So I’m messing with the Polaris yesterday after soccer practice when the thing pulls me into the pool. Naturally I had my wallet, iPhone and some important business cards in my pockets. The screen goes all crazy and I think I’m boned. I checked on some sites on how to save a wet iPhone, and they suggested putting it in a sealed container with rice for 24 to 48 hours. OK, I can do that.

Wife gets home half an hour later and she sees me with the phone, a container, and a cup of Uncle Ben’s in the pot, boiling away. Asks why. Light goes off. Points out I’m lucky most of my shoes are the slip on kind.

Word of McCain’s VP came just a little while ago. Already up and running — www.vpilf.com

Awe. Some.

So I wrote this column for the Dallas Morning News about why I chose to move to Plano, and I swear it became a Rorschach test. I talked about how Plano is pretty damn diverse, though at the same time what I wanted in my neighborhood was a lack of diversity when it came to personal values. Seemed reasonable. But a lot of people only read what they wanted to read into it, rather than the words that were actually there. As I told Tim at D, it topped at 270 responses, and they were still trickling in a week later. This is probably small potatoes compared to big time writers, but it blew me away. I’d say about 80 percent of readers got it. About 10 percent of the readers called me a Nazi. And the remainder were from Nazis with standing invitations to speak. Or date. They sent pictures. I threw up a little.

I’ll probably steer clear of this topic for a while, since I don’t want to be pigeon-holed as a one-trick pony, but it’s something to come back to sometime.

I love my 5-year-old fiercely, but sweet Jesus I hate soccer.

Democrats of all three genders aren’t hitting strip clubs in Denver. (I thought they supported single mothers?)
So I’m not the only one who thought Catcher in the Rye was crap.

So while I have this problem with the idea you should have to get a license for something that’s your right, I also have this problem with cops slamming me to the ground, clubbing me silly, Tasering me, and throwing me in jail. So I got my concealed handgun license, to make it all nice and legal like, since the only place you’ll find me completely unarmed is my bathtub. And even then, well…

So if you’re considering getting your license, here’s what to expect and some free advice.

(Alt headline: Stupidity Runs in My Jeans)

Running a marathon is one of those things you have to do before you die. And if feels exactly like that’s what’s next. The dying, I mean. So here’s my trip log from my first full marathon. (And there are more to come, because apparently I’m seeking death’s sweet embrace.)

For years, I’d been telling people I had run the Dallas White Rock Marathon. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. Many a time I had been among those 12,000-plus masochists who get up before dawn on the second Sunday in December to run the race. Like any self-respecting fetishists (or exotic dancers, now that I think of it), we had our form-fitting costumes and ridiculously expensive shoes. We gathered downtown at American Airlines Center, shivering in the morning cold and waiting for the starter gun.

Rest of the column here.