Hail to the Redskins!

Wow. That's all I have to say (well, not really... that wouldn't make a very good blog entry). I wrote on here months ago that this football season would bring me some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my year. And, sure enough.... that was true this year.

I honestly felt like crying... literally crawling up in the fetal position, sucking my thumb and hiding in my closet after the Redskins lost to Buffalo 5 games ago. That was the first game after the death of Sean Taylor and the game where the Redskins blew it in heartbreaking fashion with a last second field goal by the other team... and I was seriously depressed for a week (I'm the first to admit that allowing football to affect my moods is insane)

Then... the highest of highs came today. Huge win over the Cowboys to (unbelievably) make the playoffs. Regardless of what happens next week... I am so proud of this team. I really am... and it's games like this that make it so worthwhile suffering through all of the bad seasons and bad losses where the Redskins managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Anyway, some observations from the game:

Building Memories: Before we had kids, I envisioned my family getting together on Sundays, going to church and then rooting for the Redskins while we ate gobs of junk food. One of my favorite memories as a kid is watching a Redskins game with my Dad and eating pizza and he let me drink Pepsi directly from the bottle. A simple memory... but a happy one, nonetheless... and I want my kids to experience those simple joys, as well.

So, needless to say, it made me thrilled to no end to have my whole family geared up for the game (well, Will could have cared less). Here's what we looked like:

My kids: Were adorable. Luke was wearing a Santana Moss Jersey and Reagan kept calling him "Moss" and Reagan was wearing a (pink) Jersey and she was going by the name "Cooley" (Redskins player for those that don't know). And I was wearing a Riggins jersey, so they both kept calling me "Riggins"... they did this on their own... it was really cute. It was very 'locker room'..all that was missing was the stench and a towel snap or two at each other's butts (I'll teach Luke how to do that when he's responsible enough to handle the responsibility of using such a weapon

Luke fell in the toilet: Somehow Luke fell in the toilet in the 4th quarter. No big deal, but he was really upset that he couldn't wear his "Moss" Jersey anymore.... and... once he took it off... he wouldn't allow me to call him "Moss" anymore. You see, in his eyes, the jersey is much like Superman's cape... take away the cape and you've just got a dude wearing tights

My kids love Mike Sweetland: Mike is a friend from college. He's my age, single, has a Chuck Norris-esque beard.... no kids, obviously... I only recently discovered he was in this area... but we've managed to hang out 3 or 4 times. Anyway, he has a few nieces and nephews about Reagan and Luke's age, so he's not phased by kids like you would expect a 30-something, single dude with a beard would be. He just goes with the flow and (since he has thoses nieces and nephews) he can speak their language (Dora, Diego, Backyardigans, Webkinz, etc). Anyway, my kids love him and would be quite excited if he visited everyday. Here's a picture Reagan took of me, Luke and Mike:

So, anyway Ladies.... single Christian guy... loves kids... is available. Loves travel and long walks in the park... or... so I assume.

So, to sum up... Great day to be a Redskins fan and Luke fell in the toilet (haven't we all?)...

Where is Christ this Christmas?

Based on the title of this entry, I bet you're thinking I'm going to sermonize about the commercialization of Christmas or wax poetic about the Christmas of my youth.

But, no... not today. Seriously... I took this picture this morning of a gift bag:



See anything wrong?

That's right. Merry Chritmas. Chritmas? What the heck?

How does that get past the gift bag proofers?

Anyway... I could see some Pastor somewhere using that for a sermon illustration... You know, we're so focused on everything else, that we overlook what is the 'reason for the season' so to speak. And, I admit, the point hasn't been lost on me in recent days after I noticed the mistake.

I truly have pondered "Where is Christ this Christmas?"

Then, today, we ordered Papa John's and this was the print out that they put on the box:



And there was the answer to the question I've been pondering these last few days.

Christ is still alive and well this Christmas... and, He apparently works at the Papa John's in Leesburg (as He clearly was the one that managed my "pizza experience")... and I must say, the pizza was quite yummy.

Please God, make Jessica Simpson the next Yoko Ono

Assorted thoughts from the weekend:

(1) The next Yoko..?? Please, Lord!!!! It pains me to admit it... but the Cowboys have done what the Redskins have been incapable of doing for the last decade... and that is build a legitimate team capable of winning the Super Bowl. And it kills me that they've got Captain America (aka Tony Romo) who sprints up and down the field like a school girl that got stung by a bee after every touchdown. But, the truth is... with him at QB (assuming he keeps playing like the second coming of Roger Staubach), they've got a chance to be the team to beat for many years to come in the NFC East. That is why I was delighted to see at yesterdays Philly/Cowboys game that Romo is apparently dating Jessica Simpson (seriously, how could I not know that, as the cameras showed more shots of her in the luxury suite than the actual game). With that obvious distraction, the Cowboys lost. So, I will now pray this prayer at night: "Dear Lord.... Please make Jessica Simpson the next Yoko. Please use Jessica... to distract the Cowboys from greatness... to make her 'break up the band'... just the way you used Yoko to break up the Beatles. Amen."

(2) Give me a microphone in a crowded room... and I'll probably do the Tom Hanks Saturday Night Live "CHECK! CHECK!.... SYBALANCE.... CHECK!" gag. Few people ever get the joke or the reference... but I'll crack myself up along with the one or two other people who know what I'm doing. So...it's worth doing.

Now, if I'm in private and no one is around, and the mic is live.... I would probably say "I've got a fever... and the only prescription is more cowbell..." Again, cracking up myself (though I'm sure a few of you understand that reference). The other thing I would probably do is get my rock star on and say: "Welcome to the jungle baby! You're gonna die!" Which is why I cracked up when I read this story. I can just picture the poor old school teacher with the bun in her hair locking herself in the art supply closet in pure unadulterated fear. Classic.

(3) Right at the start of the third quarter in a must-win game for the Redskins, the power went out. Normally this woudn't be a problem (well, it would be an inconvenience... I don't like to miss any of the game)... I'd just hop in the car and hit the bar around the corner... Well, in this case, the baby (Will) was down stairs with me so that I could give him his late (11 p.m.) bottle. In my psycho mindframe, I briefly (for like a millisecond) considered whether it was possible to take Will with me. Thankfully, sanity prevaled and I realized the ridiculousness of such a thought (that and that power came back on).

(4) You know something is genuinely funny when you've watched something a bunch and then you laugh at it again the next time you see it. In honor of that sentiment, I present to you Miss Teen South Carolina:

Those poor "U.S. American" kids that can't afford...such as... maps and stuff.

On that note... gotta run...

I am a juvenile....

I have developed quite the reputation for office practical jokes. I've done so many, I can't even remember them all. From fake company memos to spoofed Washington Post articles to a "shock mouse" (which hurts like a mother)... I've pulled all the tricks out of my bag...

Which brings me to today. Friday afternoons are traditionally slow days at work. I think everyone in my line of business packs it in around Thursday. Well, today was particularly slow because our email was down and my co-worker, Jason (the one I interact with most frequently) left for half a day. And, so... well, I was bored. So I:

(1) Changed his wallpaper to this People magazine cover featuring Lance Bass. I told you I was juvenile...

But... that only took me about 2 seconds... so, then..

(2) I decided to change his email notification noise to the sound of a fart. Yes... that's right... a fart. For those wondering how you even find such a noise... I merely googled "fart .wav" and, behold... google bestowed upon me a bounty of fart noises (some short, some long and some "check your shorts" ones). For this task, I chose the "check your shorts" options. I sent him a test email and, sure enough, I heard the distinctive "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiippppppp" of my chosen fart.

But, again, this only took a couple of seconds. So, basically, I changed every single possible noise on his computer to a fart.

Turn on the computer. Fart

Turn off the computer. Fart

Open up an application. Fart

Type anything. Fart, Fart, Fart

You get the idea. But, I did it to so many things... I don't even know how to undue it all. And the noise is so prevalent now, that his computer sounds terribly gassy... even when no one is sitting at the desk. Basically, his computer needs Bean-o .... badly.

Anyway, he won't get back until Tuesday. I'll let you know how it goes.... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiip.

Assorted Details from the Hospital...

My son, Will, was born December 5th. Here are some details/musings from the event:

The Dilemma: Ever since the Redskins announced their 2007 schedule, I had plans to attend the December 6th, Thursday night football game with my lifelong friend, George Boomer. I've known him since the 2nd grade, as George and I grew up in the same church. We were also college roommates. Anyway... the 12/6 date has been circled on my calendar for some time. Well, as it turns out, Will decided to come 5 days late.... a mere day before kickoff. So, at some point, Kelly starts having major contractions and we have the following conversation:

Me: "I should probably call George now and let him know I can't make it"

Kelly: "No, don't do that! I want you to go to the game"

Me: "The game is not important right now... I would never leave you at the hospital while I was at a game"

Kelly: "No.. don't ca..."

