Man Cave – Regular Guy

Snacking Dilemma

brian — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:17:24 +0000

I love our basement. Even though it is unfinished, has cold concrete floors in the winter and leaks sometimes when it rains, I love the place.

Because of the way our house is laid out, the basement is one of the only places I get to myself. Not even the whole basement because half is the laundry room, but the other half is my Man Cave with a TV, computer and recliner.

OK, not totally half because half of my half used to be dedicated to an area where my daughter could play, but she doesn’t go down there much anymore so I’m claiming that space as mine now.

The important thing is that I have a place to retreat and unleash the obsessed teenage sports fan which lives inside of me. I have a place to turn on the game, crack open a beer and have a few snacks.

That last part there poses the biggest problem. While the emotional maturity I bring to my interest in sports may remain in my teens, I still have the metabolism of a 43-year-old.

Whether I have a game or a movie or an old sitcom on the TV, I feel the need to have some sort of snack nearby.

I only feel this way in the basement. I can sit in the living room or lay in bed without even thinking of food, but once I sit in that old recliner, my hand automatically reaches for peanuts or pretzels.

Sometime I don’t even realize that I have started to enjoy a snack. I look down and see a small jar of mustard on my lap and wonder when it got there and how that pretzel rod ended up inside it.

Of course, I enjoy these snacks all the way up to the point where I step on the scale in the morning. That’s when reality hits.

Things didn’t always work this way. I could guzzle sodas and get to sleep with no problem in my younger days. I could eat an entire bag of Bar-B-Q Fritos (sadly on more than one occasion) and see no change in my physical appearance. Well, except for that way they turned my fingers orange.

Now I wonder how a few handfuls of pretzels turns into three extra pounds the next day. I know I look like the poster child for a beer belly, but I chalk most of it up to snacks.

I can easily spend time in the basement with nothing stronger to drink than a glass of water. Even when I do have a few adult beverages, the scale disaster is mitigated when I manage to not stuff my face at the same time.

I don’t help matters by keeping the area well-stocked with my favorite munchies. I certainly could cut down on what I have available, but that would just make me sad.

Apparently, the key to this dilemma rests in my willpower. Somehow, I don’t think this will end well.

What’s that Smell?

brian — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 17:50:40 +0000

I accompanied my wife on a shopping trip recently. She had to pick up some holiday items so I kind of just hung around the store and goofed off.

After I looked at all the stuff that could even remotely interest a guy, I wandered into the scented candle section. I have no idea why. I knew nothing there would interest me, but figured I would check anyway.

I hoped against hope I would find something to interest me, some candle that I could buy without looking like I had turned in my man card. I like a good scent as much as anyone else. I just don’t like to admit it.

That’s when it hit me. These candle people have totally underestimated us guys. They think we don’t want their product, when that’s not entirely true.

We don’t want the product they offer now. We don’t want candles that smell like flowers or cinnamon cookies or anything like that.

We want candles we can light on poker night without the threat of being beat up. We want candles that will fit in at a Super Bowl party. We want manly candles.

Imagine lighting a candle and smelling the sweet scent of beer and pretzels. That’s how these companies will win over the 50 percent of the market they currently thumb their nose at.

But it doesn’t stop there. Beer and pretzels are just the tip of the iceberg. Some guys might want more sophisticated smells, like whiskey or cigars. Imagine lighting one of those bad boys after you curl up in the bath.

Manly candles don’t have to focus on the vices that we men embrace. Sometimes, you have a hankering for one of your favorite foods, but know that you really shouldn’t eat anything else because your pants are already tight enough.

So rummage around in the cabinet and light up the sweet smell of pizza. You can even get pizza candles that smell like your favorite toppings. Who doesn’t like sitting in a room that smells like a pizza?

Guys also might crave steak and baked potato, but not have the time to whip up a big meal. Put that scent in a candle, and you’ll make every guy just a little bit happier.

The specialty food candles don’t have to stop there. Guys should be able to light a wick and spread the smell of nachos or popcorn or peanuts or Buffalo wings without the extra calories or the fuss of cooking.

I know this idea will work because my wife and daughter didn’t completely laugh at me when I brought it up. In fact, my daughter suggested two other scents that might appeal to the man in your life.

