Like clockwork, every two years or so I pick up and move my blog. Well, this is the last time. I’ve moved my blog and renamed it as Kaleidoscopic Raygun. Go and check it out. It’s not much different than here, but it’s there.
Actually, I recently met up with Detroit Bloggers and met a bunch of awesome people with awesome blogs and most of them had clever or interesting names (the blogs had interesting names, the people had normal names, fyi) and mine did not. People blogged about being Moms and I thought that was cool. Another guy blogged about being a Dad. And that was cool. I told everyone all about spunkybean – I’m way proud of that thing. But I had to do some soul searching to figure out just what exactly is Don’s Ego all about?
Am I a writer/humourist sampling my writing? Am I just journaling personal experiences for my own amusement? Am I trying to provide life lessons?
I still don’t have an answer, but I have a new blog. It’s a start. It’ll still be all over the map, but I’m hoping I can use it for sharing more stories, life lessons and anecdotes, some creative writing, and use it to push my personal brands and start-up businesses.
Kaleidoscopic Raygun will be like a scratch pad for a bunch of my other writing. Yes …that’s it. I hope you check it out.
On Saturday, I’ll be catching up with some old friends at my 20th High School Reunion. I’m excited. I’ve rented a Farrari, got myself a nice haircut, and I’ve concocted an amazing story of success and world travels that will make everyone envious.
*sigh* Sadly, because I’m so public on Facebook and with my blogs, and Twitter, the old-fashioned “white lies” people tell at their reunion just aren’t going to work for me. I rarely say anything bad about social media, but if there’s one thing it has destroyed is a person’s ability to hide from themselves. I have a wife. Kids. A job I um …go to every day. And I drive a used car. My wife drives a mini-van. And everyone knows it. I’m not a professional golfer in Australia. I don’t run a charter fishing company in Ontario. I don’t have a seaside home on Maui. I never ran a marathon, I haven’t been on TV, and I’ve only met a few famous people and not one of those occasions made for a story worth telling.
This is all a-OK with me, though. I’m just looking forward to getting back to my hometown with people from my hometown, who knew me before anyone else in the world knew me. I love all my “new friends” I’ve made through work, social clubs, and through my children’s school, but you can’t beat “old friends.” And someday my “new friends” will be “old friends”, too. So that’s cool.
I feel like some people dread their high-school reunion and I have theories on why. I realize some people simply can’t make it, and some are probably indifferent on the whole thing and have few ties. But others, I think, are scarred by high-school. Do you think that’s why, from a class of 400+, we might be lucky to get 90 or 100 people? I wonder. And isn’t high-school tough for everyone? Every now and then (more common in the old days) you meet a person who’s “glory days” really were high-school, and they make no bones about it. But for everyone else, didn’t we all feel a little awkward? And who isn’t awkward at 15, 16, and 17? You never meet a person who says, “I was the coolest person in my graduating class. Everyone wanted to be friends with me.”
Whatever point I’m trying to make, I’m not sure, but I’m sure I’m excited for the reunion. Because nowadays, I want to be friends with everybody. It’s not entirely possible, of course, but why wouldn’t I want to be nice to people, say ‘hi’ to people, and at the very least discuss the weather (it’s hot, by the way). It takes extra effort, and I still fail from time to time (yes, occasionally I ride an elevator or pass someone in the hall and pretend I’m checking email on my Blackberry to avoid eye contact), but life is better when you live it.
It’s hard to believe I’ve been an adult for 20 years (or possibly 16 years, because I wasn’t very “adult” for most of my college career). Maybe going to this high-school reunion will re-inspire me. Maybe I’ll recognize some of the endless optimism and world of possibilities that were at my feet the day I graduated. So what if 20 years have passed and I never really chased down the #1 dream on my list. I’m only 38, and so is everyone else who will be at the reunion, and maybe we’ll all feel young again by hanging around each other. And we can leave the 20 Year Reunion with an eye on the 40 Year Reunion and some really, really awesome stories to tell.
And this was our class song. Alphaville’s “Forever Young” …a song I had never heard in my life when whoever picked it, picked it. But it’s a funny thing about a song someone calls your “class song” – it sticks with you whether you like it or not. 20 years later, I agree with the pick.
And just like that, the dog is gone. My sister and her family returned from their week-long vacation and took the dog, yesterday. Now, all I’m left with is games of fetch with my eight-year-old daughter and, unlike the dog, she’s very sassy and says she doesn’t want to play fetch.