(she pauses to deal w/ a painful contraction)

Kelly (continued): "OK. You can call him."

Unreal. I would imagine that 99% of the pregnant women in America that are having contractions and are about to go into labor would never consider for one minute wanting their husband to "go to the game" the next day.

Now, I did watch the game in the hospital room. But it was awkward sitting back several feet and having to wrench my head to see the TV mounted way up on the wall. It was uncomfortable and I didn't feel part of the game (my viewing does make a difference to the outcome of the game). So I stood on a chair so that I could get eye level. While not the glorious HD viewing available in my living room....it actually wasn't that bad (picture above). While I watched, Kelly slept.

So, to summarize... Kelly wanted me to go the game while she was going into labor. Once I put my foot down on that idea, she demanded that I, at least, watch the game even while she was recovering.

Friends, this is a good woman and I love my wife.

The "I'll never see these people again" Moment: I felt bad that Kelly would have to sit in the hospital bed while I was watching the Redskins game. So, I wanted to get something to entertain her. And, given the confined circumstances, I knew there was only one thing that would provide cheap and accessible entertainment thrills for Kelly... celebrity gossip. So, I offer to pick up a People or US Magazine while I'm out picking up dinner. Kelly jumps at this before I could really think this through... because... well, no straight man should ever buy People or US magazine... and offering to "pick up" one of these magazines meant I'd have to "buy"...in person one of these magazines. Yikes!

So, anyway... I walk into the CVS. I immediately see a People magazine at the front counter. But, for some reason, I can't just go right in.. buy the magazine and leave. So, I walk around the aisles. I grab a small bag of chips. A candy bar. Then I walk up the checkout where I saw the People magazine. I throw up my items on the counter and the guy starts ringing them up. Then, I casually throw the People Magazine on the counter. Seriously, it was a move swiped from the 15 year-old boy's textbook on how to buy a dirty magazine or a six pack of beer. It's as if there is something innate in us males that thinks we can distract the cashier from our true purchase if we only distract him with a bag of fritos and a snickers bar.

At any rate, I bought the stinking magazine, put my head down and made a bee-line for my car.

Sacrifice, my friends.... it's part of what makes our marriage successful.

My favorite moment: Alright, I'll end on more a serious note. When Will was born... and with Reagan and Luke, as well... I'm not in this instant euphoric state of "love"... I know others have that feeling. For me, I'm really kind of in shock. I love my children...and I would lay down my life for each and every one of them from the moment I know they are in the womb. But, it takes me a couple of days to become "in love" with them. It's hard to explain... I guess I just need a little nudge and, for lack of a better word, bonding time with them.

Well, Kelly is NOT that way. She loves and is "in love" with the baby from the day she sees the two lines on the pregancy test (I, on the other hand, am usually in denial for a few days). Before they are born, she dreams about them... she thinks about them constantly and is in continual prayer for them. So, when the baby finally is born, my favorite moment is watching Kelly as she lays her eyes on the baby for the first time. I can see the love she has for them. I saw it when Reagan was born and when Luke was born and now with Will. It's worth waiting the 9 months... and 60 years from now when I'm old and decrepid and recovering from a broken hip and have forgotten most everything about the day my children were born, I pray to God that I will never forget that moment in time when Kelly saw each of our children for the very first time.

Baby Will

First of all....if you are pregnant and wondering whether or not to get an epidural......GET IT! It is awesome. Also wanted to let everyone know that I just uploaded a billion pictures to our photo website. Click on the photo album link to the right.

Will is here!

Don't have much time... have to run back to the hospital... but Will is here (officially William Charles Faircloth... named after her dad, William and my dad, Charles). 9 pounds, 1.6 ounces of pure twisted steel -- in other words, a chip off the old block. Oh, and he was 21 inches if that means anything to you. He looks alot like Reagan did when she was a baby w/a full head of hair. Kelly is doing well and resting (somewhat) comfortably.

More later.

Past Due and Way Preggo (this is Kelly posting)

In case anyone is wondering.....I'M STILL PREGNANT! For anyone that has not been pregnant before, let me just fill you in on what is going on with my body. I'll start at the top:

my eyes have big bags underneath them from not sleeping. i get up anywhere from 2-4 times at night to go to the bathroom and i wake up every hour or so to toss and turn because i'm that uncomfortable

my face is chubby and big and oh so unattractive

my boobs are gigantic

my stomach is even more gigantic-er

my fingers are puffy and my rings do not fit (so i look un-wed and pregnant)

my back aches

my hips are very, very wide

my thighs rub together and are getting chafed

my ankles and feet are swollen

As you can tell, I am such a hotty these days. Please pray for me that this baby comes very, very soon. I don't know how much longer I can take it. Actually, I don't know how much longer Scott can take all my complaining.

A Story of Betrayal

I first met Brian at his wedding 10 years ago. He was, like me, a recent college grad marrying the love of his life, who just so happened to be my wife's best friend since 1st grade.

We instantly hit it off. He was an incredible golfer and I, well... I enjoyed playing golf with an incredible golfer. We both shared a passion for sports. He mostly Golf, Ohio State football and... later on... an unfortunate bond to NASCAR. I, on the other hand, loved Golf as well and (as has been well documented) a die-hard Redskins fan.

He was a Republican, as I was...and we both considered naming our first born daughter Reagan (we just happened to beat them to the punch). We spent countless hours talking about politics, golf, our families while our wives talked about.... well... I'm not real sure what women talk about when they get together.

Over the last 10 years our families, have had some memorable times together. We camped at Lake Tygart in West Virginia where Brian and Lisa (his wife) had an impressive aray of virtually every camping item Walmart made available (seriously... I mean their tent had a porch and they even had the sandwich maker). On that same trip, we visited a nearby "water park" that advertised a water "slide".... certainly they meant "slides" plural, we thought. But, sure enough, it was just one "slide"... singular. But we had a great time, nonetheless. Other vacations together, took us to such locations as Daytona Beach, Disney World, Virginia Beach and Charleston.

One memorable trip to their house took us to the Licking County Ice Cream (yes, licking) festival. We envisioned hundreds of varieties of ice cream flavors and festivities galore. Instead there were about 3 varieties of ice cream (chocolate, strawberry and vanilla) and something called "Roller Girl".... who we were very excited to see because in our mind's eye we pictured a dynamic talent that would do back flips and stunts on roller skates and we would cheer and chant for more, more, more! Instead, we got a 40 year old overweight woman in tights who skated around the parking lot. Yet, the bond of kinship between us was so tight that we had a great time nonetheless... and I thought it would last a lifetime.

One other crucial detail we had in common was our love for Fords. Over the last decade, Kelly and I have only owned Ford's (except for a brief tango with a VW Beetle) and I will always remain a committed "Ford" man. May God strike me down should I ever waver in my commitment. God, Home, Country and Ford... that's the way I see it... And Brian did as well. Over that same time period, Brian and his wife have owned no less than 12 Ford vehicles (they buy cars about as frequently as we buy toothpaste... about once a month). We would talk about our Ford's together. He would marvel at "Black Thunder" and how reliable it was. And I would ask him with excitement about his Explorer, his Focus, his Mercury (make no mistake... A Ford Product), his Contour, his other Focus, his other Explorer, and his other Focus and other Explorer.

When the time came to get rid of Black Thunder, I welled with pride as I told him its replacement... a 2006 Ford Fusion.

So, when he called me over the weekend and told me he was going out to buy another car... I automatically assumed it would be proud Ford purchase #13. I raved about my Fusion. The smooth accelleration, the improved styling on the interior and the look. I hung up feeling confident I had persuaded him to get the Fusion... After all, the decision was merely between getting a Focus, Fusion or Five-Hundred (now tempo)... I mean... he wouldn't... no.. he couldn't... he would never... ever... in a million years betray our Ford bond... our Ford air-tight, forged in real American Steel Ford bond.... right?

Wrong! He bought a Civic. A CIVIC! Japa - frickin - nese! Unbelievable! The Betrayal!

I'm re-evaluating our friendship.

Guys, it's time to take back Thanksgiving

For 2 centuries, Thanksgiving has been about family, friends and food. Of course, there's always been the turkey, the gravy, the sweet potatoes, and various horrendous dishes that your aunt insists everyone loves (seriously, who eats that green marshmallowy stuff...it's just gross). And for 2 centuries, for all that Thanksgiving is....it has just lacked a certain something. And that certain something is.... DANGER. Thankfully, however, this void has been filled in recent years by the most ingenious invention of our time.... the Turkey Fryer.

This year, I fried...err... survived frying my third turkey (this practically makes me a veteran). And it was magical. Nothing fuels your body with testosterone and adrenaline like a little danger.... and with a propane tank fueling an open flame pumping out serious heat that boils highly flammable oil that threatens to spill over at any minute... the Turkey Fryer delivers on some serious testosterone inducing danger!

