Not exactly words to live by, but they probably won't kill you either

I’ve lost my muse, have you seen it?

Feeling lethargic, listless, even a bit languid these days, as I try to spark some kind of interest in the local sports scene.

Kevin Love has a broken hand, the NHL lockout is making a cancelled hockey season more likely by the day, and the chances of a 1,000-day postseason drought are getting more real by the day.  It’s in front of this backdrop that I’m struggling to find something to write that doesn’t resemble a 3-year old child’s tantrum.  Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, everything sucks, it’s not fair!!!

Because this is Loserville, and that concept has been done to death.  Sure you could go the other way by singing the praises of a 5-2 Vikings team, but that’s not going to last either.  The Vikings will not save you, they will only find a more sinister way to bring about your ultimate demise.  And yes, I know, every time I insult them, they turn around and prove me wrong, but that’s just part of the spectacle.  Nothing has changed but the schedule being even softer than it first appeared.

So, where does a chap go for a shot of positivity between football weekends when everything seems bleak?  How about some good old fashioned nonsensical rambling?  Digging into the Loserville Rules of Life sounds like a solid idea.  There’s not much I know for certain in this life, but there are a few things, and here they are:

Never make a joke about a bomb at an airport – This one would seem to be obvious, yet none other than a college hockey referee made themistake a few weeks ago.  I’m sure every person sitting through a shutdown of that airport took solace when thinking about whatever uncomfortable body-cavity searches he was subject to.

Never go into the back room at a strip club – Chris Rock said it in a more catchy fashion, but it remains true, nobody’s interested in you and the meter spins like the national debt clock.  You’re basically paying for a more comfortable seat by spending roughly the equivalent of a new couch.  Of course if it wasn’t for alcohol, would never be an issue, stupid alcohol.

Never (ever!) go into the back room adjacent to the bathroom in a gay nightclub – Most men are ingrained with the instinct to avoid this situation like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, no pun intended.  But occasionally, one is pressed into service to locate his girlfriend’s pal, who’s disappeared into the backroom with some random dude.  If he’s an idiot, he listens, instead of countering that it actually makes more logical sense for her to be the one to attempt a rescue from Manlove Island.  Sure, I’ve only heard about this happening once, but that doesn’t change the fact that once I did, it immediately became one of my tenets for life.  I also wanted to bring it up again in case the guy who told me is reading this, because it will make him cringe, what has been seen cannot be unseen.

Never patronize businesses close to holidays unless absolutely necessary – Other than maybe the kids in those African famine commercials, I never see a sadder group of people than those forced to work on days that 90% of the public has off.  On one hand, I suppose you could spin it as a good thing, since it motivates people to higher achievement and jobs you only have to worry about hating on a predictable 9-5 / Monday-Friday schedule, rather than the scattershot “Sunday on, Monday off” world of retail or convenience store work.  But what needs to be remembered here is that it sucks to be surrounded by people who are doing fun stuff while you’re stuck going to work.  It’s something I like to call the Vacation Comportment Corollary.  You want to send emails to the folks at work about how much the security lines suck?  Fine, that might make their Monday sound better by comparison.  But if you’re starting off Tuesday with a picture of a white sand beach and the caption “How’s work suckers?”, then you’re a dick.  So while I get that you may need to run to 7/11 if you need more butter for a Thanksgiving recipe, or you need a trip to the mall to say your procrastinating ass at 4 PM on Christmas Eve, try to avoid these behaviors under less critical conditions.  People in those type of positions get paid the same amount regardless of the actual amount of work they have to do.  Heading to Target on Easter and putting some poor kid through the ringer with 57 questions about a digital camera is not okay.  He’s just trying to coast and make his $8 an hour in peace, let him be.  Of course this doesn’t apply to tipped employees, since their pay is commensurate with the service they provide.  This exempts bars from the discussion and leaves me free to patronize them on Thanksgiving and Christmas with impugnity. 

Never forget to keep a book of matches by your toilet – I know it may seem a bit crass to have a book of matches just sitting there on the lid of your toilet, but you can easily get around that problem by classing it up with a little pottery-type dish, or something of that nature.  Besides, do the aesthetic concerns surrounding your bathroom really trump the social embarrassment of the defecator and olfactory discomfort of those who follow?  It’s true that bathroom etiquette is a two way street, people should do their utmost to attend to their business before placing themselves in a crowded, single-bathroom situation, but sometimes things get away from you.  I’m as regular as the postal service, but give me some extremely spicy or exotic food and results may vary.  Just sayin, it hurts no one to leave the matches in there, your benefitting all parties involved here.  The exit accompanied by the smell of a flaming match is about 1/10^th as sheepish as the one accompanied by the stench of a flaming o-ring.  Not to mention how much the on-deck batter appreciates the effort.

Never wait for a closer parking spot at the gym – Is it possible to miss the point any more than this?  If it’s pouring rain, freezing cold, or there are no more spots available, then sure.  But if it’s a mild day with none of the above?  Park the damn car and cut short your treadmill time by 15 seconds.  Everytime I pull into the lot, there seems to be some clod holding up the show, because they’re angling for a parking spot 20 yards closer.  I know that they probably can’t help themselves, that they’re conditioned by years of trips to the mall and supermarket to always try for the nearest possible spot, it’s a reflex action.  But along those lines, let me just say that I’m conditioned to strike people in the face when I see them doing something stupid, so be prepared.  Here’s a radical notion, if you parked 50 yards further away everywhere you went, maybe you could skip a gym trip every couple of weeks?  It’s worth considering.

That’s all I have for life wisdom at the moment, tune in next week when I segue back to sports with important topics like “See?  I told you Ponder sucks” and “The Timberwolves Curse: Is it possible Target Center is on an Indian burial ground?”