Sunday, August 31, 2008


We spent our weekend getting ready for Hurricane Gustav.

I took care of the outdoors by moving indoors anything that could potentially become a missile. Patio furniture, the BBQ pit, Anne's swing, the giant red urn from the front door, and my arsenal of actual missiles - all went to their new home inside my storage room.

Betty took care of our provisions. This meant she had to go to several stores and scavenge. And by "scavenge" I mean "fight other people for food and toiletries." That's why I sent Betty - never send a man to do a mom's job.

Anne took care of the entertainment.

In addition to manual labor, I'm also mentally preparing myself for the hurricane and its ramifications by reading 1 Dead in Attic by Chris Rose. Rose is a columnist for the Times-Picayune and the book is about the months after Hurricane Katrina. I'm not too far into it yet, but just reading it reminds me of my trips to New Orleans before and after Hurricane Katrina. Specifically, I remember Lakeview as being very green before the storm, and there is no other word I can think of to describe the destruction and devastation of Lakeview after Hurricane Katrina other than "brown."

I hope we have better luck with Gustav.

My last item of business was to take down our "Welcome" sign and stuff it into the storage room. But if you need a place to stay after the storm, you know you're welcome here.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Gustav and Katrina Mysteries Unraveled

Someone told me that Hurricane Gustav is named after King Gustav I of Sweden, whose third wife was Katrina.

The connection was stressed as such: Gustav is three years after Katrina, and Katrina was Gustav's third wife!

Oh my gawd! It's a conspiracy!

But wait: It gets worse.

Gustav and Katrina had a daughter named Hanna, who married a man named Andrew, and together they had two children: Ivan and Betsy.

Oh no! Those are all names of devastating hurricanes, too!

Ivan and Betsy, being part of the royal family, were of course inbred, but they still managed to reproduce. In fact they shagged like rabbits, which was all the rage in Sweden back then. And wouldn't you know it, but all of their children happened to have the same names as the rest of the 2008 Hurricane Names list: Ike, Josephine, Kyle, Laura, Marco, Nana, Omar, Paloma, Rene, Sally, Teddy, Vicky and Wilfred.

(Teddy had a dog named Rita.)

Everybody panic!

ESPN Classic Comments

As most of you know, the kickoff time for the LSU football game was moved due to concerns over Hurricane Gustav. The game was shown on ESPN Classics, and if you were at the game or if you listened to it on the radio then you missed the ESPN commentators in all their glory.

LSU's opponents were the Appalachian State Mountaineers, which is in the FCS. The commentators started off by explaining that the the "FCS" - the Football Championship Subdivision - is the "artist formerly known as Division I-AA."

You know the LSU football season is going to be good when there's a Prince reference in the first game.

And although LSU scored on most of their possessions, occasionally they had to punt. When LSU's punter Brady Dalfrey came on the field for the first punt of the game, the commentators noted that it was the senior's first punt of his career. "Well," the commentators noted, "at least he's well rested."

Finally, when Appalachian State was on offense in the first half, freshman offensive lineman Orry Frye jumped offside, to which the commentators wondered if he "had a case of the Jumpies."

A case of the Jumpies? I believe you'd get your ass kicked for saying something like that.

All of that was in the first half. I watched the second half but we had the volume down, otherwise I'm sure I would have much more to blog about.

So thanks again, ESPN Classics, for showing the LSU vs. Appalachian State football game on Saturday! Everything about the game was classic, especially the commentary.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Stump the Tantrum

It's a challenge for me to sit still for more than two hours unless I'm watching a movie, reading a book, playing Wii, stalking prey or pretending to be a statue on Bourbon Street for money.

But this week I'm in Compliance Training as it relates to software development, and our training is all day. And as bad as that sounds, our trainer has actually managed to keep us all interested by intertwining "training time" with "trivia time."

You know us computer nerds love our trivia!

So to keep us all awake, every hour or so we have a quick trivia quiz. Some of the questions that we've been asked so far have been:

Q: What's the most common city name in the US?
A: Franklin

(I got this one after we guess a few presidents' names and our trainer told us it wasn't named after a president. By the way, Ben Franklin was a constitutional bad-ass, beyotch!)

Q: What are the top ten US cities with the highest population?
A: Go here for the list.

(I guessed Arvada, Colorado, but it was 239th.)

