We did a show the other night on the 7 lessons of the Tiger Woods affair. But Allen missed one important one: IF you are going to cheat, use a call girl instead of a mistress.

How's that for controversial?

It should be stated for the record that I vehemently appose cheating - both personally and in principle. Some have questioned me on this from time to time because I seem liberal on some of my theology pertaining to sexuality. Despite this assumption being irritating to no end, it isn't the focus of the post. However, let's make something clear: Tiger was wrong.

But this post isn't about cheating. It is about confidants. While reading an article in the New York Post, I came across Ashley Dupree (remember: Elliot Spitzer's call girl) lashing out at the 6 7 mistresses of Tiger. Saying that:

"Here you have all these girls accepting gifts, money, trips from Tiger in exchange for sex -- all the while knowing he is married. And now they all can't wait to tell their stories in exchange for even more money from the tabloids? And I was the hooker? At least I kept my mouth shut."

There you go folks: hookers jumped past grocery baggers for the number 4 spot of people I trust.

1. Attorneys (attorney-client privilege)
2. Doctors (doctor-patient confidentiality)
3. Priests (notice I didn't say Pastors)
4. Hookers
5. Grocery Baggers (bagger-shopper confidentiality)

In college I got into an argument in one of my Pastoral Leadership classes on what to do when someone confesses that they had abused a child. California law requires that you turn them in. I took the unpopular (and right) view that I would not turn them in, and suffer the consequences, because I viewed a pastor-parishioner confidentiality trust to be sacred and necessary for the betterment of the individual and culture as a whole. Why?

Living in a culture where attorneys are the only people we trust with our secrets does not produce healthy people that are empowered to change and better themselves. Many of the problems we face in relationships, marriages, and the like are due to the secrets we carry around.

The purpose behind the sacred trust of attorney-client privilege is that no one would tell their attorney anything if it weren't there. And just as this is necessary for a good defense, having a trusted confidant is necessary for personal and spiritual growth.

It probably seems a bit odd - given that I live so publically - but I take privacy and secrecy very important. People in my life have confessed to a myriad of past inequities - including cheating, abortions, serious drug use, and the like. Stories and circumstances that I will take to my grave. The relief you see in someone's face from the cathartic release of a burden being lifted by openly discussing past transgressions in an open, honest, and non-judgmental environment only speaks to the importance of such exchanges.

So in an odd turn of events, society could take a lesson from Ashley Dupree. When entrusted with private information, keep your mouth shut.

I am starting a new blog mini-series called: lessons in thinking outside the box. It will not be one after the other like other mini-series. But it will pop up from time to time.

In Andy's official point scoring scheme for thoughts, you get most points (say: up to 976) for being logical, and then second most points (say: up to 763) for thinking outside of the box (read: controversial).

So what better way to kick off this new mini series with something that will most likely cause all of you to be grossed out because of an inability to process logic?

I am going to confess something to you that most of my friends already know: I rarely wash my hands after taking a pee. The logic usually goes like this:

1. I don't pee on my hands
2. My penis is the cleanest part of my body
   1. Subpoint #1: It has twice the clothing coverage of any other part of my body
   2. Subpoint #2: I don't feel obligated to wash my hands after holding my arm or any other body part
3. If anything my hands are dirtier than my penis, thus I should probably wash my hands before going to the bathroom.
4. Especially in public bathrooms, I am pretty sure the faucet, etc... are dirtier than my penis so washing my hands defeats the purpose as well

So I was watching South Park last week and I award them full points (1,739) for both logic and outside the box thinking.



The irony in all of this is that I am a super clean guy. Also, I randomly wash my hands all the time through out the day (especially after typing a lot). I just don't feel obliged to after going to the bathroom. So...who wants to dispute this thinking and/or let me hold their baby :)

(Hope you enjoyed the holiday levity, I'll be back to writing about things that matter later in the week).

Let's be honest. I am grammatically retarded. This should not be a shock to anyone who reads this blog. I write like I talk. Spelling doesn't matter. And as long as it communicates the point, what difference does grammar make, right?

