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Fathers study reveals interesting findings in TV’s affect on Kids

Contributed by Hugh Mongis

My daughter Hemi is around 14 months old now. I would say she’s a year and 2 months but my wife says that’s not how your describe a babies age. It needs to be in months until they reach around 24 months. Seems like 2 years to me but I’m just along for the ride so 14 months it is.

I was always on Varsity growing up so it’s nearly impossible for me to not bring my “A Game” every time I grab a ball. That’s why it’s tough to spend time with my daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with my baby but she has a hard time keeping up. (Plus, I was working on a 16 beer hangover.) Sports? Forget it, she didn’t even catch a single toss. I even used a larger softball and threw it underhand a couple dozen times. She also has a very low threshold for pain. I’ve pretty much given up on sports with her. That leaves Television.

My wife left me at home to watch her the other day and said “Noggin” is hemi’s favorite channel to watch. I am a Cinemax or SportsCenter guy so this channel was new to me. Noggin was mainly low brow stuff like cartoons and shows with lots of singing or overly excited guys in neon colored clothes. I was excited to see occasional trivia segments and brain teasers. I’m pretty awesome at being smart and stuff. Maybe too smart. This cartoon Moose came on the screen and asked something like “can you tell me which of these cats is orange?” There were only 3 cats on the screen. One was blue, one was green and one was clearly orange. Clearly. It hardly took me any time to answer. My daughter just stared blankly. I don’t even think she tried. Then she stuck most of her foot in her mouth. It could be the beginning of great hurdling form but my gut tells me she’s just lazy. We watched some pointless show with a bunch of buck tooth puppets dancing around and then another trivia segment came on again. 3 cats appeared on the screen and that same Moose said “can you tell me which of these cats has stripes?” I studied all 3 cats carefully and quickly yelled “the one on the f-ing left!” I was right on the money. Too easy. I was sad that my daughter didn’t even venture a guess but I took pride in knowing she could look up to me and be proud of how kick butt her dad is at trivia. Sports, engines, cards and now trivia.

I’m new at this dad stuff but I know my job is to teach and inspire her. That’s why I offered to put all of my division champ trophies in her nursery. My wife didn’t like that idea so I kept them on the mantle. Which is right next to the TV so it’s a great place to show them off. Speaking of which, my godlike abilities grew as we continued watching this Noggin channel for our 3rd straight hour. Trivia and matching games popped up about every half hour and it was like shooting fish in a barrel. I only missed a couple answers and I still think the Moose could have been more clear. I celebrated my impressive run of wits with a tall boy and a shot of Black Velvet. I also think that my girl is impressed by my ability to put away such a large beer in the same time an average guy could chug a 12 ouncer. A tall boy (16 ouncer!) must look massive to her. I pretty much just switched it in to autopilot as hour number 5 watching Noggin came and went. The standings? Baby: ZERO…Daddy: 34 for 40!!!

It occurred to me that perhaps this was counterproductive for my daughter. To be honest…these questions seemed to be aimed at a really dumb audience. When that Moose asked, “which of these can we use to cross the lake? a car…a motorcycle…or a boat?”, I was stunned. “This sh*% is for morons!” I didn’t even want my little girl to learn from idiots like this Moose. It’s not just the cartoon characters either. There was this feminine looking guy with a blue dog who struck me as dim too. He would stare at the screen as ask stuff like “hey, can you help me find the door?” It took him like 30 seconds and the help of that dog to realize he was standing directly in front of it! I can’t believe this clueless wuss is a role model.

By 5:00 that night I realized my daughter and I had watched than channel for around 7 straight hours. We combined efforts for 9 16-ounce tall boys too. I drank em and she watched with admiration…and her foot in her mouth. Although I have more to learn about being a dad I do know that I am already influencing her and teaching her that I am smarter than most of those boobs on TV. Maybe next time we’ll trust my fatherly instincts and watch something a bit more sophisticated and educational. I’m thinking ESPN because it will also help her to finally catch one of my tight spirals.

