Rule #8: Find a kick-ass partner

Rule# 8: Get a kick-ass partner

This is a tricky one. The “kick-ass” to “partner” ratio has to be just right. If you’re a little more of the former, you’ve got more of a side-kick than a partner. If you’re more of the latter…well, we can just call you “Robin”. Sure, you’ll have adventures and you’ll help save the day. But you’ll forever be the little dog jumping around asking Spike what he wants to do today.

Would Tallahassee still have smashed zach’s head with a banjo if Columbus wasn’t there to watch? Probably. Yes, he would have. Did he enjoy it even more because he knew it intrigued and revolted his partner? Absolutely. That’s why they are so perfect for each other. It’s pretty clear that Tallahassee could have gone for the rest of his life driving around alone smashing every z’s head that he ran into. But pairing up with Columbus gave him a reason to live again. It gave him a reason to be the best Tallahassee he could be. Columbus helped him blossom.

Simultaneously, Columbus was doing a little “blossoming” himself. He was realizing that while his rules have kept him alive, there are times when they need to evolve. Columbus was clearly in his glory applying his “Rules of Zombieland” to every crazy thing that T did. It gave Columbus purpose. He even started to incorporate T’s wild, childlike wisdom into creating new rules through the course of the movie.  C’s “kick-ass” was materialized in the form of being a super-cautious hypochondriac rule-writing prude. And he clearly became the Ultra-Ben 10 version of that by pairing up with T.

One of my favorite scenes is when C and T are about to climb down the hill where the Hostess truck drove off the highway. Columbus begins to limber up, only to be ridiculed by Tallahassee. This doesn’t stop him…he keeps on stretching his legs while holding a shot-gun like a free weight. It’s as if C purposely did this so blatantly to force Tallahassee to ask him about it. It opened the door for Columbus to proclaim yet another rule, and assert his “kick-ass”. These two are true to themselves, no matter what. And the other accepts him for it. C doesn’t understand why T must paint a “3” on the side of every vehicle he drives, but he goes along with it. They accept each other for who they are, and that forces them to each be as “kick-ass” as they can be. The real value of their kick-ass is assigned by their partner.

That’s the key. The important part. The glowing neonsign.  Internally, you are only as kick-ass as your partner believes you are. You need to have a certain level of KA to start. And the KA chemistry has to be there. Two hot-headed zombie killing machines would have fun together, but they would probably get sick of each other after a while never really having a partner that appreciates the hedge-clippers. Two tight-ass hall monitors would last a long time in Z-land together watching each other’s backs, but they too would get bored after a while. The only thing that really matters is how kick-ass your partner thinks you are, and that they accept you for who you are.

I have found my kick-ass partner. And when I say “partner”, I mean it. She knows me. She understands me. She doesn’t want me to be anything except true to myself, and the best part: she loves me for it. We each have our flaws. So what? That feeling makes me want to be the best JOHN I can be. Yes, I will still wear chucks to work. I will still dye my hair blood red. When I find an ivory tuxedo at the local thrift shop, I am not afraid to send her pics from the dressing room. As a matter of fact, after I send her those pics she decided that we were going to have an impromptu prom. And it was great. 

She compliments me. She shows me things I have never heard of that are amazing and fun. And she is open to any adventure that I suggest. She makes me feel like I am not a misfit in this world, and apparently I make her feel the same way. When I am with her, I am happy. And happy to be me. In her, I see who I am, who I want to be, and who I am supposed to be. And they are all the same person.

That’s what a partner is. And she is as kick-ass as they come. I can't imagine a better mix of "kick-ass" and "partner". That’s why I love her.
When the zombie apocalypse actually comes, there is no one in the world I would rather by my side.  Even if the zombies never come, I still want her by my side. Always.

Rule #3: Don't get caught with your pants down.

Rule #3: Beware of Bathrooms



Nobody likes dropping a deuce in a strange place. You never know who will stink up the stall next to you. Did the last person to mount this porcelain throne have good aim? Will there be enough TP? Does the door lock? Will there be soap? Will the dude in the stall next to you start a conversation? So many things can go wrong, if we could only get a few minutes to peruse the sports section and take care of business. The last thing you need is a zombie pulling on the latch. It's probably the predatory instinct of zach that enables him to target your weaknesses like a heat seeking missile.
You know the feeling...you've got an ingrown toenail and every a-hole on the train is un-naturally drawn to step on your foot. Zach likes to cause pain. As a matter of fact, he has a pain-magnet. He likes to hit you when your at your lowest, and then he wants to dine on your flesh. Like Columbus says, "When you are your most vulnerable, it's like they can just smell it."