In fact, the danger is so well-known that if you tell someone you are going to fry a turkey, you will start feeling like Ralphie from a Christmas Story (you know... "you'll shoot your eye out"). I told probably 10 people that I was going to fry a turkey this year and, inevitably, they will say 'be careful' or 'aren't those a huge fire hazard'....

And, well...yes.... yes, they are huge fire hazards.... but... that's kind of the idea... but with risk comes great reward.... and the truth is that no other method of cooking a turkey can rival frying it. It's just that good. Therefore...I declare... here and now... that every man must go out and buy a Turkey fryer of their very own. It's the suburban equivalent of climbing Everest. That is... dangerous.... but once you've done it... you'll be admired and exhalted by your peers (that is, the next door neighbors) and you'll be plotting your next conquest. And, in reality, I survived this year and can't wait for next year.

So men.... it's time to take back Thanksgiving. It's time to take the Turkey away from your wife... away from your mother... or away from your mother-in-law. No more of those unnatural oven bags that produce a soggy Turkey (do you think the Pilgrims used those? I think not). Say goodbye, once and for all to the Thanksgiving Turkey that is cooked in the relative safety of a modern kitchen (what fun is that?). We must re-introduce the danger that was present at the first Thanksgiving... We must be resolute.... and, from this point forward, we must all fry our Turkeys....

....Just be careful not to burn your house down.

Universally Accepted Urinal Etiquette

Question: You have to go real bad. I mean real bad. You enter the restroom and there you have 5 urinals. Let's number them 1 through 5, going left to right. Some guy is taking care of business in urinal #3. Which urinal do you use? Now, this presents a number of problems. First off, the guy in urinal #2 should be shot. It's a man-law... a MAN-LAW, I say -- and an obligation to mankind to use either Urinal #1 or #5 when you are the only one in there. Anyway... so, the hack is occupying Urinal #3. You only have one choice... this guy simply can't be trusted. Use the stall.

Let's be honest... urinals are weird. You whip out your manhood and pee on a wall (albeit a porcelain covered wall equipped with a flushing mechanism...and.. if you're lucky a pleasant smelling -- well, in an industrial solvent kind of way -- urinal cake)... and often you are within mere inches of another dude... separated by a thin wall. The awkwardness is minimized by observing a few accepted rules of etiquette (if you are a Sociology major, you should consider taking this subject on for a paper). To my knowledge, these have not been written down before... as men, we just follow them instinctively... and they include:

• Keeping your eyes straight forward and focusing on the grout lines of the tile. Alternatively, many places have started pinning newspapers inside of glass. This provides a great focus point for staring forward
• See above. A buffer zone is required. Never, ever occupy the stall immediately next to someone unless you have to. This also gets tricky if there are more than 3 stalls. I recommend brushing up on your placement by taking this test.
• Don't acknowledge the person next to you... even if you know the person... no talking allowed until after you've zipped up.
• No contact... kind of goes without saying... but I mention this because if you want to freak out a friend... put your hand on their shoulder while they are using the urinal.
• Flush... also kind of obvious... but, we have a phantom pisser in our office building who apparently feels it's necessary to display his urine for everyone by not flushing...Seriously... just flush.

Okay... so, there you have it. These are the unspoken rules of urinal etiquette... if you break one of these rules, you will disrupt the delicate universal balance of public restrooms and possibly disrupt social order forever... so ... don't do it.

Now, there is one exception.... and only one that I can think of... and that is at the Stadium. A quick story for you. I took a business trip to Chicago a few years ago and the Cubs were playing at Wrigley... so I got a single ticket to the game and went. At the end of the game, I had to go so bad. I mean... you've done it before... you've held it so long that once you're at the urinal, you have to convince yourself that it's okay to go. Ya... I had to go that bad. Anyway... Wrigley did not have urinals. No... that would be too inefficient. Instead, they just had this long stainless steal trough that dudes would line up at and pee (it was at a slight angle so all of the pee cascaded in a disgusting river of excrement that ended somewhere in Chicago). Well... that's a little weird for me... but.. you know... when in Rome...do as the Roman's do...and, besides... I really had to go bad (it was a close game and I didn't want to miss any of it...so I had to go badly since about the 3rd inning).

So, I wait my turn patiently. The Cubs has won and everybody was happy. I'm talking to everyone in the place. Then, finally, it's my turn. I step up to the plate.... and.... nothing. Call it stage fright... performance anxiety or the aforementioned mental obstacles that come with holding it too long (it was super cold out and a real weenie shrinker, I might add).... whatever. My mind was saying NO! NO! NO! Alas... I convinced myself it was okay and after a long delay was able to get the job done. Sweet relief! So, in this situation, even though every urinal law was broken... to this day... it was the most glorious usage of public restroom facilities I have ever had in my 30+ years I have walked the earth.

I don't really know how to account for that... other than to issue this one time only exception for stadiums.

So, if I missed any urinal etiquette, please post a comment. Together, we can create the most comprehensive and universally agreed upon urinal etiquette ever made available on the internet.

Winning isn't everything...

It's called Candyland. I think every kid in America has it and every adult since 1970 has played it...

...And it's completely a game of chance. Might as well just flip a coin and see who wins. It certainly would be alot quicker.

Only my 4-year old has not figured that out yet. During the Redskins game (the one that I just posted the -- "long and boring," according to my wife -- blow-by-blow account of my misery), Reagan was pitching the mother of all fits. I mean, it was a meltdown. I was too into the Redskins game to notice what it was about. Finally, she comes over to me... still an emotional wreck... and says that "mommy beat me in Candyland three times and won't let me win!"... and then begins some more inconsolable crying. This is not the first time she's had the "Candyland" meltdown.

So, I try to tell her that "winning isn't everything" and bla, bla, bla... Believe me, the hypocrisy wasn't lost on me that I had just yelled at the TV set for something boneheaded the Redskins had just done and the next minute, I'm trying to tell Reagan "winning isn't everything..."

But you know what? I didn't believe a word of what I was saying. I like the motto of Vince Lombardi, who once said: "Winning isn't everything... it's the only thing." Now, she needs to lose gracefully... and that will come with time... but I LOVE that she wants to win. I love the competitiveness.

I just need to do a better job of helping her to corral that competitiveness and "use it for good"...Because I don't want to raise my kids like Ricky Bobby... who raised his 2 kids (Walker and Texas Ranger) to be winners at the expense of civility (remember now that if he wanted his kids to be losers, he would have named them "Dr. Quinn and Medicine Woman" and that they threatened to both "scissor kick" their grandfather AND come at him like a "spider monkey" for being a loser), but I do need to teach her that no kind of strategy or thinking will help her win at the game of Candyland.

So, the takeaway from this story... competiveness... GOOD... whining about losing.... BAD... and, go rent Talladega Nights.

The blow by blow agony of a Redskins fan

For the first time in my 25+ years of being a Redskin fan, I gave serious thought to not watching the Redskins/Cowboys game. Realistically, the Redskins have no chance of winning. Injuries have decimated what was once a promising team... so, I thought I'd take my kids to see the Bee Movie instead... but, I did that with them yesterday... and, I decided....I'll watch the game... but If I'm going to go through the agony of this game, I might as well give you just a taste of my misery... so..here she goes:

4:07 8 minutes until kickoff....my prediction (and it pains me to say this) Dallas 34, Redskins 13. My heart is usually pounding and I've got my game face on at this point. Not so today. Sitting on my couch, in the basement... typing on my laptop. I am watching in glorious HD.. so that's good.

First Quarter
First observation... at least we get a decent broadcast team this week. We've been stuck w/ Kenny Albert the last few weeks and he bites... He's horrible. Aikman is good. Former Dallas QB...yes... but he's a good announcer... I don't have to turn the sound down.

Our kicker just made the tackle on the opening Kickoff...he's had a few of those this year. Not a bad tackle, actually.

Cowboys just did a boneheaded play. Nice to see other teams besides the Redskins do that, too...

'boys miss the FG.

Redskins in Cowboys territory...nice catch by Cooley....inside the 20. 'Skins are just teasing me right now. I predict a fumble shortly... correction... TOUCHDOWN....REDSKINS! Another nice pass and catch to Cooley. I'm still not holding my breath, though. (do you feel the pessimism that comes with being a Redskins fan?)

Redskins just missed an easy pick. Our D has the worst hands in the NFL.

Interception Redskins(ironic, isn't it...given my last statement)! Romo just threw an idiotic pass??? I'll take it. Again... it's just a tease at this point. I've seen it before... and, the reality is... the cowboys will keep firing the bullets. If the Redskins threw an early pick like that...we'd put our head between our legs and just run the ball -- every time. I'm not kidding.

3 and out for Redskins. Santana Moss drops his 1,000 ball of the season... been a rough year for him.... but he usually makes up for it. Still... I wish he'd stop dropping them.

Cowboys drive sputters out. Redskins D actually stopped someone on 3rd down... end of 1st quarter

Second Quarter
Starts w/Redskins up 7-0 w/the ball deep in their own territory.