The dog never argued about fetch. The dog also never complained when I got up early at 5 a.m. to write, cook breakfast, and exercise. He curled up under my kitchen table while I plugged away at the laptop and went right back to sleep, but it was nice to have the company. It’s sort of weird how I got used to having that li’l guy around.
Which brings me to my next dilemma. Ahem. I really enjoyed that dog. I mentioned this, but I had a dog before. I had a dog for 7 years, in fact. It was a beagle. That beagle was a nightmare …sort of. And mostly towards the end when the house had diapers everywhere and the needs of a 5-, 3-, and 1-year-old took priority, and out of boredom she’d rummage through the trash, she’d eat diapers, she’d hunt down skunks and get sprayed, and most disgusting of all, she’d eat her own poop in the yard and then come inside and throw up on my carpets.
If I’d spent this past week dealing with that, I wouldn’t miss the dog as much. *sigh* I’m going for a job here, shortly … by …myself.
Wanna know the other thing I screwed up? I broke my oldest daughter’s heart – BIG TIME. On Sunday, after church, the wife needed to hit Kohls for a birthday present. Next door to Kohls is Petco. Often, on Sundays, we’ll hit that Petco because they have pet adoption. Usually it’s just a bunch of angry, too big, Rotweiller or Pitbull mixes that are fun to pet, and we leave only discussing when and if we’ll ever get guinea pigs (note: I’ve promised my oldest 2 guinea pigs for perfect report cards throughout 3rd Grade this next year).
Then, when we were about to leave, Petco carted in 4 cages full of 7-week-old puppies. Eight puppies and, get this, they were Catahoula-Leapord Dog-mixes, which just happens to be the same breed we were dogsitting all week. Did I abruptly grab my children and race out of the store? Oh, no …we hung around and hung around and waited until they could let us hold one …a beautifully colored puppy that sat and shivered in my wife and my daughter’s arms for almost 20-minutes. My wife, who is more dead set against another dog than I am, started joining my daughter in the “I want a dog” rally.
This blog entry is waaaaaay too long. And I’m sorry, but at this point, it’s therapy.
I told myself, if I ever get a dog again, it will be a mutt. The less identifiable the mutt, the better. I had a mutt growing up and mutts are always docile and tend to be smarter, in my opinion. Pure breds are all designed for specific functions (hunting, herding, fighting, protecting) and if you aren’t using a pure bred for their intended purpose, based on my beagle, I think the dog becomes miserable. Mutts have no agenda. So this dog was (a) a mutt, (b) cute, (c) part Catahoula, which is now my gold standard for quality companion and running dog, and (d) cute. Or had I mentioned cute?
Meanwhile, my wife was justifying how it would be different this time. And my sister was texting me that we could handle it now. And my daughter was crying and claiming that her heart was going to explode and her stomach felt sick. And I …walked out and went to Kohls, and I dragged my heartbroken daughter with me.
No dog.
See, I’m selfish. If I have $500 to spend, I don’t want to spend it on a dog, dog food, toys, shots, neutering, leashes, and kennels from time to time. I don’t want to have to add another variable to my life and another dependent (unless I added another human child to my world, that is). Dogsitting for a week was great. I’m a GREAT dogsitter. I hope my sister goes on vacation again soon, actually (so I can dogsit, again). Dogs are cool. I’m just not a dog owner.
The hardest part about all this was breaking my daughter’s heart. As my wife shopped, I walked my sobbing daughter around Kohls and just apologized. I wasn’t going tell her “don’t be sad” and “stop crying” …I did it. I broke her heart. I felt very, very badly about that.
So, that’s that. For the moment, no dog. I miss dogsitting. I miss the dog. But no dog.
Here’s a few more videos we shot and sent to my sister so she and her boys wouldn’t miss their dog so much. Hmmm …will they send me a video? I mean, just a quick one so I can see how the dog is doing? *sniff*. OK …here you go. Have a great dog-free Tuesday.
Many (none) have been asking, “how was the rest of I-Love-Don-Week?” As I hinted at on Day #4, this I-Love-Don-Week ended up being the best …ever. By Day #4, most of the gifts had been received. I still have a few $$$s left-over from my gift card. Oh, and my wife took me out on Sunday for dinner (Zumba Grill in Birmingham, MI) and to a movie (Horrible Bosses …my review here). As anyone with 3 kids knows, if someone arranges for a babysitter and you can actually hit dinner and movie with your spouse, it’s more valuable than gold.