And here's one that I missed, but think I should get credit for:

Q: What's the longest one-syllable word in the English language?
A: scrootched

(I said "smiles" because there's a mile in between the s's.)

In between these few moments of trivia are hours of actual training, which has actually been very educational. Our trainer is an "IT Auditor," which means he's a professional hacker - it's his job to try to break into systems and find any holes in security. Anytime a professional hacker is paid to come to your office, it at least makes the day a little more interesting. I'm just happy I'm on this side of things.

So if you have to give a speech, presentation or host a training seminar any time soon, try throwing out some trivia questions when returning from a break. Trivia is a great ice-breaker, gets people talking, and might actually keep people awake for the entire duration of your speech.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

After the Olympics

Now that the Olympics are over I'll have to find other ways to spend my time, like going back to work, mowing the lawn or showering. But after lounging on the couch for over two straight weeks, transitioning back into any semblance of a normal routine will be challenging.

One way I might ween off the Olympics is to research the Olympic controversies and their repercussions.

For instance, the OIC investigated the actual age of China's gold medal-winning gymnast, He Kexin, who was listed as being 16 (the minimum age for Olympic gymnasts) but was previously reported as being 13. Regardless of whether Kexin is 13 or 16, we can rest easy knowing that whoever registered her as 13 in the previous competition will be dismembered by the Chinese government.

Another controversy that I can research is to identify all the parts of the opening ceremonies that were faked. So far the world knows that the fireworks were faked, but what I've discovered from literally minutes of in-depth research is that the drumming sequences were also faked. Apparently there weren't 2008 drummers as we were previously told, but just one drummer and 2007 mirrors.

David Blaine and his brethren of mirrored selves would be proud.

If only there are enough replays of the USA women's beach volleyball, gymnasts and the track and field teams, there just might be enough sandy crotches and skin-tight spandex to last me through the week. All I have to do is make it to August 30th, when LSU will play and subsequently crush Appalachian State, and I'll be weened off my addiction to the Olympics.

Geaux Tigahs!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Mr. Mom

Thursday night I was home alone with the baby while Betty went out on an important errand. But I wasn't without senior-level managerial oversight, because Betty had left me with a To Do List. My list was as follows:

1. Entertain the baby
2. Feed the baby
3. Bath the baby
4. Change/clothe the baby
5. Put the baby to sleep.

Entertaining Annie was easy. We both just flopped down in front of the TV and played Mario Kart. She loved it, although if I'm being honest, she kind of sucked at it. She never even crossed the finish line once. After we finished, I beat Anne at Guitar Hero and then crushed her at Wii Tennis.

I know she's only four months old, but that's four months to practice the Wii. Come on! Life doesn't just hand you 2,000 points in Wii Tennis - you have to earn it!

Next, it was time to feed the baby. I mixed some cereal with milk, mushed it around and then attempted to feed it to Anne. She wasn't very receptive to it, so I tried to pique her interest by eating a little of it myself. Unfortunately, I liked it so much that there wasn't anything left for Anne.

Bath time was fun. I avoided the soap at all costs, but managed to splash some onto Anne. Success!

"Dry the baby off after her bath" wasn't on my To Do List, so Anne's PJs were soaked immediately. Way to go, Mom.

Finally, it was sleepy time. After I put her in bed, Anne decided that she was ravenously hungry - probably because I ate all of her cereal earlier in the night. I prepared a bottle for her. Mom came home to a well-fed baby sleeping in Daddy's arms.

All in all, my day with my daughter was a success! Just call me Mr. Mom.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Pathological Liar

I think one of the reasons I love to write is because I'm a pathological liar.

It's true (or is it?) that I've always exaggerated. And once I start, I can't stop. Once I tell even a tiny white lie, I remember that lie and incorporate it into my next story about the same event, and then build from there. These lies seep into my memories, and then I can't remember what is real and what is make-believe.

My whole life could be a lie for all I know.

But it's not like I set out to blatantly lie to everyone I know. It's just that if I'm telling a story, and if I don't know some mundane detail, I'll just fill in the gaps with something that sounds plausible and hope it passes.

For instance, in one of my very first blog posts I wrote about how Subway's sandwich artists are not really "Sandwich Artists" but are instead "Sandwich Consultants." And in that blog I said that out of 1,732 Subway employees conducted by the FCPA, only 159 had attended a Liberal Arts college. I can now admit that I although I did in fact do this survey, I only read the first 400 responses then stopped. I feel so dirty.

