Will it Last? 12/09/22

Anybody remember the movie, “Diner?” It takes place in Baltimore and one of the characters makes his girlfriend pass an impossible quiz on the Baltimore Colts and Johnny Unitas (yes, that’s where they played before slinking off to Indianapolis), before the guy would propose to her. It was a test. Just like the one Craig is giving to Cynthia. How cool is she on a road trip? Is she relaxed enough to eat Slim Jims and peanut butter crackers, and Funyuns? Or is she going to be the kind of woman who only eats organic superfoods and drinks only unsweetened black tea? And in her mind she’s wondering how cranky Craig will be. And how much fun. Road trips are like that. You stop at McDonald’s even if you’ve never otherwise stopped at McDonald’s before. You sleep in motels you wouldn't otherwise dream of staying in. You need a sense of adventure, a sense of humor, and you have to be able to compromise. Just telling you, dear readers, that I possess none of the above qualities. I’ve been on only one road trip with John and that was to a comic show at a Greenwich museum and I can vouch that he wasn't the least bit cranky. Here’s a way we’re different: John, who’s more likely to roll with the punches, came up with the idea for grape Nehi sodas. I, for one, would only drink an orange Nehi, never a grape Nehi. Never. And if you’re not from New York, like my wife (who hails from Pittsburgh), you’ve never heard of Nehi in the first place. Trust me, you’re better off. You know the kind of cloying, artificial “grape” flavor in a grape Tootsie Pop? Well take that X 10 and you’ve got the taste of a Nehi Grape Soda. John’s extra touch of the ice bucket was both funny and extremely necessary. If you think a Nehi grape soda is barf-worthy to begin with, imagine drinking it warm from the machine. Not good.

In any case Craig and Cynthia have so much in common. And next week, we will find out how it all turns out between our two new lovebirds. But ‘til then, hold your collective breath. Or don’t. Because you might pass out and we want you to keep on reading.

One other note, our anthology book of comics, which many of you have inquired about, is now scheduled to come about sometime next Spring. I know, we promised the holidays, but maybe the holiday is more Memorial Day than Christmas. Anyway, we will be sure to let you know. Have a great weekend,

Andy and John

Keeping (sorta) Fit 11/17/22

Our exercise series this week starts with a comic about fitness watches in general. An Apple Watch, a FitBit, or the Google and Samsung equivalents. The idea about these damn, stupid, I mean watches are that they give you gentle reminders to get off your ass and start walking, weight lifting, counting calories, etc. It gets particularly annoying when you’re driving a car or flying in a plane, going to a theater for a show or a movie and the watch tells you, time to get up and move. A short 5-minute walk will get you closer to your “stand goal”. And what is a stand goal, pray tell? You have to stand for a certain amount of minutes each hour. Well, I can’t stand in a theater. What would the people behind me say (probably not much since I’m only 5’6”)? The thing is most healthy people look at a watch deliverring a message as only a minor annoyance. Not yours truly. I shout at it. “I’m driving damnit! Why don’t you earn another hour to your stand goal? I’m just trying to not get into a car accident, is that okay, you dumb watch?” After I broke my ankle this summer I put my Apple Watch in a drawer and never wore it again until I was healed. Everyday there were these messages: “You’re usually much further along by this time of the day.” And I’d look at my “move ring” and see it say that I’d achieved only 1 minute of exercise that day. I switched to my old normal watch, the kind that only tells time, instead. I remember John telling me about chopping down a dead tree in his yard to then chop into firewood. It’s hard, physical work, but halfway through the process he noticed he had forgotten to wear his watch. Hence, he got no credit (at least as far as the watch was concerned) for any physical activity, when in fact he had done a tremendous amount of aerobic and strength training, only he was chopping wood. I am prone to thinking like that myself. I once in a while forget to wear the damn thing and find myself on a 4-mile walk. But my watch thinks I’ve moved 3 steps that particular day. And yet, as soon as I recovered from the ankle and started hiking 2 then 3 then 4 miles a day, I went right back to my annoying digital watch. I wanted to get credit for my exercise. Finally, we ask the existential question of all fitness watches: If you chop a tree down in the forest and forget to record it on your watch, does it really count?

Our next effort was about a date. And our single character, Craig, was scoping out a potential new woman friend who seemed athletic, which he liked. But maybe she was a little too athletic as Craig realized she would kick his ass in the game of squash. Now this thought came from discussing a couple of my youthful experiences I shared with John. I once met a girl at a gym, and we made a date to play racquetball. I had to use every bit of my strength and speed to barely beat her. I don’t think she was very impressed, which is probably why she refused a second date (this time, just dinner with no athletic competition). Another antic occurred when I played a couple of seasons of co-ed softball in my late 50’s. I was standing on third base, attempting to run home when the batter hits a ball to the short fielder (in co-ed softball you usually play with 4 outfielders instead of the traditional 3) and teams usually put their weaker players at that position. Not this team and not this woman. The fly ball was hit, she retreated a few steps, and then started running in towards the ball. She caught it on the run and threw a perfect strike to home plate. If I had run from third, I would have been out by 20 feet. After the inning, I asked her if she played in college, and without missing a beat she said, Yep, starting center fielder at Notre Dame. Okay then. I played intramural sports. Does that count? John, however, was an honest to goodness varsity soccer player, so there. But I digress. As liberated as we like to think of ourselves, most guys don’t like losing to women, even if the woman is 10 times better than he is. There, I’ve said it, so shoot me. Whaddya want? I’m in my 60’!

Enjoy this beautiful, if cold, late fall weather and we’ll see you next week with two new ones.

Andy and John