The Grand Finale (and I know how this is going to sound) was my wife leaving me and taking the kids. Pause. Pause. I mean, she took them Up North to visit Grandma and Grandpa and cousins and to swim, and fish. I had the house to myself. So …you can imagine the partyin’ I had planned, right?
I went to a blog club meeting. It’s a new club called Detroit Bloggers, and there were 50 or 60 bloggers from around the Detroit area and each was more fascinating than the next (no offense to the first person I talked to). I’m sayin’, it was inspiring and fun. And educational. Plus, deep inside every blogger is a “writer.” That’s what I want to be. Or maybe that’s what I am.
Last week, I went to an event downtown celebrating “Social Media Day” and there were nearly 1,000 people there. It was well intended, but it seemed to me it was more of a “singles night”. And I ain’t single. Anyone with a Twitter account and Facebook page can say, “hey, I’m a social media kinda guy (or gal).” Anyone with Foursquare can ‘check-in.’ Anyone can Tweet things like, “coffee …ugh …so tired” and double dip that same sentiment on Facebook.
Blogging is bigger. At least, that’s how I see it. Blogging is a written, outward expression of a person’s passion. My passions are (a) me and (b) American Idol and TV and I blog about it at spunkybean. I’m lucky enough some people read what I write. Truly …every time even one person comments or stops me to talk about what I wrote, I am thrilled.
Every blogging book says, “have blog, have money.” These books are filled with techniques for getting a million readers and making a million dollars. They never mention “passion.”
Meeting and hangin’ with Detroit Bloggers, as I said, inspired me. Everyone there liked to write, foremost, and secondarily they liked to write about that one thing that they LOVE. Or possibly it’s reverse – they love ‘their passion’ so much they want to tell the world. It’s a perfect storm …passion, writing, passion for writing, and passion for passion. And there were cocktails.
I met a couple gals who write about their running and exercise. I met a few folks who write about awesome things to do in Detroit. I met two people who write about the Tigers and Red Wings. And this one guy, I didn’t even meet, but we hooked up on Twitter and I dig his blog about being a dude in his 40s and still dreaming and still listening to his “inner rock star”, as he puts it. I dig that. I see too many dudes my age who’ve given up and bought the khaki Dockers and the bargain polo shirt, and they start tucking that polo shirt into their pants. What? Here …Kurt says it best.
Kurt Schwarz is a happily married man with three awesome children, living and working in Oakland County, MI. His mid-life crisis brought weight-loss, sobriety, and the constant pursuit of happiness by pretending to be a rock star. Now in his mid to late forties, he has decided to become a better person by improving every aspect of his life. He strongly believes that real men can be great husbands and fathers, yet retain their “coolness,” although his kids may not always agree.
I blog. I Tweet. I Facebook. I’m going to write multiple books. These don’t make me a rock-star and Pam Anderson won’t be texting me anytime soon, but inside it makes me feel alive.
Ahem. Did this blog entry have a point? I don’t remember. But the Grand Finale of my I-Love-Don-Week brought me face to face with passionate writers just like me and I feel shot out of a cannon again. I look forward to many more meetings.
Oh, and here’s the latest #dogsittingvid. See you this weekend or Monday back here on Don’s Ego.
Follow @donkowalewski and @spunkybean on Twitter for all the Don you can handle between blog entries.
All week on Facebook and Twitter I’ve been “microblogging” about my week with a dog. We’re dogsitting. I won’t say who’s dog it is, but this person was an emotional wreck about going on vacation and leaving her dog. It should be noted, I’ve watched her children on several occasions – one time I even watched her children for multiple days.
At one point, I offered to set-up a doggy-cam so she could check-in at any time and see that her pooch was being well cared for, but she declined. Thank goodness …because I really don’t have the equipment to set that up. I figure I’d need at least 8 cameras to cover all areas of the house, and then I’d need a tracking element …I’m just happy she didn’t opt for that.
Instead, I told her, “get a Twitter account which is just like texting, except better.” I told her I’d post pictures and video and give her the full play by play of the week.
Oh, right. Part of her worry MIGHT be because I’ve said countless times, after I had a beagle and then didn’t have a beagle, that “I’m not a dog person” and “I hate dogs” and “no mongrel is going to sleep in my bed, sit on my furniture, or cause me to spend any of my money.” Sooooo, I suppose her worry was a tiny bit justified. And all that rhetoric might’ve just been a defense mechanism, and I might not really hate my ex-dog, but I might hate myself for my inability to train her. In my defense, however, beagles are notoriously difficult to train, and I should’ve researched that before I got that dog …either way. I don’t hate dogs.
