Bone’s 3rd Annual Festivus For The Rest Of Us

I’ve written quite a bit about Festivus on this blog. Well over twenty posts make mention of the F word, with several of those dedicated solely to that greatest of all non-religious, non-commercialized holidays. So when you do a google search for “festivus traditions” guess what comes up #2, right behind Wikipedia?

That’s right, friends. Me. Number two! Behind my beloved Wikipedia! Do you realize what this means? Well, neither do I. But rest assured if I figure out what it means that I will take whatever it means very seriously. I can only hope I have made Frank Costanza very proud.

With that being said, the day is fast approaching. I sent out my Evites today. Bone’s 3rd Annual Festivus For The Rest Of Us Shindig, Banquet, and General Gathering Of Discomfited Individuals will be held Saturday, December 22nd, at 6 PM. And you’re all invited!

Sequels often leave something to be desired. But hopefully, this one will be kinda like Friday the 13th, Part 3, except without all the violence. Or the brief nudity. Or the hockey mask.

Don’t worry about bringing anything, either. Though I will need one of you to be in charge of coats. (No “man furs” please.) And I’ll need someone else to stand by Gabe Kaplan’s tank and make sure no one taps on it.

I might also recommend that you have some sort of signal in case you get into a bad conversation with someone. Head patting is good. Although personally, I prefer the slightly more subtle chicken wing.

So many great memories have already been made during the first two Festivus celebrations, most occurring during the Airing of Grievances. Like last year, when Lil Bootay said she didn’t like Three Word Wednesday.

My response? “Oh yeah? Well, the jerkstore called. They’re running outta YOU!” OK, so I didn’t really say that. I didn’t think of it until after everyone had left. But that line would’ve really smoked her! Don’t you think?

Again this year, I’m planning to serve pizza for the Festivus Dinner. We’ll watch “The Strike” episode of Seinfeld. And of course, we’ll have the Festivus Pole and the Feats of Strength. All the usual Festivus Traditions you’ve come to know and love.

Although due to an obscure city ordinance, there’ll be no cockfighting this year. So we’ll have to think of something else for the Feats Of Strength.

And now I leave you with one of the memories burned into our brains from last Festivus. And don’t worry, the party wasn’t this wild the whole night. People were just hopped up on Twix and black and white cookies at the time.

The lyrics for “Silver Pole” written by Bone. Music by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. Proceeds from Festivus will benefit Kramerica Industries: A solitary man with a messy apartment which may or may not contain a live chicken. And the Human Fund: Money for people.

“All these worksheets, grievance worksheets, lined with blanks yet to fill. In the air there’s a feeling of terseness…”

Holy candy, Batman!

It’s that time of the year again! Time for Halloween. And while your newspapers, TV stations, and schools may be flooded with things like Halloween safety tips and other nonsense, Bone is bringing you information you can use. Today I present Bone’s Halloween Candy Tips For Kids.

After all, Halloween is not about ghosts, or pumpkins, or the Devil. It’s about candy, and Jamie Lee Curtis. The word halloween comes from hallowed, which means holy, and weenie, which when you’re a kid tastes just as good as candy. So basically, Halloween means “holy candy.”

So here we go, kids. And by kids, I don’t mean fifteen year old girls who put on a flannel shirt and call themselves hobos. First of all, flannel is coming back someday, and I’ll be ready when it does. Second of all, if you’re old enough to bear children and legally drive a motorcycle, you’re old enough to buy your own candy.

Tip #1: Quality Over Quantity
While your goal starting out the evening is to fill up your bag(s) with candy, remember this: Every piece of crap candy in your bag means less room for the good stuff.

Make a mental note of houses that give out good candy, and conversely, those that give out things like toothbrushes and pencils with a little ribbon around them. Um, it’s frickin’ November, lady. I’ve had my school supplies since August, but thanks anyway. Oh and by the way, don’t look for me next year. This house has officially been blacklisted.

Know your ‘hoods and maximize your time. You only have a few hours one night a year to amass as much candy as possible. If there are only two good houses in a neighborhood of twenty homes, don’t waste your time. Skip it, and double up on the good houses.

Chances are, they won’t remember you’ve already been there earlier in the night. Plus, people like giving away candy. It makes them feel good. So by going to the same house three times in one night, you’re making them feel three times as good.

Tip #2: All Fruit Is Bad
Few things are more disappointing in the life of a child than having a bulbous apple or orange dropped into his or her Halloween bag. Actually, I can’t think of anything worse.

Back in my trick-or-treating days, my initial thought upon receiving fruit was always the same, Gee thanks. Could I have a can of spinach, as well? And while I’m here, maybe I could recite my multiplication tables for you.

Fruit is bad, no matter what the doctor and your parents say. (Remember these are the same people who give you shots and make you go to school.) Besides its non-sugary taste, fruit is quite heavy and weighs down your bag. Get rid of it as soon as possible, perhaps by slipping it inside your sister’s bag when she isn’t looking.

And if your parents try to object to you throwing fruit away, just tell them a scary lady with nine cats gave it to you and told you it was a very special kind of apple that she made just for you. That should do the trick.

Tip #3: Choose A Practical Costume
While the thirty dollar Harry Potter costume with the plastic mask might look great, chances are you’ll wind up spending half your night tripping over the legs, retying strings, and stepping in holes because you can’t see very well out of those tiny eye slits.

I recommend no mask at all. Some face paint or whiskers drawn on will work just fine. If people ask what you’re supposed to be, just act really sad/confused/shy and say, “I don’t know. Mom said we couldn’t afford a real costume.” And if necessary, start crying. Remember you’re out there to get candy, not win a beauty pageant.