There's a breed of human like that, too. For some people, it's the ex-wife. For others, it's an angry, bitter person that once crossed your path, so miserable in their own life that they want to infect you with their ugly. It could be your disgruntled boss. Or your crazy neighbor. They don't usually have signs of infection, so good luck avoiding them. Their rotting flesh is covered up by cheap Walmart make-up. They wear a suit to hide the bite marks and bruising. Or they are just so charming that you miss the glazed over eyes and drool.
Some wear their infection like a badge of honor: "I am bitter, and miserable and I don't care who knows!". Others are in denial, trying helplessly to blame the rest of the world for their ugly. Either way, they still have the same goal: PAIN.
What's the worst part? They sense when you are vulnerable, and they strike. They know where to pour the salt. They have a one in ten chance, but they never miss the ingrown toenail. The infected want to get their grubby, rotting fingers in the wound and pull open your chest to get at our heart, the sweetest and most painful part. And once they have bitten us with their ugly, we have to be careful not to let it grow inside us. They "live" for that.
The chance to infect another human with their bitter ugly so they don't feel so alone and miserable. IT kidna makes their whole existence even more pitiful. I can't imagine living just to cause senseless pain, it must be because they are mindless and instinct driven.

Sometimes, the very cautious people are safe. They lock the door. They bring clorox wipes and pack their own Charmin singles. Or they just hold it. (Ew.) But do they ever really feel comfortable? Probably not. Are the uber-cautious ones ever really happy? There are no epic-adventures in "careful land". Fun and smashing and driving with the top down...not so prevelant in "cafeful town". Your best plan is to find someone you trust. Someone that you know isn't infected with the bitterness and ugly of a disgruntled life. Find someone beautiful and wonderful and full of hope that can guard the door for you, because chances are the door doesn't latch. The tricky part is letting your guard down to find the beautiful people without letting the uglies bite at you.

 I'm here to tell you that it's possible. And to remind you to return the key to the gas station attendant.

Rule #20. That's 26.2 miles.

Rule #20 It’s a marathon, not a sprint, unless it’s a sprint, then sprint

Slow and steady wins the race, right? Isn't that what the smug tortoise said to the impulsive hare in Aesop's fable?

Yup. He sure does. I've got to start looking at the big picture. I can't keep worrying about the little things, the changeable things, the non-permanant things, the things that will affect today but maybe not tomorrow. It's about time that I start worrying where I'll be in 2 years... 5 years... 20 years? I always hated that question at a job interview. Some stuffed-shirt corporate hiring manager stares at you across the conference table and asks "Where do you see yourself in X years?"

For a long time, I was a banker. It was safe. I always knew what my paycheck would be, and when I would get it. I wore a suit and tie every day. I drank the corporate Kool-Aid. It was boring. And safe. For a long time, I thought that is what "the marathon" was. I thought that putting up with a miserable existence for the short term would help me get where I wanted to be long term. The problem is, I never really knew where the long term finish line was even thouugh I was sprinting towards it full speed. I was constantly busting my ass to finish a race that I really didn't give a rat's ass about in the first place. And damn, I was out of breath.

I was looking at things all wrong. I was sprinting. I was just trying to finish the short term race... and I was giving it my all. But the finish line wasn't getting any closer... as a matter of fact, I was headed in the wrong direction entirely. I was just killing myself.

I quit that job. And I found something that makes me happy. I'm still trying to figure out if it's forever happy. (yeah, yeah...forever is an awfully long time) I made an active choice to stop running aimlessly. I also got rid of a relay partner who wouldn't catch the baton, no matter how hard I tried.

The real marathon of life is happiness: long term happiness. Sure, there will always be a need to sprint to the next check-point, or jump over the next hurdle. I've got to figure out what that happiness looks like. I think I have pretty good idea. It is becoming clearer every day. Then comes the training and prep work. I need the right shoes, breathing techniques, and a coach. Once all that is done, THEN I might be ready to run the marathon of life. I don't know if it's a marathon, or a relay race, or a triathalon, or the ropes course at Quantico. But I know it's really effing hard to get trough, thank God for the water stations along the way.