For the most part though it hasn't really cost me anything in life. Other than not winning the highest Yearbook award in the country for a beautifully designed and photographed, but very poorly worded and edited yearbook - <sarcasm>which I obviously am still very upset about</sarcasm> - I seem to do just fine being grammatically retarded (despite what my English teachers said would happen).

But being grammatically retarded has an upside. I make up words. This is both hilarious and awesome. But not only do these words get made up spontaneously in conversations, they also come with definitions.

In honor of "unfriend" being Oxford's 2009 word of the year, let's take a look at my words.

Ban^•chee - the word that started it all. I think CJ might have actually said it first. But I came up with the definition: an expression of great amount in noun form. For example: That hurt like a banchee. Or: I am driving faster than a banchee.

Scu^•ba Steve - sure I didn't make this word up. It comes to us from Big Daddy. But in my vernacular, it is used to describe an non-named person. If there is anything I am worse at than grammar, it is remembering names. Thus, people's name I can't remember are named Scuba-Steve.

Womb Dad^•dy - now this one is completley an Andy original. It defines a man who has kids, but who's mother (and to a lesser extent father) still does things for him that he should do on his own. Thus, he is a dad who never left the womb. Get it? This is the most popular word I have made up, and has entered some of my friend's vocabulary. This may be the thing I am most proud of in life.

But then there is Deb^•en^•oir - another Andy original. It defines the atmosphere and/or feeling in a area or group, but can't be outdoors. For example: the debenoir of that church wasn't very Baptist before, but it is now.

And frankly Debenoir should be the 2009 word of the year and I need your help. Allen and I discussed this on the air and I got made fun of pretty bad. Feelings were hurt. I cried myself to sleep. I am pretty sure someone, somewhere at the same time was clubbing baby seals.

Anyone can use words everyone else uses. It takes a genius to make their own words. I mean, I can use a light bulb, but Edison was the genius who created it, right?

So what I need you to do is go to www.allenhuntshow.com and vote in the poll for Debenoir as the 2009 word of the year.


(PS The strange pause in the middle of the conversation is me trying to answer
calls and argue with Allen at the same time)

It was another busy week this week. Maybe not 84 hours like last week, but probably 75. Got major progress done on the new Allen Hunt Show website. Very productive. But with the production, I was also very tired and looking forward to a Saturday of doing absolutely nothing.

At 11:45pm on Friday night, my friend Glenn swings by the studio. As he was leaving he asked, "hey you want to join us for tomorrow's Alabama game at Ole Miss? Plane takes off at 9:00." I don't care what I am looking forward to, if it involves taking a private plane to a great day of tailgating and a live SEC football game, I am dropping the other plans.

So even though I desperately needed the rest, I traded it for a day full of fun.

So because I am lazy on blogging right now, here is a post in picture form (with commentary):

I love all teams Chicago (except the insufferable Bears). Cubs of course are on the top of the list. But growing up I too loved the Chicago Bulls. I spent many a nights in front of the television watching WGN and the magic that was Michael Jordan. I had the shoes. I drank the Gatorade. I sang the song.

As life has proven time and time again, 19 years later and things are far more complicated.

Athletes have gone from psuedo-gods to people; many times really shitty people. Jordan is no exception. In fact, Jordan is probably - like all things Michael - the best example. The most recent example of course being, as Rick Reiley put it, his "tactless, egotistical and unbecoming" Hall of Fame acceptance speech.

It's sad really. In the same way I sometimes long for the faith I had when I was in my teens, making Jesus' words of child like faith all the more clear, I too wish I could approach the world as I did when 8 years old.

But alas that usually isn't an option. As Cardinal Thomas Wosley once said, "Be very, very careful what you put into that head, because you will never, ever get it out."

Similarly, when I was 12 I hated John Stockton. Ok, really I hated Karl Malone. But my associated hatred of Stockton proves my point later. Both Malone and Stockton played for the Utah Jazz - at the time - an arch enemy of the Chicago Bulls.

On September 11, 2009, both Jordan and Stockton were admitted into the Basketball Hall of Fame. And while Jordan's speech was the worst 23 minutes you could imagine; John Stockton had 11 seconds of brilliance that unfortunately most will never hear.


