Paging Steve Urkel

So here was my day Wednesday.

My two least favorite things: Dentists and classic country music. Not Charlie Daniels classic. No- the twangy ol' crap that is the soundtrack for about every lost-in-the-woods horror movie from the past 30 years.

I had to go to dental for my regular checkup. Ok, I can live with that. Just a checkup. But as I take a seat in the chair, I noticed a little radio in the corner playing hick hymns at much too high a volume. Now I have no problem with being in an office and having personally objectable material being played via radio or TV. It is, after all, not my office. But here's the thing: do me a favor. When I come into your office to have some work done, can you at least drop the volume to where your dental assistant (whom got a kick out of being called the tooth fairy ...) doesn't have to raise their voice to talk to you?

So as he scraped, poked, picked, and sighed disapprovingly, I had to listen to some of the worst music ever recorded. All I was missing was a live standup routine by Kathy Griffin. If she would have showed up and done one of her campy, girl power, patently unfunny routines- taking care to pause for laughter even though nobody is laughing- that would have capped the day off nicely.

Then it got better. And of course, by better, I mean "dear God, someone please shoot me."

Wifey took me car shopping. For a minivan. A white one. Why not just wear a sign around my neck:

NOTICE: My manhood has officially been surrendered. Please see my wife for further information, or if you should require any decision whatsoever. She, of course, makes all the decisions in this family.

Update: Now the minivan is red, and as it is a Chrysler Town and Country, it is about as nice as a minivan can be. But it's still a van. The mini kind.

Recap: Dentist. Country twang. Shopping for minivan all in one day. Saturday I'm going to have to skydive, then run 12 miles. After that I'm going to kill an animal with my bare hands and grill its flesh over an open flame. After consuming the bounty of my kill, I'll play 18 holes of golf, consuming one adult beverage per hole. After that, it's off to Lake Lewisville to fish the night away. I'm not shaving, nor will I shower until I'm good and ready. I'm leaving my clothes on the floor and scratching "down there" whenever I feel the urge.

Then maybe I can make up for about half of my demasculination.

Or not.