Redskins driving...facing a 3rd and 4 after a decent drive that started at our own 4. The call? We run it....right up the middle...not surprisingly, we are stopped short. It's plays like this that make us losers. Gibbs decides to try the low-percentage 50 yard field goal. Of course, we miss it. Just symptomatic of how this team is. No killer instinct and the momentum swings back to Dallas. Remember this. Not playing to win. I feel a Cowboys touchdown coming on...

Another bad snap by Cowboys... but..they get the first down. Seen that a few times this year...it's almost like it's a designed play. The ball magically takes 1 easy hop right into Romo's hands.... every time... it's unreal.

Another missed INT by the 'skins. Again... worst hands in NFL... comes back to bite us -- on the very next play Dallas converts 3rd and long on pass to T.O. I think it's first and goal now.

As predicted.... touchdown Dallas. See my comment above about our lack of killer instinct. Led to a missed field goal, great field position for Dallas.. and a touchdown for Dallas. Losers. I love a team of losers. Arrggh.

Alright. Redskins get good kick return... solid two-minute drill and nail a field goal as time expires in the half. It's halftime...and miraculously, Redskins are up 10-7. But... just wait. The Redskins are the worst team in the 2nd half. They are great at blowing games (as they did last week against Philly).

Third Quarter
Starts off with a decent drive. Jason Campbell fumbles and Cowboys recover. He fumbles about once a game. Dumb mistakes kill the Redskins. They just aren't a good enough team to overcome mistakes. At least we are consistent in the 2nd half.... that is... we are consistently horrible...

Alright... I put the laptop down and took a break... I got emotionally involved in the game... I promised myself I wouldn't. Dallas up by 1 at this point. Start of the fourth quarter. We did give up a touchdown on 3rd and 19. Winners don't do that. Anyway, laptop is back and I'm back to not being emotionally involved.

Fourth Quarter
This is where the Redskins always get dominated against good teams. Can't wait!

True to form. Owens wide open. Touchdown. No one covered him. That's twice. Best player on the field and twice in a row they don't cover him? Typical Redskins. Down by 8.

2nd and 1.... 2 incomplete passes and it ends up being 4th and 1 and we kick the field goal. We are losers. They should have gone for it. We are just not playing to win. At least we made the kick. Down by 5.

Touchdown T.O. again. That is why you go for it on fourth and 1. We are playing a better team. Field goals are not going to win the game. T.O. needs to thank Sean Taylor for getting hurt. Alot of his TD would not have happened w/ him in the game. Still...poor job by Redskins... which is about the norm.

4th and 4. Redskins with the ball. This is the ball game here. Dallas will bring everybody, I'm sure. complete... first down.... time ticking....

Touchdown Redskins.... Well... at least we are fighting and not giving up. We need Romo to make one of his boneheaded plays...

Redskin D comes up big. Sack of Romo on 3rd down. 3:26 left on the clock. Well... it's the end of the game and we have a chance. Honestly, I can't ask for anything more. I wish they had figured out how to cover T.O. earlier...

Two minute warning. Redskins on Dallas 23.

Just missed a TD pass to Moss. Darn. 3rd and 10.

Interception. Typical Redskins. Game over. The Agony.

Dallas 28, Redskins 23

Such is the life of a Redskins fan.

It's Wednesday night.... It's Business Time

It's Wednesday night...and that can only mean one thing... It's business time:



If you're married and that doesn't make you crack up... something's wrong. (Special thanks to Justin Prather for introducing me to Flight of the Conchords).

The not so usual vows...

When my wife and I got married a few years ago... we made the usual vows to one another... you know "to have and to hold, till death do us part" etc, etc, etc. Both of our parents provided a good example to us of how to make a marriage work. However, we also sought out wise counsel from those we respected and who's marriages we wished to emulate. We sought out the wisdom of the Bible and what God had to say about marriage. And, some of the other stuff, we just made up on our own... but here's some of what we came up with that might not necessarily be "the norm" by worldly standards. So, here it goes...

• One Checking Account: I read a recent story on "how to make marriages work" and the author strongly advocated having seperate checking accounts. I disagree. From Day 1, I have turned over the finances to Kelly and she has handled it well. We don't have "allowances" or "personal money" or anything like that...She has complete freedom to buy whatever she wants and needs... but this only works because I can completely trust her not to go crazy. Reagan (my 4 year-old daughter) recently picked up on this arrangement and asked Kelly: "Why does Daddy work all day and all we do is buy?"
• Never talk bad about the other to anyone: Again, counter-intuitive by worldly standards. Most would tell you that you need an "outlet" to vent your frustrations with one another. This is nonsense... if it's worth complaining about to someone else, it's worth working it out together...
• Avoid one-on-one situations with members of the opposite sex: In my line of work, the "working lunch" is an absolute necessity. Sometimes, you just need to meet over lunch to maximize your time. My policy is...and always will be that, unless it's completely unavoidable, never to go to lunch or travel just one-on-one w/a member of the opposite sex. Now, I'm flexible on this... if it's an 80 year old grandmother, I'm inclined to bend my rules a bit. But I've got no business going to lunch with a 20-something girl just out of college. And if it's necessary, I just bring someone else along. Some will scoff at this... and I understand that... but, this works for us. I've committed that if I ever get to the point in my life that I have a secretary, I'm going to make sure she's a total double-bagger (so that I don't ever get hit with an "ism" lawsuit... a disclaimer: I will hire said double-bagger as long as she is just as qualified as the other candidates.... either that or I'll just hire a dude).
• Keep me cool: Lastly...and this is really the reason I'm writing this blog.... one vow we took was for Kelly to keep me cool. I had seen too many guys get married and then, somehow, they get stuck in a rut. A decade passes, and they are still wearing jean shorts and crew socks with a tucked in collared shirt. Actually... that look was never...EVER cool... so.. bad example. Anyway, I told Kelly to "don't let me wear what I want to...MAKE me wear what is cool." And this has worked well. I have evolved from a flannel wearing college student of the early 90's to suit wearing urban businessman of 2007. The key is to remain well-dressed without being overly trendy to the point of looking like some guy that could be named Skylar. Thus far, the transition has been seamless and Kelly has never let me down. However, recently, I have cause for concern. While watching the CMA's (yes, we are country music fans) the other day, Kenny Chesney (what is it about him that I dislike so much?) came out singing a song in what can be best described as middle school wear, circa 1988. Seriously, he was wearing poofy pleated pants (no doubt made by 'Bugle Boy' or...possibly Jimmy Z -- remember those?) and a tucked in shirt. And, I made a comment... something like... what is he wearing??? And, Kelly said "... I don't think it's that bad." UH OH! Red Flag. Sirens start going off in my head. Kelly is my fashion compass...and something has gone haywire with it. I think it is just temporary... I'll blame the pregnancy for this glitch. However...make me this promise... If you ever see me in said jean shorts, crew socks and tucked-in collared shirt.... say something.

Helplessness at the Barber....

I get a haircut about once a month. And, since Reagan was about 18 months old, I have usually taken one of the kids. I'm not sure why. I get kind of a kick out of taking them out with me on Saturday mornings. And, they've always been good. In fact, they are so perfect, people tell me how well-behaved they are. And, for some reason... the babies LOVE going to watch me get my haircut. I have no clue as to why.

Well, until this morning, I had never taken both of them. It has always been either Reagan or Luke individually. Well, I decided to take both of them this morning. The reasons were many... but, mostly, I wanted to give Kelly some time to herself and to get some things done she wanted to get done (she is in MAJOR nesting mode right now... everything has to get done and it has to get done this minute). So, I asked both babies to go with me.... and, of course, they both were raring to go the second I asked.

Kelly didn't like the idea. She told me not to take both of them. And I knew it would be easier to deal with just one... but... again... they've always been perfect when I've taken them with me... so, since they had each other for entertainment.... this could be even easier -- or so I convinced myself. The reality of the situation, however, contradicted my logic.

It started off well. I strolled into the barber shop with Reagan and Luke in tow. They immediately go to their seats and sit patiently. My confidence.... and pride.... at this point are soaring. The Barber lady asks me something... but her English was lacking and I don't really know what she said. Anyway, I just look at her and say "Yes, Haircut" and sit down in the chair. Well, then I realize that she must have been asking if she could give the kids a lollipop.

This was my first mistake. I should have stopped her. I would have preferred they got a lollipop after they were good and we left. But, to be honest, I didn't think she would understand if I explained that and, well, the lollipops were already in hand... so, basically, I was committed. And, besides, everything was going well at that point.

The barber lady starts cutting my hair. She gets about a quarter of the way done. It is at this point Luke decides he doesn't like his lollipop and starts saying "Daddy, I don't like it. I don't like it". Then, the barber lady realized what he was saying and went to get him another. I told her not to and tried to stop her... but, again, language barrier. He gets his new lollipop and eats it in, basically, one bite.

Haircut about 1/2 way done at this point. Luke starts whining. "I want another lollipop."