That's where I am right now. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. I have to figure out who I want to do it with (see Rule #8). I think I am close on that one.

As I sit and write this, I just got an email update regarding my aunt. She has been running her own marathon against pancreatic cancer. It looks like she is approaching her own finish line, and she is doing it with glamour and grace. This is an exerpt from an email her husband sent out:

Chris has been re-admitted to a Hospice facility. She is gravely ill and the end of her life here on earth is near. As you know, this past September we celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary. Chris and I have had a long life together but we both had hoped for it to be much longer. As she has said, even-though we make plans, God makes the final plan. Nevertheless, Chris gave me four terrific children who in turn gave us eight beautiful grand children. We love each of them dearly. I can't imagine continuing this life journey without her...

That's the happiness I want. My aunt is an amazing woman, and she found her kick-ass partner in her husband, Bob. After running along side her for 42 years, he wants more time with her. Me, too.

I love you, Aunt Chrissy. It's time for you to sprint now.
John

No Attachments

Rule #5: No Attachments

While this isn't an "official" rule from the Zombieland movie, it's a recurring theme that Columbus refers to. In the beginning of the movie when the mother is driving away from the kids' birthday party he refers to "no attachments". It's probably just a given in the unwritten rules of zombie apocalypse survival. But for my purposes, #5 has been written, with good cause.

And yes, I skipped #3 and #4. I'll go back to them.

Columbus knows better than anyone that when you get attached to someone, you'll probably just get hurt in the end. It makes me wonder if the old adage is true: It's better to have loved and lost than not loved at all. That might be true, unless the pain that is caused reaches the zombie apocalypse level. You know the kind...the hurt that is only matched by watching your mother/brother/girlfriend get bit by a zombie, lose a finger/eye/leg or two, and then turn on you like you're a bacon butty. We've all had that kind of loss. The kind of break-up, betrayal, or just flat out wrong-doing that breaks our heart and leaves us wondering "What else is there in this godforsaken hell of a world for me?" The level of emotional pain that makes us regret ever falling in love in the first place.

I've been there, countless times. That's because I have always been an eternal romantic. No matter what experience has taught me, I always feel like experience is wrong. This time things will be different.
Every time so far, I've either been chased from the mall by my newly undead love or I have had be the one to pull the trigger on the brains of romance before it turned on me again.

And yet, here I am one more time. I'm letting the girl from apartment 406 into my life again, hoping for the chance to brush her hair behind her ear. I'm ignoring the scratches, bites, and high fever she brings along and I am bolting the door behind her. Why would I do this?

Because this time, things will be different.

Rule #2: Better safe, than sorry.

Rule #2: The Double Tap
"You think it’s dead (technically it was before you shot it), one more makes 100% sure."


Columbus has a lot to say about The Double Tap. While he is not into wasting ammunition, Columbus is sure that using one more bullet is a wise choice. It's all about using your resources wisely. And being sure.

Yesterday was New Years Day, and what a beauty of a day it was. I left my house to go to a NYD brunch, and on the way I put the windows down and opened the sunroof. Birds were chirping, the sun was out, even the tulips were sprouting in the garden of the party host.
After a few hours of mimosas, tequila sunrise, and chocolate wine (Ho.Lee.Crap.That.Is.Good), I headed home in equally gorgeous weather. I left the top open.
I kept my eye out the window. Still sunny. Still good.
I decided to enjoy my last few minutes of a quiet house before my kids came home. Part of me said "Go out and close the car up", just to be sure that some freak monsoon didn't descend on my car. The other part (the mimosa/chocowine part) didn't feel like being that responsible.

I shoulda listened to Columbus. Would it really have cost me that much energy to avoid the entire interior of my car getting completely soaked, including 2 books from the public library.

So, when there is a question, always go with the Double Tap. If that extra bullet will ensure that Zach is dead, or getting your lazy ass up off the sofa will ensure your stuff doesn't get soaked, go with it.
John

Columbus' Rule #1

No, I am not talking about the guy who may or may not have discovered America in 1492. I am referring to Zombieland, and the list of survival rules that the main character teaches us throughout the movie. I am not too learned to think that a zomflick (granted... a really fun, well written zomflick with good effects) has nothing to teach me about life. It does. Starting with this blog post, I will share one of Columbus' rules and how it applies to my life. There are 33.

