Countdown to me getting bored of this: 31 days

Abstraction

2010-05-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

There’s a battle being fought and you are in the middle of it, whether you like it or not.

Abstraction.

I realized recently that I’ve taken up arms due to a multitude of factors. I would like to say that they are mostly noble, but in truth, it mostly stems from frugality or a lack of options.

I’m no expert on history, but it seems to me that somewhere around the early 20th century, the prevailing notion was an eagerness to embrace a black box approach to duties in life. Why understand how to wash your clothes by hand when you can stick them in this new machine and it will kick out clean clothes at the end? We had a society built on agriculture where as a farmer; you needed to have a complete understanding of how everything worked in order to survive. If your tractor/shed/shower broke, you were SOL unless you could fix it. If you didn’t know how to make Chicken Cordon Bleu, you weren’t ever eating Chicken Cordon Bleu.

That all changed in the latter half of the century. We began hiring out everything, buying everything as an end product, losing our understanding of what goes into making it. Why make a chair from 2X4’s when ikea has one for cheaper and better design that you screw together? Why make a pizza when you can buy a Red Barron for $3? Or better yet, just have it delivered for $10.

The pendulum has swung too far, my friends. And I think it’s swinging back. Cable TV and the internet are the biggest swords we’ve ever had to fight abstraction and we are using them. We are destroying the black boxes that are our cars, houses, food, finances, etc. Breaking them open and seeing what makes them tick. The big secret behind the curtain? This stuff ain’t that complicated.

Try to do a google search to find a contractor that gets 5 out of 5 stars. Or mechanic. Or restaurant.

With the internet, the information is now out there. Want to hang a door? Lowe’s will charge you $300, youtube will charge you nothing.

So the battle now is time. The advantage we have over our forefathers in terms of access to information is negated by the advantage of time that they had. We’ve managed to fill our schedules so tight that even though we know how to change our oil, we have to pay Jiffy Lube $30 to get it done in 30 minutes. It’s not really choice, even. There isn’t an option to do all of the jobs that would be required if we truly took back our lives. So we must decide what is most important to us and choose our battles accordingly. I’ll gladly spend the $30 on an oil change if it will free up an afternoon to information gather on the market or paint a room.

Teach a man to fish…

Oceanside, CA

2010-03-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

Oceanside Card Club, Oceanside, CA

I knew when I pulled up to Oceanside Casino that the mental image I had of this place was way off. I had read the reviews online and most had said it was a decent card club compared to the others in the area. However, much like the premise of crappy spring break movies where the “Hotel Paradise” that has great pictures in pamphlet but turns out to be a dump upon arrival, Oceanside Casino was neither Oceanside nor gave me the general welcoming feel of midwest casinos. For starters, it was on a street full of abandoned warehouses and the parking lot had no less than 2 rent a cops patrolling.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

I’m in San Diego for a training conference. I’m here Mon-Fri, but the conference didn’t start until Tuesday. I figured I’d fly in early on Monday, tour the city a bit then be ready for the 8:00 AM start time on Tuesday. I landed and the first thing I did was take a tour of the USS Midway, a decommissioned aircraft carrier. I’d recommend the tour. You definitely get your $18 worth with pretty wide open access to walk around and see what you want to see. And they have about 20 planes/copters on the flight deck that are awe inspiring. After the tour, I got some overpriced sushi, hit some Targets for work stuff, and then headed north of San Diego for Oceanside. Along the way, I stopped at In-N-Out Burger, something I’ve always wanted to do, but never had the chance. Much like seeing a great movie 2 months after everyone else, my judgment is so tainted by all the praise, I’m not sure if I liked it because it was good or if I just wanted to agree with all the reviews I’ve heard. Point of the back story is that I had had a really good day and was in a very good mood.

So back to Oceanside Casino, it’s about 25 minutes north of San Diego (although 45 with all the traffic I hit). Although once I got inside, the scariness of the neighborhood and parking lot melted away. It was just like any other card club I’ve been to. Fairly bright, with low chatter and that ever present sound of thousands of chips being ruffled, splashed, and fidgeted with at dozens of tables.

It was split into 3 rooms, one for Blackjack and Pai Gow and 2 for poker. After going into the wrong poker room, I found out from the floor man that there was a No Limit and Limit room. I’d never seen that before and found it somewhat funny. Kind of like splitting the Looney bin into the insane and really insane. You don’t want the loose cannon NL guys rattling the calmer Limit players with their shouts for “SPADE!” and “QUEEN! ONE TIME!”

I was seated right away. One of the nice aspects of the poker boom drying up is no more wait times. I remember the days of Foxwoods in CT and Canterbury in MN that an hour wait time to get seated was expected. Anymore, I get seated right away. The dry up also means a lot less dead money, but you take the good with the bad.

I sat down and scanned my table. The usual suspects, really. Most tables have the same array of players. There must be some system to put the types of players at every table.

I instantly dubbed seat 1 as “Tiger Woods’ little brother” as he had a very similar look and stiffness to him compared to Tiger. The first time I heard him speak with that nerdy monotone voice that could have come right from Tiger, I started to wonder if Tiger actually had a brother. TB (Tiger’s Bro) is the player I used to be. Quiet, focused, but with a definite air of superiority. He was there to play his EV+ type game and slowly milk the table. He was the most knowledgeable player at the table and it was going to pay him dividends. I’m not saying that the lowest limit game in a casino isn’t beatable; I’m just saying that experience has taught me that it’s not worth it. And if you underestimate your opponents, you’ll walk out a loser every time. For the stakes you are playing and the rake that the casino takes in on every hand, if you are playing the lowest limits, just try and break even while you enjoy your surroundings.

In seat 2 was TB’s sidekick. He knew what he was doing, but really was along for the ride. He wasn’t into as much as TB and my prediction will have moved onto another hobby while TB will still be hitting the casinos. I couldn’t help but think that he looked a lot like the Dean from Old School. On a side note, the Dean in that movie doesn’t look old enough to be a Dean; so either I’m getting old or that was bad casting.

Seat 4 had a fixture of pretty much every table I’ve sat down at: the quiet, 50 year old blue collar guy who plays too many hands, sucks out just enough to keep him in the game, but never really busts or leaves with a rack of chips. He’ll go on runs and get up a lot, but you’ll look over an hour later and his big stacks have dwindled back down to the felt. But then he’ll put it all in and his (5 8) hole cards will miraculously catch 2 pair on the river and he’ll be around longer. Most people hate this guy because he’ll suck out on them at very inopportune times with very bad cards. They’ll even berate him a bit. I on the other hand like him. He’s usually pretty harmless, scoops pots quietly, and never shows much emotion either way. Plus his play gets the high strung people all fired up, so it’s always fun to watch the fireworks. This particular guy was Hispanic, had a fresh coat of dirt on his fingers showing that he’d probably worked in the field all day, and never said a word the whole time I sat next to him.

As you can guess, it was your hero in seat 5, the lens of which you look at this subculture at through.

In seat 6 was another mainstay: the older cranky Asian woman. She loves to slam her cards down, talk about suck outs (mainly by the guy in seat 4), and generally complain about her luck. I’ve learned to steer clear of this type of player. She’s much wilier than I originally gave her credit for. She too is fun to have at the table. Her typical half English rants and emotions on her sleeve are fun to experience first hand.

Seat 7 and 8 were both dealers at the club. This has always bothered me. Some states allow the dealers to play at the tables. And actually in WA and CA, it seems like you can play while you are working. When I played in WA, the floor sat down and played for awhile when we got down to 5 handed to keep the action going. But I’m against dealers playing in their own casinos even when they aren’t working. To me it feels like the carnival worker jumping the barrier and knocking down the bottles before you do. They work there, so they know all the tricks. If you are dealing to these people for 8 hours, you are bound to pick up on playing styles and even tells. So if I was a regular and a dealer sat down at my table, I’d feel like they had an advantage on me.