"Luke, Stop it." I say firmly but quietly. However, the frequency and the volume at which the whining was taking place steadily increased. And, now, the relatively empty barber shop that I had arrived at is filling with customers. All in time to hear my (normally charming and well-behaved) son whining loudly for a lollipop.

Now, I'm angry and upset with him. If we were in a grocery store or the mall... we would have packed it up and gone home. Kelly and I are big on maintaining the parental control. However, I soon realize, that the kids basically have me by the balls in this situation. I have a half haircut going on, a barber that doesn't speak English, and tons of people watching.... and I'm wrapped in one of those barber shop capes.

So, all the kids can see is Daddy's angry head. I'm trying to remain calm. Trying to be stern. Desperately trying to maintain control. But, Luke is not having it. He wants his frickin' lollipop and he's going to let the whole place know it. And, clearly, he's not afraid of Daddy's red-faced, half hair-cutted head poking out of my gay cape. I've re-created the scene for the picture above using one of the kid's dress up capes. As you can see, I mean business. I'm intimidating myself just looking at that picture. Luke, however.... was unimpressed.

So, at some point, I make the calculated decision to kind of let him whimper and hope he keeps it down while the barber finishes up my haircut. Unfortunately, she was taking (what seemed like) FOR-ever. At some point, Luke walks up to me crying and I told him to sit down. The Barber lady said something like, "Daddy say sit down".... she was trying to help and be nice... except she was from the part of China where everything they say sounds like they are angry.... even if they are not. They could be saying "Jesus Loves You" and it would sound like they were upset with you. So, it came out as, "DADDY SAY SIT DOWN!!!!". This was too much for Luke to handle and sends him running back crying to his seat. Now he's really loud and I'm embarassed and stewing... but, again... I'm still just a head poking out of a cape at this moment.... and I'm helpless. Seriously, helpless.

FINALLY, the haircut gets over and the lady takes the cape off. Luke gives me the kind of "oh, crap" look and I march right over to him. I don't even remember what I said... but I was firm. Then, I grab up the kids, pay the barber. She (again, trying to be nice) tries to give them another lollipop and I say something like NOOO.... none for him... But I let Reagan get one because she was perfect. Well, this sends Luke into orbit. He goes into full-blown meltdown. So, as soon as we get out the door, I got upset with him... but, for some reason... I guess it was because I was just talking to the barber lady that didn't speak English very well... I'm talking like her... I'm looking Luke right in the eyes and I'm saying, "WHY YOU ACT LIKE THAT? YOU NO ACT LIKE THAT! I EMBARASSED!"

Arggh. Completely...utterly discombobulated... I carry my freaking out son back to the car and further discipline him. Then, for some reason known only to God, he snaps out of it and apologizes... and says, "Daddy, I'm sorry for being rotten."

And, well, from that moment on.. I forgave him and we moved forward...and had a pretty good day.

So, the morals of this story are:

1. Always listen to your wife;


2. You lose your kids innate fear of your discipline in a barbers cape and 1/2 cut hair;


3. Learn to say "No Candy, please" in Chinese; and


4. No matter how rotten your kids can act... forgiveness is there for the asking.

Random Thoughts

OK... I've got a bunch of random stuff... not all blog worthy as individual subjects... but felt I should go ahead and share...

So, here they go....

1. The Scariest Pumpkin... ever: I was trying to think of something scary. Something real scary to carve in the pumpkin this year. I think I found it: http://www.brandijasmine.com/howto/craft/pumpkins/hillary01.html -- that's right... what's scarier than a Hillary pumpkin? Nothing. OK, I was serious about doing that this year... but Kelly discouraged me from doing it. First off, she was afraid the neighbors wouldn't get the the joke and think I was a Hillary supporter (I'm not)... and then, if they did... the might not think it was funny. Oh.. and the whole thing about it being about the kids was kind of a buzzkill, too. But... don't let that discourage you... if you feel so led... Please, by all means, make your Hillary jack-o-lantern.


2. Speaking of Hillary... I highly recommend the following: http://hillarynutcracker.com/completelynuts.html


3. The Office is -- hands down -- the funniest show on television. It's not even close. I haven't laughed this hard at a television show since "Bachelorettes in Alaska".... seriously. If you haven't watched it yet.... do yourself a favor... watch it. If you need to borrow my Season 1 DVD... just ask!


4. OK... so fans of the Office know that Michael Scott is "the boss"... well, anyway... the Redskins suffered a brutal, brutal loss this weekend to the hands of the New England Patriots -- whose head coach has clearly made a deal with the devil to be that good. Anyway, my pain is best explained by Michael Scott... who expressed similar misery at losing an employee by stating: "it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears and, at the same time, somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledgehammer. And then, a third guy walks in and starts punching me in the grief bone, and I am crying, and nobody can hear me because I'm terribly, terribly... terribly alone." Ya...it's kind of like that after a Redskins loss like that. Only worse.


5. Speaking of The Office...my co-worker Jason and I are obsessed with a very "Office" like assignment. We have an M&M gumball machine in our office. You know the kind... the machines that sell gumballs on one side and Peanut M&M's on the other and "claim" that their profits go to helping the homeless or the handicapped of whatever. Well, anyway, each time we put in our quarter, we are testing methods with each spin to see how to maximize the output of M&M's. We've tried turning the dial at slow, medium or fast rotations. We've tried combining any of the above rates of rotations with no shaking, gentle shaking or violent shaking of the machine to find out the machines "sweet spot" for coughing up the maximum amount of M&M's. The standard output seems to be 9 M&M's, with a low of 7 and a high of 11. Today, the vending man just happened to come into the office.... Jason and I cornered him and started peppering him with questions and demanded the trick... because, you know, all carnival games have a trick and the M&M dispenser is a game of skill... right? Anway, the consensus thus far -- and confirmed by the carnie ... uhh... I mean vending machine man -- is to do a quick and emphatic rotation of the dial ensuring you bring the dial to it's mechanical completion. Shaking of the machine appears to have no impact. I'll keep you posted on this one.


6. Colorblind Update: Cinnamon is, in fact, brown... not red. My question is then this... why do candy makers always make Cinnamon flavored confections red? It's little tricks like this by "the man" that try to keep color blind people down.


7. Seriously... "The Office"... watch it. "That is a perfectly good mini-Christmas tree. We are going to sell that to charity because that's what Christmas is all about..." Quote from Michael Scott. Hilarious.

Alright... that's all I got... Enjoy your Hillary nut cracker.

Help for Pregnant Women all around the world...

If you are pregnant or have been pregnant or...even know someone that has been pregnant (I have basically described every possible citizen of the United States)... you know how difficult it can be to get around. And you know it is especially difficult to climb steps.

Well, in our house, we spend the majority of the time on our bottom level...meaning, at night, Kelly (who is now 8 months pregnant) has to climb 3 full flights of stairs to get to the bedroom (on level #3). This means Kelly is often out of breath, tired and spent by the time she gets to the top level. And I'm certain Kelly is not the only one in this area that struggles with this unique Northern Virginia problem (where, if you don't have 3 levels and granite counter tops, people are bringing you canned goods on Thanksgiving).

So, pregnant women of the world rejoice... I have solved the problem for you with a unique partner technique to take the load off -- so to speak -- when climbing the steps. I have named this load-bearing approach, appropriately enough, "The Elevator"...

Now, to give a visual of this approach, please see the above picture... it will help explain. At any rate, here's how it works. I make a "seat" with my right arm by flexing it (my biceps are humongous... so weenie men might not be able make this work) into a fixed "L" position. Kelly then takes a seat on the "L".... I then force her up the stairs. Now, your wife will laugh uncontrollably the first few times you do this. However, after awhile... it will become second nature and she will be demanding "the elevator"...

So, there you have it. No more huffing and puffing up the stairs. Please note, Snow White was not harmed in the demonstration photographed above. I'll be here all week if you need any more pregnancy tips.

Redskins Season Tickets...

I got a letter in the mail from the Redskins earlier this week. I've gotten them before. They are usually trying to sell me some commemorative plate from the Franklin Mint (because, you know, a 6-10 season is worth commemorating with a deluxe hand painted, gold-trimmed collector's plate "sure to increase in value"). Or, if my name hasn't been pimped out to some company and it's a genuine letter from the Redskins, it's trying to sell me "club" level seats that cost more than buying a Lexus. So, I usually just toss them out when I receive them.

But something about this letter struck me as being a bit different. So, I opened this one up.

"Dear Waitlist Member" the letter began... Could this be the letter, I thought to myself? The one I've been waiting on for nearly a decade? You see, the Redskins... despite a decade of giving me nothing but pure misery have a season ticket waitlist that is somewhat legendary. Before Daniel Snyder (aka "The Danny" -- the love him/hate him owner of the Redskins), the list supposedly had a 30 year wait or something ridiculous like that. So, I put my name on the list shortly before Kelly and I got married... nearly 10 years ago (and I've added it numerous times since then -- you know, just in case they didn't get me the first time). I figured that, by the time I actually got offered season tickets, I might actually be able to afford them -- and having season tickets to the Redskins has really been a lifelong dream of mine.