Later that same year I wrote a blog about my dad falling in the shower and breaking a rib, and went on to say that instead of showering I just "dive into a vat of Purell gel, then dry myself off with Purell wipes." This was of course a lie - I never rinse the filth off of me, because once I start my wife will expect me to do it at least twice a week.

So I'm sorry for any lies that I've told. You deserve better. I'll try to be truthful from now on. And I swear, none of those last three were lies, or at least they weren't big ones.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Phelps Challenged by Louisiana Swimmer

My friend Henry is an incredible swimmer, but he's missed the past two Olympics due to a pulled groin muscle. I've never seen him swim before but I've heard great things.

So it wasn't a shock to me to see his challenge to Olympic record-holder and breaker Michael Phelps up on YouTube.

Phelps might be able to beat those snail-eating French in the pool, but beating this Louisiana native will take more than speed, agility and endurance. Phelps just might have to coerce Henry to go out to Bourbon Street and hope he gets too hammered to perform.

The Tantrum will keep you updated on Phelp's response, if he's man enough to even give one.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Casual Friday

I don't mind wearing long sleeve shirts, pants and my business-casual Underoos every Monday thru Thursday. But there's just something about Casual Friday that relaxes me and helps me to get more work done.

That's why I think I'm going to take Casual Fridays to a whole new level.

My first action item is to bring my Laz-E Boy to work with me. I have a laptop at work so there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to prop my legs up and code from a comfortable position. As a bonus, my lounge chair will take up so much space that visitors won't feel the need to enter my cubicle.

My second action item is to wear my robe to work. When I'm being casual, I like to be really casual. Pants are a drag, man.

Third, I'm no longer going to attend any meetings on Friday, especially if the meeting is at 4 pm (you know who you are). From now on, all meetings on Friday will be done via Instant Messenger, and all meetings will end before noon.

Last, team members not participating in Casual Friday will be ostracized from the group. The last thing I need is for my Mojo to be ruined by someone who enjoys wearing ties.

If you have any suggestions on how to take Casual Friday to a whole new level, please drop me a line.

JavaScript Judo Chop

A few days ago I wrote about how cool it would be if programming books had something useful on their covers, like Godzilla biting the head off of one of the book's authors. I think we can all agree that my idea is totally awesome.

So I'm happy to say that, in the 7 days since I wrote that piece, my idea has really taken off. Just look at the latest company that I've heavily influenced: Manning Publications Company.

Manning Publications Co. (no relation to Peyton and Eli) published Secrets of the JavaScript Ninja by John Resig (the JavaScript Evangelist for the Mozilla Corporation). Not only is this book educational, but the cover is the most bad-ass JavaScript book cover in the entire history of JavaScript book covers. And that's saying a lot, since it has to compete with this, this and this.

I give the cover for Secrets of the JavaScript Ninja a 7 out of 10. It would score more points if the ninja didn't look like a samurai and if the ninja's sword had blood on it. But it's still better than what we had before.

Keep up the good work.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

My New Indian Cube-Mate

I have a lot of large software projects that are due by the end of the year. For a while I was starting to sweat them out. But lucky for me I have a new Indian cube-mate:

Ganesha, the Destroyer of Obstacles.

My Aunt Penny and cousin Elizabeth recently went to India on a missionary trip. Not only did they feed the hungry, clothe the homeless, help cure the sick and teach the children, but they also brought me a rockin' statue of Ganesha.

I brought my Ganesha statue to work and showed all my Indian coworkers. One thought it was lovely. Another counted all of the hands and made sure that it was created correctly, explaining that if a statue of a Hindu god isn't made correctly then it brings you bad luck. My statue gained the admiration and adoration of all of my coworkers.

Then it was time to put Ganesha to the test.

I sat Ganesha on my desk and made it face my computer. "Ganesha," I told it, "I have a lot of work to do and there's no way I can do all of it by the end of the year, but everyone wants it done. Can you help?"

Ganesha appeared to just sit there for a while, but after about five minutes I felt like a switch had been flipped inside my head. I started drafting some rough designs on how I could accomplish my work, and it was all perfect. I could see the finished product in my mind's eye. I looked at Ganesha and he looked at me, and then I high-fived all four of his arms.

After a while I needed some caffeine. I went to the office's kitchen but the coffee pots were all empty. I couldn't find any new coffee filters and so sulked back to my desk.

