Vacations are Better Without Facebook or E-mail

I spent this past weekend in Tennessee with my family on a much-needed getaway. We spent the day in Nashville on Friday, walking around the music district, eating lunch at an awesome place called The Pharmacy, and just enjoying the warm, sunny weather and kind southern hospitality.Friday night my wife and I had dinner at a brewery where a fantastic three-piece rock band featuring fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen-year-old boys, The Wacky Friday, entertained and impressed us.Saturday we visited Johnny Cash’s grave, and then drove to the Smoky Mountains, which has held a sentimental place in my heart since my wife and I got married there in 2004.We’ve been back a couple of times since then, and it was nice to see the places that have special meaning to us, and also to hit up a few new places. A friendly stoner-type waiter named Brent charmed my wife and me with wildly inappropriate jokes for which I easily could have had him fired if I were a jerk, and the jokes weren’t so damn funny.We learned that hiking six miles in the mountains is more difficult than hiking six miles on flat land, and we were reminded that there’s no better buy for a family of six than a hotel that serves a free breakfast.I might write more about this past weekend in the next few days. The more I think about it, the more I have to say.But what struck me throughout the weekend, but specifically as we drove the final 350 miles non-stop from Lexington, Kentucky to my driveway, was how nice it was to stay away from e-mail and Facebook for those four days.I brought my work laptop with me, and I used it to do some writing late at night, after everyone else went to bed. I didn’t do any work, which meant a few problems lingered there until I returned, yet somehow the world didn’t end. I did send two e-mail messages during the weekend, but they were both to my wife, who was right next to me, so they don’t count.But I didn’t check my e-mail. I didn’t even login to Facebook during those four days. And it was great.We left home Friday morning. On Thursday night I decided that I’d had enough communication. No offense to you, my Dear Reader, but I just wasn’t in the mood to hear from anyone except for those in whose physical presence I found myself. And with one small exception, I managed to do just that: limit my communication to people I could smell.I highly recommend it.Although I only did it for four days, by the time I logged back in Tuesday morning, it felt like I’d been away for months. Facebook even sent me an e-mail telling me how many comments, notifications and such I’d received since I last logged in. It had a sort of pitiful “We miss you and really wish you would come see us” tone to it.I was amazed how easily I put Facebook and e-mail out of my mind just by deciding that I wasn’t going to login for a period of time. Most mornings begin with me checking one or the other, mostly out of habit. Many evenings end the same way.For what?Again, no offense to you my Dear Reader, but most of the stuff on Facebook isn’t very interesting. The chances of finding an e-mail worth reading are even smaller. But if most of the content doesn’t inspire, why do I even bother?I have no answer. I suppose it’s because that’s what I did yesterday. There’s something to be said for mixing things up though. Do something different. Make yourself uncomfortable. The world won’t end if you go a few days without Facebook or e-mail, and you might enjoy having extra minutes in your day since you’re not staring at a screen.I don’t have a cell phone, so it’s not as convenient for me to access the internet as it is for most people. I do that by design. The idea of becoming submissive to a phone makes me ill. I’d rather endure the rare inconvenience of being unreachable for a small period of time, than endure the suffocation I’m sure I’d experience if I had a phone attached to me at all times.If you’re feeling adventurous, get rid of your phone. But at the very least, trying ignoring Facebook and e-mail this weekend.You’ll be glad you did.PREVIOUS POST: Forgiveness and Its LimitsIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Why Maps are Better than GPS+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Forgiveness and Its Limits

“Forgiveness is the final form of love.”In doing a little research for this post I looked at quotes about forgiveness, and that one stood out. It comes from Reinhold Niebuhr, who was a seminary professor and one of the great theologian ethicists of recent history.Usually I hate pithy little quotes like that. It sort of relates to my post from last night about absolutes. Trying to sum up such a complex idea like forgiveness in a short sentence like that is likely to make you sound idiotic, simple and shallow. I think that quote’s right on though.Forgiveness is something that’s sometimes incomprehensibly difficult to grant. To say to someone, “You’ve done a bad thing to me, but I forgive you,” requires us to look past whatever innate feelings we have, and find aspects of ourselves that help differentiate us from the rest of the animal kingdom, that help make us human.Unfortunately for Josh Hamilton, many people in baseball are animals. Or at least, they’re not very forgiving.If you don’t follow baseball, you might not know Josh Hamilton’s story. He was the first pick in the 1999 Major League Baseball draft. Most experts agreed that he was headed for stardom. For the first couple of seasons, everything went as planned.Then he