Seat 9 was an ex porn producer. He had to be. I swear, if you put him in a movie and said he was the sleazy Hollywood type, the audience would reject him as being too much of a caricature. Toupee, shirt unbuttoned, big chain. Picture Moe Greene and you are pretty much there. He must have told a bad beat story about how he could have won the jackpot if a lady hadn’t folded her suited connectors at least 4 times. And it happened 3 weeks ago. Time to move on, Mo. He even told it to someone that called him on the phone. He had gotten 4 queens and the woman didn’t follow him to the end of the hand, but chose to save her money and fold instead. Well, the river would have given her a straight flush and they would have split the 15,000 bad beat jackpot. (If you have great hand like quads and you lose, the table shares a bad beat jackpot. It’s a lame promotion that casinos run to keep people at the table). One rule about poker is bad beats are like dreams, they might be very impactful to you, but no one else wants to hear about them. They just don’t.

Overall, this was probably the grumpiest card room I’ve ever played in. Could have been just my table, but the players and the dealer were all in a bad mood. TB and his sidekick left about an hour into my session and the eastern European guy who replaced them complained that it was too hot in the room. I looked over shocked as every single casino in the country is set at 60 degrees. He had A) a full sweater made from a lamb and B) a polo over that sweater. Seems to me that he had the solution to his problem, but just wanted to complain.

Another case in point about the grumpiness of the room: the two dealers playing at the table got into an argument about 1 of the dealers raising the other’s big blind. Dealer #1, who I hope was on coke for his own sake. If his normal operating speed is the fidgeting and endless verbal diarrhea that he portrayed, his facebook friend list has to be his mom and his mom only. Anyway, Dealer #1 raised Dealer #2’s blind with what turned out to be a completely acceptable hand (AJs for poker nerds). Dealer #2 took offense and implied that #1 had broken some unwritten rule and the 2 argued about it for 5 minutes. Even when #2 got up to leave, #1 got up as well and the argument continued. This goes back to the dealer point I made before (let’s collude and not raise each other’s pots because we’re just there to fleece the locals, right?) as well as how grumpy people were (arguing over a $4 pot for more than 0 seconds).

That’s Oceanside. Would I go back? Compared to the other 2 casinos I went to in San Diego, yes. But that’s another review for another day.

Total Session: 4 hours , +$100.

1 Year?

2010-03-22T18:11:00.000-07:00

Has it been like a year since I posted? Awesome.

In an effort to start writing again, I may try and post some reviews of card clubs I hit when I travel. As I've said before, poker tables are a wonderful meld of people, and usually I end up seeing something interesting.

Hijinks

2009-02-19T06:23:00.000-08:00

I recently found a deal from Dell on an XBOX that I couldn't pass up. I had been avoiding the next generation for awhile, but prices are finally to a point that it made sense. In the deal, Dell included a game called "Tom Clancy's Endwar." I had heard good things about Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six games, so I was excited to try it. But before I opened it, I looked online for reviews. It received pretty good marks, but I was discouraged to discover that it was a real time strategy game (like Command and Conquer or Starcraft). I have no time for games like that anymore. I don't want to mine for ore, so I can build up an army, then attack with that army only get destroyed and have to start all over. I have maybe 1.5 hours of free time a day, I want instant gratification in that time. Turn on and tune out as they say.

I decided to try and take that game back and exchange for something I wanted, figuring in this day and age, without a receipt it would be tough. I knew there was no chance at Target. They've tightened their returns belt so much lately, that I would be lucky to exchange with a receipt. So I went to Walmart, figuring as a company they have their collective heads so far up their ass, no problem. I bought it to the counter. The Walmart employee called back to the electronics desk and no go. No receipt, they wouldn't even exchange it.

So, like a guy frantically scanning the bar at 2AM for any warm body, I strolled into Kmart. There were 8 cars in the parking lot. I counted. I walked up to the Customer Service counter and said "I'd like to exchange this." She asked me if I had a receipt. I shook my head no and said it was a gift. I actually almost said it was a gift from my great aunt Muriel (reading HP right now) but I didn't want to push it. She nodded and informed me to find the item I wanted to exchange it for. Elated that my ruse might work, I almost ran back to the electronics section, having no idea if Kmart even still had an electronics section. Lucky enough they did. I found the game I wanted.

Unfortunately, I had to have the electronics guy bring the game I picked out up to the customer service counter. Walking with him to the front of the store, I felt like a 7 year old who had convinced his parents to buy him an R rated movie. Worried that the gig would be up once the electronics guy got wind of the current "exchanging without receipt" situation, I did my best to distract him with a question about the future weather. But no matter, he just flirted with the customer service person a bit, dropped the game on the counter and walked away. After completing the exchange, I snickered as I walked out.

I'm a 33 years old father with a career, BTW. Conning stores to get the video games I want should be behind me, but I guess not.

A Common Experience

2009-02-13T08:09:00.000-08:00

Most parents will tell you they go through the following scenario in their child's first couple of years:

1. Child gets sick, throwing up or diarrhea.
2. Parent feels awful for child and does all in their power to make them comfortable and help them get better.
3. Some point worry about child's health and calls the nurse line.
4. Nurse on the other end calmly says it's nothing to get too worried about and recommends to give child "Pedialyte" to keep child hydrated.
5. Parent runs to Walgreens at 11:30PM, grabs Pedialyte and buys it. Barely registers that they just paid $6.00 for 48 ounces of fluid. Child's health holds no cost barriers.
6. Pedialyte is offered to child, but they want no part of it. With much crying, some is forced into child.
7. Step 6 is repeated an hour later, then parent gives up and gives child water, which they happily gulp down.
8. Pedialyte is put in fridge for future use.
9. Parent is cleaning fridge out a couple of days later grabs the Pedialyte and notices warning on bottle that says "Use within 24 hours of opening."
10. Parent grumbles as they pour Pedialyte down drain and realize that they paid $6 for a teaspoon of low sugar Gatorade.
11. Repeat process next time child get sick.

I'm calling for a full scale investigation of Abbot Laboratories, maker of Pedialyte. It must have at least an 80% share of the Kid's sick drink category, sharing space only with Private Label. It has completely infiltrated the medical system where it's recommended BY NAME by most nurses and doctors. Because of this, its price is astronomical compared to it's ingredients. How can Gatorade sell a similar product, water with electrolytes, (ie: salt and sugar) for $1 for 32oz vs. $6 for 48oz for Pedialyte?

And it's a crappy product that most kids refuse.

What is in Pedialyte that will spoil 24 hours after opening?

Shame on a company for preying on the loose wallets of worried parents.
I want answers. I think this is ripe for an indie documentary.

Yeah vs. Yay

2009-02-13T07:36:00.000-08:00

I think we need to establish in email/sms/IM communication on the use of yeah vs. yay. I see much confusion out there.

Here's how I see it:

When expressing joy or celebration and you want to use the word that rhymes with "Hay", "Yay!" should be used. As in, "Yay!, I won the lottery."

When expressing agreement and you want to use the word that rhymes with "wah" (as in baby crying), "Yeah" should be used. As in, "Yeah, I heard that about chuck!"

Am I wrong here?

Hay

2009-02-13T07:08:00.000-08:00

I discovered the musician Colin Hay through the actor/writer Zach Braff. I was watching an episode of the show "Scrubs" and Zach's character was constantly followed by a man playing a guitar and singing. I don't really remember why this was happening, only that for some reason the song kind of hit a chord with me. So I looked it up and after some digging found out it was a guy named Colin Hay, former lead singer of the band "Men at Work" from Australia, famous for their 80's hits "Who could it be now" and "Down Under." Zach seems to have a liking for the guy, as he also included a song of his in his movie "Garden State."

I downloaded the song "Overkill" which was on the episode of Scrubs and it became my favorite tune for a good month. As someone who deals with anxiety issues it resonated with me tremendously.

Some of the lyrics:

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know I'll be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

Alone between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
It's time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation

At least there's pretty lights
And though there's little variation
It nullifies the night from overkill... etc."