Well, "The Danny" has jacked up the stadium to seat nearly 93,000 people (and had some rough years)... so the wait on the "waitlist" is apparently right at about 10 years now. Still, a very long time.

Anyway, I got excited as I continued to read the letter... sure enough... the letter informed me that I was near the top of the list and to put a deposit down for the 2008 season. My initial reaction was that the letter's timing was kind of unforunate, because my time frame of "being able to afford it" required that I be 50 years old with an empty nest and enjoying the start of our "second honeymoon."

So, with a new baby on the way, an impressive Northern VA mortgage and other responsibilities, I just didn't think much of it... I just put the letter aside and didn't really think about it until the next morning.

Then, while I was at work, I started thinking about it again. And I realized that I just kind of dismissed it and had this knee jerk reaction that it wasn't feasible and affordable and hadn't really thought it through. I remembered back to the time when I put our name on the waiting list....

Kelly and I were just about to get married. I was working in an awful job as an account executive at a Radio Station. Kelly was still in school and had another year to go. I was making glorious money, at least $20,000 a year, and saving every last penny of it (literally) to afford our honeymoon. By the grace of God, I was able to save enough to pay for the honeymoon (paid the travel agent in 40 $100 bills -- that's another story for another day) and I was somehow able to afford to put a security deposit down AND first months rent on our first apartment... all while making my payment (12 months same as cash, baby!) on the engagement ring I had purchased from the only store dumb enough to give me credit to buy it. And, we basically made it -- debt-free I might add, on about zippy dollars. And it was good!

We didn't have much. No scratch that... we had nothing... tangible that is. No savings or investments, no impressive cars, no homeownership and certainly no extra money. But we did have each other. We had our dreams of starting our life together. And we rested firm in the fact that God was in control and not us.

The past decade has been good to us. God has provided more than we ever could have asked or imagined. In the last 10 years, God has entrusted us with 2 beautiful children and another one on the way. Vocationally, I have found a career that I greatly enjoy, thrive at and get paid well to do it. Within 3 years of putting my name of the "waitlist", I went from being a lowly Sales Executive of a classic rock radio station to -- unbelievably -- becoming the Vice President of a multi-million dollar company. And when it became apparent that we wanted to move up to the Northern Virginia, I was able to use those credentials to land a job with a wonderful company (and get paid better to do it). All the while, the bond between Kelly and I has grown deeper each and every day. I can honestly say, unequivocally, that I married my best friend and love her infinitely more now than I did the day that I said "I do"...

So, my point is that our first 10 years as a married couple has been good to us and, realistically...the tickets aren't out of reach... they are, indeed...gasp....AFFORDABLE!!!!

So, I thought about it all day... and basically decided that I wanted to do it... to check this particular "lifelong dream" off of my checklist (no, I don't actually have a real "lifelong dream" checklist...but, just work with me here). So, I go home, and tell Kelly "Hey, I think I want to do the Season tickets thing."

Now, I'm guessing that most wives would throw up objection after objection as to why that is a stupid idea. I'm sure most of the reasons would revolve around the money being better spent on items from Bed, Bath and Beyond or the Pottery Barn or something. But my wife, you see, is awesome.

Without hesitating, she said: "Yes, I want you to! It's been your lifelong dream to have Redskins season tickets..."

And that, my friends...is why my wife is awesome. Unselfish, fully trusting and just wanting to make me happy.

So, it is with great joy that I announce, to all 12 readers (I'm increasing my readership each and every day) of the Faircloth Five blog... that the Faircloth family will be Redskins season ticket holders... ahh... can't wait! "Kelly, You are awesome" Cards can be sent to: 42990 Mill Race Terrace, Leesburg, VA 20176.

Weird Dreams

I've had some weird dreams in my life... but last night was different and definitely kind of weird. So, rewind to a few hours ago, in the wee hours of the night... I'm sleeping away and I'm dreaming. In my dream, I'm trying to make Kelly laugh. And the way I'm trying to make Kelly laugh is by wearing a pair of her booty shorts. And I wasn't just wearing her short shorts...I was singing... a Bon Jovi song!

So, picture me in my dream, wearing shorts that are already short on Kelly and I'm singing "You give love a bad name" at the top of my lungs. I'm sure you could have done without that mental image I've just painted for you. But wait... this isn't the weird part. I would TOTALLY put on a pair of daisy dukes and sing songs from any band if I thought it would make Kelly laugh. I really would. In fact, I've done weirder to make her laugh... I'll spare you those details.

Anyway, in my dream, I'm singing loudly in Kelly's booty shorts and then something wakes me up. It was Kelly laughing (since being pregnant, she talks and does stuff in her sleep). I immediately look at her. Sure enough, she was sound asleep. So, either she was laughing at something funny in her dream... OR she was somehow in MY dream, laughing at me! What are the chances of that?

So, I've spent much of the morning wondering... does Kelly participate in my other dreams. Has she, too, played an underwear-clad Al Roker in tennis? Has she not only FOUND Waldo, but also dined with him at Chuck E' Cheese as I have? Has she.... well, you get the idea.

I'll keep you posted on this one.

The Tailgating "List"

This last weekend I went to the Redskins/Giants game at FedEx Field. My sister Beth and Brother-in-Law Aaron came up for it....and I went with a bunch of co-workers/friends. Now, if you're a novice to NFL games, you probably think you just go the game. Well, if you're a rookie that's what you do. You see, the real fun is in the tailgating. Especially if you're a Redskins fan... because, let's be honest, if you're paying hundreds of dollars to go watch them lose, you're not getting your money's worth -- you've got to turn it into something worthwhile.

Therefore, whenever I go to a Redskins game, it's an all day affair... complete with the pre-game AND post-game tailgate. It's really pretty simple, all you need to bring is a grill, charcoal, something to grill and copious amounts of beer (not that you'll drink it all... but you'll make lots of friends). Having been going to Redskins games for over a decade now, I have honed the tailgating craft and thought I was a professional.

That is, until this game. You see, this tailgate involved Jim (can't give up the last name... lest he get stuck in google forever). Jim is the Vice President of the company I work for. More importantly he is a lifelong Giants fan who has been tailgating since I've been in diapers. And, well, how can I say this... He has truly honed the craft and I am merely privileged to breathe his charcoal fumes.

Now, to fully understand what I'm about to tell you... you must first understand a bit about Jim. Everything he does is balls out. There is no holding back. If something is worth doing, it's worth making legendary. Take the 4th of July for example. Jim starts preparing for the 4th about 6 months in advance. He orders thousands of dollars worth of (ehem...illegal) fireworks from a catalogue. He's such a big customer that they call him in advance. He is to that fireworks company what a "whale" is to a casino in Vegas.

The explosives he orders have names like "Ultimate Retribution" and "American Vengeance" and they take up an entire closet in his home. And I'm not kidding. It is an arsenal that would make any militia proud. In fact, in the event of attack, I'm making a bee-line for Jim's house. Not necessarily for protection, I just think his fireworks stash can be lit off and will 'razzle-dazzle' the enemy and stall them long enough for me to make my escape.

Anyway... so that is Jim. Nothing is done less than 100%. So, now back to the tailgate. I've already told you my list (grill, charcoal, meat, beer) -- it's brilliant in its simplicity. Jim, on the other hand, has cultivated a fool-proof tailgating checklist that has evolved over the years... and it is 2 pages long!!!! I'll spare you all 2 pages...but here are some of the highlights (my comments in italics):

Scotch
Cuban Cigars
Little Cigars -- I'm assuming the Cuban's must be "big", hence the differentiation
Phone (power) -- power? is there a non-powered phone? hmmm
Flask -- for, you know, chemistry experiments and stuff
Money -- this one cracks me up... wouldn't that be hilarious if he brought all this stuff... 2 pages worth and then got to the game and... crap... no money! And it also implies that he has stacks of it in a closet somewhere. I can just picture him calling out to his wife "honey, can you go into the garage and bring me the grill tools, some lighter fluid and... oh yeah... a stack of $20's."
Codeine -- naturally... no tailgate is complete without a hefty dose of painkillers
Aspirin -- Just in case the codeine doesn't do the trick
Cortisone Ointment -- Man, if I had a nickel for everytime my body broke out in a wicked rash at a tailgate...
Generator -- Yes, we had a generator... How else do you think the TV is going to work?
TV -- see above
Giant sign -- rats...I left my "giant" sign at home
Duct Tape -- duct tape? are we planning on kidnapping someone?
Giants Flag and US Flag -- because, one flag just simply isn't enough
Two "Big Grills" and football grill -- you see, one grill can only hold so much food. You need multiple grills... really
Ray -- Ray is a 'man' that holds grill tools. Crucially important, without "Ray" you might be forced to lay your grill tools elsewhere.
Big Coolers (4) -- yes... 4 big coolers
Black Cooler -- umm...because 4 non-black coolers are just not enough
Name Tags -- I used to get so tired of saying "hi, I'm scott... want a beer" Now, I just say "beer?" and they say, "sure, scott" -- it helps
Coffee Brewer -- at a tailgate? I blame the influence of Starbucks.
Water Cooler -- for those keeping score, that is cooler #6
Chip Bowl -- absolutely essential, eating directly from the bag is just so ghetto
Large Can opener -- the small one just won't cut it apparently
Corn Cob Holders -- Jim told me... in all seriousness... "if I don't bring the corn cob holders... the tailgate will be ruined"
Corn/Broccoli Pot
Water Pot -- obvious that you can't use your water pot as a corn/brocolli pot... isn't it?
Garlic Butter -- that's butter #1
Regular Butter -- butter variety #2
Margarine -- butter #3
Spray Butter -- yes, that's right, 4 different varieties of butter... did we miss any?