This dog I’m dog sitting is, like, a super-awesome dog. Back 7 or 8 years ago when I got my beagle, this is what I pictured dog ownership to be. This dog is never more than 6-feet from me. He doesn’t chew on stuff. He understands English better than most 10-year-old kids. He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t eat out of the trash. When I jog with him, he runs next to me like we’re in the Westminster Dog Show. He’s great with kids. He doesn’t eat off the table the minute you turn your back. When I play fetch, he actually brings the ball to me. He doesn’t howl, rarely barks, and he laughs at all my jokes (that dang beagle never laughed).
They say it’s a catahoula, but it’s not. It’s some sorta catahoula, but mixed with something. I dunno. Be he’s one of a kind, I tells ya.
So, that’s that. We’re dog sitting through Sunday and it’s been great. For my kids, I mean. Me? Nope. It’s just a dog. Might as well be a pig, or bunny, or goldfish. I’m completely indifferent on the dog. No, seriously. I won’t cry when we have to give him back. *If* we give him back.
More updates as the week rolls on.
Follow @donkowalewski on Twitter or hashtag #dogsitting to follow along.
Here we are on Day 4 of “I Love Don Week” and I dare say this has been the best “I Love Don Week”, yet. Record numbers of people are observing the holiday week and even my trash collectors took today off, I assume, as a floating holiday. Typically, “I Love Don Week” is just my wife spoiling me rotten and these “I Love Don Week” blog entries are mostly designed to entertain her and a few friends. Things are changing. Random people are stepping up and helping make the week very, very special (note: “Dad” is not a random person, but when I write it that way, it makes it sound bigger than life).
You’ll notice two more things crossed off my wish-list. I rarely cross more than one thing off that list. This is exciting. Yesterday, upon arriving home from work, there was my new tea kettle. It’s by Farberware, it’s sea foam green, and is quite an upgrade from my stainless steel IKEA teapot. That old pot? The handle was broken. The stainless steel was stained. It once shot water at me, burned, and scarred my hand. When it whistles, the whistler cap always shoots off. This new tea kettle …wellz, I gotta tellz ya …they’ve really thought about this whistler. It’s very subtle, but it whistles. It has a springloaded hinge so nothing can shoot off of it. And not being steel like my old one, I swear it boiled water in half the time (though there is now some fear of rusting and it does warn about rusting).
See how fun it is to buy me things? I get excited. New teapot. New teapot. New teapot. Not sure if random people know why I’m smiling like I am, but hopefully a few of them are thinking, “that looks like a guy who just got himself a quality water boiling device.” It should be obvious.
Then, my wonderful father got me a gift card, which I immediately redeeemed for a new pair of black dress shoes. I went with some Rockports. I know, I know …yer sayin’, “but Don, aren’t Rockports old school and intended for men in their 50s and 60s?” Perhaps, but Rockport’s have been around a while, they have a reputation for comfort, the 50 and 60-year-olds I know swear by Rockports, and because they ain’t a “hot brand” like Cole Haan or Kenneth Cole, I feel like I’m getting more shoe for my money. No, Rockports will never be Johnston & Murphy’s or Ferragamo’s, but I’m thinking I made a good choice. Time will tell. Don’t let me down, Rockport.
With the rest of my giftcard, I’m going to buy some tire black spray and some car wax and spend a couple hours waxing my car. Hey …it’s my birthday week, I’ll spend it how I like.
May your “I Love Don Week” be filled with pleasant thoughts, laughter, and love …for Don. More tomorrow which, incidentally, is my “4-Hour Body” diet day-off, so I’m going to gorge like a thing that gorges, like, say, Joey Chestnut – he’s the hotdog eating champion guy. Like him.
NEW! rubber rain boots
NEW! new backyard grill
NEW! writing desk (possibly a roll-top desk)
thermometer for my tea kettle and/or outdoor grill
How’s your “I Love Don Week” going, so far? Mine? It’s going very, very well. In fact, you’ll notice below that I was actually able to cross something off my list. Thanks goes to my wife. Luckily, I had a few additional things I wanted and I’ve added them to the list.