Colin delivers these strong words in such a matter of fact way that I appreciated. No woe is me, it's just a fact. It became a meaningful song for me. One that I really connected with in a way that I rarely do with music.

I visited Chuck E Cheese last night with my parents, family, and nephews. First time I've been there in quite a while. While taking Riley's coat off, something caught my ear. In amazement, I looked up and saw the animatronic Chuck E Cheese singing a familiar tune. Yes,"Overkill." Not only was I shocked that my personal little indie song was commercialized, I was flabbergasted that it was commercialized in such a venue. Go back and read those lyrics. How did anyone think that that song would be good for a cuddly mouse to sing to 9 year olds? It'd be like showing "Ghost in the Shell" on the TVs there. Sure, it's a cartoon, but not exactly kid stuff.

Chuck E Cheese is a weird place.

Happy Holidays to my Coworkers

2008-12-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

Have you ever just forget where you are at and drop a bomb? Without any regard to civilized behavior, I totally unconsciously dropped ass in my cubicle.

Mid-fart, I was like, "What the hell am I doing?"

I then had to evacuate because I realized that if a coworker came to my cube they would have been disgusted. And rightly so.

It's shocking to me sometimes that I am in charge of the upbringing of another human being.

Dichotomy

2008-11-05T14:26:00.001-08:00

dichotomy

4: something with seemingly contradictory qualities

I have been often asked by my friends who don’t have children what being a parent is like. I’ve never been really able to explain it outside of saying it’s the difference between having someone tell you about skydiving and experiencing it for yourself.

Recently, I’ve switched that standby response to one of the defined word that is the title of this blog. I’m not the first to hold this sentiment. The phrase “Parenting is the hardest job you’ll ever love” is very popular. But with each passing month, I’m seeing that being a parent is full of contradictory forces.

There are several examples of this:

• Becoming a parent instantly transforms you into simultaneously selfless and self centered person. Bringing a child home puts you into a situation of endless servitude to a relatively unappreciating master. You really give up yourself to toil the days beckoning to their every whim, grabbing moments of peace and sleep when you can. All done for the love of you child. But at the same time, you become enthralled into your own world, most likely with your parenting partner, obsessing about every intellectual advancement, health status, and general mood of your child. Even though children have been learning how to say “Dada” for thousands of years, because it’s your child doing so, it feels like the greatest accomplishment humankind has ever seen. Riley showed understanding of association for the first time the other day, and it’s all I can do to not talk about it constantly.

• The evolution of your relationship with your child is counter intuitive. When you bring your child home from the hospital, it is at the point where they need you most, yet you know them least and at their least interesting. As a newborn, you cannot put your child down for more than 30 seconds awake and 2 hours sleeping. Also as a newborn, they have almost zero interaction, making them generally pretty boring. As your child grows, so does your relationship with them. They become more and more interesting and you love them more and more just as they need you less and less. In fact, the ultimate twist of fate is that (from what I hear), once your child turns 18 and finally becomes an adult and a complete human being who you’d want to hang out with is the exact moment they move away. That seems like a cruel joke.

• Currently, Jessica and I are very stringent about Riley getting a meat, vegetable, fruit, and bread with milk for every dinner she eats. Often the fruit and vegetables are organic. We then have a Tombstone pizza and soda for our own meal. Maybe that’s more of being hypocritical, but the need for us eating a frozen pizza is created by the act of spending so much time preparing her food.

• I think most parents wouldn’t trade anything in the world for their experiences with their kids. But they also have concurrent occasional longing for a responsibility free lifestyle. It’s a weird mindset to have.

• New parents have this interesting trait in which you are completely bewildered at what the hell we are doing, but at the same time are very opinionated about child rearing. It’s a weird mix of ignorance and arrogance. You have no idea if it’s okay that your child hasn’t pooped in 3 days. You try to be a sponge of information from doctors, families, and friends of what is normal and what’s not normal. Babies do a lot of weird things that you have zero idea on whether you should be worried about. At the same time, ask any parent their opinion on something as trivial as Juice and suddenly everyone is a nutritionalist, able to tell you the exact study that links early juice consumption with decreased algebra test scores later in life.

I’m sure there are plenty of more examples. I haven’t even touched on the contradiction of telling your kids to not do all the things you did growing up. Regardless, “it’s a world of dichotomy” will be my standard response to “what’s being a dad like” moving forward.

Evian Naive

2008-09-17T13:41:00.002-07:00

I don’t think the movie Reality Bites has aged very well. Or at the very least, it has transformed with time. It has moved from an edgy indie-ish movie to more of a snapshot of the Gen Xers during the 90’s. HIV tests and homosexuality have moved from progressive topics to mainstream ones. I bring it up not to critique the movie, but to point out one scene that’s always stuck with me. Winona Ryder’s asks the idealist/slacker character played by Ethan Hawke his thoughts on the meaning of life, to which he replies:

“There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle... and I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.”

I’ve always wondered what the details I take pleasure in are. So here’s my best effort.

I enjoy that small 3-5 day period of time where you are really into a song and have finally memorized the lyrics so you can sing along with it, but you aren’t sick of it yet.

I like that feeling you get when you have a beer at about 5 in the afternoon on an empty stomach and the alcohol goes straight to your head. That burst of chattiness and energy it gives you before the depressant characteristics take hold.

The sound of Jessica’s laugh.

To that point, I’ll admit against my general modest image, I love that moment where you say the exact right thing at the exact right time. To be the guy who says what everyone was thinking, but was able to put it into words first and bring down the house. Sure, I’m shy, but we all like to be the star performer from time to time.

I enjoy the gentle hum of a baseball game while driving at night during the summer. It takes me back to laying in the back of the van on the way home from Grandma’s or more recently on my 3 hour trips to visit Jessica when she lived in Mankato and I lived in Eau Claire.

That rush you get when you make a boat on the turn and see that third diamond fall on the river, knowing full well your opponent just got there and is about to push all of his chips into your nut hand. God, that’s nice.

I miss that feeling you used to get when you would hand in a project or paper that you had stayed up all night working on. That feeling of complete accomplishment coupled with extreme exhaustion, knowing full well you deserved to go home and flop into bed and wake up when you wanted to.

I like having coffee with a donut.

Looks like I picked the wrong year to invest

2008-09-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

I remember entering a online contest in 1999 where you tried to predict where the market would end the Millennium at. I guessed 10,571. I lost because I was too low. Sad that we made it back there 8 years later.

Cap'n Obvious

2008-07-18T08:14:00.000-07:00

When I was in my mid teens, I was known as the pizza kid among my family and friends. Generally most teenagers like pizza and I was one that took it to an extreme. I loved Pizza Hut’s Pepperoni deep dish, and there was a period of time that my parents would just order a medium for me to eat myself. Just imagining eating that much induces nausea now.

So when I was 16 and ready to get my first job, I obviously considered working at Pizza Hut. Why not get the milk directly from the cow’s teat? Luckily, someone wiser than let me in on a little tidbit: wherever you choose to work, you’ll grow to hate that food within 2 months. You’ll combine an overindulgence of the product with a hatred of your job and never want to go back. So I took this wisdom and choose to work at a carwash. And to this day, upon entering a car, I can instantly tell when that car has had been to the carwash chain I used to work at by the awful scents they spray under the seats.

Unfortunately, it seems as though I didn’t take this advice 15 years later. When I was interviewing for the job I currently have, they asked me “What do you like to do in your free time and how does that aid you in your career?” I replied with something along the lines of how I loved to travel and how seeing different cultures allows you to get a better understanding of consumers, what unites them and what makes them different, etc. There was some corporate speak in there I’m sure. Overall, I was pretty proud of the response I gave. And actually, my boss confided with me later that answer is what got me the job.

What’s come back to haunt me is that I wasn’t BS’ing when I gave that answer. I love to travel. The problem being is that part of why my boss gave me my job is that it involves a fair amount of business travel. And I fear that traveling for business is taking away some of that love. My first few trips on business where exactly as you would expect; I was giddy with the corporate card as I flew to sunny places in the winter on the corporate dime. Free beer, good food, etc all for work.