My Ganesha statue had given me so much help with my projects and I thought it could help me with this coffee fiasco. So I picked it up and brought it back to the kitchen. And wouldn't you know it! Coffee, that sweet nectar of life, was filling up the pot right in front of my eyes! Apparently another caffeine-deprived employee got coffee filters from another area's kitchen.

Ganesha did it again!

So thanks Aunt Penny and cousin Elizabeth for my great Ganesha statue! If you ever need an obstacle blown to smithereens, call me up and me and my buddy Ganesha will destroy the crap out of it.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Olympic Medals Show Nations' True Colors

What I love about the Olympics is that they show each nation's true colors.

For instance, although I usually think of ninjas, samurais or Highlander when I think of sword fighting, our American women dispelled any doubt that they are handy with a shiv by sweeping the Women's Individual Sabre.

Just how did the US women prepare for the Sabre event? According to gold medalist Mariel Zagunis, "I meditated on my a-hole of an ex-boyfriend and what I would do to him if I had a sword and I saw him with that slut Melissa." Good advice for any aspiring female athlete.

You know the old saying: Hell hath no fury like a sword-wielding woman scorned.

The Olympics also dispels stereotypes. In the US we make a big deal about gun ownership, but a few days ago the Chinese won gold medals in both Men's and Women's 10m Air Pistol, a silver in Men's 10m Air Rifle, a bronze in Men's 50m Pistol and a bronze in Men's Double Trap. Clearly the Chinese are experts with guns - they did invent gunpowder, after all.

The only medal the US won for shooting was Corey Cogdell's bronze in the Women's Trap. "Women's Trap" sounds like it would either be a woman's mouth or va-jay-jay, but it's not: it's basically skeet shooting.

Awww skeet skeet!

So apparently we have a lot of guns in the US, but we just suck at shooting them. All the more reason for gun control if you ask me.

So you see, the Olympics is about more than just looking at young women in tight-fitting spandex lift their legs over their heads... it's also a cultural mirror. Or maybe it's only about looking at young women, I forget. Either way, enjoy the games!

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Friggin' Show at the Varsity

Betty and I love that show "Last Comic Standing." One day there was a LCS marathon on and we watched it for 12 straight hours. (That was before our daughter was born. Now only I can watch TV for 12 hours.)

My good friend James Cusimano is the Last Comic Standing of the New Orleans area, and now he's throwing down the gauntlet in Baton Rouge. He and some other dudes will be at the Varsity (by the Chimes) in Baton Rouge on Wednesday, August 20. Doors open at 8, the show starts at 9:30, and I'll be running naked through the crowd at about 9:28. Don't miss it!

Tickets are $5 each, but if you want me to buy them for you in advance, they're still $5 but you owe me a beer.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Olympic Lounging

When watching the Olympics, I like to dress like the athletes.

I wear spandex, goggles and a hair net whenever I'm watching the Swimming events, Bermuda shorts and ray bans for Beach Volleyball, and a tight-fitting tutu for the Gymnastic events. As a bonus, I rack myself whenever watching the Balance Beam event.

This Olympics I found that I could not only dress like an Olympic athlete but also act like one, with the help of my trusty lounge chair.

I discovered this when watching the Rowing event. Rowing, or Sculls, consists of a couple of people sitting in an oversized kayak who fiercely paddle their way across a lake. If you've seen the Rowing event then you know that rowing consists of more than just using the arms - the legs are used to help power the paddler's movements.

You probably also know that rowing is booooriiiiing!

To spice things up I decided to cheer for the US Rowers by "paddling" my lounge chair in rhythm with their paddle strokes. I used the lounge chair's arm as my paddle, which propelled my legs up and down. As a bonus, I won a Gold medal by not spilling my cream soda on the chair and set a new World Record for ticking off my wife, who was left in charge of our daughter. USA! USA!

So the next time you watch the Olympics, don't just watch - live the Olympics, using household objects. Just first make sure that your children are asleep and your spouse is in the other room.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Professional Reading Material

I'm a software developer, and every once in a while I'll get the itch to read a book about programming. But deciding which book to read is a tough choice, mainly because most of the books about programming have pictures of the authors on the cover. And although I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, I just can't bring myself to pay for a book that has a cover that looks like this, or this, or this.

No offense to the people on the cover of these books, but you're ugly.