Monday was really nice and though it was a work-related dinner, I pretended that the very nice dinner was in celebration of the kick-off of “I Love Don Week.” I had an incredible meal at Ocean Prime of Troy.
Sorry I missed day 2, but I’ll do a double dip today. “I Love Don Week” is usually just a week-long party filled with fun, laughter, high-fives, skipping, stories about me, greeting cards, special meals, dancing, hand-jiving, Don-themed conversations, and kittens. Yes, kittens. “I Love Don Week” is that good.
But as the years roll on, sometimes I’m forced to reflect on my life and the many “I Love Don Weeks” that have come and gone, and a man (named Don) starts to realize with each “I Love Don Week”, there’s one less “I Love Don Week” in his future.
*sigh*
It’s July. My birthday and “I Love Don Week” falls right into my Mid-Year Resolutions window. So, here’s what I’m thinking.
I’m hoping the 2nd-half of 2011 will be better than the first half.
I’m hoping the 2nd-half of my life will be better than the first half – and I have very few complaints about the first 38 years of my life. It’s not a stretch to say, quite likely if I’m lucky and things go my way (and I take care of myself), that this, my 38th birthday, might be my personal half-time.
From my perspective, the Boomers and the Greatest Generation got everything. They got consistent stock market growth, they were able to retire at 55 or 60, they got raises every year while at their jobs, and the smart ones took advantage of the 80s and late 90s and their money really grew in the stock market. Yes, I realize the last 8 years have been bad for their bank accounts and stock portfolios, but those Boomers still have all the money.
My generation, Gen X, is known for their angst, and rightly so. We’ve never had it or seen it. We’re still, for the most part, beholden to aging Boomers giving us jobs, kicking us out of our jobs, and holding onto all the money in the world.
But I’m hoping that there’s another stock market boom. I’m hoping this is a recession like any recession before it, and eventually we’ll come out of it, and I’m hoping when a new “boom time” comes and banks figure out new tricks to make us think we’re all rich and we can afford stuff, I hope I’m in a position to capitalize on the good fortune – be it real or bank created.
So, that’s it. Kinda philosophical. I promise to be silly again tomorrow. Here’s my list and something fun. I can’t wait to get home and see what the FedEx or UPS truck dropped off. Oh, boy, oh, boy.
NEW! rubber rain boots
NEW! new backyard grill
NEW! writing desk (possibly a roll-top desk)
thermometer for my tea kettle and/or outdoor grill
Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, DJs and emcees … it’s the week we’ve all been waiting for. (drum roll)
It’s … “I Love Don Week.”
For those not familiar with this week, it’s the week leading up to Don’s birthday. And “Don” is me. Each day, to fully celebrate Don, Don is to be showered with treats, praise, and lavish gifts. Check that …the gifts don’t need to be lavish.
Here’s something I find very annoying …when people have a birthday, anniversary, or special occasion and they say (a) I don’t need or want anything and (b) when asked for ideas, they can’t think of anything. Hogwash, I say. Everyone wants something. Do you go to the grocery store every week? Do you ever buy even the slightest extraneous item? That! That’s the idea I want when I ask. Tell me you like Cabernet or Chardonnay. Tell me you like interesting and unique olives and, hell, I’ll enroll you in an Olive-of-the-Month club or something.
What’s more, people like to give things. Luckily for fans of Don, Don likes to receive things. It’s a win-win. You will feel good because you’ve given of yourself and I will be deeply and greatly appreciative that you care enough to get me something.
Truly …nobody dishes out heartfelt thank-yous like me. If you buy me a cup of coffee, I’m known to carry on as if you untied from the railroad tracks in a silent-film era cowboy movie.
So, without further ado, let’s get right to my list. This is just a starter list and I’ll be adding to it throughout the week, but for you early shoppers, get crackin’.
thermometer for my tea kettle and/or outdoor grill
I’m turning 38 next Monday, and I have been doing quite a bit of reflection lately. It’s about time I get serious about living and life and about solving the Rubik’s Cube. I’ve arrived at the perfect mid-life crisis age, and I want to avoid and avert such a crisis. I have my hair. I’ve been on death’s doorstep twice (or maybe a third time in my teenage years), but I’ve come through strong.
Now I need to turn that strength into something.
I promise you, this will be an exciting week …for me, at least. But if you hang around, you might have some fun, too.