Rule #1: Cardio

I've recently started training for a few races I will be running in May. Both of them are 5K, but not your typical 5K races. They are obstacle races. You may have heard of The Warrior Dash? Well, I plan to have my Viking helmet at the end of May. Before that though, I actually will be running from Z's at Run For Your Lives.

I've been running pretty regularly 3 times a week now. I know 5K isn't a lot, but it's a place to start. I've set this goal for myself, and I will achieve it. And plus, I just feel so darn good. In my more sedentary times, I would see people out for a run in the rain, sleet, snow...at 4am or 11pm...with their dogs, kids, or in groups...and I would wonder "WTF?" Why would someone run as a regular past time?

I get it now. My juices start flowing. My body gets moving and the blood is flowing. Sometimes, it becomes a short vacation from deep thought. I don't think about life's worries. No thinking, just running. Other times, it sets my brain in motion and I can calculate and decipher all of the day's events. I can look at things refreshed and renewed.

But when Columbus refers to cardio, he's giving advice on how to survive. Zach is fast, and hungry. You've got to be able to just keep running around the parking lot until you have a big enough lead to jump in the car, or else your some thing's dinner. What Columbus is really suggesting is endurance. Endurance is a principal that will become increasingly important to me going forward.

I am constantly surrounded by idiots. Bitter people with really bad attitudes. There is a reason that people say "the good die young". It's because bad people live a long time, and they will make it their life long mission to ruin every moment of your good life. The key is building that endurance up so that the last few of us good people can outlast the cranky bastards. Or keep the faith long enough for them to give up.

That's a satisfaction I enjoy.

Give it your best shot, Evil. Send me a million nastygram text messages. Give the Feds my new address. Make me spend hours with you and then buy someplace else. Don't clean up after your dog. Don't hold the door for me. Let your child bump into me a million times while in line at the bank. Lie. Steal. Cheat. I will not lose control.

You won't ruin my day. Tomorrow is only a few hours away. And some day you will be gone. I will smugly smile in your face while you think you have more of an impact in my life than you really do. I am surrounded by good, loving, beautiful people. I will outlast you.

Oh, by the way...I am going to start saving the dog poop you leave on my lawn and I will be dropping it into your grave some day.

Thanks.

John

It's New Years Eve. About 3.5 hours from 2012. And what has 2011 taught me?

To not be an asshole.

To enjoy life when it presents itself.

To listen to someone else's top 3 songs of 2011.

To be strong. Yes... strong. No matter what life throws at you, be strong. There are more people than you realize that are depending on you. And ya'gotta be strong.

To be me. Stupid, bleached tips, chuck wearing, drunk-ass ME. Yep, ME.

To not be an asshole. (Did I mention that?)

To give credit where credit is due when I copy a really good idea. (Thanks, Gwen)

To. Be. Me.

To have faith. And hope. And love.

To remember that I am good. I know I am good. Deep down, I am good. Anyone who tells me otherwise, can go screw. (Then, I am reminded that I should not be an asshole.)

To try wine. It's so godddamn good. At least, the right wine is. Especially when it reminds you of a beautiful woman. That other wine reminds me of a not-so-beautiful woman. HA!

To have faith. And to remember why I am a romantic.

And hope.

To not worry about 30 cats.

To be strong.

To avoid Federal Agents when at all possible.

To accept help (and advice, and money, and love) when offered to me.

Especially to accept Love. True love.

To listen to Allo Darlin', and embrace the ucalele. It's only a little like a banjo. Just much more hotter when a girl plays it. Thanks, Elizabeth Morris for enlightening me.

To not fret when Aqua sends a shut off notice. Fuck them.

To have hope.

To have memory, and remember the things that have happened so we can learn from them. And to have the opposite of memory: HOPE.

To. Have. Hope.

And not to be an asshole.

I don't expect any of this to make sense to a normal person. I am not normal. I accept that. I embrace it. I don't want to be normal. "Normal" is fucking boring. How many Ford Taurus's can you see before you just say "ENOUGH!"

I never want to be a Taurus.

Happy New Year.

I am so pessimistic about 2011, and simultaneously so optimisitic about 2012.

I love you 2012. And I dare you.

I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid. You're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin.

As a very wise and wonderfully beautiful girl once said, "Let's dance, 2012"

I dare you. Bring it.

Happy New Year. I love you all.

Yes, I do.