But the realization that hits you very quickly is that it’s still work. You spend half your trips in these sunny places tucked inside a hotel for days or out in the city walking through store after store analyzing retail. You feel like shit because of all the free beer you drank the night before. And unlike pleasure travel, you are traveling with those same people you spend too much time with in the office already.

And I won’t even get into the obvious of missing your family, that goes without saying. But with that, a big downside to business travel that I failed to see is that if you are gone for a few days, it makes it much harder to get out and do things when you are home. Going to my once a month poker night on Thursday becomes a much bigger deal if I was already gone on Monday and Tuesday that week.

Yes, nothing shocking that business travel sucks. I’m just surprised I was caught by the siren song and had to find that out for myself.

And yes, I do realize that all my recent posts are about my job. Funny thing about having a 9 month old is the only time you have to navel gaze is when you are on a plane.

Lesson

2008-04-24T13:53:00.000-07:00

At some point along the line, I became a business traveler. Not sure when it happened, but suddenly I’m part of that herd you see stampede through the airport. You can see us by our usual uniform of polo or sport coats. We’ll have both a carry on bag and a briefcase. And we’ll usually be on a cell.

We live by a code, you see. For example, if you aren’t on a redeye, don’t ever put your seat back on a plane. We’ve flown enough to know how uncomfortable it makes the trip for the person behind you. Never check your bag. It wastes valuable time upon arrival and reduces you ability to fly stand by. Sure, your bag barely fits up top and takes a whole bin, but hey, you got important things to do, you can’t risk losing your luggage. You get the point. We business travelers, we’re kind of a big deal.

Last week, when the woman in front of me on the plane started taking pictures of the tiny houses out her window as we took off, I scoffed at her. I’m sure all her friends back home will be psyched to see what the world looks like from a plane. When she slid her seat back into my knees, I shouted in my head, “The code!” I cursed my luck to be behind such a rookie, but flipped open my DS to pass the flight as best I could. I also felt a small tinge from my bladder telling me that at some point, it would like to be emptied.

And dear reader, with that last statement, you see the storm clouds on the horizon. The part in the story where you get a hint that arrogance will get its comeuppance.

I was starting to get a little uncomfortable holding it when, the Captain announced “We are cleared for landing. Please take your seats.” I thought to myself, “Should I get up and go? Naw, I’m by the window and I don’t want to make these people get up. I can hold it.”

When the wheels of the plane touched the runway, I had a thought that I’ll never forget: “I may not make it.” Panic just rolled over me. Instinct instantly took over as we were rolling to a safe speed on the runway. Before I realized I was doing it, I heard myself say to the flight attendant “Excuse me, can I get up and use the bathroom, I can’t wait” The attendant surveyed my panic and gave me the nod. The passengers to my left knew what was happening and were already unbuckling their seatbelts to let me out.

As I stood in the bathroom swaying around as the plane turned left and right on it’s way to the terminal, I considered just staying there. Hiding in my lesson learned corner. But I came out and faced the music, sheepishly smiling at the mocking faces of the other passengers. I would have even taken a picture with the camera lady so she could show all of her friends back home the rookie traveler who couldn’t monitor his basic needs properly.

Tick Tock

2008-04-24T13:20:00.000-07:00

I think anyone who knows me that if there is one thing I'm good at, it's beating myself up. Considering I'm pretty laid back on most things in life, I've never really understood why I get so mad at myself for making a social gaffe. I suppose it's partly why I'm quiet in new situations. In the words of Mark Twain, "Better to keep one's mouth closed and thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt".

A while back I vowed to fight those "Man, that was stupid" thoughts in my head. We all know that negative thoughts serve no purpose and I wanted to reduce their frequency in my head. For some reason, however, this fight came with a physical manifestation. As if shaking my head slightly would free the current thought lodged in my head. Not sure if it works or not, but the unfortunate side effect of this is that it's almost become a involuntary tic.

So now not only do I worry about calling you Alice when your name is Tim, I'm now scared you'll notice the convulsing that happens when I realize Alice is your dog's name.

Mirage

2008-03-24T09:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to lie. My mouth waters a bit when I head to a casino. Not figuratively either. Literally, my lips moisten. And don't get all worked up and call Bets Off. I can count on 1 hand the number times I've been to the casino in the past 12 months. Anyway, point being, I get a little rush when I see the "Live Poker" sign as I drive up to my local card club.

See, I've been 100% average at most things in my life. Sports, always made the B team. Never the A, never the C. In Band, I was always 4th chair in a section of 8. School, same thing, about a 3.0 average through high school. Heck, I weigh 185 pounds. Check the US census averages and I bet that's within 5% of the 50th percentile.

So when I found poker a few years ago, it was weird to think of myself as above average at it. I took to the game instantly and played pretty seriously for at least a couple years and actually studied the game. I had software that would track my play (when I played online) so I could go back and find mistakes later. I read forums discussing theory. In the end, I became a somewhat successful player at a specific kind of poker: limit holdem. And that was new experience for me.

That's part of why I get a rush walking through the card room doors. When sit at a table full of strangers, I feel like I can beat them. Never before in my life have I felt that. When I play poker with friends, it's fun and games. When I go to the casino, it's me competing seriously maybe for the first time in my life. I've always subscribed to the philosophy of competition that if you don't invest yourself, you don't really care if you lose. Somewhere, I invested myself in the game of poker, which brought out competitive impulses that were foreign to me.

Anyway, I explain this as a set up to the real reason of this post, I went to Vegas last week on a work trip. And yes, I did actually do alot of work. But my nights were free and the first night I was there, I went straight to Binion's Horseshoe.

If you aren't knowledgeable in the world of poker, let me explain. Binion's is basically where it all began. It was the casino that took poker from back rooms and made it into the World Series of Poker that you see on ESPN today. All of the major happenings took place there from 1970 to 2005. Basically, it's the Fenway Park, CBGB's, Mecca, etc for poker.

So with glee I headed away from the strip and towards the old downtown district of Vegas where Binion's was. I almost bounced through the front door anxious to play on the hallowed grounds. I traveled back to the back of the casino and asked the Poker desk for a seat on one of the tables.

My heart instantly drooped the second I sat down. Nowhere was the glory and history that I'd seen on TV. In it's place was the most depressing and dingy poker room I've ever seen. The table had stains on top of old stains. It was light enough to see the room, but dark enough to hide the shame. My opponents: all 65 year old grinders who hadn't smiled in about 5 years and were just waiting for the next bad card to come out so they could complain about it. I looked to my right and the guy next to me had the largest bulbous nose I'd ever seen. The dealer was a dead ringer to the guy in Sling Blade, right down to the underbite and weird "Umm hmmm" noises. I played for about an hour and left shell shocked. My Mecca was a shithole. I felt slapped in the face.

Looking back, I realize I like it better that Binion's is a dump. At the core, poker is a game of gambling (albeit a game of skill rather than luck), which spawned from the underbelly of society. It's only 40-50 years removed from having to carry (and use) a gun to protect your winnings. ESPN can glamorize it all they want, but that won't erase the roots of the game. Binion's reflects this.

Incidentally, the trip to Vegas did also let me know that the last couple of years of not playing seriously has slid me right back to average as a player. Something I'm 100% comfortable with.

The Value of Nothing

2008-03-07T10:16:00.000-08:00

Feel free to skewer me as yet another victim of parenthood. When your nights are filled with tasks associated with keeping another human being happy/fed/not filthy, your ability to have clever thoughts to try and write about in a blog diminishes severely. Heck, even my shower time, which once was a fertile field that would produce a plethora of ideas to be cultivated, has transformed into producing a crop of one plant: "I wonder if Riley is sick/developing okay/etc etc."