began taking drugs. He failed drug tests. He was out of baseball for three years. He looked defeated.Then, with the help of some friends, and a guy who owned a baseball academy, Hamilton got his life back on track. He trained at the academy under the stipulation that he also had to work there. So he cleaned bathrooms, washed floors, and slept on an air mattress in one of the offices.The Reds gave him a chance in 2007, and he capitalized on it. Over the next six seasons, first with the Reds, then with the Rangers, he produced like the star everyone thought he’d be. He appeared in two World Series, won the Most Valuable Player award, and became one of the best players in the game.But even when things were good, he faced difficulties. In July 2011 he flipped a baseball toward a fan in the stands. The fan reached for it and fell over the railing, twenty feet below onto concrete, while his six-year-old son watched. Hamilton heard the boy screaming for his dad, who died on the way to the hospital.He struggled with the death for a time. But when the Rangers invited the boy to throw out the first pitch before a Rangers playoff game a few months later, it was Hamilton who crouched behind the plated and caught it, then greeted and embraced the boy and his mother.He signed a big contract with the Los Angeles Angels a couple of years ago. He’s struggled since, first with injuries, and then this past offseason with a drug relapse.Which brings me to forgiveness.The Angels are set to trade him back to the Rangers. Arte Moreno, the Angels owner, has barely tried to hide his disdain for Hamilton’s relapse. Their president and general manager agreed.He’s getting paid well, and he hasn’t produced on the field. He’s in his mid-30s, which might as well be 100 in baseball years. So it’s no surprise that the Angels don’t have much patience with him.Which makes me wonder, if they had the 2010 version of Josh Hamilton—the feared hitter, skilled defender, uninjured Josh Hamilton—would they be more forgiving of his latest transgression? It’s easy to get rid of an average player, which is what Hamilton has been for the Angels—when they screw up. But would they get rid of a superstar?And does it count for anything that Hamilton self-reported his latest drug relapse? If all the latest medical expertise agrees that drug addiction is a disease, then are the Angels being coarse and uncaring by ditching him?I think so.But maybe that’s just the limit of forgiveness. Fans will forgive him, but they have an emotional attachment to him and their team. Other players will forgive him, but they have a close attachment as well.The Angels have no attachment. He’s an underperforming asset, and if they can cut him loose and save some money, then they might as well do so. We’re reminded all the time that baseball is a business.So maybe Niebuhr’s correct and forgiveness is the final form of love. We forgive those we love, and we end up better off because of it.But try as we may, we don’t love everybody, so we won’t forgive everybody.PREVIOUS POST: Sometimes We're Absolutely WrongIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: My Life at 100 Years Old+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Sometimes We're Absolutely Wrong

There are very few absolutes in life. Almost no one is all good or all bad. There’s right and wrong, but even those are questionable. Shouldn’t there be some word in between those two words?(I guess there is Wright, which combines the two words, but that’s the name of the dudes who invented the airplane and a very funny comedian, neither of which encompasses my thinking here.)It’s this gray area where we live most of our lives and where most of the world exists. Sometimes you can almost guarantee that you’ll often have your certainty blown up while you watch.(Side note: This was the problem with the last president’s declaration that countries are either with us or against. Hold your horses, buddy. Black and white thinking can be dangerous.)The challenge given to ChicagoNow bloggers for this month’s Blogapalooz-hour, during which we have one hour to produce a post, is: "Write about a time you made a mistake or were wrong about something.”Again like the last president, I had a hard time thinking of a mistake I’ve made. Turns out I’m not perfect though, and after thinking for a few minutes, I came up with plenty of examples. However, we can’t just write about something. We have to write about something interesting, right?Let’s see if I’ve done that.My wife’s grandmother died in 2006. My daughter had a special bond with her. At the time she was the only great grandchild, and my wife’s grandma showered her with the exorbitant amount of affection common with good grandmas.She’d always give my daughter little gifts. Some were rather trivial, some were more meaningful. They all made my daughter happy. One of the things she gave her was a box of coins. I don’t remember specific details of the coins, but I think some were rare U.S. coins, some were foreign coins, and some were just plain old quarters, dimes, and so on.My daughter loved this box of coins. I vividly remember her sitting on her bedroom floor and looking at the coins one day with the mid-morning sun shining through the blinds. She was eight or nine years old, and she picked each one up, studied it, and then moved on to the next one.I have no doubt that she was most interested in them because her great grandma gave them to her.Much later, after her great grandma died, my daughter wanted to bring the coins to school. A