The not so Great truth about the Greatest Generation

Contributed by Hugh Mongis

I’ll start by saying that it’s usually a rule of mine to NEVER work on holidays. Although today isn’t a traditional holiday it is an important Anniversary. This entire month is actually the 40th Anniversary of the introduction of the cubicle. The moment that we lost our sense of individuality and gained our inner office privacy. At least from the front and sides. That aside, I am celebrating this milestone anniversary by doing what most cubicle enslaved droids do when they want to be productive….I’m working from Starbucks.

Despite the recent news of downsizing you can still find a few. I came to find some inspiration for this blog and I realized that my subject was wiping the raw sugar packet crystals from the bistro tables. A charming silver haired gentleman was cleaning up after the morning rush. He was whistling like only someone of his generation could. It’s a lost art. I think our tongues have evolved to a less sophisticated design because I have never come close to whistling like my grandad could. I began feeling sad for this man because here he was in the twilight of his life wiping up coffee drips. Not that it’s a bad job but it seemed to me that he shouldn’t be working at all. It’s easy to admire this generation because of all they have been through. They are known as “The Greatest Generation” because of their experiences with World Wars, The Great Depression (even worse than our current oil crisis) and making due with however little life dealt them.

They are an amazing breed of people who make up for their lack of deodorant with a flare for colorful clothing. Embroidered hearts and suspenders with jeans are a trademark. Today’s fashion is a bit more provocative. Swap the embroidered hearts for sayings like “juicy”and “hottie.” Then place those slogans on the rear end of tight pants. You get the point. This Greatest Generation have bruises and veins that seem to have stories to tell. Stories of struggle, perseverance and pride. They are to be honored and celebrated. The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw is a great testament to this idea. It’s this well intended introduction that leads me to my controversial point. If you visit a community pool on a regular basis you will likely appreciate my concern. It pains me to say it but…The Greatest Generation has the WORST BODIES!

I know this first hand because I frequent a community aquatics center that is literally teeming with senior citizens. Stripped down, completely, totally and utterly nude senior citizens. It’s definitely a generational thing. Public showers are to the Greatest Generation what ipods are to Gen X & Y. They MUST use them. They are compelled to. When swim trunks will do, they opt for stark nudity. You know the bank of showers that you’ll find in the average locker room? That’s where you will find them. Forget the showers featuring curtains or partitions. Nope, they choose the wide open spaces. Good long showers that leads to a great deal of lather and body fold inspection. We all know the graphic reality of a thorough wash up but we usually reserve that for the privacy of our home. Alone. No innocent bystanders to traumatize.

This generation seems to be as comfortable waltzing nude across the entire locker room as they are complaining about the poor quality food they “just paid $4 dollars for at the Golden Spork Buffet.” Their spider veins, mole clusters & oozing hair sprouts are all the armor they wear in these situations. It’s the complete and utter nudity that is the issue here. Proctologists have dealt with less graphic scenarios. Even the walk to their locker is done in the buck. I’m not sure they even own towels. To be totally honest? I am insanely jealous. It’s not for the thrill and it’s not anything sexual. It’s simply the greatest generation doing something they do naturally. Very naturally.

Elderly Woman Walks Away From Atomic Blast

Contributed By Helen Mongis:
Elderly Issues and Advocacy reporter for 2guys1blog.com

I’m proud to say that I’m a survivor. I’ve seen a lot in my 86 years but yesterdays visit to Wallsave was a terrifying experience. I live in an assisted thriving community now called the Eternityshire Estates. Our shuttle takes residents in to the city twice a week. I decided it was time to stock up on Dinty Moore beef stew and such so I packed my hip wallet with my money and meds.

When we arrived at our drop off I was a bit confused to see that my old trustee Pay-n-Prosper had been torn down and replaced with a new gigantic building called “Wallsave: Santa Fe” Apparently it’s like the other Wallsaves around the country with a bit of Santa Fe flare. I noticed the food court was painted like the desert. Even the security fellow had an embroidered badge patch in the shape of a cactus. It seemed like a pleasant enough store but the sheer size of it overwhelmed me a bit. I wouldn’t have worn my nylon socks if I knew I would be doing this much walking.