I think the best way to keep exercising and dieting is to keep many, many diet books and health related magazines around the house. Let them pile up and fill your bookshelves, and collect them year after year for many years. Pay attention to every fad diet, try it, and then quit it. But whatever you do, keep buying the latest and greatest product. Join Weight Watchers and buy Slim Fast in bulk at Costco.
And exercise …but only for short periods of time. Buy some workout clothes.
Then …just wait. Wait until the books and the software and the Weight Watchers books and manuals, and the diligently catalogued stack of Men’s Health magazines and all the fabulous headlines …wait until they start taunting you.
Also, make sure you make enough friends, friends who look great in their clothing and regularly exercise, so that you can vividly imagine these friends are disgusted by you.
Wait until you feel so duped and silly for spending so much money and making yourself so many false and empty promises that you finally won’t be able to stand looking at yourself any more, and when you can’t fathom stepping out of the shower for even one more day and seeing your fiscally irresponsible and chubby body anymore …then …you will do something.
And you might buy another book and start a new diet and make all sorts of promises, and you might quit again. But don’t worry …it just meant you weren’t sufficiently guilted by your own inaction …yet. But you’ll get there.
I’m either at an epiphany stage or just taking another similar vow to myself again, but I stumbled upon “4-Hour Body” by the author of “4-Hour Work Week” and I’m starting again. After months of inactivity, I’m back baby! I went for a 3-mile run last night and mixed in 100 down-ups. I’m giving up any white-bread or bleached anything, I’m going to give up fruit and any drink that’s not water or coffee, and I’m going to start stuffing my face with egg (white), meat, beans, veggies, veggies, and more veggies. For 30-days. In 30-days, with proper discipline, I’m told I can cut my body-fat to 12%(ish) and lose all my flab. This “4-Hour Body” book is pretty cocky about what it can do for me. So …we’ll see.
I’m really mostly happy to be running again and that my lungs are bursting open. Pay no attention to my pace …10-minute miles. I’ll get back to my 8-minute miles.
A blog entry. A public declaration. What could possibly go wrong?
You might just be looking at the name of my revolutionary diet book …”Backtive” …how to get back into the exercise groove, get back to your high-school weight (provided you weren’t the “fat kid”), and get back to the good habits you had. It’s all about getting back to being active. Getting back active. Get …”Backtive.”
It could also be the name of my revolutionary back acne treatment. And, for the record …back + acne = backne. Gross. I had it. I never took my shirt off from the age of 15 up until the age of 22 …ever. If it was a game of shirts v. skins and someone put me on the “skins” team, I’d fake a sprained ankle or a stomach ache …or a seizure.
How’s your lunch? Still keeping it down with all my talk about my back acne?
So, I’m back at it …running, swimming, and eating right. It’s been two entire days and my muscles are aching, my energy levels are up, my water intake is up, and I’ve already lost 5 pounds. I’m really getting a jump start on those New Mid-Year Resolutions.
Two things I learned on the internet in the past few days that I’m implementing immediately, and that are supposed to get me ripped. #1 …30 grams of protein each morning. This is a tough one …you have no idea how many bowls of Cap n’ Crunch it takes to reach 30 grams of protein. #2 …get 7+ hours of sleep each night. I’ve heard this before, but it’s harder than it sounds …but getting adequate sleep helps control cravings, helps you stay motivated to exercise, and helps your metabolism. I’m no doctor, but all of those seem pretty important to a guy on a diet.
So, there I go …still 15 days ahead of the mid-year point and I’m getting some things done. In addition to the running and the sleeping and the protein eating, I wrote on my blog three days in a row. (hold for applause). And I wrote, what I consider, my best The Bachelorette recap ever over at spunkybean. It’s not just a recap …it’s an epiphany. This entire season is going to be different now that I know Ashley is a nerd at heart, and she should be with Ames (also a nerd). Don’t think “nerd” is an insult, either. “Nerd” is much different than “geek”, “spazz”, or “dork.” Being a “nerd” is 100% awesome. We all think being “cool” is where the action happens …well, it does. But most of us are nerds, or part nerd, and if we can embrace that side of ourselves, we’ll be happier. Much, much happier. Just …just go to @spunkybean and you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Do you like my blog? If so, you’ll like being friends with me on Facebook and you’ll really love following me on Twitter (@donkowalewski. Thanks for reading. Sorry no video today … I’m writing this from my WordPress app on my iPad and it won’t allow video embedding. Stupid app. Great iPad.
Tomorrow I just might tell you about a really f’d up dream I had.
Don's Ego 