Okay...the list was twice this long... I've only pulled out the highlights.

Bottomline? We had a great tailgate with 15 or so of us, three grills going simultaneously, enough beer to sink a battle ship, and great food.

The irony of it all is that Jim had to borrow buns from me... but at least he didn't have to borrow cortisone ointment (because, as you know, it was on the list).

2 things I've learned in the last couple of weeks

OK.... being a dad has a learning curve... I'm constantly evolving and learning as I go. Here's what I've learned recently:

• While prancing around in your boxers with wedgie might sound like a good idea -- it's not. Please... let me explain. I'm goofing around with Reagan and Luke the other day and, for some reason, they want to play Superman and Wonder woman (or whatever Superhero they were trying to be) in their underwear. Well, it was almost bedtime... "so... sure. No problem kids... play in your underwear" I say. And they are having a great time and want me to play. So... you know... I'm down. So, I'm prancing (and I stress "prancing" ... there is positively no shame in my game when it comes to playing with the kids) around pretending I'm a Superhero and then Reagan says "I've got a wedgie" and pulls it out. OK, I know what you're thinking. Yes. She knows what a wedgie is. I blame Kelly. She must have taught her. Well.. then I think it would be really funny to say "Daddy's got a wedgie" and then run around and be goofy and..well.. you know... the kids will think I'm the greatest Dad ever. Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned and/or envisioned. So I hike my boxers up and run around saying "Daddy's got a wedgie! Daddy's got a wedgie!" Well, this sends Reagan into super hyper orbit. She goes crazy! I mean... she was JACKED up. She says "I'll fix it Daddy!" and comes running at me. And I'm not joking. She makes a b-line for me (w/hands extended) likes she's been shot out of a cannon. Before I have time to react, she plows right into me at full speed. Which would have been fine. Only she's about waist high to me. So, regrettably, my man grapes take the blunt of the force. I drop to floor like a sack of potatoes and let out a high pitched "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Reagan just laughs uncontrollably as I lay on the floor... in my boxers... with my self-inflicted wedgie. So, moral of the story.... running around your house with a wedgie isn't all that it's cracked up to be -- no pun intended.
  
• Juvenile t-shirts are not always such a good idea: You've seen the shirts. They're fairly ubiquitous these days. Sold at Target, the Mall, online etc they have goofy sayings like "I do my own stunts" and "Ladies Man" or whatever. Well, anyway... I recently bought one of these juvenile shirts figuring I would just wear it around the house. What did my shirt say, you ask? It said "I love hot moms" -- what can I say? I thought it was funny and, well, my wife is hot...and she's a mom... so, it worked for me. I would have preferred that it say "I love my hot wife" but for $9 it was close enough. I think it's important to note that Kelly was with me when I bought this (admittedly) sophmoric shirt. And, besides... I'm thinking Kelly is the only one that'll see it...so.. you know...no harm, no foul. Well...not exactly. A couple of Saturday's ago, I'm home with the kids by myself while Kelly takes her Dad out to lunch. Everything is going great until about bed time. Disaster strikes. Reagan fell and hit her head on the coffee table and got a pretty big cut that I knew would need stitches (which, on a side note, there is nothing worse than seeing your daughter in real pain... I would have given anything to have me be the one get hurt instead of her). So, I load Reagan and Luke in the Explorer and head to the emergency room. I'm feeling like a big loser and a crappy Dad. I mean, I don't get a ton of alone time with them and then the one time Kelly does leave me alone, we're going to the emergency room. Anyway, I get her to the hospital and I fill out their little form (you know... under the auspices of finding out what's wrong and doing "triage" -- but really making sure that you have insurance and that you'll pay) and I notice the nurse giving me kind of a funny look and focusing on my shirt. I assume it's the blood that got on me as I held Reagan and that she knew I was home alone and failed miserably in my parental duties. Then, it hits me. I look down and realize I'm wearing a shirt that says "I love hot moms"... uggh. So, anyway...just like when your mother tells you to always wear clean underwear in case you have an accident and you have to go to the emergency room... I have created a new axiom -- let's call it "the distributive property of adulthood" which dictates that you not wear juvenile t-shirts because you never know when you're going to have to take your child to the emergency room.

So... that's what I've learned recently. I think I'll send these in to Dr. Dobson so that he can include them in his next book. To my knowledge, he hasn't touched on these subjects yet.

The Circus -- Part 1

This weekend, we took the kids to the circus. They loved it. The elephants, the expert trapezers (if that's what they are called), the hype, the horses... not to mention the popcorn and other junk food. Bla, bla, bla....I know you didn't check the Faircloth Five blog during work hours just to hear about what Dad and Mom did with junior over the weekend. I didn't build up my readership by boring all 7 of you to death. You want the real story. And the observations are so copious, that I had to break this post up. I simply cannot have a post that is 50 pages long (well, I could, but Kelly would get upset with me).

Okay, first, the back story. The circus came rolling into our town this weekend (disclaimer: I'm not going to tell you the name of the circus because I don't want to get sued for libel. Everything I say is merely alleged and not proven). Of course, we decided to take our family. Oh, and we invited the grandparents to join in the fun...because, let's be honest... if the circus bores me... I always have fun analyzing them. I have so many things to talk about, I'm not sure where to start. So, let's just start with the beginning:

The Elephant ride: Upon arrival at the "big top", we are immediatly given all sorts of options of where we can blow our cash. The most compelling among them (not that the inflatable tweedie bird on a stick or the dollar store coloring books weren't tempting) was a ride on the elephant. At $8 a ride, I was game. I mean, how often do you get to sit on top of an elephant? I'll swing the $8 for that. So, I buy 2 tickets. One for Reagan and one for Luke. For some reason, apparently under the hypnotic powers of the "big top", I don't for once say to myself "umm...I'm entrusting the safety of my children to some dude from Omaha that gets his elephant to move by chucking marshmallows in its mouth."

Go figure. I'm usually overly cautious. And I'm still not troubled by this until my in-laws arrive and are worried that I've only gotten 2 tickets and don't plan to ride with them. Now, a word about the in-laws. They are great people. They are kind, generous and wonderful grandparents. However, Safety is definitely not one of their strong suits. They take all kinds of unnecessary risks. They've been skydiving for goodness sakes. I mean, they should be taking strolls along the pond feeding the frickin' ducks or playing shuffle board on the deck of a cruise ship... not jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. So, anyway, when they show concern that I'm entrusting the 2 most important things in my life to a marshmallow eating pachaderm led around by Bubba the circus clown... I get a little worried. Well, anyway, they go pay the extra $8 to ride with them and make sure they are safe. Probably a smart move. Gramps is clearly visible in the picture above. Safety First, my friends.

The Circus Workers: These guys fascinate me. I'm intrigued by them more than carnies who are a tough class to beat. I mean, at this circus, the workers were carnies with "talent." Because the guy that sold the tickets and the guy that showed me my seat and the guy that walked around with the elephant all appeared in the show. I'm not joking. The girl that sold me my tickets was later flying around on the trapeze. The guy that showed me my seats was later wearing a spandex tiger outfit. Or, on second thought, maybe he wasn't part of the show and just enjoyed animal print spandex? Who knows?(I've put in a call to Sen. Craig for clarification.)

Trapezers: Again, I'm not sure what you call multiple people performing a trapeze act. So, I've settled on "trapezers" -- you'll just have to bear with me for now. Most interesting thing about these guys was the dude that "catches" the flying female was overweight. I mean, we've all seen a trapeze act. But you simply haven't seen a trapeze act until you've seen a chunky bald man with his well-furred chest (painfully visible, by the way, via the U-shaped plunge of his "sweet" outfit) dangling upside down in spandex. Seriously. It simply cannot be beat.

