Girls in the Mist

After 48 years on this planet I’ve learned two firm and undeniable rock solid facts when it comes to the female of our species. Fact #1: I thank god every day that I was not born a woman. Fact #2: If I live another 48 years I wont find another hard fast, all encompassing fact about all women.

After studying women and their female offspring in their natural habitat these past 28 years, much like Jane Goodall, I have been able to decipher the actual meaning behind bits and pieces of their often confusing and secret language. What I’ve learned during my observations is not a hard and fast set of communication criteria, but more of a general guide line… a set of basic phrases and key words that can give the males of our species a clue as to the actual hidden meaning of these often misleading statements. I’ll highlight key caution words and phrases. For example:

Your wife/girlfriend is getting dressed for your evening out and you innocently ask her when she’ll be ready to leave… If her response is “Five minutes” you might as well open a beer, turn on the TV and catch up on the Flintstones marathon because she’ll be a while. In this context… five minutes in female dressing time is roughly 30 – 45 minutes in real time.

Now here’s where it gets tricky.

Let’s say your watching the end of the Colts game on Sunday and your wife/girlfriend is ready to leave for dinner at her parent’s house, and she says it’s time to go… your response “sure babe… just five more minutes so I can catch the end of the game”.  She’ll probably smile begrudgingly and then look at her watch… the clock is running. Five minutes now means five minutes.

Now lets say the game goes into overtime… this could mean the play-offs.

“I’ll tell you what babe,” you say with your best puppy dog eyes. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up as soon as this is over.”  A seemingly reasonable request.

Her response… a loud, very audible sigh.

In women speak this IS an actual word, but as men we mistakenly interpret this as a form of non-verbal communication to mean, “OK… I concede”.  What it really means is; she thinks you’re a knuckle dragging, nose picking idiot and she’s wondering when you’re going to extract your head out of your hairy, ape like ass, stop arguing with her and get in the car so she can finish her make-up in the vanity mirror on the way to her mom and dads. 

Now… to further emphasize her displeasure, she’ll stand by the door ready to leave with arms folded, keys rattling, toes tapping impatiently as she tries to glare a hole through your thick skull, waiting for you to join her in this weekly journey.  As your attention and focus returns to the excitement of the game she barks  “What Ever” as she slams the door behind her.  What she really said…. “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!”

It’s 45 minutes later and you arrive at her parents house, happy and content that your favorite team is in the play-offs. You, with your keen relationship sense, have derived that something is amiss with your partner because she has not spoke to you or even acknowledged your presence since your arrival.

“What’s wrong babe?” you ask. Actually having no clue what the problem is.

“Nothing” she says. This, my friends, is the calm before the storm. Nothing means something. So, unless the next words out of your mouth are “I’m sorry”… even though you have no idea what to be sorry for, you should get your guard up because the argument is about to begin.  

You plead your case… big game…play-offs… made it in time for dinner… no harm no foul… thought you were cool with it… super bowl… etc.

“Fine”. She says.

You lose. This the word women use to signify that the argument is now over, she’s right and you need to stop talking. When you hear this word… stop talking. 

Now… lets take this one final step further… lets say you don’t read my blog and are therefore unable to heed my sagely advice… so you continue to argue with your mate even though you don’t have a snowballs chance in hell of winning this one.

“Look… I don’t know what the big deal is… Why don’t I just go home and give you time to cool off!” You respond in hopes of ending the argument with some dignity in tact.

 “Go Ahead.” She says. This is not permission or submission… This is a dare… no… a DOUBLE DOG DARE! Don’t fall for it.  If you leave… stop by the store and pick up some hand lotion and Kleenex… because you’re going to need them.

Also beware of the phrase “That’s Okay”. This is another one of the most dangerous two word sentences uttered by the female of our species. It means she plans on thinking long and hard before deciding how and when you’ll atone for your mistake.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it” is another “red flag” statement, meaning this is something that she has told you to do several times, but is now doing it herself.  This will later result in you asking, “what’s wrong”… She'll respond "Nothing!" then you can just follow the progression of events in the above paragraphs.