social studies project or something. She searched her room, but couldn’t find them. I helped her look for them. No luck. My wife helped her look. The coins were nowhere.Like many girls her age, my daughter struggled to keep her room clean. Piles of clothes here. Piles of toys there. Islands of organization mixed in. We always battled with her about it, but usually to no avail.Because I knew the sentimental value of these coins I came down particularly hard on her. I remember yelling at her, telling her that he was irresponsible and that she had to keep track of important things. Her great grandma loved her and wanted her to have those coins and she lost them. Doesn’t she care about anything? My wife agreed and said a few cross words as well, but I know that I did most of the berating.The day she needed them came and went. We searched the house to no avail. I yelled again, and we all accepted that she’d lost the coins.Fast forward some months. Four, five, six months. A long time. I’m kneeling on the kitchen counter, clearing junk out of one of the cabinets after some loose papers fell on my head one too many times. All at once, in a flood of realization, my mind reflected back nine or ten months, to the last time I cleaned this cabinet. The coins!I reached up, pulled down a box, and inside the box was the little box in which my daughter kept her coins. I instantly remembered the last time I organized that cabinet. The coins had been on the counter for days. I was tired of seeing them there and threw them in the cabinet just to get them out of the way.I felt at once incredibly relieved and incredibly guilty. I took the coins, showed my wife, and went upstairs into my daughter’s room. I showed her the coins and she yelped in excitement.Then I apologized. I’d hidden the coins. I forgot. She hadn’t been careless. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so tough on her. I felt so guilty, the harshness of my rebuke felt so fresh, that I got choked up. I’d been so certain that the coins were gone because of her carelessness, yet I was to blame.Since then we’ve had more kids. I’ve got four of them now, and I think I’ve made a similar mistake with all four. I’ve looked at a situation, thought I knew what happened—knew I knew what happened—only to find out that I was wrong, usually after already yelling at them.Not my finest moments.A good reminder though. Be careful of certainty. This world isn’t kind to certainty or absolutes.We forget that at our own risk.PREVIOUS POST: Facebook Needs These New AppsIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Little White Lies Can be Dangerous+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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8 Sad Songs too Beautiful to Avoid

Do you have tissues by your side? If not, go get some, because you're going to need them.Now, I don't want to be a downer or anything, but I like sad songs. Sometimes. I'm not going to ruin a perfectly sunny day by moping around to some artist's lament about how horrible the world is, but there are times when perfectly placed melancholy really hits the spot. Sad songs are the sonic equivalent of an overcast day.As I compiled this list, I thought about the Billy Ocean song, There'll Be Sad Songs (To Make You Cry). I did not include that on my list, mostly because it sucks. So a song being sad isn't enough. It has to be good. And since it's a sad song, it has to be extra good. It has to be good enough that you're willing to overcome the sadness to listen to it.So before you cry out, "I hate sad songs!" click through the list below, spend some time listening, and I'll bet you change your mind. What you really mean is "I hate sad songs that suck."These songs don't suck.[placegallery]PREVIOUS POST: Facebook Needs These New AppsIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Where Are All the Films About the Eighties?+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Facebook Needs These New Apps

In case you missed it, my birthday was two days ago. I’m sure you’re real upset that you let it slip by without wishing me Happy Birthday, aren’t you? Don’t feel bad though, I probably don’t know when your birthday is either.But if I do know when your birthday is, I don’t need Facebook to remind me of it. I’m a date-oriented person, so if I saw you on the street I’d probably wish you a Happy Birthday even if Facebook didn’t tell me to do so.Since almost everyone is on Facebook (how’s that for a simple overestimation?), we don’t need to remember anyone’s birthday anymore. Facebook is there to remind us that the girl who sat across from us in eighth grade music class is celebrating a birthday today. And if we happen to miss the e-mail, the Facebook notification, or the little birthday cake next to their name on our friends list, it’s unlikely we’ll avoid the plethora of birthday messages decorating their timeline.Still, just because Facebook tells me it’s someone’s birthday doesn’t mean I’m going to take the time to wish that person a Happy Birthday. The fact of the matter is that sometimes I just don’t care. Not even enough to click on their names and type “Happy Birthday.”That’s some serious not caring!I never worry about getting into trouble for missing someone’s birthday (although I do still feel bad that I forgot my nephew’s birthday in 2012), but I can imagine that Facebook is invaluable for those poor saps who are too self absorbed to realize that their sister or mother or wife are celebrating a birthday.Has anyone yet invented a logarithm to calculate how many fights have been avoided thanks to Facebook’s birthday reminders? Probably not, but I bet the world’s a more peaceful place because those reminders exist.As I thought about my birthday (have you wished me Happy Birthday yet? Didn’t you get my hint in the first paragraph? Visit the Brett Baker Writes Facebook page and wish me a happy birthday now!) and Facebook and friends and hollow greetings, I began to wonder what other crises could Facebook help the world avoid?So Mark Zuckerberg, if you’re reading this, get your staff cracking on these ideas and save the world even more trouble.