“I will not throw chalk at Nathan Pickler’s head. I will not throw chalk at Nathan Pickler’s head. I will not throw chalk at Nathan Pickler’s head.” And so on and so on. I was one step closer to becoming the scourge of Notre Dame. After cutting up and looking for ways to continually push the envelope, you’d think that I would have learned my lesson by now: don’t get caught throwing chalk at the back of Nathan Pickler’s head. But I did, so there I was standing at a blackboard in a nearly deserted classroom two hours after all my friends had gone home. At Notre Dame High School,…
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New Horizons in Weight Control The secret to losing weight... without ever going on a diet
During one of my recent nocturnal online shopping trips, I came across a number of great new products designed for weight control. Well, they hadn’t actually become products yet, but were still in the “figment of someone’s imagination” phase – based enough in reality to have been issued patents, but still miles away from seeing the light of day. I did, however, manage to find three that were for sale, so I scooped them up before they disappeared from the market. Scientists and Registered Dieticians agree that most of us are overweight because they eat too much, too fast. That’s where the Alarm Fork comes in. This handy battery-operated utensil…
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Golf Course Thugs The subtlties of contact golf, pilfering balls and napalming fairways
I love sports. And, considering there isn’t an athletic gene in my entire family, I manage to do pretty well at anything I decide to try – except golf. Looking back, I’m not really sure why I took up golf in the first place. It’s the one sport that, the harder I tried, the worse I got. I was in high school at the time and started hanging around a tough bunch of thugs. Well, not really thugs as you know them. We weren’t covered with tattoos, didn’t wear smelly leather jackets, take drugs or hang around street corners fleecing old ladies of their social security checks. None of us…
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Hand Gestures Grunts, gestures and the sounds we make to communicate
Late last night, I was yanked away from the season finale of “The Desperate Lives of Atlanta Housewives” by an urgent knock on the door. It was Ping. Ping recently emigrated from Thailand and is boning up for his citizenship examination by taking English lessons. Taking pity on anyone having to learn English as an adult, I graciously volunteered to help tutor him with the nuances they never teach you in language school. “If you really want to fit into the fabric of American society,” I told Ping, “You’ll have to learn American slang and the thousands of grunts, hand signs, gestures and sounds we Americans use to take the…
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Chasing the Elu$ive American Dream What ever happened to my white picket fence?
When I was 10, my father took me by the shoulder and said, “Son, we need to talk.” To this day, whenever someone (particularly my boss), tells me that we need to talk, it sends shivers down my spine. I had no idea it was going to be about the American dream. My mother was away doing whatever mothers do on a Saturday afternoon, so he knew he held me captive for at least an hour. He led me into the garage and told me to slide across the front seat of his car. Sitting in the front seat of my father’s Oldsmobile had become our own little cone of…