The first one could sell out as soon as it hits the shelves – franks and beans. Imagine dimming the lights and relaxing with the scent of hot dogs and baked beans filling the room.

Her other suggestion probably won’t sell as well, but might bring back memories for some guys trying to re-live the glory days – boy’s locker room. I don’t know about relaxing to the smell of wet towels and unwashed t-shirts.

Regardless, I think this idea has legs. Because, when you think about it, who needs to cover up what the house really smells like more than a guy?

Mine, All Mine

brian — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 12:16:13 +0000

At first, I didn’t want to do it. My friend Eric Trimmer from the Trouble Brewing blog was looking for people to take part in what he calls “Beer Appreciation.” In short, people pitch in to buy 24 cases of beer, then everyone gets one beer from each case. This way you can try some interesting and limited edition beers without having to buy a whole case thanks to PA’s stupid liquor laws.

I passed when he first asked, but then he needed some people to fill out the roster because he got more than 24, but less than 48 volunteers. I saw this as a sign from Bacchus that I needed to take part.

Well, Eric picked up the beers over the weekend, and I got my case Monday. The new mascot for the Man Cave, Buster the deer, guards my treasure in the photo. He keeps me company and gives me someone to complain to when the refs make a crappy call.

I’ll occasionally post my thoughts on the beers. I have only had one of them prior to getting this case – the Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. I don’t usually get into porters and stouts, but I’ll give the ones in the case a try and see if it changes my opinion on them. But I cannot wait for some of these ales and lagers. Mmmm, ale and lager.

My Kingdom for a Draft

brian — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 10:19:09 +0000

I enjoy a cold beer from time to time. Anyone who knows me would not dispute that. Right now, I have two or three varieties in the fridge and a few more (birthday presents) sitting downstairs waiting to be chilled.

But even with that kind of selection, I still don’t feel completely happy. I want draft beer in my basement.

I could go a few different ways to fill that desire. I could go through a lot of trouble and either buy a kegerator or make one of my own with an old fridge or something. However, that wouldn’t do me much good. I don’t entertain enough and certainly don’t drink enough to go through kegs on a regular basis.

I could also do some serious homebrewing and have smaller kegs of that available. I have done the lazy way of homebrewing before and didn’t have much patience for that. Going whole hog just isn’t in the cards for me.

Sadly, the final option doesn’t offer much of a chance for me. And this is why I am a little steamed.

A few versions of a mini tap system are on the market, most notably, the Beertender, which is backed from Heineken. I would love a fully automated 5 liter tap system in the Man Cave. There is only one problem – I don’t like Heineken that much.

Some other people have similar systems out there, but I don’t see many options for buying the mini kegs to go in them. Why spend a couple of hundred bucks on a tap system you can’t fill?

In this day and age, I can’t understand why many different options don’t exist for these devices. I don’t know why people like Pete’s Wicked and Sierra Nevada and Boston Brewing aren’t getting into the game. The people who would want one of these things in their basement are the kinds of people who drink those beers, I think.

Hopefully, it’s just a matter of time before the brewers catch up to the technology. I really want to enjoy a cold draft beer in my basement without much of a hassle.

ITEOTWAWKI: I Can Do It Too

brian — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 20:47:04 +0000

A while back, I wrote a column about wanting a guitar. I bit the bullet and bought one over the summer. A few times a week, I go down to the basement, find some chords of a song I like on a web site, and see how I do.

I finally have gotten “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” down pat. You have no idea how cool I find this.

I’m not saying Peter Buck is a bad guitar player or anything, but I love knowing that an awesome song like that is simple enough for me to handle. And that’s not all I have mastered because I can play most of – the intro is still hard because I’m an idiot – “Gardening at Night.” And I can play the rhythm part of “Pop Song 89.”

But I can play all of “End of the World.” I rule.

I Need Supervision

brian — Sun, 12 Aug 2007 00:38:17 +0000

If you haven’t heard enough about my time at home alone, visit Hobo Trashcan and read my latest column.

No Rain Man

brian — Mon, 03 Apr 2006 04:30:14 +0000

I love the movie “Groundhog Day.” One of my favorite scenes comes when Phil Connors, the irascible weatherman played by Bill Murray, tries to explain his predicament to his producer. “It’s the only possible explanation. I’m a supernatural being.”

