…yeah, that’s the thing.

So momentous was this occasion, that I paused my food prep – even as the waiting water boiled – to snap the picture you find here.

Yes, today has been quite a momentous day.

I also consider Yahoo to be smarter than Bing, while still less smart than Google since Yahoo has me on page two for “stupidest blog ever.”

Thank you for your support.

Do They Know it’s Christmas Time, by Band Aid

Blue Christmas, by Elvis Presley

It’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home), by U2

War is Over, by John Lennon

Yeah, I was. I was in a dress store. David’s Bridal in Albany, to be exact. A store where dresses are sold, browsed, worshiped, measured, tried on, hemmed, sewn, gushed-over, whatever – all the things women do with dresses.

And I was there.  With the dresses.  And the ladies who sell dresses.  And the ladies who go with the other ladies who are going to the dress store to try on a dress or two or seven for a wedding or a prom or a wedding-prom or a pageant or whatever the @#$%&!-ing thing it is which compels them to buy yet another dress.

Ahem.

I should state – for the record – that the reason which brought me to the dress store is a wonderful reason.  One of my three brothers will be married to a wonderful woman in October, and my two daughters are going to be the flower girls, and as such will require dresses.  All good stuff.  If you know me, then you know that my bluster and snark will melt away into tears of joy that day.

But that day is in the future, and was not top of mind as I entered the dress store.  And let’s be clear on the fact that this was not a cute little dress shop, but instead a big-box, chain dress STORE.  It is yucky, but what is one to do?  My kids need dresses, and the selection at DB suited our needs. A four- and two-year old can be hard to contain in a public space, so this was a two-parent adventure.  Especially when you consider how much expensive damage could be done by a precocious, rambunctious kid like our youngest.

The dresses my wife picked out were great, just beautiful.  The kids loved them and they – for the most part – behaved.  No incidents, no milk spilled on a $5,000 dress and all is well.  Except daddy.

There was one other male in the joint, and we appeared to be a father of a bride or at least father of a female for whom he was buying a dress.  He was fortunate enough to find a comfortable chair where he could squat.  He just chilled out, hidden behind a mirror and a rack of dresses and took a nap.

I was not so lucky.  My mission was to keep the kiddos from causing any damage or performing any temper tantrums.  As great as my kids are, they are kids.  Damage and temper tantrums are coins of their realms.  In between keeping the little one from spilling milk on dresses and shoes, and helping get them in and out of their outfits and their potential dresses, I just tweeted a little…

and read whatever was new on the Viigo app on my Blackberry.

But here’s the thing – what overwhelmed me was a feeling of not belonging.  Being out of place.  Being where I should not be.  Or perhaps where I’m not welcome.  Not sure.

This is kind of why I’m writing this post.  I wonder what the women in that shop thought when they saw the four of us walk in.  You’re there, doing the dress thing for you, a friend or a relative and me, my great wife, and my two superstar kiddos saunter into the joint.  The three females fit in, but here’s this dude.  This dude, chilling with his Blackberry while the kids get measured, while the female thing happens.  Does that guy annoy you?

This is what the comments are for…

I was in pretty good company: Colonie Chief or Police Steven Heider, Jay Girvin of Girvin and Ferlazzo attorneys and a representative from the New York State Attorney General’s office (for the life of me, I can’t remember the AG rep’s name, really nice guy).  I got a very big kick out of being among such high profile folks, and the audience of around 80 attendees was very nice. You can see what I talked about by reading the post on the WSG.net blog located here.

Beth Wurtman from the local NBC affiliate WNYT 13 covered the session, and interviewed me in the hall during other remarks.  Here’s the clip:

And as the boundaries between career and home and self blur, or even vanish altogether for me, I find an increasing need to project confidence.  To ask for what I want.  To be myself.  The 15-year old version of me would cringe if he saw who I’ve become.  From wallflower to aping Don Draper is a big jump.  To push shyness aside and reach for your slice of a larger world is exciting, fun.  A challenge.  We all need a cheerleader like Vince Vaughn is to Jon Favreau in this clip.

“When you go up to talk to her, man -- I don’t want you to be like the guy in the PG-13 everyone’s really hopin’ makes it happen.

“I want you to be like the guy in the rated R movie, you know?  The guy you’re not sure whether or not you like yet; you’re not sure where’s he’s coming from. You’re a bad man, you’re a bad man, you’re a bad man.  A bad man.”

Updated: Facebook’s terms of service and rights it claims over your profile data have caused quite a stir, to use a tired phrase, on the tubes lately. Amanda French at AmandaFrench.net has a great comparison between FB and the other main social networks.  This Chicago Tribune poll question asks how the buzz will impact your FB usage. (I use it as seldom as possible anyway.)

If you are on Facebook, if you were on Facebook, if you are thinking about getting on Facebook, if you have friends or family on Facebook, or if you ever publish anything online, please go right now to the Consumerist blog and read about Facebook’s new terms of service.  Then go read the terms of service for EVERYTHING you use online.  NOW.

Then look at the bottom of the page on the Consumerist’s post – notice anything?