And then there’s “Thanks” Consider the tone and context that this word is said in. If it is said with a soft and pleasant tone, do not question it, or faint, just say you’re welcome.  If it is said in a hard and sarcastic tone or is stated, as “Thanks a lot” do not, under any circumstances, say, “You’re welcome”. Doing so will evoke the dreaded “What Ever” response.

I hope this information is helpful to those masses still struggling to bridge the communication gap between the genders. I, myself, will continue to monitor and record their strange rituals and interaction among others of their kind in an effort to uncover more mysteries and their meanings.

For now, I’ll sit in my corner and listen for those all-important key phrases… my lotion and Kleenex at the ready.   

                                                                        MoFo

Wet Spot

I bought my first boat the summer of 1981; shortly after I graduated high school… well, to be more accurate, I bought half of a boat. A good friend of mine, Jim Farbauch, also liked the prospect of boat ownership, so he jumped head first into the deep and murky financial waters along side of me… each of us hoping that the other could keep their fiscal head above water. After a lot negotiation (yes… even back then) and $250 down payment from each of us, we both signed our young lives away and became the proud owners of a 17-foot, 1976 Rinkerbuilt tri-hull runabout.

We never really considered the possibility that joint ownership of such a highly treasured toy could capsize our friendship; forethought was not one of our strongest attributes. Frankly, we were both shocked that a bank would loan two 18 year old kids $4500 to buy a boat… what were they thinking… so we took the money and ran.

Neither one of us had much nautical experience. The closest I’d come to piloting a sea/lake going vessel was on family vacations when we rented a houseboat on Dale Hollow Lake. After endless hours… sometime days of pestering my Dad, “can I drive now?” I would finally wear him down to the point that it was either kill me and throw me over board, or let me drive… those were the only ways he was going to get me to shut up. Since my presence, or lack there of would probably be noticed… I was eventually allowed to pilot the boat in the middle of the lake as we were moving from cove to cove. Although we were only moving at about 4 miles an hour and the closest land was at least 500 yards on either side of the boat, I thought I was the king of the world. (Screw Leo)

Jim’s maritime familiarity made me look like Captain Nemo. He had once been on a relatives boat… once… that and I think he still played with toy boats in the bathtub… that was the total of his experience.

So, after the salesman gave us a quick 30 minute tutorial on the tiny test lake at “Just Add Water” boats on how to launch and load our boat, we hooked the vessel to the back of my Jeep and were off.

After dropping Jim off at his parents’ house so he could get a trailer hitch installed on his car, I drove straight to my girlfriends’ house to surprise her and show off my new aqua acquisition.

As I turned into the driveway I noticed my girlfriend, Kim Martin, was sunbathing on a chaise lounge chair in front of her parents’ garage. What a day I was having… Boats AND Bikinis! Since my arrival was not expected, she deemed her Tropicana suntan lotion cover body, cheap sunglasses and disordered hair unfit for my viewing pleasure and quickly darted inside the safety of her home and away from my hormonal gaze… although, apparently her configuration was good enough for the hundreds of cars that had passed by her driveway during the past few hours as she lay basking in the afternoon sun.

As I awaited her re-emergence, I spent the majority of the next hour talking to her father, who was genuinely excited about my purchase as I demonstrated and explained the various features of the boat. When Kim finally appeared to inspect my vessel, I asked her quite proudly “What do think?” 

Now… The scenario that had played out in my mind as I was driving over was something like this… her jumping up and down and saying “Oh my god… that is so cool! When are we going to the lake!?! Do I have to wear a top?”

What actually happened was; with less than moderate enthusiasm she replied, “It’s OK I guess”.  Needless to say, this was not the reaction I was looking for.

“Well… we’re leaving for the lake early in the morning” I said. “I’ll be by around 8 to pick you up”

“I’m not going to lake tomorrow!” she replied.