The light at the end of the tunnel is that she is now going to bed at or before nine. Which, once her last whimper is let out and she's settled into a night's sleep, what used to be a race to get to sleep for Jessica and I has become time of confusion and bewilderment for us. Being so used to not having a moment to watch a TV show, having a full hour to ourselves before we have to turn in for the night is lost on us. We wonder through the house wondering what to do. We'll put away a toy and maybe check the weather online, but eventually we grow tired of trying to entertain ourselves and go to bed at 9:30. Hopefully, in theory, we are adjusting back to being used to having some free moments and be able to enjoy them.

That being said, I figured I'd try and kick start a will to write something by recanting a story that I was reminded of the other day. It is one of my favorite memories of highschool, which once you reach the conclusion, you'll pity me and my non-exciting 15-18 year experience.

Sometime mid-senior year, someone in my friend group found that our cafeteria sold "Vita Pups", which were exactly like "Slush Puppies" only the geniuses in the marketing department of Slush Puppies, Inc. thought that having "Vita" in the name would make it okay to sell ice water with sugar syrup in schools.
In case you are ignorant to difference between Slush Puppies vs. Icee's, allow me to explain. Icee's are premixed ice and flavor:

Whereas, Slush Puppies allow you to add your choice of flavor(s) to ice (and evidently contains flavors so intense they have to be frozen):

For obvious reasons of being awesome, Vita Pups became the new fad of the group. Our table was filled with guys enjoying their candy in a cup every day.

This fad would have quickly faded if not for second discovery: the cafeteria would allow you to get 2 syrup flavors in your Pup. A quest was born. What was the best flavor combination? With 6 syrups to choose from, our group was currently looking at 21 flavors (plus the 6 original) to select as the ultimate Vita Pup flavor. The routine went like this: you'd select your flavors, arrive back at the table, present it to the group and detail your opinion.

Debate raged for weeks. The quest was further complicated by a week in which someone in our group has the balls of steel to walk up to the cafeteria worker and ask for 3 flavors. Stunned, the worker complied. With the flood gates opened, we all demanded the equivalent 3 flavor Pups until word got up to the cafeteria higher ups and the gluttonous practice was shut down. We were forced back to the "cherry/blueberry vs. Strawberry/purple" debates with an occasional mention of the time of "3 flavors."

It went on like that until a guy from our group came back from the cafeteria with a weird smile on his face. Upon someone asking what flavor he got, he replied "Nothing."

"Nothing."

I'll never forget that moment. It was as close to Zen as I'll ever be in my life. He we were, racing forward seeking the answer by adding 1+2, then 1+3, then 2+3, and for a time 1+2+3. And he comes back with a possible answer of 0. It was a powerful example of lateral thinking that probably taught me a more useful lesson than a full year of AP European History.

We all instantly put down our Pups, gave the Newton of slushies a jealous look wishing we'd thought of it, and went up to try our own.

I wish I could tell you that that Pup of nothingness was like eating enlightenment. That its sweet flavor was the joy of minimalism in syrup form, filling my stomach and soul with goodness. But it wasn't. It was awful. Imagine what you think unflavored ice that has been sitting in a machine for a week would taste like and that's about it.

Doesn't mean it wasn't a terrific idea.

Holiday Vacation

2007-12-28T15:39:00.000-08:00

I had some vacation to use at the end of this year, so I was able to check off some things from my to-do list:

A) Hang out with the coolest daughter ever.

B) Grow a beard:

(Yes, that is grey hair on my chin)

C) Build a Homebrew Kegorator:

D) Build a poker table:

Amazing what happens when I decide not to turn on the PS2.

Parenting

2007-11-05T14:10:00.000-08:00

There really isn't anything I can say about becoming a parent that hasn't been said before. Ask any parent and they will do their best to describe a love for their child that is really is indescribable.

And as corny as it sounds, I came to a realization the other day that maybe part of the reason why newlyweds get so much pressure from their parents to "give us a grandchild" is that it's one of the only ways a parent can express to their child how much they mean to them: by their children experiencing that love for themselves.

When to

2007-10-22T11:45:00.000-07:00

The Google Toolbar has a auto fill feature which will try to complete your search request while you type based on the most popular searches based on what you've typed in so far.

Today I started to type in "When to stop co-sleeping" in order to get an idea of when people usually transition their child to a crib. But as I typed in "When to" I got this list:

"When to take a pregnancy test"
"When to get pregnant"
"When to work"
"When to say I love you"
"When to take pregnancy test" (duplicate without the "a")
"When to use a semi colon"
"When to harvest marijuana"
"When to take Creatine"
"When to break up"
"When to use whom"

Quite the cross section of my fellow humans.

On Numb3rs

2007-10-03T08:24:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I played in an online poker tournament, which wasn't unusual for me at the time. What was unusual was that it was a $20 buy in with 180 players, much bigger and higher stakes than my usual $5 buy in 9 player tournaments. I think Jessica was out of town and I wanted to try some thing new.
A weird thing happened; I did well. So well, I was pretty much guaranteed to make the money, and had a good shot of making the top 5. Then something else weird happened. I lost a big hand against someone who also had a lot of chips. If I would have won that hand, I would have had almost half the chips on the (virtual) table and a great shot of winning, which would have paid out over $1,000. Yep, 1 grand. I win that hand, and maybe I play more tournaments like that and get more into poker than I already was. But, as it happened, I lost the hand and pretty much busted out of the tournament with only winning my money back, and never really played a tournament like that again.

But the "what ifs" isn't why I remembered that hand recently.

When I put all of my chips into the pot on that hand that was going to make or break my winnings, I was a 92% favorite to win the hand. There was only an 8% chance of my opponent to catch the Queen that he needed to win. And that's what happened: the 8% chance of the queen came out.

When Jessica and I were in the hospital right before Riley was born, we had to make some decisions. We needed to decide to proceed with a C-Section even though we weren't sure if her lungs had fully developed yet. Its a long story to understand why we needed to make that decision, but let's just say it needed to be made then. And yes, here is where the numbers come into play. The doctor said there was a 5%-10% chance they wouldn't be developed yet, but it was a worthy risk considering the other options we had. So we went ahead with the C-Section. And it turns out, her lungs were fully developed, something we'd learn the very real and unavoidable truth at 3AM when she was hungry and wanted to let us know how hungry she really was.

In retrospect, I think anyone can understand how lucky I feel to have those two "8% chances" fall in the way they did. And see, that's the weird thing about chance. I suppose in general, everyone is going to have the same amount of 8% happenings in their lifetime. Its just a matter of the importance of the situation of when that 8% happens. I got "lucky" because of 2 situations that had a 92% chance of happening one way and 8% happening a different way, the more important situation went in my favor. Being lucky isn't a matter of how often, but when.

McVeigh #2

2007-08-16T14:37:00.000-07:00

I work in a tall building. One of the tallest in MPLS, actually. It has a little concourse at the bottom that I walk through everyday on my way from the elevator to my car to the elevator to my office. And about 75% of the days there is this guy who sits in the concourse and just stares ahead. There are a lot of odd people that hang out in the concourse, but this guy has always stood out because he always looks the same. Buzz cut, pants tucked into his socks Army Commando style and he always has a can of Diet Coke with him. Like every day:

Diet Coke: Check
Stare ahead: Check.

The best way I can describe him is that he looks like Timothy McVeigh's older brother.

That connection and his silence has always made me notice him. If I were paranoid about my place of work getting attacked, he'd be the guy.

One day last week, however, he switched to Diet A&W. Its as if he noticed me noticing him, and he switched to a brand made by my company just to give me a shot across my bow.

He's since switched back to Diet Coke, but I know he knows that I noticed.

Spelling

2007-07-25T06:57:00.000-07:00

I am a horrible speller. It was the only 'F' grade I received in Elementary School. Well, it wasn't an 'F', we got a 'N' for "Needs Improvement", but like putting lipstick on a dog, we all knew it meant an 'F'.

Anyway, thank god for spellcheck. One can hide behind it like some sort of cloak of intelligence.