After wandering for a half hour or so I made it through the greeting area and headed for the sign marked “beauty care.” I was in need of some cold cream and deodorant. I have never been to reliant on perfumes or anti-perspirants in the past but our resident advisor issued a notice that all resident need to use scented under arm care products as of the first of the month. I am on my 3rd notice so I decided that I would just buy something that smelled nice and be done with it.
The deodorant section wasn’t easy to find at first but a young many in a burnt amber vest directed me to a long isle that was as colorful as my favorite holiday sweater. Every color imaginable and almost as many brand names. I was alarmed to discover that all of them appeared to have different smells too. I called over the young fella to help me out and that’s when the horror began.

He began to read of names like “Arctic Ice Crystal Blast, Powder Blast with Molten Lava Fusion Crystals, Titanium Clean Extreme Raw, Magma Fresh With AmourPiercing Floral Bullets, Mercury Scent Insanity 2, Scent Of Leather Berry With Almond Roca Gel, Atomic Blast Boquet and Original Scent” Then he noticed they were out of original scent. Although there was nearly 700 scents to choose from I was more intimidated by the idea that people had apparently evolved to become extremely stinky. What happened to Powder? Fresh? Clean? Unscented? They have all been transformed and blended with the forces of nature to become Frankendeodorants.

It seems to me that if our scientists spent half as much time on cures for disease as they do on new antiperspirants we would be living in a better world. A healthier world. One that already smells like fresh powder. With normal scented people fusion. At least that’s what I plan on telling my resident advisor. I may have walked away without deodorant but I feel lucky have escapedwith my life and arm pits in tact. Besides, I hate to break a 2 dollar bill on meaningless purchases like Ocean Burst Advanced with Barnacle Mist Crystals.

-Helen

Respect The Embroidered Badge…and the door cling magnet!

Contributed by Mike Dove

Fitness Reporter for 2guys1blog.com

I am first and foremost a lifter. Talkin weights. When I die I want people to look at my grave and think “man, what a waste of massive bis and killer pecs.” I would have them bury my arms above ground if it was legal. I’m pretty sure my biceps will take years to deteriorate. I’m that cut. A friend hear a rumor about Chuck Norris that states that when he does pushup, he isn’t lifting his weight up, he’s pushing the earth down. I want that sort of legacy. Around the gym I get respect. Especially on max day. People at the gym know what I’m capable of. They fear me.

At least they avoid me. That’s why it’s so maddening that jerk off kids don’t show me any love.
Because I spend so much time working my Lats, I can’t really hold down a demanding full time job. I work part time gigs to pay for the Whey and chicken breasts. Recently I got hired on by an area home owners association to be their “Property Protection Patrolman.” It’s only 4 hours a day and I get a vehicle to use free of charge. I have a uniform and a flashlight too. I am very clearly in charge of patrolling the neighborhoods and yet these punk kids flip me crap everyday.

Today some little asswipe yelled “hey…I thought I smelled turkey bacon?!” It was some sort of attempt to point out that I am not actually a cop but some sort of imitation security guard. He wasn’t laughing when I wrote him a citation for “Curbside Harassment.” It doesn’t have any actual fine attached to it but it’s bright pink and is definitely official looking.

All I am asking for is some respect. What makes me a target? The embroidered badge on my uniform clearly says “Serving Your Homes” and yet these little A holes are always acting like I’m some narc. I would think that my hard earned physique would be enough to command their respect but I’m guessing they can’t tell how massive I am inside this compact hybrid response vehicle. I even take the identifying door cling magnets off sometimes when I want to work sting or do recon around the community park. They still seem to know it’s me. “Hey boner…UPS called, they want their uniform back!”

If these kids puts half as much time working out as they do taunting me we would be living in a better world. One with bigger Delts and Quads. Maybe then I wouldn’t need to patrol the streets looking for a reason to fire up my amber lights. It’s a place I would sure like to live. As long as the gym doesn’t get too crowded.

