DadCentric

Joining The Xbox Nation, Part Two

 This is the second in a three-part series of Xbox 360 Kinect reviews. Part One is here.

The boy was skeptical, as was I: would the Kinect deliver on its controller-free promise?

The answer? Sorta.

First, I had to set the thing up. The Kinect requires that you have a certain amount of floor space; our couch protruded into the thing's optimal zone, so I had to do a bit of furniture re-arranging. Not a problem for me, so much as an inconvenience; I backed it up a foot, and moved the attached ottoman over to the right side to free up the space we'd need to jump, swing our arms, and run in place. (Those of you with a small TV room, or one with a ton of furniture, beware: you might need to do some serious remodeling.) Navigating via the Kinect requires you to use different gestures, kind of like Tom Cruise does with his various future computers in Minority Report. It takes a bit of getting used to, and for younger kids, this might be frustrating, especially as the menu navigation functions can differ from one game to the next. (One suggestion: use the voice control whenever possible.)

Joining The Xbox Nation, Part One

 

Full disclosure: when the folks at Edelman PR contacted me and offered to send me, for review purposes, an Xbox 360 with Kinect and the games "Kinectimals (Now With Bears)", "Kinect Sports: Season Two", and "Kinect: Disneyland", I actually hesitated.

 

Here was a can of hi-res worms I wasn't sure I wanted to open. We'd bought a Wii a couple of years ago, and I was more than happy with it. Not because it's a decent console, with fun motion-based controllers and a whole slew of games for younger kids. No, I was happy with the Wii because for the most part, it sits by the TV collecting dust. Every once in a while Lucas plays with it, but he's a bit of a jock, likes his outdoor time, and quickly becomes bored or frustrated with video games. Not the worst problem to have as a parent. Zoe is four, and her definition of "playing" video games usually involves waving at the screen and talking to the computer-generated characters. As for me, I've never been much of a gamer: I had a first generation Xbox, which I bought a year or so after Lucas was born. I figured that as a new dad I'd be hanging around the house a lot more, and video games seemed to be a good way to pass the time. (When I wasn't being a caring and commited father, of course.) My days as an Xbox gamer were short-lived: a few months after I bought it, the kid busted it. He found out that the eject button opened the tray, and tried to close it manually. By pushing straight down on it. Snap. A couple hundred bucks down the drain. I was bummed for a couple of days, but as it became apparent that fixing the thing was going to cost as much as it would to buy a new one, I found myself...not caring. I gave the busted console to a friend who wanted to use it for parts, sold a few of the games to a used CD store, and didn't think twice about it.

And so we lived as non-gamers, and were content. Then I got the offer from Edelman. It did take me a few minutes to reply. But I said yes, and told them that I'm not a gamer, and that I was going to be honest about my experiences with the Xbox, the Kinect, and the games. That's fine, they replied. It's what we're looking for. 

"Gamer" is a weird way to self-identify. I occasionally describe myself as a surfer, but there's something to be said for that - I possess a set of physical skills and knowledge of the ocean that the average person does not, enabling me to participate in a very difficult, demanding, and even dangerous sport. But "gamer'? It's blissfully shameless - "I'm an adult who spends several hours a day sitting on my ass in front of the TV playing video games!" And make no mistake - the Xbox 360 is for the gamers. To get good at, say, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, you do in fact need to spend several hours sitting on your ass in front of the TV. As a guy with a fulltime day job, a few writing gigs, a blog to manage, oh, and a family, I do not have several hours a day to spare. The Wii was great, in that regard - the games are basic enough for both my 7-year-old son and decidedly non-gamer me. 

The Kinect, however, was what set the hook. Looking like a dashboard-mounted projector, the motion-based controller proports to go one step beyond the handheld Wii controllers - as the ads say, YOU are the controller. Simple concept, enormously complex execution: you stand in front of the thing, and what you do - swing an imaginary golf club, throw an imaginary football, wave an imaginary wand - is translated right up there on the TV, in the game. I was intrigued - not for my own sake, or even Lucas', but for Zoe. At four, the Wii controllers and most of the games are a bit too complicated for her. But running in place? Jumping up and down? That she can do. Lucas, meanwhile, was skeptical. "You don't hold anything? You just act it out?" "That's what they say", I replied. "Hmmm", he said. "That sounds impossible." 

This is the first of three posts I'll be doing about the Xbox 360. Next up: the kids put the Kinect through its paces. Finally, I try my hand at a couple of "grown-up" games, and ponder life as a new member of the Xbox Nation.