--Excuse reminders. Remember when you were supposed to go out with your friend last year, but you ditched him at the last minute because some “adult model” was making a special appearance at the local “gentlemen’s club”?Your friend remembers. And when you’re hanging out and start talking about that night it might be helpful to remember that you told your friend that you couldn’t go out because your irritable bowel syndrome was flaring up.--Sobriety evaluator. Facebook should be able to tell users how sober they are just by what they type into the status updates. Type something that only a drunk person would type and your Facebook account is frozen for twelve hours.True that Facebook users are already sobriety evaluators, but wouldn’t it be nice to know before you click on that “Post” button?--Action prompter. Facebook is cool. It’s fun. Everyone likes it. But believe it or not there are other things to do in the world. Wouldn’t it be nice if Facebook reminded you of this?So if it’s Friday night and you’re signing into Facebook for the eighth time a notice would appear on your timeline. The notice would contain pictures of fun stuff you’ve done in the past, suggestions for what you might want to do now based on your status updates, shares and pictures, and a list of people who have also signed on eight times.Then a bright red triangle would cover the entire screen along with two flashing words: “Do Something!”--Trouble repository. We all get in trouble sometimes. Those of us who aren’t jackasses learn from our mistakes. Unfortunately, the jackass: non-jackass ratio on Earth has been off-kilter for years. Therefore, many of us end up getting in trouble for the same things over and over again.Wouldn’t it be nice if Facebook remembered all of the times we got into trouble and warned us before we made the same mistake again? I’m not sure exactly how that app would work, but if it existed I probably wouldn’t have run out of gas eight times.--Idiot warning system. This already exists. Read about it here.All of a sudden, Facebook seems wholly inadequate.PREVIOUS POST: I Blew Off Flat Stanley and Became a Dad FailureIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Little White Lies Can be Dangerous+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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I Blew Off Flat Stanley and Became a Dad Failure

I’d like to think that I’m a pretty good dad. My kids don’t hate me. Obviously that’s a low threshold, but we’ve got to start somewhere, right?They’re not jerks (even though sometimes I wish that they would act like jerks), they do what they’re supposed to, and I couldn’t be prouder of them. Because they’re mostly cool kids, I like to do things with them and for them.As any parent knows, one of a good mom or dad’s responsibilities is schoolwork. I’m not talking about helping with homework, or giving clues as to where your child might find the answer to a particular question. I’m talking about actually doing most of the work—or maybe even all of the work—for the kid.Don’t even try to tell me, “I wouldn’t do schoolwork for my child. They’ll never learn if they don’t have to do it themselves.”Hogwash!Have you ever been to a science fair? Dozens of kids stand around and try to explain to the judges why their parents should win the science fair. Sure, we all pretend that the kid did the work, but we know the truth.Mom or dad did the majority of the cutting and pasting on the poster board, and they printed out the nifty little signs with words like Question, Hypothesis, and Conclusion, and they probably thought of the idea in the first place, because, really, how many “Do Plants Grow Better with Water, Milk or Pop?” science projects do we need?It’s not just in school though. I remember taking part in a pinewood derby race in Cub Scouts. My car finished last, and some of the other cars moved like Ferraris. How’d those kids get their cars to go so fast? They asked Dear Old Dad, who didn’t want his kid to finish last, so he “helped.”I quit Cub Scouts soon after that. I checked the Cub Scout handbook and nowhere did I find a section that gave me permission to beat up the kids whose dad built their cars for them, so I decided that wasn’t an organization I wanted to be a part of.But let’s get back to my current failure.Somewhere between having your kid turn in an assignment you completed, and telling him that he’s on his own, is a middle ground. I like that middle ground. Help, but don’t do it for them. Makes sense.My youngest son is in second grade. In February he brought home information about the Flat Stanley project. I remember helping his older sister and brother with this, and I loved it. It’s the perfect project for parental involvement, because the kid isn’t required to do too much anyway, and the things they are required to do are either really easy (color this picture!) or really hard (find the mailing address for a bunch