Again… not exactly the response I was expecting.

Jim and I, along with a few friends, spent the next two days on Lake Monroe acclimating ourselves to our new toy. We had an amazing amount of fun enjoying the boat, our friends, beer and “other” stuff we brought… but the entire weekend,  it bothered me that my girlfriend didn’t want to spend the day with me on my new boat… I mean I had a boat! Really… so I broke up with her as soon I we returned to Indy. Nice guy, huh?

That summer I spent every available opportunity camping and boating on Lake Monroe with my friends. 

I later found out that she really wanted to go, but felt a little self-conscious about being around a me and a bunch of friends that early in the summer…. She didn’t feel like her tan was “bikini ready”.

Four boats and twenty-five years later, my old girlfriend has no problem going to the lake with my friends and me… and my wife doesn’t mind if she comes along… because they are one and the same person. Every Tuesday you can find “Big Red” tied up along side of our friends boats (none of which have seen fit to “officially” name their boats) at Allen’s Creek (party cove) on Lake Monroe.

I’ve always been a big fan of Celebrity and Crownline boats. I like their deep V hull design with the tall interior side walls and large built in cooler in the floor… in fact it took over two years of searching in order to find our current boat, a 96 Celebrity 220 BR.

Every year I find something I’d like to add or replace on our boat. I rebuilt the small block 350 engine two seasons ago to give me a little more power, installed new trim tabs last season to help get her big ass out of the water (that’s the boat’s ass… no reference to anyone living or dead) and replaced the braking system and bunks on the trailer. At the end of last season I expressed to my wife that I was thinking of doing a total remodel on our boats interior, after all, she was the one who repeatedly remarked how much she liked the interior design of my nephews Malibu boat.

“That sounds expensive. Why we don’t we just get a new boat?” Kim asked.

Now, if she had said that phrase to me the year before, the word “boat” would still be lingering in the air, echoing off the walls in our family room while me and my truck were leaving tire marks in the street and a wet spot in my shorts… happily on our way to shop for a new boat. Although the idea of having a new boat with the latest and greatest stuff was really appealing, the thought of the $60k plus price tag that went along with it made me cringe… especially for a toy we would only get to use 4 months of the year.

So I did a little research, took a lot of pictures at the boat show, and eventually came up with a design I liked.  Then… I removed everything from the interior of our boat… the seats, carpet, the floor, side panels… everything except the steering wheel and the gas tank.

The rebuild went smoothly. In place of carpet I used a new vinyl floor covering that is made for boats… looks amazing, doesn’t stain nor hold water like carpet. That means no musty smell and no mold during storage. I made sure we have uber storage, and of course an ear splitting, teeth rattling sound system. We went from cramped seating for 8 to comfortable seating for 12-14.

Kim said no one needs 15 cup holder in a boat. Now she realizes that we don’t have 15 cup holder… we only have about 5 or 6 cup holders… we have 9 or 10 cell phone/sunscreen/ear ring/make-up/head band/sunglass holders.

The only glitch in the make-over was with the person who did the upholstery work. She took 3 times longer than she said it would and tried to charge me $2000 more than her quote. She finally finished everything 2 days before we left for vacation on Dale Hollow Lake. It took 12 solid, pain in the ass hours to get everything back together. Turned out fantastic.    

Would I do it again…sure. Is there anything left to do? Next year I think I’ll have the trailer Rhino lined red to match the boat. Then I’ll be done for a few years.

There’s an old saying… the two happiest days in a boat owners life are the day he buys his boat, and the day he sells his boat. Well… I guess I’m not just a boat owner… I’m a boater.  The only way that expression would apply to me would be in the reverse… the two happiest days in a BOATERS life are the day he sells his boat, and the day he picks up his newer, bigger boat.

So until that happens, I’ll enjoy the lake, the warm water, hot sun and cold beer with my family and friends aboard “Big Red”.  See you on the lake. 

MoFo