Watch A Guy Shave Off His Mustache

FREE AT LAST. The Thing has been removed from my face; no longer will I frighten my small children or repulse my wife. So there's one happy ending for Movember. The other? The good folks at Philips Norelco heard about our Mega-Dad Team and offered to donate $15,000; in return, a bunch of us, myself included, agreed to use a couple of Philips Norelco products - the Vacuum Stubble And Beard Trimmer and the SensoTouch 3D Shaver, provided at no cost to us by the folks at Philips Norelco - to rid ourselves of our lip hair and capture the magic on video. I reviewed an older model of the SensoTouch last year as part of our 2010 Holiday Gift Guide, and really liked it. But would the SensoTouch 3D be able to hack its way through the ferocious jungle beneath my nose? Watch:

Worked like a charm; the mustache is gone, and the Asshole Jaw is once again the prominent feature on my face. If you want to see how some of the other Movember dads fared, check out their videos here. (For you ladies, that Busy Dad Blog guy is in his tanktop.) And if you're looking for a good gift for the hirsute man in your life, Philips Norelco is offering a nice rebate on the SensoTouch shaver. And if you want to know why vlogging should be left to the pros, or at the very least people who are enthusiastic about appearing on camera, Exhibit A: my video. So, everybody wins: me, my wife, my kids, Philips Norelco, and most important, some guys in the future who will never have to worry about getting prostate cancer because a bunch of mustachioed dudes in the past helped to kick its ass once and for all.

SAHD Protagonist: Interview with "Fathermucker" author Greg Olear

Ever read a novel written from the point of view of a stay-at-home dad?  I thought not. 

I don't know if Greg Olear's Fathermucker is the first of its kind, but it's definitely the first one I've read.  I found it gratifying to be able to relate to the main character/narrator as a guy whose overarching concern is his children.  Not just in an abstract sense--providing for them or thinking about their futures--but actually taking care of their day-to-day needs. 

The main plot in the book is a very compelling and adult one, but the world the narrator lives in is all about parenting.  Like the familiar heroes of page and screen who can't escape their offices, superhero duties, or criminal enterprises, Josh can barely attend to the crisis that lands on his doorstep, because he's juggling playdates, fieldtrips, babysitters, and meltdowns.  And unlike many (perhaps most) dads in novels and other media, Josh is much better at parenting than he is at other aspects of his life.

I got a chance to chat with Greg Olear via email, and we talked about his book, the writing process, and parenting.

Bears, Cars, Dinosaurs And Punks: Four Movies For Your Consideration

FULL DISCLOSURE: I'm totally lagging on reviewing the following four flicks that were sent to me for such purposes by powerful people who expect that they'll receive timely coverage in return. However, since three of the four movies were already in theaters, I don't feel too bad.

Hey! Tomorrow's Friday! Weekend! Whoop! And since many of you will apparently be housebound with your kids, here are three recent Blu-ray releases and one new theatrical release that may or may not be worth your or your kids' precious time.

Two of this summer's big kiddie flicks, Cars 2 and Winnie The Pooh, are now out on glorious Blu-ray. I managed to miss both when they were in the theaters, and for my sins I'm sure the kids will force me to watch them until my eyes burn out. Both are surprising, in opposite ways. Winnie The Pooh is simply lovely, a true movie for children: coming in at about 60 minutes, it's the perfect length, the hand-drawn animation is warm and comforting, and the way the A.A. Milne story literally comes to life on the screen, with words serving as part of the background, is clever and endearing. Disney proves that there is still a place for traditional animation, and Winnie The Pooh is a classic that can stand proudly next to the studio's most famous offerings.

My First Product Review Goes To...SOAP!

For years, I've watched as the privileged peddle products they've received in the mail while figuring out cute ways to toss in something that wittily alludes to something resembling a required disclosure statement not unlike the 6-font exculpatory clauses I hide in the contracts of adhesion I pass to unknowing clients under the guise of "this shit will get you paid!" every day.  But not me.

I decided to break that tradition, however, when emails vaguely resembling the following dialogue were passed between my inbox and some marketing dude's from New York:

Him:  So, would you like to help with a campaign for Dove Men + Care this fall?
Me:  Just what are you implying, bitch?
Him:  That all men need to be clean and smell good?
Me:  As long as you're not singling me out...okay.  I've actually been a Dove soap user since my first year of college, when my friend Jim Bob carried a pink bar into the community showers at our shared dormitory.  I think I insulted his masculinity.
Him:  That's not really what we're looking for here...
Me:  No!  You interrupted me!  He said it made his skin soft and smooth like his sister's backside!
Him:  I really don't think ...
Me:  And I've been using it ever since.  Other than its propensity to melt quickly in the soap tray, I dig it!