Airlines tell fliers to "cram it!"

Have you heard the joke about the airline? OF COURSE YOU HAVE! They are endless. It’s not a new concept that flying has become an incredibly convenient way to travel…in complete agony. It is a new concept, however, that we are no longer divided in to 2 classes. Introducing: First Class, Second Class, and Classless. Whether it’s disguised as “business class” or “Executive” or perhaps “Regal,” the divide between leg room and little room has grown.

I was flying with my wife and 18 month daughter to a tropical vacation recently and like most men I left the booking arrangements to my better half. It wasn’t until walking through the cramped cabin that I realized I didn’t know where we were sitting. My wife stopped at row 12 with excitement. “I forgot to tell you, we got bumped to Economy PLUS!” We had already passed through the upper crust section where the big spenders sit so I was confused. “Economy Plus?” I asked. She explained that there is now another seat option with this airline and we were in the better of the 2 lesser seating sections. A moral victory perhaps but I was confused by excitement over our consistently cramped seats. My baby daughter had plenty of leg room but I was still doing a sitting “Cannon ball” pose, which is a term I learned you cannot say on an airline anymore due to heightened security measures. I won’t bother mentioning what airline this was but I can tell you that my knees were UNITED with my chin. Apparently the added inch or so of leg room is cause for celebration and surcharge. I spent the 5 hour flight pondering how this new seating section could possibly be worth the added ticket price. About half way in to the flight my wife was shifting around complaining that her seat was a bit “lumpy.” After further inspection she found that an extra seat belt appeared to be stuck into the folds of her seat. I realized that it was one of those rare seat belt extenders that are offered to…uh…Belly Plus passengers.

Perhaps this whole “Plus” moniker was in reference to passenger size, not seat size. Very slick marketing…airline that shall remain nameless! I spent the remainder of the flight with my knees UNITED with my chest wondering what the romantic old economy seats were like.
Vacation was amazing. The flight home came far too soon and it was the shocking realization that I was no longer an Economy Plus passenger that hit the hardest. We missed that section by about 2 rows and with the cost of several hundred bucks to upgrade to the middle class we decided to tough it out. A costly mistake. Now my knees were UNITED with my forehead.

Everything in economy seemed smaller. The pretzels came as “pretzel bites” and my soda came with “ice chips.” The recline position on the seats was 89 degrees. Talk about the lap of luxury. Then again, what did I expect? I wasn’t even in middle class anymore. I felt like those poor folks who were in the bowels of the Titanic, separated from the Floatation Plus people. An announcement came over the loud speaker: “Ladies and gentlemen we are going to turn off the seat belt sign now and we ask that you do return to your assigned seat after stretching you legs. We do have plenty of upgrade room available in Economy Plus and we encourage you to do so when you book your next flight.”
ROWS of empty seats were apparently off limits for us bottom feeders. There was no curtain separating the economy plus from economy so it was really an unmarked boundary we were all subject to respecting. God forbid they actually let passengers circulate their blood while flying.

My wife and I wondered if we could even make eye contact with Economy Plus passengers? We began to reminisce about the “old days” when we were Economy Plus passengers. “Remember how spread out we were?” I asked my wife. “I guess you just don’t know a good thing until it’s gone” my wife replied with a tear in her eye. In fairness that tear was caused from the lack of oxygen in economy class. It seems like the current model for airline seat arrangements is a borrowed concept from Sardine packers.

The real issue I have with this new class of passengers is that it’s counter intuitive to the rest of our society. In America we have consistently increased the size of just about everything. Bigger houses, cars and portions of food. I asked for a large soda at the movies (a 8oo seater) and they gave me a garbage can on wheels with a straw. Even fast food offers, medium size, large size, giganto size, humongo size and ridiculous size combo options. Obesity is at an all time high and we have no signs this trend declining. The airlines might want to take note of this issue or the seat belt extender manufacturers will become the new oil billionaires.