But the downside is there is no greater embarrassment than running spellcheck and have it throw its arms up in surrender. Where you misspell a word so poorly that it basically says "I have no idea what you are trying to say, so here are some random words that contain some of those same letters. Good luck, Einstein."

This happens more often then I would care to admit.

Groundbreaking

2007-07-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

I think I'm going to do something else that noone else is doing on the interwebs right now: I'm going to write a blog on Harry Potter. Yes, I just blew your mind, get over it.
/self-deprecation.

Many of us set out on a bittersweet journey in a little over a week: reading book 7. I make no reservations in saying that I'm going to be sad. In fact, I think if I wasn't worried about the media hype machine leaking secrets, I'd probably consume Book 7 like Charlie Bucket savoring his birthday Wonka Bar, slowly enjoying every bite. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd gulp it down as fast as I could either way.

I've realised that this is somewhat new territory for me. For the first time, I've been in the middle of a phenomenon, able to enjoy it from the inside. I love Star Wars, have since I was a kid. But the only movie I actually saw in the theatre was Return. I was 2ish when A New Hope came out, so even though I say I've loved the series since I was a kid, its really me joining a party after it was over. Well, the party wasn't exactly over, people my age got to join the excited-to-wait-in-line-and-predict-what-was-going-to-happen fanboy club in 1999 with Phantom Menace, but well, we all know how that turned out. Fernt.
Kind of the same with LOTR, really. Even though it was fun to enjoy the resurgence of the Middle Earth world with Peter Jackson's movies, there was no debate in line on whether that Balrog was going to put a stomping on Gandalf.

I'll let others analyze why they're such an engaging books, so I'll just echo many when I say that the HP world has been my favorite universe I've ventured into. Half the fun is been having to wait for a new book to come out and being able to discuss plots/predictions in that meantime. And being able to discuss a book/story right after you've read it with others who just read it. I'm sad to have that end.

So anyway, I will throw out a couple of predictions.
1. There is absolutely 0 chance of Harry dying. Zip. None. Yeah, yeah, JK has hinted that she wants to kill off Harry to prevent any future writers to carry on the story. I don't think she has anything to worry about, and she knows this. Her audience's interest in the characters will diminish after the main story arc (Voldemort) is dead. What the fans of the series would love to see would be someone to write a prequel to the series (and not fuck it up like Lucas) about Voldemort's first rise. People would eat that up: the formation of the original Order of the Phoenix, James and Lily as characters, Snape's betrayal/redemption, etc. My point being, this being the subject matter most likely to be written, it has nothing to do with Harry living or dying. So the fear she will kill him off because of not wanting other writers to continue the story doesn't fly with me.

2. I've said all along Snape will die to save Harry and finally show his true colors. That's 1 of the "2 will die" that JK hinted at. My friend Meg suggested Neville as the other one who gets killed. I like this idea. He's a deep enough character that his death would be jolting to the reader. He's generally unattached, unlike Ron/Hermoine, Harry/Ginny, Weasley brothers (I think it would be difficult to kill off 1 of a pair of characters.) He gets to finally avenge his parent's torture and live up to the Longbottom name by heroically dying. It all fits.

Finally, kudos the makers of the Order of the Phoenix movie. Best of the series, by far.

PS. And no, Mark. Neville isn't the chosen one, sorry.

Heads of Talking

2007-05-11T09:14:00.000-07:00

I tell you what. Nothing makes you feel grown up like a business trip. And this is coming from a guy who's going to be a dad soon. Getting picked up at the airport by a guy who has your name on a sign is like a jolt of lightning to wake up the middle aged Frankenstein that resides in us all. I barely survived college with a degree. I aimlessly ambled into the workforce hoping to just to get employment that didn’t suck. Suddenly, I’m the guy whose name is on one of those signs?

“And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself-Well...How did I get here?

Letting the days go by…”

Pep Rallies and warnings.

2007-05-04T12:09:00.000-07:00

The first couple of weeks of my Freshman year of high school, besides all the other anxieties of the transition from the big fish-little pond of 8th grade to the turd of the big pond as a freshman, there was a developing fear that was being instilled in me. See, all the upperclassmen I knew all started to point to one day: the first Pep Rally of the year. “You just wait!” they said through snickering expressions. “Enjoy your initiation into the big leagues” and then they would make this weird motion with their two straight arms coming together in a motion that looked like an alligator closing its mouth. And to be honest, it freaked the shit out me. I had no idea what was going to happen, so I let my imagination fill in the gaps. And considering I really didn’t have any idea what the hell a Pep Rally was and high school was a completely new playing field with rules I didn’t know, there were a lot of gaps. All I know was that I was going to get humiliated as a rite of passage in this big new world. I’ll admit now that I was scared.

So eventually, the day came. 3:00, all the students were supposed to meet in the gym, quartered into 4 sections by grade. I, with all my other nervous 9th grade victims, filtered in with darting eyes, looking for the cats around us to pounce. Coincidently, my new English teacher was MC of the event and I instantly felt betrayed by him. No under the breath advice in class that morning? “Class, don’t tell anyone I said this, but when they start running for you, just play dead, its just easier that way.”

Anyway, Mr. Judas the English teacher gives some words of welcome, has a couple of announcements, and finally says “OK, the moment you upper classmen have been waiting for! Let’s get it started. Sophomores!” Instantly, (as all the freshmen’s heads swiveled towards the 2nd years) the sophomore class started yelling, “Ninety Three! Ninety Three! Ninety, Ninety, Ninety Three!” Right after, the Juniors did the same thing: “Ninety Two! Ninety two! Ninety, Ninety, Ninety Two!” Then, the Seniors followed with the same cadence with their year. Then all eyes shot to me and my fellow freshmen. Outside of a couple of people that were smart enough (or tipped off by more loyal English teachers) to catch on and start yelling out “Ninety-Four!, Ninety-Four!...”, most of us stood there silent and looking stupid.

After that second of silence that seemed like an eternity, the other three classes all began that same chomping arm motion that I had been taunted at me so many times before and broke out into laughter with cheering. The Mr. Judas explained to us that we had just experienced our first class cheer and was going to give us another shot at it. He started it again and sure enough, as a class we were able to figure out the pattern and executed our “Ninety-Four!” cheer at our allotted time, timidity, but successfully.

After completion, the MC moved onto something else. It began to dawn on me that that was it. That was our hazing. My visions of noogies and bullying anarchy were just that, visions. What the fuck? That was what I got my panties in a bunch over? Some stupid alligator chomp done at my class by the other 300 students? Holy living fuck, that was lame. Good one everyone. Looking back, its obvious to me that nothing worse than that would have ever happened, but I say that with the wisdom of 4 years of high school. I didn’t know any better.

Fast forward to now and I kind of feel that way again with our pregnancy. Like all the parents around me are giving me that same “You just wait” line said with a smirk about our upcoming conversion into parenthood. “Enjoy your sleep now” etc, etc. I know they don’t say it with any malice, obviously their intent is to help Jessica and I become mentally ready and also to use our pre-child time wisely. But it almost has had the opposite effect on me. It’s instilled such an idea of impending life change, that I’ve pretty much already gone through it my mind. Just now, I was talking with someone about Washington DC and I suddenly grew nostalgic. “Man, that was back when Jessica and I were carefree and childless, those were some days.”

What I do need to do is get beyond the mental block that while my life will soon change, it hasn’t fully happened yet. Jessica and I are still the only ones in the house and I should enjoy that. And when we aren’t the only ones, that’s going to be great too, regardless of all the “just wait” comments that have the side effect of making future parents nervous.

Contrary to my freshman counterpart, I haven’t worked myself into a tizzy over the jovial warnings I get. I’m not really worried about losing sleep or changing diapers. You adapt. You get used to dealing with feces the same way you get used to turning over your boots at night when you move to places that have scorpions. I have to assume it just becomes a part of life.

Yes, I just compared my future child’s poop to a scorpion, what of it?