Tip #4: Travel alone
I have no hard evidence to back this up, but I believe that you receive more candy on average if you trick-or-treat by yourself than if you go with other people. I base my theory on two principles.

First, the candy allocators might feel sorry for a kid who is having to trick-or-treat alone.

Second, look at it like this. If a homeless person came to my door asking for money, I might give them $20. But if five homeless people came to my door at the same time, would I give them all $20? Of course not. I would instead not answer the door and pretend I wasn’t home.

Summary:
In closing, let me say that every town is a little different. You have to figure out and implement the best strategy for your area. The bottom line is this: Once you realize trick-or-treating is a logical, methodical process of collecting candy and not just haphazardly going around to random houses, you’ll be eating Reese’s Cups and Mini 3 Musketeers well into early December.

“Candy on the beach, there’s nothing better. But I like candy when it’s wrapped in a sweater…”

Grillmaster B

“And so, in honor of the laborer, we do hereby create Labor Day. It shall be a day of rest, upon which the laborer may eat, watch TV, and nap liberally and unashamedly.” ~ An unknown 21st Century blogger

I hope you all had a wonderful Labor Day. My day began at the crack of 11:45 AM, with the first order of business being grill assembly. Well, actually the first order of the day was eating a toaster strudel, followed by the second order of the day, showering. But you get the idea.

Once I unpacked the grill and unfolded the instructions, I saw that there were no words, just pictures. Tiny diagrams filled with numbers, dotted lines, and arrows. It looked like a cross between a blueprint and a rebus.

Assaying the situation, I knew that what I had hoped to be a late lunch was most likely going to turn into supper. Or at the very least, lupper. It was an accurate assumption on my part.

The grill was completed around 2:00. It felt good to have assembled something and for once in my life not have any parts or pieces left over. I feel things like this prepare me for when I begin to replenish the Earth with my seed and have to assemble things like cribs, swingsets, and diapers.

Now that the grill was standing on four legs and did not appear as if it was going to fall, it was time to put on my proverbial chef’s hat and begin my transformation to Grillmaster B (not to be confused with Grandmaster B, Thighmaster B, or Bed Wetter B).

Every man believes he has an innate and extraordinary talent for grilling, that within each of us lies an ability to achieve pyro-culinary greatness. And I am no different.

There seem to be fewer opportunities in this day and age for a man to find his inner caveman, but grilling is one of those. There is something inherently manly about cooking over an open fire. Something very primitive about providing food for the entire cave.

Standing there yesterday donning my khaki Gilligan hat, wielding a set of tongs in one hand and wearing a decorative pot holder on the other, I can honestly say that I’ve rarely felt more like a man.

For yesterday, I grilled.

Then I napped.

I am man. Hear me snore.

“And as I think back, makes me wonder how the smell from a grill could spark up nostalgia…”

Banned in the USA?

I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July. As I’m sure many of you surmised, I took the holiday off from 3WW. It will return next week.

These are the dog days of summer. No, they really are, literally. At least for those of us in the northern hemisphere, here on planet Earth.

I did enjoy the day off of work on Wednesday. Three day weekends are nice, but I think I could really get used to a four-day work week with every Wednesday off. Think about it. You’d work two days, be off one, work two days, be off two. It breaks up the monotony quite nicely. Monday would feel like Thursday. It’s almost like not working at all. Let’s see about getting that instituted.

This morning, I took my car to a trusted mechanic just to have it checked out. I have a few road trips upcoming, including the beach in eight days and Bama football games this fall. He said everything looked fine. So it wound up being $40. Forty dollars for peace of mind. If only I could bottle that up.

I spent much of Tuesday night and Wednesday at my sister’s. She had two cookouts. The festivities included seeing my Dad get into a swimming pool for the first time in probably twenty years or more. That was both kinda cool and a bit odd.

Meanwhile, with no regard for my virgin skin, the summer sun turned my milky white back to bright shades of pinkish red. This happened after I decided to experiment with some SPF 4 sunscreen, as opposed to my usual SPF 15. I guess those numbers really do mean something after all.

As we were eating Wednesday, a phone started ringing. It sounded like a landline rather than a cell ringtone to me. It rang about five times, yet no one moved. Finally I looked around the table and asked suspiciously, “Am I the only one who hears that?”

Turns out it was my sister’s husband’s cell phone. He was outside at the time. It just had a bit of a deceptive ring, and apparently everyone knew it but me.

I didn’t go to any fireworks shows this year, nor did I shoot any. There was a ban on certain fireworks around here due to the lack of rain. Not wanting to risk committing another felony, I decided to spend my money on Sun Drops and barbecue fried pork skins.

But really, a ban on fireworks? Isn’t this America, land of the free, home of the M-80’s? Next thing you know, they’ll be trying to stop high-ranking government officials from doling out pardons left and right to friends who have been convicted of committing high crimes.

Please. Not in my country.

Ever since the very first Fourth of July celebration in 1777, Americans have been shooting fireworks. Although I’m not sure exactly what fireworks they had back then. Probably just some snap and pops. Oh, and I’m sure they had Ben Franklin come and do his little kite trick. But that probably got old after thirty or forty times.

Fireworks should never be banned in America. Every child should get to experience the thrill of holding a bottle rocket as it launches, or having a firecracker go off in their hand. The burning. The pain. The numbness. The ringing in your ear. The temporary uncertainty of what just happened.

I’m sorry, but you just can’t simulate those feelings with some Tony Danza-hosted fireworks spectacular on television. Well, except for maybe the numbness. But I think that had more to do with Tony Danza than anything else.

“Oh let’s go, let’s strike a light. We’re gonna blow like dynamite. I don’t care if it takes all night, gonna set this town alight…”