Being ugly comes with the territory. If you weren't ugly you probably wouldn't have gotten into computers in the first place, you wouldn't have written your book, and countless millions would not have learned from you. Actually, I probably wouldn't trust a programming book if it had a decent-looking person on the cover either, because I'd know that person wasn't really a computer nerd.

If I wrote a programming book, my book cover would have Godzilla rampaging through the streets, punching holes in buildings and shooting flames out of his mouth. Godzilla would be wearing a name tag that states the programming language being discussed, and each building/helicopter Godzilla destroys would have the name of another programming language. The book's cover would convey the point that my programming language is awesome and may be radioactive.

At the very least I would put Godzilla on the cover along with the other guys who helped write the book, with maybe one of the guy's heads chewed off, like so:

[Picture: My Programming Book Cover featuring Godzilla]

Now be honest, if you saw this book on a shelf at Barnes and Noble, wouldn't you at least flip through it?

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Twinkle, Twinkle Little ABCs

My daughter teaches me something new every day.

On the day she was born she taught me that my life had a purpose. On the day she got her first vaccinations she taught me that sometimes the pain really does hurt the parent more than the child. A few months ago she taught me that I could use her explosive digestive powers as a means of fending off home invaders.

And a few days ago, my daughter taught me that "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" has the same melody as the alphabet song. My daughter is musically gifted!

It all started when I was trying to lull Anne to sleep by singing TTLS. After she zonked out I sang the ABC's in order to subconsciously teach them to her, just like they do in Brave New World.

In singing these two songs back-to-back I discovered that they had the same melody. It seems incredible that I've never noticed this before, but it's obviously common knowledge - Google returned 625,000 websites for my search on "twinkle abcs."

Of course, that's not really a high number of results on Google. Googling "numa numa" returns 3,180,000 websites, and Googling "Paris Hilton" returns 82,800,000 websites. ("Paris Hilton numa numa" in quotes only returns 5 websites - hopefully this one will be the sixth. Go team!)

Maybe tomorrow I'll learn something else that is really neat. Until then, I'll just continue interlacing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" with the ABC's and hope that this doesn't interfere with her sleep-learning.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Hit and Run

Last September I posted a rant about a woman who hit my friend's truck and then left the scene of the accident. My friend, Matt, had to choose between staying put (and thus not leaving the scene of the accident) or following the woman to get her name, license number and insurance info. In the end, the cop couldn't decide who did what when, because everyone had left the scene of the accident. The woman who hit Matt's car didn't get a ticket, and Matt had to pay for his truck to get fixed. It was a perfect example of how liars and cheaters prosper in our society.

However, someone tried to pull that crap with me and got the full force of the Tantrum. Go team!

Here's the story: Someone hit me in the middle of Sherwood Forest Boulevard, then drove off. I was completely ticked that she drove off more than anything else, so I took off after her, determined to get her license plate number and call the cops.

I followed her, honking the entire way, and basically being as obnoxious as possible to make her pull over. She finally did pull over - into an Enterprise car rental agency on Siegen Lane, where she works. She refused to acknowledge that she hit me, even after I linked the large scrape on my bumper to the long scratch on her van. I'll hereby refer to this woman Pig Vomit because she looks like a pig and she makes me want to vomit.

However, the manager of the Enterprise agency could see that she was at fault, and agreed to pay for damages. And let's be serious about this: rental car agencies have to write down all of the scratches to the car before they take them anywhere. All we would have needed was the latest info on the car to see if the scratch was there before. This was a no-brainer.

But it didn't end there.

In true government fashion, the city police department's dispatch told me to call the sheriff's office since the Enterprise was on Siegen lane - which is outside of city limits. But when the State Police showed up (instead of the sheriff's office - don't ask me how that happened), they told us to go back to the scene of the accident and to call the city police, because the accident occurred within the city police department's jurisdiction. But when both I and Pig Vomit went back to Sherwood Forest and gave our stories to the cop, Pig Vomit blatantly lied and said that she was in the intersection first and that I hit her, blah blah blah. (She didn't count on my wife being a witness.)

That's what I went all Nerd Wars on her.

I pulled out my phone and showed the cop how I had called the City Police (twice) as well as the Sheriff's office. Both parties agreed that we had been at the Enterprise, where we spoke to another police officer. So I asked a few simple questions: Why would I call the cops multiple times if I was in the wrong? Why would I have followed Pig Vomit and honked at her if I had actually hit her? Why would she not have stopped if I had hit her? And finally, why did her face make me want to vomit so profusely?