Post from a month ago, that I will publish now.

2007-04-02T14:24:00.001-07:00

Finding out that Jessica and I are going to have our first child wasn’t exactly the “Arms Wide Open” experience I thought it was going to be. Outside of the first 5 seconds or realization, it’s been less of a rush of emotion and more of a slow trickle. I told Jessica that my lack of running around the house screaming wasn’t from a lack of excitement, it was more to the fact that it just hadn’t sunk in yet. And over the last few days, it’s slowly dawning on me that fatherhood lies ahead. Even writing these few sentences have made it all the more real, to the point that I’ve had to stop a few times and just stare at the words.

I think the first week of knowledge is a strange time, I’ve had 3 modes that my mind sits in: 1. The wonder and amazement filled with euphoric excitement stage. 2. The anxiety ridden stage in which prenatal health, childbirth, and money worries flood the brain to almost shutdown. 3. The stage where you shut all that out to be able to keep living your life.

It’s made all the more strange by an inability to tell anyone. We’ve decided to wait until after this critical time is over, just to be sure (hence me not posting this blog until a month from now). And so basically the only people that know are Jessica, me, the receptionist that we made our doctor’s appointment with, and now the check out guy at Barnes and Noble. The check out guy at Snyder Drug that we bought the pregnancy test from has his suspicions, but we haven’t gone back and let him know the results yet.

Anyway, it’s a strange group to have in on one of the most important bits of information in your life. Especially the Barnes and Noble guy. One of the first things I realized is that I needed to go buy a pregnancy book as I had no idea what was going on, so getting information about pregnancy was tops on the list. At the same time, I needed to take back a Poker Strategy book that I got for a gift but already had a copy of. So after putting these two things together, I had a huge scenario mapped out in my head and I entered B&N with a definite smirk on my face. See, I was trading in the whimsical fun of my youth (poker book) for the responsibility and seriousness of adulthood (baby book). I could have taken the poker book back another time, but it was the perfect metaphor. I had seen the big picture of my transaction and wanted the sales clerk to pick up on the cleverness of it all. I’d place the two books down and say “I’d like to trade this in, for this.” And the clerk would look at the two, then to me, and then we’d all have a good smile and wink fest.

But the clerk was a total dick. Not interested in my life or what I was purchasing. He looked at me with annoyed glazed over look when I approached the counter and interrupted his internet surfing. I put the two books down, said my line “I’d like to trade this in, for this” and put my smirk on. He said nothing, picked up the phone and forced out the bored words “I have an exchange at register 3,” then stared into space as he waited for a manager to come. In my head, I thought, “Dude, you are totally ruining my metaphor!” I stomped out of the store and cursed the big box stores, don’t know a funny situation when it comes up and slaps them in the face.

Garbage Collection

2007-02-13T12:19:00.000-08:00

I don’t collect things. Outside of baseball cards and Garbage Pail Kids Cards for a while in the late eighties, I never have. I suppose you could say that I collected books for awhile in my early 20’s when I was trying to prove to the world that I was smart, but not really anymore.

The only reason I ever saw to start collecting something would be to make birthdays and Christmas easier for my family and friends. A collector is easy to buy gifts for. You see a reindeer stuffed animal in an antique store somewhere, and boom, you have your Christmas gift for your friend who collects reindeer stuff.
Not collecting anything creates a weird side effect though. When you travel, you never buy souvenirs. If you collect magnets, you just automatically buy a magnet in each place you visit and don’t have to worry about it. But if you don't have anything like that, you never think to buy something when in a foreign place.

But an idea hit me as odd the other day. I really do collect things, and at the risk of sounding cliché (or alcoholic, I guess), I collect memories of bars. In every city/country I’ve been to, I can remember a specific bar that I was in, and the feeling I had in that bar. And isn’t that the point of souvenirs anyway, to help you remember places you've been?

There was the bar in Denver, CO that was a dance club built out of an old Catholic Cathedral. The corner bar in Amsterdam where they took a knife and cut off the foam before serving you. The bar in New York City that stunk like a ship hull and a cat lazily watched the NYU hipsters get plastered. The bar in Seattle where I received a lifetime ban (later reduced to a week long ban). A bar in Dublin where I spent the afternoon crying with laughter listening to an old man tell stories. etc, etc. When I think of a city, alot of times the first thing that pops into my head is one of these memories.

I guess what I'm trying to say in all of this is maybe that I need to start telling people that instead of giving me a gift for my birthday, all I want is a drink at a bar I've never been to, to add to my collection.

Early Morning Epiphany

2007-02-01T06:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I was pouring my Life cereal and saw that I was getting towards the end of the box. So being smart, I rationed my serving in order to give myself a full bowl today.

I grab the box today, start pouring and all that comes out is that crappy pine needle looking broken pieces and scraps that's usually at the bottom of the box of cereal. In agony, I yell out to Jessica, "God, I hate the end of Life!"

*Ba dump ching*

2006-11-06T10:24:00.000-08:00

Someone once told me that Bertrand Russell got so excited after he completed a philosophical essay that he had to go relieve himself. And by relieve, I don't mean take a wizz. Ok, I mean he had to go masturbate. I used to use this fact often. Mostly at college parties. First, its funny. Masturbation always gets laughs. Second, dropping names like Betrand Russell would woo the hipster brainy chicks I was attempting to get with. "I mean, how absurd, right? Those wacky philosophers!"

Oh how Bertrand is laughing at me know.

Lately, while working at a project at work, once I get near a conclusion and my path to a solution comes into view, I've realized I can't sit still in my chair. I have to keep moving around until I finish. So now that hand that had a finger pointing and laughing at poor Bertrand now has 4 pointing back at its owner.

Sure, its not like I get aroused when I'm working on something, but the concept of really getting into the stuff I'm doing for work is new for me. The cynic in me says my job will at some point get loaded with the typical corporate BS, but for now I'm liking this new experience.

Gloves

2006-10-20T07:04:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in the life of every performer/athlete/worker that he must come to terms with the fact that his trade has passed him by. He's no longer at the top of his game and he can either try to squeeze out a little more glory (Mays playing for the Mets, Rice for Seahawks) or retire at the top of his game (Barry Sanders). Its that in mind when I say I've decided to hang em up. Get out before I tarnish the image people have of me in my prime.

Yep. I'm hanging up the aggressive driving gloves. I'm out of the game.

When I was driving to work a couple of weeks ago, a guy came up behind me and as I was about to move over, he swerves into the right lane, flashes his brights and honks. As he cuts back in front of me, I give him a flash of brights to return the favor. Nothing that you don't see every day on the road. Well, the guy slams on his breaks, and I instantly know this isn't a good sign. Sure enough, next stop light, he gets out of his car(!), walks up to my car and proceeds to shine a bright spotlight style flashlight at me for like 15 seconds. I give him a "you're the boss" type hand gesture. He gets back in his car and life goes on.

In my prime, I've certainly did some things on the road that one could consider provoking. I've definitely deserved some of the situations that I've gotten into. But this one wasn't one of them. 1 flash of brights was enough to get this guy out of his car and take it to the next level. That's when I knew it was over.

I realized then that this society is full of stupid, crazy, and potentially dangerous people. Obviously, the majority of folk are good and just want to get through life. But if you watch the news, there isn't a drought on crazies out there. And driving is actually one of the few times where you exposure to other people is quite high. I think part of the struggle in life is just to make it through with out getting unlucky and being the house that gets broken into, or the car that gets its wheels stolen, or even the guy that gets yelled at for no reason by the crazy homeless person. So why am I increasing my odds by potentially provoking the wrong person on the road?

Sure, there is some need for self regulation on the road. As an entity, traffic does its best to keep the crappy driver in line. But I can't be the enforcer anymore. If someone wants to drive like an ass, I'm getting out of the way and moving on with my life from now on. Yes, its a hard habit to break. It hasn't been easy. I had a woman cut me off yesterday, and it was so, so hard not to jam the horn. But I didn't. Maybe the pendulum has swung too far for me, and I'll be too passive for awhile. I'm okay with that. I'm retired and I'll at least get to my destination, which all that matters.

