completely ridiculous), a lock on the door to keep me and the kid out, a tv, a pedicurist, a chocolate fountain, a hot tub, a young shirtless towel boy for when she steps out of the hot tub, and live performances from latin boy bands on the weekend and/or Oprah. Other than that, I think she loves our closet. |
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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In case you missed the Dec issue of Rare Magazine, here is my article that ran regarding Christmas memories...divbr //divdivbr //divbr /âHoney, what do you want for Christmas? I donât know what to get you.â I donât think Iâve ever had a good answer to that question, since I was about 12 years old. Iâm a deeply scared adult male, but making up for it rapidly and vicariously through my child. Iâll explain.br /br /When I was a kid I would put deep, concentration into exactly what I wanted for Christmas. I remember as a young kid wanting things that would impress my friends, good solid conversation pieces. Itâs in guysâ blood to be competitive, be braggadocios and just plain show off. My parents, bless their hearts, just sort of âmissed the markâ as far as gifts went. Iâll admit, we were a family of modest means, but sometimes I wanted to show the other kids at elementary school that I had and âedgeâ. I recall some of those incidents when my parents not only missed the bullâs eye; the dart missed the board entirely, putting yet another hole in the wood paneling that was my ego. This is the story of why Iâve started spoiling my child.br /br /I distinctly recall the first thing I ever REALLY wanted. It was a skateboard. A killer one. It was the mid 70âs and the boom of the first extreme sport. Skateboarding magazine had just come out, guys were shredding abandoned swimming pools and empty half pipes. I wanted so badly to be a part of this culture. The technology of skateboards was booming at the time, but this was lost on my folks. That was the only thing I requested for Christmas that year. I would be ready to shred as soon as the snow melted in Kansas City the followig year. I remember opening that sadly wrapped skateboard, purchased at the local Ace Hardware store. It was a skinny board that said âGoofyfootâ on it. The thing had metal wheels! No lie. Do you remember the old metal skates that would strap around your shoes that were probably popular in the 50âs? I had the skateboard version of that, barely a generation above a Soap Box Car. Not exactly the envy of the neighborhood kids.br /br /It was amazing the power of a t.v. commercial back then. Apparently, fans of Gilliganâs Island, The Brady Bunch and The Beverly Hillbillies were prime targets for slot car racing. Iâll never forget the commercials for TCR, Total Control Racing. This was slot car racing with the ability to change lanes and pass on one section of the track. I was enamored with it. I was certain that the year had arrived that the TCR was going to be waiting for me under the tree. There was a race track that year, but not quite what I hoped for. It was, and Iâm not making this up, a Hot Wheels set. Age appropriate for a kid a good 5 years younger than me. The pieces of track were wonderful for abusing my sisters, but needed to be hidden when friends came over.br /br /The next thing I remember wanting badly was an electronic football game. Coleco had come out with amazing hand held game called Electronic Quarterback. It was really the first generation of what is now evolved into things like gameboy systems. Mobile coolness. It was pretty high tech for 1978. They had come out with the new version for two players called Head-to-Head Football for two players at once. This was very popular on my school bus rides home. It would turn into a tournaments and I needed to get better at this. I humbly put in my request that year. My mom, bless her heart, did her best, but got me Electric Football, which was a table sized football field. It was popular a good five years before that. You set up all your players on the field (a table), the opponent set up their, which were basically action figures and then you turned on the machine which was plugged in. The table would vibrate until your players fell down. It was ridiculous and even harder to play on the bus without electricity. Needless to say, I didnât make any new friends that year. br /br /The following year I had high expectations once again. Jam Boxes were huge that year. I donât mean huge as in âpopularâ, I mean they were HUGE. The bigger the better. Junior high was in full swing and there was nothing cooler than showing up to a track meet with a monster radio. John Herrera was the most popular kid in our school because he always had the latest, greatest jam box. I recall one he had that included a record player! He was a shot putter on the track team, so hauling it around was not an issue. I simply put âJam Boxâ on my wish list that year. I had distinctly different tastes in music from John and needed my own device. That year, I opened my Panasonic tape recorder. It in NO WAY resembled a Jam Box. I could have run the mile with it in my shorts. It would have come in handy if I was dictating legalese, but unfortunately on a 7th grade education, not necessary. br /br /Have you noticed the common thread? Iâve been chronically 5 years behind the rest of the world for my entire life. Donât misunderstand me. Iâm not complaining. Iâm merely doing some soul searching as to why Iâm overcompensating now. Do you think itâs a bit odd I bought my daughter a computer when she was a fetus, I have a car waiting for her in the driveway and sheâs just learning to read, and Iâve already booked her on a commercial flight to the moon. |
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by JB Hager
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posted Oct 31 2011 5:24PM
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In case you missed the Dec issue of Rare Magazine, here is my article that ran regarding Christmas memories...
âHoney, what do you want for Christmas? I donât know what to get you.â I donât think Iâve ever had a good answer to that question, since I was about 12 years old. Iâm a deeply scared adult male, but making up for it rapidly and vicariously through my child. Iâll explain.
When I was a kid I would put deep, concentration into exactly what I wanted for Christmas. I remember as a young kid wanting things that would impress my friends, good solid conversation pieces. Itâs in guysâ blood to be competitive, be braggadocios and just plain show off. My parents, bless their hearts, just sort of âmissed the markâ as far as gifts went. Iâll admit, we were a family of modest means, but sometimes I wanted to show the other kids at elementary school that I had and âedgeâ. I recall some of those incidents when my parents not only missed the bullâs eye; the dart missed the board entirely, putting yet another hole in the wood paneling that was my ego. This is the story of why Iâve started spoiling my child.
I distinctly recall the first thing I ever REALLY wanted. It was a skateboard. A killer one. It was the mid 70âs and the boom of the first extreme sport. Skateboarding magazine had just come out, guys were shredding abandoned swimming pools and empty half pipes. I wanted so badly to be a part of this culture. The technology of skateboards was booming at the time, but this was lost on my folks. That was the only thing I requested for Christmas that year. I would be ready to shred as soon as the snow melted in Kansas City the followig year. I remember opening that sadly wrapped skateboard, purchased at the local Ace Hardware store. It was a skinny board that said âGoofyfootâ on it. The thing had metal wheels! No lie. Do you remember the old metal skates that would strap around your shoes that were probably popular in the 50âs? I had the skateboard version of that, barely a generation above a Soap Box Car. Not exactly the envy of the neighborhood kids.
It was amazing the power of a t.v. commercial back then. Apparently, fans of Gilliganâs Island, The Brady Bunch and The Beverly Hillbillies were prime targets for slot car racing. Iâll never forget the commercials for TCR, Total Control Racing. This was slot car racing with the ability to change lanes and pass on one section of the track. I was enamored with it. I was certain that the year had arrived that the TCR was going to be waiting for me under the tree. There was a race track that year, but not quite what I hoped for. It was, and Iâm not making this up, a Hot Wheels set. Age appropriate for a kid a good 5 years younger than me. The pieces of track were wonderful for abusing my sisters, but needed to be hidden when friends came over.
The next thing I remember wanting badly was an electronic football game. Coleco had come out with amazing hand held game called Electronic Quarterback. It was really the first generation of what is now evolved into things like gameboy systems. Mobile coolness. It was pretty high tech for 1978. They had come out with the new version for two players called Head-to-Head Football for two players at once. This was very popular on my school bus rides home. It would turn into a tournaments and I needed to get better at this. I humbly put in my request that year. My mom, bless her heart, did her best, but got me Electric Football, which was a table sized football field. It was popular a good five years before that. You set up all your players on the field (a table), the opponent set up their, which were basically action figures and then you turned on the machine which was plugged in. The table would vibrate until your players fell down. It was ridiculous and even harder to play on the bus without electricity. Needless to say, I didnât make any new friends that year.
The following year I had high expectations once again. Jam Boxes were huge that year. I donât mean huge as in âpopularâ, I mean they were HUGE. The bigger the better. Junior high was in full swing and there was nothing cooler than showing up to a track meet with a monster radio. John Herrera was the most popular kid in our school because he always had the latest, greatest jam box. I recall one he had that included a record player! He was a shot putter on the track team, so hauling it around was not an issue. I simply put âJam Boxâ on my wish list that year. I had distinctly different tastes in music from John and needed my own device. That year, I opened my Panasonic tape recorder. It in NO WAY resembled a Jam Box. I could have run the mile with it in my shorts. It would have come in handy if I was dictating legalese, but unfortunately on a 7th grade education, not necessary.
Have you noticed the common thread? Iâve been chronically 5 years behind the rest of the world for my entire life. Donât misunderstand me. Iâm not complaining. Iâm merely doing some soul searching as to why Iâm overcompensating now. Do you think itâs a bit odd I bought my daughter a computer when she was a fetus, I have a car waiting for her in the driveway and sheâs just learning to read, and Iâve already booked her on a commercial flight to the moon. |
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