He was talking about living the same day over again. I don’t have that problem, but I know exactly how we felt when he came to grips with his power.

It’s my fault we haven’t had rain for so long.

Sure, we had a little bit this past week, but that was just to taunt me because I drove back from work for soccer practice, then had to drive back down to Baltimore for an evening event.

That wouldn’t have been fun without the threat of rain as soon as I arrived looming over me. So I am the one who has altered the weather pattern for what may be eternity. And it’s all because I decided to do some work around the house.

I have always wanted a nice basement. When I visit friends who have a finished basement, I envy them.

Our basement leaks. It’s cold and impersonal. That all started to change about a month ago, however.

I set out and got a huge bucket of waterproofing paint. I set out drop cloths, put on old clothes and actually painted the walls in an attempt to create a “man cave,” as my wife so eloquently calls my plans.

You don’t know the gravity of this situation. I don’t like to paint. I really don’t like to paint. I don’t even like the Rolling Stones song “Paint It Black.”

But this project was different than all the others. Painting the living room really doesn’t do anything for me because the basic living room structure won’t change.

The basement is a different story. I can put a recliner there. I can get cable installed. I can yell at the TV, within reason, without worrying about waking the whole house.

This is all I have dreamed about for years. I had to do the physical labor to make it come true. I just didn’t expect to start a drought.

I can’t fully enjoy my new creation until I know that the waterproofing has worked. We got rid of a bunch of junk from the basement, but I don’t want to start moving in too many things until we are sure water won’t continue to trickle through the basement after a hard rain.

And that apparently won’t happen. The only explanation is my new supernatural powers. Or the fact that God is mad at me for not paying someone to work for me.

Writing a check is my best home improvement skill. When I started this project, I was proud that I was adding something to my repertoire. I actually enjoyed the work.

Now I just have to wait for the supernatural to take its course. Unless a higher power wants to embarrass me in the newspaper. I just hope I can enjoy the embarrassment in my basement without getting wet.

Basement Envy

brian — Sun, 13 Mar 2005 18:12:06 +0000

I took my daughter over to a friend’s house the other day for a “play day.” We can’t say “playdate” in our house. Bridget had decided that the proper term is “play day” and doesn’t like when someone says “playdate.” That’s fine with me because I think the term is overused.

But that’s not the point. She didn’t just get to have a good time with a classmate that day. I came down with a bad case of basement envy.
We can’t use our basement for much more than a laundry room or storage space. There is a small area for Bridget to play, but the place isn’t insulated or heated so things are pretty cold this time of year.

We bought the house knowing that some leaky spots in the walls would prevent us from having a real finished basement. I could deal with that 10 years ago, but things have changed.

My free time is much more valuable. Plus, I have to share the house with two females. I need a place to escape.

Sure, they are generally asleep whenever I do my serious sports-watching or loafing. But I can’t yell at the TV when I’m in the living room. I’ll wake someone up.

And Lord knows a guy needs a place where he can yell at the officials and players, especially when the games are most-likely previously recorded.

I can’t believe how well I have trained myself to celebrate or protest without making a sound. I really should get some sort of award for that.

The basement I visited Saturday had the kind of privacy I crave. And it had a pool table, foosball and an arcade-style basketball shooting game.

I’m stunned I ever left the place. The family is pretty lucky they didn’t find me trying to break into the place late that night.

I really don’t know how I have lasted this long without games like those. Growing up, we had an air hockey table. In college, my fraternity house had a pool table and a place to play ping pong, although we mostly used that for beer pong.

Guys need games in the basement. Video games, a cool computer and TiVo can only fill so much of the void.

There is some hope. I dream of creating areas to make everyone happy. Bridget can have a place to play. Maria can have a place for her stamping and other craft activities.

And I can have a place to drink beer, sit in a chair and yell at the TV.

But it won’t be easy. We will have to use some sort of sealer to contain the leaks in the walls. And we’ll have to get some sort of flooring and make arrangements to make the temperature more comfortable.

That seems like a whole lot of work to make a place to relax. I feel conflicted. I need a place to throw darts without worrying about damaging the walls, but I’m too lazy to do the work and too cheap to pay someone else.

Maybe I can ask the friends we visited Saturday to adopt me. I promise not to yell too loud.