Texas 2 Step

2006-08-27T19:58:00.000-07:00

When I was 16, for the first time in my life, I was expected to get my parents their christmas gifts by myself. I had a license now and a job, so it was a new responsibility. I had long been selecting the items, but they were screened and paid for by the non-gift receiving parent.

I went out to Target and like any self involved teenager, I spent little time on the gift selection process and grabbed a couple of items, took them home and wrapped them up. On Christmas morning, my mother opened up her gift from me and pulled out a left handed coffee mug. My heart sank. Evidently, in my mental haze created by thoughts of the skirt that Megan Wolfe wore last Friday and Street Fighter 2 strategy, I thought this item was a good gift for the woman who raised me.

Outside of the now blaringly obvious reasons of a mug being an ultra thoughtless and corny gift, my shame was worsened by the realization that:
1) My mother didn't drink coffee nor had she ever A DAY IN HER LIFE. Something in 16 years, one would think that I would pick up on.
2) My father's increasing coffee mug collection was starting to drive my mom crazy, so another mug in the cupboard was about as needed as a proverbial hole in the noggin.

I've never fully forgiven myself for this complete lapse in judgment. Sure, I was 16 and being self involved is what teenagers do. And sure, if giving a crappy gift is high on my list of childhood failures, then I gave my parents a pretty easy time in bringing me up.

Error and redemption is obviously part of the human path. Someone once said to me that the point of life is to learn from each of your mistakes and move on, hopefully a better person because of it. I have always been good about learning from my mistakes. Learning my lesson is something I'm good at. It's just the forgiving myself for making them which has been the stickler for me. I have tried to be easier on myself in recent memory, but easier said than done.

Maybe I'm no different than most. I suppose we all have things in our past that when they cross our minds we cringe. And I'm finding that maturity is helping me shrug off a misstep a bit easier.

I say all of this because with a new job, new house, etc. I'm happy to be at a place in which I can afford myself a little more leeway than I have in the past. I've definitely felt a little overwhelmed by a step up into the big leagues in terms of job responsibilites and home repair, but am realizing that half of my battle in life is just having the confidence in putting my head down and trudge forward. A misstep often is still a step forward.

Tube of Boob

2006-08-10T10:02:00.001-07:00

The slow and painful process of finding work has been taxing, but I think more so because of my current living arrangements. Along with a lack of job to go to, I have to go to the public library to leech their free wireless in order to plug into the internets.

Which makes time at home pretty boring. In the past, if I had an hour, playing a $5 Sit N Go on Pokerstars was a wonderfully entertaining way to use my time. Now, this is gone. And I realized without employment, I can't get myself relaxed enough to enjoy a good book.

All of this has meant I find myself surfing the satelite dish and watching way too much ESPN Classic. I'm ashamed to admit that I now have an insight in a set of commercials that I've seen far too many times:

eHarmony.com advertises on ESPN Classic alot. Its a good market (lonely 25-40 year old men) for them so I don't fault them for that. And yes that plastic faced CEO who gives you the creepy talk in all of their comercials is offputting. But for me, the guy that makes me squirm to no end is the guy who says "You can find the woman who wants to watch the game with you on Monday nights." He's got blond hair and a mundane sweater. My first thought was how sad is it that tops on his list for partners is her ability to watch sports. But hey, to each their own. What gets me, (and here is where the watching too many hours of ESPN shows), as after watching all the different versions of the eHarmony.com commercials (and there are quite a few), is that the Sport's guy's partner talks only once. He says quite a few things other than the "find a partner that wants to watch football" but she's always submissively quiet. And the one time she does say something? He prompts her! Its almost like in his application with eHarmony he checked the "wife must only speak when spoken to" box.

So this is my life. Worrying about the welfare of women on online dating services commercials.

Zestfully Clean

2006-07-31T06:29:00.000-07:00

Being nomadic and relying on the kindness of friends and family to put us up while we look for employment and a place of residence has reminded me of one thing: I'd like to meet the inventor of body wash and shove a bar of soap in his mouth.

When did we decide that Body Wash was the way to go? It just kind of creeped into our collective bathrooms. So sneaky was its weaseling of its way into our lives we didn't even notice when it smoothered the bar of soap with a pillow. Like the bathroom of every host who is generous to grant us stay has not a bar of soap to be found. Its all "Peach Cobbler Fresh" and "Rainshowers on Lilies" body wash. What was so wrong about a bar of soap? Evidently, its an endangered species now.

I hate Body Wash for 2 reasons. First, I shave my face and head in the shower. At home, I use a bar of soap as lather to shave. I do this mainly so I can say as much at parties and feel ultra manly. Telling people I shave with just a bar of soap is usually followed something like "What's that? No, that isn't my Harley in the parking lot, but I can see how you'd think that." With the advent of Body wash, there is no soap in the shower to shave with. I know I should probably have my own, but soap is horribly difficult to transport. And its soap. There used to be an assumption of it being there for use in the shower. Now, I'm resigned to scraping my face with some blue liquid that provides little lubrication to the blades.

Second, Body Wash means that the owner of said wash has a nappy spoungy thing hanging in the shower that you constantly brush up against while taking a shower, which is a wonderfully annoying sensation.

Anyway, I suppose Body Wash is just a scapegoat to my real problem, missing a place of my own with things how I like them, but sill, using soap is not a crime. Stand up and fight for Dial.
U-N-I-T-Y

Changes

2006-07-06T07:52:00.000-07:00

Like an idiot, when I quit my job, I told them I would come back and work the first week in July to help out. So after 3 weeks on the outside, here I am back at work. Its exactly like hooking up with an ex-girlfriend. Sure the sex is nice, but its only at the expense of scratching at wounds that had started to heal.

I went back to Ireland and unfortunately it was the least fun leg of our trip. It was still a good time, but my friend Mark hit it on the head when he quoted "No man steps in the same river twice." If you combine these two reviews I wrote for epinions, I think it kind of lays out what I'm talking about:
Ireland
Graceland

Both are somewhat long reads, so to put it shortly, I have been always interested in our subjective viewpoints into what we present as objective assessments. My found memories of Ireland 7 years ago are much more related to who I was and what I was going through rather than Ireland itself. I love Ireland, but its touristy as hell and I think getting more so every year.

While I'm glad I got to show Jessica where I lived and such, it might have been better to visit other areas of Ireland and let some memories lay.

/end navel gazing

I think out of all the funny names that people have made up, Amanda Hugnkis is my favorite.

Also, my new idea is to rent out a room with a 2 way mirror, and put in 2 people: 1 who doesn't own a TV and 1 who just stayed up all night the night before. Then I will take bets on which of the two will tell the other person their respective non-TV owning or staying up first.

The over/under is 2 minutes. The theory is that it is psychologically impossible for a person with either of these things under their belt not to mention it at some point.

Wrapping up

2006-06-09T13:22:00.000-07:00

So I'm wrapping up what is basically my last official day at my job. Which means, of course, the all important purging of the hard drive.

Below is a listing of actual items deleted:
1 picture of Charo. Yes. I know why I had it. Its too hard to explain.

3 pictures of various guys getting kicked/hit with a ball/bat in the groin. I think it was the top 3 contenders I choose to include in a email that I wrote about being shocked.

2 pictures of funny cats. These were purely for Jessica. 1 with a lime on its head, 1 getting out of a pool with a swimming cap on. Sucker for the funny cats, that one.

Multiple pictures of monkeys doing funny things. What can I say? Anything + monkeys = more funny. Sucker for the monkeys, I am.

Too much Fantasy Football stuff than I would care to admit. Its serious business that needs to be spreadsheeted and analyzed.

5 pictures of some college's Delta Delta Delta chapter. Before you jump to any conclusions, it was their "official" picture. I thought this would be funny to have as my AIM icon and spent an afternoon trying to resize. