This is one of my favorite videos that Tripp and I have done for Northpoint. The message is simple: There isn’t one person who appreciates you bringing your baby into a church service.

Let’s say, hypothetically, that we were going to make another video of things you shouldn’t do in a church service. You got any ideas?
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Saturday night was my 10 year high school reunion. I thought it might help some of you out if I compiled a list of tips based on the evening’s experiences.

1. Study up on Facebook
This can be a great tool to remember names and faces, but be sure to use it wisely. It might appear a tad stalkerish if you start a conversation out with a reference to the “Which Lord of the Rings Character Are You?” quiz that they took last February. There’s really nowhere for the conversation to go after this.

2. Save up
We had to take out a second mortgage in order to cover our admission cost. I’m still working on the math, but I think it came out to about $35 per drink and $60 per miniature barbecue sandwich.

3. Use spouse wisely
If your planners weren’t wise enough to provide name tags, use your spouse to find out the names you should already know. Amy and I have the system down to perfection:

Me: [Double-tap the back of Amy's elbow to initiate fool-proof name investigation system]
Amy: Hi, I’m Amy.
Guy: Hi, I’m Neil.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry Neil. That was so rude of me. I thought you, Neil, and Amy had already met. How are things in Neil‘s world…Neil?

4. Have phone handy
Any time an awkward silence arises, whip out your phone and pretend you have a call. Politely whisper that this is your “new babysitter” as you roll your eyes and apologetically leave the conversation.

5. Don’t talk about old times
Never use the word “remember” to start a sentence. The last thing you want is to be dubbed The Nostalgic Guy who keeps bringing up that time you did a group project together sophomore year.

6. Do talk about old times
OK, when Doug gets into his 19th consecutive minute of talking about politics, feel free to interject with your favorite thing about that group project sophomore year – even if he wasn’t part of the group.

7. Come with a comfort zone
Believe it or not, the same cliques exist ten years later. Make sure to bring your clique with you as a comfort zone. Establish a home base early on (near the back), and periodically branch off into the sea of awkwardness, knowing that there is a mother ship that awaits your return.

8. Chew gum
Guess who people want to talk to less than Nostalgic Guy? You guessed it – Halitosis Guy. Don’t hesitate to display some gum pride and share the love.

9. Engage in some friendly competition
Hold a competition amongst your clique members to see how many different professions you can claim to have throughout the evening. It’s amazing how trusting people are. Apparently I can pass for a librarian, a professional scuba diver, a dentist, and a nun. I’m even scheduled to do a home inspection next Thursday.

10. Know when to stay home
100% of all conversations begin the same way – “What are you up to these days?” If you’re nearing thirty and you still don’t have a job, it might be best to stay home and play Madden ’09. After all, you know you’d rather be doing that anyway.

Any other tips to add to the list?

1. Favorite Video Featuring Every Early 90s Star – It has never been more worth it to watch a video from start to finish (especially starting at 3:30)

2. Favorite Website – everythingisterrible.com

3. Favorite New Ad Campaign – Sprintcuts (Here is 1 of the 13 videos they made)

4. Favorite Use of Post-It Notes – This (also, click here for the making of)

5. Favorite Music Video – Andy Samberg and Will Ferrell in Explosions

6. Favorite Blog Post – Bryan Allain’s post about this commercial

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I don’t get Inexperienced Mic Handlers. They’ve seen correct microphone execution before. They know, in theory, what one should do to amplify his voice. Yet somehow, when they’re up on stage, handing them a microphone is the equivalent of handing them a lit stick of dynamite. All sense of reason leaves them and one of the following alter-egos emerge:

The Long Distancer
You never realized how long this guy’s arms were until he got up on stage to speak into a hand-held mic. What could possibly make him think that waist-level, three feet away from the body is proper mic positioning?

The Breather
It appears that this person ran a few laps before getting up on stage to talk. His 30-second announcement turns into a four-and-a-half minute display of how not to breathe through the mouth.

The Inhaler
I’ve seen make-out sessions less scandalous than The Inhaler speaking into a microphone. This guy gives the audience an all-too-intimate glimpse of what is happening on the inside of his mouth. I think I could actually hear him getting a cavity. How is he not getting shocked with all that electricity and saliva in such close proximity?

The Gesturer
No one needs a mic stand more than this guy. He thinks that waving his hands around in the air is making his story more exciting, but it’s just leaving the audience confused and mad. “Great story pal. I caught a few you know‘s and something about a steam engine, but other than that, it just looked like you were telling me “wide” in sign language the whole time.”

The Checker
Check. Check one-two. Is this thing on? Can you hear–? Check. I’m not hearing it. Test. Nothing. Test. TEST. Am I on? Can you hear me? I’M NOT GETTING ANYTHING! This is ridic– Are we good? Finally? Yeah, I think we’re good. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…

How else is The Inexperienced Mic Handler displayed?
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I have a great Dad. He excelled in all of the areas that dads are supposed to excel…and then some. You see, he also has these superpowers that I thought every man acquired when he became a dad. But I’ve been a dad for nearly two years now and they’re nowhere to be found. Where are my Dad Powers? Do I not receive them when I cut the cord? Is there some sort of pass-the-baton ceremony that I missed?

Allow me to elaborate a little on these Dad Powers that my Dad so humbly possesses:

Car Packing
I don’t know how he did it, but my Dad could pack an entire master bedroom suite in the trunk of a Honda Civic. I now know why he made us bring our bags down and leave them outside the car. He didn’t want us tarnishing his craft.

Pancake Making
I’m pretty sure my Dad missed his calling in life. Sure, he managed to start an incredibly successful printing business, but I think he might have been better suited grilling pancakes at IHOP. How did he make them so circular? Was he using a protractor? Not only that, but I think he would have revolutionized the way a paper hat and apron are worn.

Boat Parking
My Dad could park his 7-foot-wide boat into a 7-foot-one-inch slot in the middle of a tsunami while sipping on a Fresca and telling me about his golf game. Give me a 25-foot-wide slot and I’ll still manage a solid bank shot off the cement wall (with only minor damage to the paint job).

Knowledge Giving
I don’t know where all this information came from, but my Dad will throw random knowledge around like a frisbee. He’ll effortlessly weave the shorthand way to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius, a little known fact about Millard Fillmore, the capital of Angola, and how Daylight Savings Time originated* into our dinnertime conversation.

Tone Crushing
I would rather be beaten by a piece of rebar than have my Dad give me the tone of disappointment. It was this tone that single-handedly kept me from drinking throughout high school.

Wonder Sprinting
Even in my athletic prime (7th grade), my Dad could still kill me in a foot race. I don’t understand it. I was the one practicing and training while he was sitting behind a desk all day. How do you explain a middle-aged man running a 4.4 forty?

Change Giving
I’m not sure, but I think my Dad’s pleated khakis magically replenish correct change for a ten in the pockets. Whether it’s to tip a valet, pay a toll, give to the homeless, he’s always got a couple bucks handy (which is good, because the homeless don’t like to make change for a twenty, I’ve found).

Did your dad have any obscure superpowers? Anything that, to this day, still inspires wonder?

*Subtract 30 and divide by 2; He was named after his mother, Phoebe Millard Fillmore; Luanda; to save energy for war production during WWI by taking advantage of the later hours of daylight between April and October
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