of people who are willing to do this project with you/ for you).In case you don’t know about Flat Stanley, let me explain. It’s a book in which a boy, Stanley, is flattened when a chalkboard falls on him. Because he’s flat he decides to mail himself around the world and go on adventures. It’s a way to teach kids geography.Since I’m a geography nut, I get super psyched about Flat Stanley. When my daughter did it, she had people around the country sending things to her. My older son did it two years ago and I knew people in Paris, Rio and London that were kind enough to participate.So I had big plans this year. I’d talk to a bunch of people and we’d try to get Flat Stanley all around the world again.But then I failed.First, it turns out that somehow over the past couple of years, I’ve come to know fewer people internationally. I could request the same people do it again, but that seems a little over the top. There are people I know who are in cool places, but I don’t know any of them well enough to help with this.So I turned to a couple of people who live away from Chicago and who could be counted on. And they both agreed to complete the Flat Stanley (actually it’s Flat Brian in this case, named after my son) project. (Thanks Danielle and Jill!)And then I did…nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Loserville.Not only did I not recruit more people, I didn’t even send the material to the people I did recruit! And now the deadline’s a couple of weeks away, and Flat Brian has zero frequent flier miles.Time to turn to the blog. You’re reading this right now. Do you live more than 100 miles away? If so, do you want me to send Flat Brian to you, along with a journal page for you to complete and return to my son’s school no later than May 1?You do? Holy cow, you’re awesome. E-mail me with your mailing address, and I’ll drop Flat Brian in the mail to you right away! I’ll even include postage so you can send him back.Thanks for helping me out with this.Maybe there’s still time to correct this Dad Failure!PREVIOUS POST: Britt McHenry Should be Drawn and QuarteredIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Why Maps Are Better Than GPS+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Britt McHenry Should be Drawn and Quartered

In case you haven’t seen the story by now, let me recap.Britt McHenry is a sports reporter who works for ESPN and used to work on San Diego Padres broadcasts. She’s attractive in that Fox News white lady/ blonde hair way: quite an eye catcher at first, but look at her for a few seconds and you realize that you’ll probably see people who look more attractive and unique at a bar in your town.She’s like chocolate cake. You’ll be excited when you first see her, but then you soon realize she’s not that great.Anyway, this isn’t a blog post to bash Britt McHenry or her looks. And I still haven’t explained why you should know who she is, if you don’t already.Okay, so she’s on television, she’s “famous” and “attractive.” She also has a bit of a temper, which is why her name’s in the news. Apparently she ran into some trouble that resulted in her going to a tow truck company to pickup her car. While there, she said some very insulting things to the employee behind the counter.Things like: “So I could be a college dropout and do (your job)?”“I’m on television and you’re in a fucking trailer, honey.”“Lose some weight, baby girl.”She also threatened to sue the place, but I once threatened to sue a McDonald’s manager because she gave me a Diet Coke completely devoid of carbonation, so let’s not be judgmental.I just made that up. I didn’t really threaten to sue. I did throw it back through the drive-thru window though. “Fire in the hole!”I’m lying.I really never have threatened to sue anyone though. And I want to laugh at people who threaten to sue…right before I punch them in the face. “I’ll sue you,” is just one step above “Do you know who I am?” on the laughability scale.I’m off-topic here though, so back to Britt McHenry.ESPN has suspended her, which I guess shouldn’t be a surprise. They’ve got an image to worry about, and the last thing they need is to do nothing when one of their employees turns out to be a jerk who likes to insult people.An article on the CNN website argued that we might be just as bad as Britt for ganging up on her. A popular blogger argued that we should back off of her because she obviously has no self-esteem.I understand their arguments, but I just disagree. My vote goes to drawing and quartering Britt.If you don’t know what drawing and quartering is—and you have an iron stomach—you can see how it’s depicted in the classic horror documentary, Faces of Death IV, here.If you don’t have an iron stomach, I’ll just tell you that drawing and quartering refers to a Middle Ages ritual in which a person is dragged (drawn) by horse to the town square, and then each of their four limbs is tied to four different horses, and then the horses gallop in opposite directions (quartering). And you can guess what the end result is.All right, you got me. I don’t really think that Britt deserves to be drawn and quartered. I’ve wanted to use a Faces of Death reference since I started this blog, and it just seemed to fit here.But really, let’s not let Britt off the hook either. You can’t just denigrate, insult, mock, and completely disrespect another human being for no reason and expect there not to be consequences. You act like a despicable jerk and you deserve some sort of repercussion for that.I don’t think ESPN should have suspended