Maybe it is because I have been super stressed. Maybe it is because I feel the burden to be the best at everything (unfortunately making me a lot more like Jordan than Stockton). Or maybe it is because in that moment I realized all those years I should have been rooting for Stockton, and not Micahel. But those simple words of humility and honesty brought a tear to my eye.

When I watched Stockton he wasn't the best on the Jazz - Karl Malone was. But that didn't stop him from having a phenomenal career and supporting his team. And years later, the joy and love he brought to that stage was evident beyond his words.

That's a message kids should hear. Most of us will never be the "Michael Jordan" in our fields. And that's ok. In fact, that is probably a good thing.

So while my 8-year old self was spent looking up to Michael Jordan, I know my 27-year old self will look up to John Stockton. What can I say. John, you finally went down as the best at something. I wanna be like Mike John.

When I was in high school I dated a girl with the most amazing house. Although it wasn't until after purchasing my own home that I realized just how much I loved that house.

It was big, but not flashy big. It was nice, but not materialistic nice. It sat on 20-acres, just outside of the city, in a "developing neighborhood" (read: they had no neighbors).

But the best part about it - no homeowner's association (at least not that I knew of, so I am going with that there wasn't one for this illustration).

If they wanted to put in a pool, they could (and they did). If they wanted to let us drive a John Deere Gator or a Hummer around the backyard, we were allowed to (and we did). If they wanted to let us have a loud, outdoor party, they could let us (we never did that).

Fast forward 10 years. I have had some issues with my neighbors and homeowners association since moving in. I think - and could be wrong - but it stems from the fact that I am the youngest owner in the neighborhood and therefore they thought I wouldn't know any better.

But they picked the wrong 25,26,27 year old. And frankly, I got fed up with it all.

Now you might ask, why make a big deal? Simple. Because I bought the house with the idea that it was open to anyone. I installed finger print locks so people could come over with out me. People are free to stay over when they want. I want it to be place of warmth and welcome to any one.

So when something interferes with that, I get defensive. And even though I am the least private person in the world (I think I am the only person who's Facebook page is set to public and blogs about intimate details of my life), I will get defensive when someone in authority doesn't need to know something, but is assuming it is there business.

But what does this have to do with you? I find most people are pretty "afraid" of their neighborhood association. Even when I twittered the other day about it, a friend of mine replied, "uhoh. Sounds like you aren't friends with the HOA. Don't make them too mad, they have crazy power!"

But that is the problem. They don't. Assuming you are following all the rules (which I was), they do not have "crazy power," especially when if it is an invasion of privacy.

So I am including the letter* I sent as an example of how to deal with a homeowners association that has extended beyond it's power. I know many of you have purchased or are thinking of purchasing your first home. Hopefully this helps.

And here is to one day having 20-acres to myself and (hopefully) CJ and Andrea as a neighbor.

This past Friday I went to an Atlanta Braves game with the infamous AllenHuntShow.com commenter LC. If you don't know who LC is, you need to be reading the blog more often. He's pretty much second only to Erik (warning: NSFW) in his "nemesising" (on a side note Erik was invited as well, but couldn't make it last minute).

We all know that I love Erik since I have blogged about that. But I too, legitimately love having LC around. He's a staunch atheist/agnostic, and doesn't agree with much of what Allen or I have to say. But he is more than welcome here and I have very much loved the friendship that has developed because of the show.

More on that in a second.

I was reading Fort Wayne Observed the other day and came across a blog post on Barney Frank calling out Mark Souder for his anti-drug stance. The interview of Barney by Esquire included the following statements:

ESQUIRE: ...who's against it?

BARNEY FRANK: Well, Mark Souder from Indiana, who's very much a proponent of the drug war.

ESQUIRE: When you talk to Souder about it, what does he say?

BARNEY FRANK: You don't waste your time on people with whom you completely disagree.

In full disclosure, 1.) Mark Souder went to my church in Fort Wayne, IN and 2.) I can't wait for the day to beat Mark in an election for Indiana's 3rd Congressional District (I'll save why for a blog on another day).

But I digress.

Now the irony is that for the first time ever, I think I actually agree with Barney Frank if you read the entire interview. But what Barney and Mark equally don't understand is that using the excuse "you don't waste your time on people who you completley disagree [with]" is what is wrong with American politics, and frankly, what is wrong with American culture altogether.

Not only this past week did I go to a baseball game with LC, but my Porn Producer buddy Mike South sent Allen and I an interview with Scott Janke. Highlighting another relationship where I have serious disagreement on certain topics, but one where we have kept the lines of communication open because of mutual respect and a higher pursuit of truth. Just like LC. Just like Erik.

Surrounding your life with people who you only agree with leaves one with an incredibly myopic view of the world that is worse than just ignorant, it is damaging. Especially in leadership positions.

I would highly encourage Mark and Barney to follow the example of LC and I: go to a Nationals game, have a beer, and treat each other like human beings.

Who knows what kind of country this could be if our politicians - and each other - lived that way on a regular basis.

One of the largest affronts on our relationships, families, and happiness is "keeping up with the Joneses". It invokes pride and vanity, and it is subtle. I say this knowing full well that I am the worst of all.

More on that in a second.

After arriving in Hilton Head last weekend a high school friend who married a baseball player commented on my Facebook saying:

Honestly, I used to think there couldn't be anyone who travels more than athletes and sports wives...but I think the amount of traveling you do is pretty comparable to mine.

I certainly have been living up to my New Years Resolution that's for sure.

• February: Denver Ski Trip
• March: Hilton Head
• March: San Diego Visiting Sarah & Adam
• April: Orlando Visiting the Letters To God Movie Set
• April: Miami Visiting Erika & Patrick
• May: Key West w/CJ & Andrea
• June: Nashville Visiting Pat
• June/July: Indiana
• July: Hilton Head

On top of that, August is going to be Weekenders gone wild because soon I'll be working 6-days a week. The remaining travel is:

• Aug 6-8: Hilton Head
• Aug 13-15: Louisville Visiting Ashley
• Aug 20-23: Oregon for Lissa's Wedding
• Aug 27-29: Kentucky Lake Visiting Angela
• Sep 26-28: Chicago Watching Mike's Play
• Oct: Maybe DC Visiting Nathan
• Nov: Maybe Denver Visiting Mom & Cassie
• Dec: Maybe Indiana for Christmas

Or in interactive map form:

View a larger map

But what does this have to do with keeping up with the Joneses and Facebook? Simple: 170.

211 is the number of days from January 1st to today. Of those 211 days, I have "been on the road" 41 of them. Leaving 170 days that are just like everyone else's days.

Wake up. Shower. Go to work. Eat Lunch. Work Again. Come home. Eat Dinner. Watch TV. Sleep.

80% of my days are "boring" normal days.

But no matter how much I travel, I am still just as envious the friend backpacking through Europe, or spending the day at the lake. And I know about all of this becuase of Facebook.

I do know most people don't care about traveling like I do. But you could replace traveling with anything, and Facebook provides a 24/7 comparison of lives.

But wasn't that what class reunions were for?

Once every 10 years, you had one night where you were bombarded with the question: "how do I compare?" It was vain. It was stupid. But nevertheless it happened 3 times in life - and that was if you went.

But with Facebook, I am lucky if I go 3 hours with out seeing what everyone, and I mean everyone, is up to. Constantly comparing what they are doing to what I am doing (or buying, or living in, or driving, or marrying, or kids are doing, etc...etc...).

And even though most likely 80% of their days are "boring" just like mine, I still find myself comparing against the entire culmination of everyone's days.

This is not healthy. Constantly being bombarded in this fashion forces one to constantly pursue the next high: albeit trip, purchase, or (fill in the blank). This constant pursuit just took keeping up with the Joneses and gave it a steroid injection right in the quad.

If you follow my Twitter / Facebook status, you know that I have been biking a lot recently. Been trying to do at least 20-miles a day for the past month. So when I came to Indiana for a week, I brought the bike with me.

