Kickin' it with the kids

Over the past couple of days I've spent a lot of time on social networking sites (LinkedIn and Facebook in particular) both for work and my own personal curiosity. I've always kind of shied away from them in the past because I felt, well … old. I just didn't want to be the guy trying desperately hard to be hip. You know the one, the 30+ year-old guy decked out in Abercrombie & Fitch who spends all weekend at the mall, alternating between the food court and Spencer's. Your modern-day Peter Pan with blonde highlights.

Anyway, I have to say, loser or not, I'm kind of hooked. Just today I got back in touch with a guy I used to play in a band with back in high school. Somehow I came up on some list he was looking at and—poof— just like that we're talking online. It really is incredible how small the Internet has made the world. Now I just hope that I won't get kicked off of American Idol because of a couple of questionable shots of me and a wax figurine of Al Roker at Madame Tussaud's make their way onto someone's MySpace page.

Big city. Big birthday.

This past Saturday meant turning the big 6-0 for dad. He's been dreading this birthday for months, so we decided that the best way to celebrate was a little surprise getaway to Chicago. Craig and I "accidentally" ran into mom and dad on Friday afternoon at Fox and Obel, our favorite little gourmet market/cafe that we discovered when we were out there for the Chicago Marathon in 2005. Dad wasn't all that surprised to find us there, but he played along like a good sport. After a little shopping in the chocolate aisle, we headed around the corner to catch a boat tour of Chicago architecture. Interesting history. Cool buildings. Warm Starbucks goodies. I recommend it. Later that night, Erin, Scott and Kailey happened to be "in the neighborhood" and showed up at the hotel. Again, not a big surprise to dad, but I was relieved to have the truth out. The party could go on.

And on it did. How many 60-year-olds can say they spent their birthday at American Girl? Not many, I would imagine. That experience merits its own blog post for another time. But we also made it to the Shedd Aquarium, caught a 4-D movie (imagine 3-D visuals with water squirting you from the front and air blowing up on your neck from behind) and ate dinner with famous Chicago gangsters -- or at least photos of them.

Happy 60th Birthday, dad!

-Carrie

Big Losers.

Let me be the first to say that Tuesdays are now officially pointless. For the past 15 weeks Carrie and I have centered our entire Tuesday night schedule around watching "The Biggest Loser," and now we have nothing—no spandex-clad weigh-ins, no awkward product placements, no grown men weeping in each other's arms—nothing.

By the way, I'd like to use this opportunity to talk about your prostate. Did you know One A Day Men's Health multivitamins are specially formulated with Selenium which research suggests supports prostate health?

Anyway … It's amazing how much we've gotten sucked into this show. In fact, I hate to admit it, but last week was the first time I've ever casted a ballot for a TV competition of any kind (although if they would have allowed it. I would have burnt up the phone lines of "America's Got Talent" to make sure Leonid the Magnificent got through to the finals).

I guess we have just found it inspiring to see what people can accomplish when they set their minds to it. Plus, as a couple of health-minded individuals we've picked up a few pointers along the course of the season.

Did you know that one stick of Wrigley's Extra spearmint gum contains only five calories and is a great way to ward of hunger between meals?

The good thing that came out of last night's finale was that two really deserving people won—people who worked their butts off—literally. And surprisingly there was no crying, but if there was, contestants could have easily replenished any lost fluids with a nice refreshing glass of water.

After all, Brita water filtration products not only improve the taste, but the overall quality of normal tap water.

Would a cat do this?

This story on ABC News pretty much sums what makes the human-dog relationship so special.

http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=4633822&affil=kgo

To give you the Reader's Digest version, a dog runs away at the exact moment his owner dies (ignoring his electric shock collar) only to show up two-and-half days and six miles later at his owner's funeral.

I'd like to think that Zoe and Luka would do the same for me, but I'm not so sure. When I just about passed out mowing the yard a couple of summers ago, all Zoe did was drop her ball on my face as I laid motionless on the front porch. Now, if they buried me with her ball …

So bad it will blow your mind.

We have an ongoing contest in the office to dig up the best (meaning "most disturbingly bad") music video on YouTube. While the top spot is usually reserved for any video featuring the band Dead or Alive (check out their entire catalog, it's amazing) today there is a new king. You just can't beat unisex, space cheerleaders circa 1978.

I believe Paula Abdul was responsible for the choreography.

(Can't make it through the whole thing? You owe it to yourself to at least fast forward to 1:04.)

"Ball"

It's not round and its bouncing days have long since past, however as of right now, this is Zoe's favorite ball. I took a relatively new one out with us at lunch today, but she wasn't having it. Instead, I spent 10-15 minutes flinging two halves of a tennis ball that is now only held together by a few strands of slobber-encrusted felt.

Weighing our options

The time is coming soon to trade-in our Xterra for a new SUV. I think we started the search last summer, but we're finally getting serious as summer approaches and it's the only car we take the dogs in -- we have two long road trips planned with them in the next few months. So, we need to make a decision. And we need your help. We haven't found the perfect car and because of that, our priorities keep changing. As we face a weekend of dealership hopping, we'd love to hear from you as to what you think we should make priority #1. Check out our poll to the right and tell us what you think.

Carrie

Lonely no more.

I love travel shows. It started about 10 years ago when I got addicted to a show called "Travelers" (go figure) that ran on the Discovery Channel. The series began as a look into festivals around the world through the eyes of three fun-loving Americans (aren't we all?). However, they must have run out of festivals, because before long they just started um, well … traveling*.

About the same time, I discovered "Lonely Planet" (also known as "Globe Trekker") a similar show, but much less staged, and often featuring much more remote locations. The show had three or four hosts, but really the only one worth watching was Ian Wright, a funny, slightly-effeminate Englishman who was pretty much at home anywhere in the world and probably the only person who could turn getting a haircut in Iraq into something you'd want to watch. I lived for his episodes. But sadly, over time Ian began appearing less and less and ultimately the whole damn show just went away.

I didn't know what to do with myself.

For years I tried to find a replacement, but Samantha Brown was obnoxious, Anthony Bourdain was a prick and John Ratzenberger was, well, John Ratzenberger. The Travel Channel was just about to completely lose me to the Food Network when I saw an advertisement the other night for "America the Wright Way," featuring the one and only Ian Wright. It premiered Monday at 10:00 but I missed it, but from now on you can consider it Tivo'd, I'd recommend you do the same.

*One of my favorite episodes of "Travelers" took place in Turkey and involved a scene featuring the pleasantly plump, balding, not-quite-sure-what-ethnicity-he-is traveler named Solomon visiting a traditional Turkish bath. While this alone would make for some great TV, it got even better when he decided to indulge himself with what the menu called the "Turkish Squirts." Personally, this would have been the one thing I would have tried to avoid. In fact, when traveling abroad I pretty much do everything within my power to avoid getting the squirts of any nationality. But not Solomon. What followed was the sight of Solomon, dressed in his swimming trucks, being led into an open shower where a burly Turkish man got behind a high-powered water canon and laid into him like he was some belligerent hippie—assaulting his ample man-boobs with blasts of cold water, leaving him welted and jiggling. (I tried to find video of this on YouTube but somehow this is the only thing captured on film over the last 50 years that hasn't made it's way to the Web.)