her. Or at least I don’t think that should be her punishment for her actions.This is her punishment. Not this post, but the whole world’s reaction to the video. She’s had a rough day, and she’ll probably have a rough weekend. People will mock her, talk bad about her, and generally think she’s a slimeball.But three weeks from now we’ll see her back on television and we’ll forget all about that video and go back to thinking she’s like chocolate cake.However, the woman she personally insulted for just doing her job will still have that job. And she’ll have to deal with another Britt McHenry because no one’s happy about having their car towed, and some of those people are going to be assholes.Hopefully that angry person isn’t going to say such personally offensive things, and if they do, I hope they feel bad about it for a few days.We can eliminate the drawing and quartering though.PREVIOUS POST: When Not to TextIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: A Man's Miss America Recap+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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When Not to Text

As is often the case, technology is once again more advanced than our capabilities to handle it. This isn’t a new phenomenon. Think back to the difficulties we had figuring out how to program the VCR, or warm up some food in the microwave without scorching our mouth. It takes humans a while to catch up.And so it goes with some of the most modern technology. I’m speaking specifically of cell phones. And even more specifically of texting with those phones.We’re not having the same problems we had with the VCR though. We’ve been conditioned well enough that the technological aspects of the little computers we carry around in our pockets no longer intimidate us. Even if we don’t know how to operate them at first, they’re so intuitive now that we’re usually able to figure it out.No, the problems we have now are more serious. And since Emily Post has been dead for fifty-five years, someone needs to establish texting etiquette.Despite not actually having a cell phone of my own, I’ve nominated myself.Before we get started, let me make clear what I’m trying to do here. I’m establishing guidelines for actual physical limitations on when you should text.I don’t intend to answer the question of whether you should text that girl who dumped you ten years ago just to tell her that your current girlfriend is hotter than she is.Or whether you should text that dude who works in the same building as you, but to whom you’ve never actually spoken, except for saying “Thank you!” when he holds the door every morning.Or whether sending your mom a “Happy Mother’s Day!” text means you don’t have to call her.I leave these questions for you—or your therapist—to answer.So without further ado—and because, thanks to texting, most people won’t read anything more than a hundred words long—here’s what you should know about when not to text.Don’t text while standing at a urinal. Add this to the list of things people shouldn’t have to be told. Your hands are in front of a piece of porcelain that’s probably covered in the urine of dozens of strangers, you’re standing in a pool of God-knows-what, and one false move and you’ve got a wet spot on yourself that’s sure to cause embarrassment.What part of that makes you think it’s a good idea to text?If you insist on doing so I hope you inadvertently take a picture of your junk and accidentally send it to your grandma, your boss, and your sixth grade science teacher. You deserve whatever happens next.Don’t text while ordering food. Look, Idiot, there’s no one in this world you want to be nicer to than the people who are making your food. I’d think you shouldn’t have to be told to have some respect and common courtesy, but maybe you do. And if you choose to ignore this piece of advice then I hope you get to play an interesting game of “What’s That in my Burger?”Don’t text while driving. I’ve got news for you, buddy, you can barely control that car when you have both eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel. Add in a miniature computer and not only are you no Jeff Gordon behind the wheel, you’re not even Geoffrey the Giraffe from Toys R Us.The only reason you think that you can do both is because you can’t see the other drivers on the road giving you the finger because you’re staring at your phone.Don't text while talking in person to someone else. This can be tricky, because sometimes it's perfectly acceptable. However, it can go very wrong, very quickly. If you like your phone and don't want to see it shattered on the ground, thrown in a lake, or shoved down your throat, best to give the person you're with your undivided attention. The risk is just too great. They'll let you know if it's okay to text.Don’t text while walking. If you’re out and about and you absolutely have to text, then step to the side and send your message. Granted, the chances of you getting hurt when you’re texting and walking are slim.Unless you’re walking near me.If you’re walking toward me and staring at your phone instead of watching where you’re going, I’m not going to move out of your way, and chances are you’re going to run into me. Unfortunately, I’ll see you coming and I’ll raise my elbows.And then I’ll laugh, LOL-style.PREVIOUS POST: My 'No Sweets March' SuccessIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: iPhone Release Day Enthusiasm+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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