My Mother, The Genius

Recently, I was out of town with my mom and stepdad and we had to find our way to a restaurant in our rental car. I was driving and my mom was navigating from the passenger seat, her Google Maps directions in hand. Here was the exchange as we drove down the interstate through downtown Omaha:

"We're taking Exit 262. Look for 262," she said.
"Okay," I replied.
"There's Exit 256 - we're looking for Exit 262."
"I know."

A few minutes later, she chimed in again. "Here's Exit 258. We're getting off at Exit 262," she said once again.
"I know, you already told me that several times. We'll be there in four miles."
"How do you know that?"

I looked at my mother with what was surely a puzzling expression. "Because 262 minus 258 equals 4. The Exit numbers correspond with mile markers. You do know that, don't you?"
"They do?," she asked.
"Mom, you're 60 years old. Have you really gone your entire life not knowing this?"
She chuckled with that familiar, knowing laughter that says "you three boys have turned my brain into mush - it's your fault." I guess she has a point. But I still shake my head when I think about all those years of car trips when we were little - before GPS and computer map applications, when all we had was a trusty old road atlas. It's a small wonder that we ever made it to any those destinations.

Career = Over

The news out of Switzerland is not good if you're a Shania Twain fan. She and her producer/husband, Mutt Lange, are splitsville after 14 years. If the name Mutt Lange doesn't ring a bell, then his treasure trove of hits certainly should. Mutt has left his stamp on such classic albums as AC/DC's Highway To Hell and Back In Black, The Cars' Heartbeat City, Def Leppard's Pyromania and Hysteria, and Bryan Adams' Waking Up The Neighbors.

But it was his partnership with Shania that took them both into the stratosphere, as he ended up producing/co-writing all of her hit albums. I hope she's happy raising her kids because, other than the occasional nostalgia tour, her career is over. No matter what she or anyone else might say about her songwriting contributions, make no mistake that, at least musically speaking, Mutt is/was 99.9% responsible for her rise to the top. As for her controversial (at least in the country music community) sexy side, she ain't getting any younger. I hope you enjoyed the ride, Shania, because your time is up.

Men Are From Mars, Women Return Things

I had a brain lapse a couple of weeks ago and purchased a steering wheel cover in order to fight the summer heat. I must've momentarily thought I was Mexican - this thing was as cheesy as you could imagine. A couple of days later, I came to my senses and returned the item. That was an extremely rare occurrence. When I shop for clothes or anything else, I have a simple rule of thumb. I buy things that I want and don't buy things that I don't want. Unless it's something that doesn't fit, I almost never return anything.

Which brings me to yet another thing about women that I just don't understand. Women tend to return items rather frequently because they decide that they simply don't like the item that was purchased just days or even hours before. Why is this? How is it that you like something one day and not like it the next? Guys see something they like and buy it. End of story. Women, on the other hand, return items with the frequency of a small hand radio (thanks Dan Aykroyd). Oh how fickle you gals are. And oh how we cannot live without you, dammit.

Ode To An Ice Cream Man

Irvine Robbins, co-founder of Baskin-Robbins, died yesterday at the age of 90. Robbins brought joy and calories to millions of families over the years, including mine. When I was growing up, my dad would bring us a quart or half gallon of Jamoca 2-3 times a week. We'd always run to the door whenever he arrived home from work to see if he brought the goods. Being the oldest of three boys, it's safe to say that we were quite a burden on our poor parents.

One extreme example of this endless strife was the ritualistic doling out of the bowls of Baskin-Robbins ice cream. After dinner, my dad would line up three bowls and fill them with several scoops of goodness. That's when the fun started. We would bicker and fight about who's bowl had the most until my poor father finally lost it. My brother Michael developed a sure-fire method of getting the bowl he wanted - the little shit would grab the one he wanted and lick the top layer, rendering it his own. Eventually, this practice got so out of hand that my dad finally had to use my mom's food scale to weigh each bowl. If one of them was off by even a quarter ounce, we would bitch and moan until he finally evened them out. Like a butcher weighing ground beef, he had to stand there and carefully add or subtract until each bowl contained the exact same amount. This is why I feel so sorry for my parents to this day. Aren't you all glad you didn't raise us?

Yawza!

This past weekend I attended the Berkshire-Hathaway annual shareholders meeting in Omaha. As most of you know, I've been to this "Woodstock For Capitalists" for several years running. This year might have been the craziest, possibly due to the monster buzz I caught Saturday night from about 8 double vodka drinks. However, the highlight of the weekend was having the distinct pleasure of meeting one Becky Quick from CNBC's "Squawk Box" program. All I have to say is Ooh La La. Not only is she extremely classy and friendly, but she also happens to be hotter than Hades. And if you happened to catch her one hour special Monday night, The Billionaire Next Door, you would have caught a glimpse of yours truly (provided you didn't blink). It's an excellent mini-doc on the festivities at this still-growing annual event. Looking forward to seeing more of Becky next year...

Whatever Happened To.... Juice Newton?

Juice was a country cross-over queen in the 80's with a seductive camera eye. This Rapunzel-esque diva scored such hits as "Angel of The Morning", "Queen of Hearts" and the Camp Mac classic "Love's Been A Little Bit Hard On Me". Then, like a ship on the horizon, she drifted off to Neverland.

These days, according to her Myspace page, she's tearing up the road at such venues as Rods And Rails in Perris, CA, and events like The Corn Festival in Brentwood California. She's certainly the greatest performer named after a breakfast beverage - even better than Milk Johnson and Coffee Kupchak.