Thanks to Matt's encounter I was prepared for the worst. I had taken pictures of the scratches on both cars as well as Pig Vomit's license plate. I had written down the name of the State police officer who originally met us at Enterprise. Finally, I put all of this info in my written statement to be filed with the police report.

In the end, the cop knew that Pig Vomit was lying. A five year-old could have told you she was lying. My daughter, Anne, who was in the car when all of this happened, tried her best to projectile poop on Pig Vomit in disgust.

The verdict: Tantrum 1, Pig Vomit 0.

I asked the cop if Pig Vomit could be tazed, but sadly, Baton Rouge police officers do not engage in police brutality. Surely there'd be less liars on the road if they got tazed for each obvious lie they told.

In conclusion, I'd like to settle the score with Pig Vomit. Just ask your boss to lend me a Maserati while he pays to get my bumper replaced, and we'll call it even.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

My Manly House

Now that my house in inhabited by two females, I felt the need to offset the surge in estrogen by "manning up" the house.

To masculinize the house I first gave my yard a Mohawk, because nothing is manlier than a Mohawk. To do this I first let my yard grow to an unconscionable height, which took about three weeks. I knew my yard was ready when the neighbor's kids lost their basketball in my yard. Then I mowed a third of the yard on each side, leaving just one awesome section of four foot tall weeds trailing down the center.

[Image: Mid-Mohawked lawn]
Picture of my lawn mid-Mohawk.

Next I scoured the house to find something to make more manly. This banana and pair of tomatoes were perfect for manning up. Nothing says "I'm a man!" like making a wiener and balls out of fruit. Now this dainty fruit tray can stand tall and share its manliness with the world.

[Image: Manly fruit]

Finally, I shaved all of my weekend stubble except for my mustache. Nothing says "Look at how manly I am!" like a two day-old mustache.

Well, sorry to say but I have to cut this blog short. All of my uber-manliness has gotten the attention of my wife. Victory!

Oh wait, she just wants me to go out and finish mowing the lawn.

Yes, dear.

So much for manning up the house.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Analyzing the Tantrum

Every so often I log into my Google Analytics account and look at how people find the Tantrum, and every time I am amazed.

From July 2nd to August 1st, the following search terms resulted in either the most pages viewed or the most time spent on the Tantrum:

1. subway sandwhich artist (sic)

2. 2007 Texas cattle population

3. Ralph & Kacoo's murder mystery

4. sneaking alcohol in six flags

5. how can i get microsoft word when i have vista for free

6. is winchestertonfieldville, iowa a real town

7. cialis bob commercials

8. naked pics of fat dudes bending over

9. Whitney Vann showing some cleavage

10. icosidodecahedron bootylicious

11. "an indian person who doesn't like curry"

And last but not least...

12. hairy preteens

Yes, this was a shameless plug for my other blog posts, but it's also a warning: Someone, somewhere, is keeping track of the web sites you visit. And if you found the Tantrum, it just might be made public. I'm talking to you, Wittmaack-Ekbom's syndrome!

The Farmer's Market

For the past few weeks Betty has been suggesting that I take her to the Ascension Fresh Market, the nearby farmer's market that's open every Saturday from 8 am - 12 pm.

I don't know about you, but perusing fruits and veggies is not my idea of a fun Saturday morning. However, it was clear that I would have to take Betty to the farmer's market or that I would have to continue hearing about the sub-par quality of Wal-Mart's fruits and vegetables, nonstop forever and ever until I relented.

Relent I did. Not only would it give Betty a chance to buy fresh, local produce, but it also gave me a chance to use my cheesy joke about how I would buy a farmer at the farmer's market, and would name him Jorge and make him grow eggplants in my back yard.

The farmer's market opened at 8 am, but we didn't get there until about 10:15. And in those two and 1/4 hours, they sold out of almost everything. The only things left at the farmer's market were an old man with a huge beard manning the tomatoes table and a couple of girls sitting at a 4H booth.

The old man's eyes glinted in the sunlight as our car turned into the farmer's market. He smiled at us as we pulled into our parking space. And the look on his face as we immediately backed out and zoomed away was heart-breaking.

The moral of the story is that if you want to take your wife to the farmer's market, make sure you get there when it opens. You probably even want to get there before it opens. Otherwise, your wife will make you take her back the next week.