The "Big Top" Beauty: This circus had a ringmaster. But, apparently, the ring master was not enough. They had the "Big Top" Beauty complete with evening gown, high heels and a feather boa. I was completely fascinated with her. She lip synced the national anthem and "Wind Beneath my Wings". Her evening gown collected pine shavings (certainly intended for containing the animal poop) as she sauntered around the ring. Yes, you read that right. There was a routine done to the "Wind Beneath my Wings"... and the best part of the lip syncing was that they didn't even try to get a cover version. It was definitely Bette Midler. Anyway, I suppose the routine was supposed to stir the emotions and empower me to do great things...like fly and stuff. But I couldn't stop watching her lip syncing to get inspired because it was really off... seriously...it was Britney Spears bad. Not that if she had lip synced it flawlessly I would have had any different reaction... but I do think it's noteable.

Anyway, at some point, I lean over to my father-in-law and say something like, "I'm sure she's riddled with STD's". Now, that was NOT a nice thing to say and I probably wouldn't admit that I said that, except I have to tell you I said that because of the response of my father-in-law. So, here's how that conversation went:

ME: "I'm sure she's riddled with STD's"

Father-in-Law: "Ya, it was probably the midgets."

Wait. Hold the phone. The midgets? Are midgets at circuses harbingers of syphilis and other undesireable conditions? If so, this was news to me... but he said it with such conviction that it must be true... right?

Ahh... anyway, I love the circus and could go on and on. But I'll stop there for now.

When Green is Brown and Purple is blue...

OK...so...see the circle above. Do you see a "45"? According to the website I got the picture off of.... you should.

I don't. It's all dots to me. I am colorblind. No problem....it's created some interesting times in my life....such as:

• In 2nd Grade when we studied the Mexicans, I used green crayons to color in their skin on my 'ditto' -- because...duh...mexican's are green...right?
• Grapes are purple....not blue. Found that out about 10 years ago.
• Peanut Butter is brown, not green. Found that out last week.
• I once ordered Peanut Butter chocolate ice cream at Baskin Robbins and pointed at what I thought was the right thing....except it was watermelon (pink & green). Yikes.
• I had trouble programming the garage because I couldn't tell if the "self" learn button was orange or green. Apparently, I chose incorrectly because for 2 weeks anytime our neighbor left for work, our garage door opened (no worries, I fixed it).
• I wore a purple shirt to work for a year or so until someone told me it was purple. No self-respecting man wears a purple dress shirt. I thought it was blue...what can I say?
• I'm amazed when my kids can tell what color something is. To me, it's kind of a guess. But, apparently, colors are like numbers....they just are what they are. Fascinating.
• When I was a kid, we would go to this "laser tag" place. One team was red. One team was green. We could tell each other apart by the lights on our vests and helmets. You got points for shooting the other team and negative points for shooting your own team. I would dominate a round and come out thinking I'd have a bazillion points. Only to check my score and see me dead last with NEGATIVE a bazillion points. Apparently, I kept shooting my own team. No wonder everyone on my team kept yelling at me. Interestingly enough, I still had fun.
• Trying to pick out paint colors is maddening. That's one reason I just let Kelly do all the decorating (Okay, so I don't need a reason to let Kelly do all the decorating).
• Brown could be green. Purple could be blue. Green can sometimes be yellow. Pink could conceivably be purple (depending on the shade). But Black is alway black and white is always white (except a dark blue can look black and a light purple/pink/yellow can look white). Other than that, I see colors perfectly.
• You know how they color coordinate computer cables to the back of your computer. Utterly useless to me. I have...and will continue to...plug the wrong plugs into the wrong slots. Trial and error works best for me usually.
• I cannot even tell you the colors of this blog. I would guess purple and blue. Though it could be dark blue on blue or purple on light purple. I'm pretty sure there's orange in there, but if you told me it was brown...I'd be cool with that.

So, that's it for now. I'm sure Kelly will have about 1,000 other stories. I get by. I think I'm disqualified for employment in the military (see my laser tag experience), FBI, CIA and interior decorating. Thankfully for me, politics does not require proper interpretation of the color spectrum.

Difference between guys and girls #1

Kelly and I live within a few minutes walk of the shores of the Potomac. There is a great overlook that has got to have a good 60-80 foot dropoff.

So, now imagine Kelly and I standing atop this cliff on the Potomac and looking out over this majestic view... I just know what she's thinking.

She's reveling in the glory of what God has created. She taking in all the sights. The sound of the rushing water. The colors of the sky. The lush forest that surrounds us. She'll probably spot some of the wildlife....perhaps a squirrel jumping from tree to tree, a deer looking for berries or an eagle gliding effortlessly across the sky. In her silence, I know she is just absorbing the majesty of the situation.

I, on the other hand, I'm consumed by a desire to spit off the cliff. Guys... YOU know what I'm talking about. I simply cannot enjoy the situation until I've either spit or thrown a rock off the cliff into the water to make a really big splash. Once I've got that out of my system... then -- and only then can I start to enjoy my surroundings. That is how guys are hardwired by the Almighty.

So, today, my son had to go the bathroom really bad. Unfortunately, all bathrooms at the in-laws were occupied. I figured we would just wait at first, but then he went into an all out pee pee dance, so I asked him if he wanted to go in the "grass" potty (knowing full well he wanted to -- because, let's be honest....few things are more compelling to a boy than the "grass" potty).

Of course, being a guy, he immediately said yes.

So, I rush him out the backdoor onto the deck to let him pee in the grass. But, then, as I'm taking him out there, my natural tendencies take over and I think ... "wouldn't it be cool to pee off the top rail of the deck?"

So, I ask Luke "Do you want to go on the grass potty from the top of the deck?"

Of course, once again, being a guy, he is physically incapable of saying no to such an opportunity (For in a man's life, you just inherently know that the opportunity to pee off the top of the deck may, perhaps, never present itself again... and, you know... carpe diem).

So, I hold him up on the highest point of the deck and he lets it fly.

And you know what? He loved it. He giggled while he was doing it.

And I was cracking up, too.

So, I ask everyone the following questions given this situation. You are standing atop a cliff, overlooking the Potomac. No one is around.

(1) First, state your gender

(2) Looking out over the cliff, do you:
a) Just take it all in and enjoy

b) spit
c) immediately look around for a rock to throw and throw it
d) look for the biggest rock and throw it as high as you can to "make a really big splash"
e) none of the above

if you select "none of the above"... please elaborate.

Got Change for a Dollar?

Odd question, I know... I'll get to that in a minute. For now, rewind to a month ago. Luke was napping and woke up screaming. I ran up to his room and he was holding his eye saying "get it out...get it out." Needless to say, I was worried and he was, indeed, in some real pain.

So, we took him to the emergency room (since it was after the Dr. was closed on a Saturday). And, while at the doctor, he improved enough to tell us what happened. Basically, he was sleeping with this toy camel that friends of ours brought back from Egypt for him. Somehow, he scratched his eye with it. Thankfully, though, he did not scratch his cornea or anything and they sent him home and he was fine.

Since that time, he has referred to the camel as "that stinkin' camel" (Kelly's preferred adjective for anything she doesn't like is 'stinkin' and he, obviously, has picked up on that).

Now with one trip to the emergency room under this belt, Luke apparently wanted to take trip #2 last night. Here's the story:

I was brushing Luke's teeth and noticed he was holding a nickel. I didn't really think much of it. He was excited to put it in his piggy bank. I forgot about the nickel. Until, that is, I put him on the ground to put his clothes on for bed. At that point, he made kind of a gagging noise.

I thought it might have been a hair or something caught in his mouth... but, anyway, it wasn't a good sound, so I picked him up really quick and then he had this confused look on his face and said, "My penny! Where did my penny go?" (He has yet to learn the difference between a penny and a nickel -- or a chuck e. cheese token for that matter). And he was reaching in his mouth and grabbing at his tongue.

Then the lightbulb went off...I think he swallowed the nickel. Obviously, I'm concerned -- but I know it'll probably just "pass"....Kelly wanted to call 911...Luke just wanted his frickin' nickel back. So we all compromise and decide to call his doctor in the morning to see what they say.

"Go straight to the emergency room," they say, "to make sure it's not stuck in his esophagus." So, we trek down to Lansdowne hospital (between his last visit, my near-miss vasectomy, and this time -- we've seen entirely too much of Lansdowne Hospitial) and get the x-ray.

Luke tells anyone that will listen that the nickel is in his tummy and he wants it back. So, we go to the X-ray room. Luke says "cheese" when the nurse tells him she's just going to take a picture -- very cute. The X-Ray confirms our diagnosis. Nickel in the tummy. Dr's assure us there are no problems and that it will just pass in a couple of days.

Logically, it makes me wonder if Luke will start calling the nickel "that stinkin' nickel" -- because, let's be honest -- that nickel is going to truly be stinkin'....

Anyway, to answer the question, Got change for a dollar?

The answer is No... but maybe Luke will in about 2 to 3 days. Well, he'll have to go to his piggy bank for the rest, but he'll be on the right track. So, until then, you are just going to have to be patient.