And so, I got a box full of the above-pictured items in the mail.  And I used them.  So I emailed the guy from New York again:

Me:  Dude!  I took those supplies with me to a conference in St. Simons Island last week, and nobody commented on my odor!  Even after going for a run on the beach!
Him:  Is this a rarity for you?
Me:  Who's the talent, and who's the crew here, asshole? 
Him:  I'm going to assume that's rhetorical.
Me:  In any event, I liked the loofa, shower gel stuff, soap, and deodorant.  But the real test was when I got home after being away from the Mrs. for 4 nights!
Him:  Yeah?  How's that?
Me:  Because my balls smell horrible after a marathon love making session!  And I mean, HOR-RI-BLE.
Him:  You know, I don't think we particularly need you to write anything about your experience with Dove after all...
Me:  Wait!  I had a quick, post-coital shower, used that body wash stuff rigorously on the underside of my scrotum, scratched my balls, and then sniffed my hand, and that SHIT WAS LIKE LILACS IN SPRING!
Him:
Me:  When do I get my next batch of products to review?
Him:
Me:  Hello? 

DadCentric Reviews: The Box of Shame

Its initial purpose is now lost to the ages — to half-whispered stories of times long-ago when it was a thing capable of holding dreams. And/or ice cream makers. But now, its presence has settled over our home like a shadow, and in the days of waning sunlight ever since become an intrinsic and fundamental part of our lives... and, far more importantly, the lives of our children.

Behold: The Box of Shame.

Note: shame not included

There may be some homes where this box might evolve on its own accord into something else... a gateway to new worlds, perhaps: a wardrobe through which the young might access promised lands ripe with crystallline castles, creatures of all manners fantastic, and adventures that would transform them from children into young men and women. In others, the box might take on the shape, form and functionality of race cars and jet planes, submarines and spaceships — each more exotic than the last, each a vehicle capable of transporting its pilot to places and experiences limited only by the scale of their imagination.

In our home, it became The Box of Shame.

The truly remarkable thing about the transformation of this particular box lies in the fact that both its naming and unique nature were determined solely by the twin 6-year old girls in my home — with zero input, suggestion or influence from any so-called "parental figures." No joke: The Box of Shame was entirely their idea. The process went something like this...

Real Steel: Father, Son, and Holy Robots!

  
I was sitting about two feet from Hugh Jackman. It was like looking in a mirror. One of those funhouse mirrors that make you appear stronger and better-looking. It was fantastic. We were laughing. Turns out that it's hard not to laugh when you're with Hugh Jackman.

The topic was his new film Real Steel (PG-13), which opens today. I had just seen it the night before and I was unsure as to whether or not it was really as family-friendly as his coworkers had claimed.

For instance, just minutes before Hugh had entered the room his seat was occupied by Mr. Sugar Ray Leonard. Yes, that Sugar Ray Leonard. He helped with the training and boxing-related scenes in Real Steel, of which there are many. He was asked if his kids had seen the movie.

"Oh yeah. Thanks. I’m glad you brought that up. I took my kids --  I have two young kids, my son Daniel… and my daughter Camille.

"I took my wife and my mother-in-law. So we went to see a part of the screening and at some point I turned around and I saw my kids screaming. Jumping up and down because it was action. It was, you know, all this kind of --  this entertainment. The robot! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! 

"It was really cool. It was satisfying. It really was. And they talked about it the whole time on the way home. So I knew we did okay."

Then he told a great story about playing golf with Bill Clinton.

My Kids Review 'The Lion King' Blu-ray

As I'm wont to do when I have a ton of stuff on my plate, I turned over the job of reviewing the new Blu-ray release of The Lion King (disclosure: review copy provided by the good folks at Disney) over to my kids; this was done in one take, in compliance with Federal and state child labor laws. Regarding technical quality: the picture is, of course, fantastic, and I highly recommend cranking your 7.1 channel surround system to window-shaking levels for the opening "Circle of Life" sunrise sequence. Hakuna matata.

 

DadCentric Reviews: TV Shows On Blu-ray - The Best Thing Ever

One of the things They don't tell you ("They" is everyone who's done this parenting thing; They claim to be your friends and allies, but They forget to tell you the imporant stuff) is that even when your kids move past the baby stage and can dress and feed themselves, you still end up missing a lot of TV. This is actually a professional problem for me, because along with chronicling the dadness here, I write pop culture stuff over here. I need to be able to converse intelligently about all things TV - even if, say, I have no idea which Beverly Househusband hung himself, I should be able to know that such a thing did occur and that it was tragic (though hardly surprising, and people who are hand-wringing over this while at the same time tuning into the show need to reassess their whole deal. Nielsen doesn't have an Ironic Watcher Category). The problem with the older kids is that they still demand attention, only now their needs - helping with the homework, showers/baths, assisting with jammies, etc. - extend into the primetime hours. And God bless its mechanical soul, the DVR can only hold so much. Especially when it's topped off with 40 hours of My Little Pony and Star Wars: The Clone Wars episodes.