When I was in Middle School I ran cross country and would often run "the block" - Aboite Center Rd. to West Hamilton Rd. to Liberty Mills Rd. to Homestead Rd. It was four miles long and hilly. So since I needed a place to bike, and the Chattahoochee River was 650 miles away, I decided to expand "the block" into the 15 mile "super block."


The hills and wind have been a bit of a killer compared to the flatness and stillness of where I ride in Georgia, but it has been been a good ride.

But one thing I wasn't really expecting was the "trip down memory lane." While peddling for an hour or so up and down the hills of Aboite township, I pass my old high school and friends houses. Places I ran in cross country and ex-girlfriends neighborhoods. Places where I was pulled over for the first times and the church where I first found out about that Jesus guy.

And amidst the Gatorade drinking, hard breathing, car dodging, and legs pumping, I find my thoughts drifting to what I miss in life. What made and makes life great.

The past couple of days when I have turned off of West Hamilton Rd onto US-24, Jason Michael Carrol's Where I Am From comes on the iPod.

I love that song.

Despite what my LA friends assume, everyone in Indiana is not a farmer, and I did not grow up on a farm. I grew up the son of an attorney. I grew up in suburbia. I grew up going to country club dinners and vacationing to the beach for 6-weeks at a time. But I did spend a lot of time in my high school years hanging out in Huntington, IN - which is quite country.

Maybe that is where I got my love of country music. I don't know. But I think country music lyrics are usually pretty true to life and Where I Am From is no different.

I said I'm from the front pew of a wooden white church
The courthouse clock it still don't work
Where a man's word means everything
Where moms and dads were high school flings
Gave their children grandmothers maiden name
Yes it may not sound like much
But its where I'm from

...

Where the quarterback dates the homecoming queen
The truck's a ford and the tractor's green
And Amazing Grace is what we sing
Well there's a county fair every fall
And your friends are there no matter when you call
Yeah It may not sound like much but it's
Where I'm from

All that to say, biking the "super block", and hanging with CJ and Andrea, and seeing Dad and Lisa definitely make me miss where I am from.

Seven Major League Baseball games in seven days!!! I love baseball, but I found myself on Saturday (the 6th game) thinking, man I am a little tired of this.

But nevertheless the question of where have I been can be answered by: Turner Field watching the Braves take on the Cubs (1-game makeup), Yankees, and Red Sox.

Knowing that I was going to be going to 7 games in a week, I decided not to pay $113.70 in parking. So I figured I'd take MARTA. But being the clasterphobic type, I decided MARTA wasn't going to be a good option. So then I came up with the brilliant plan of parking my car at WSB and riding the 4.8 miles to the stadium on my bike!

It was a BLAST and probably will be the only way I go to the stadium from now on. Even in the 100° heat, and the hills of Peachtree Street it was still fun. Brought a change of shirt and some Gatorade and I was good to go.

Turner Field has a few bike racks which are right by the entrance (best parking space possible!) Plus I insist that getting to Turner Field takes no less time, and going home I only lost maybe 10-15 minutes.


Ride time was around 25 minutes, and at one point I could break the speed limit while biking - going 30.4 in a 25 ;)

Here's a map of our route. Pretty simple.




The other "adventurous" thing Justin and I tried with the Yankees/Red Sox series was to make some money. Back in February we bought about $3,000 worth of tickets all around the park in hopes to make a couple of thousand dollars.

Well after all was said and done - including StubHub's 15% commission - we made a grand total of $36.69 each. Ha! At least we didn't lose any money.

Lessons learned though: buy more tickets on the visitor side and anything beyond 1st or 3rd base is not worth it to resell with any sort of profit. Ohh, and don't do this during a recession :)

But it did mean that I got to sit in a different seat every single game - which was an awesome experience. I posted the photos at the bottom, so take a look at all my views.

Well that is it for now. I am heading up to Indiana for a week of vacation, but I will be blogging about my Nasvhille Weekender (2 weekends ago), Why Allen Is Wrong and Obama is Right on Iran, and The Death of Jackson, Fawcett, and Others all this week so check back often.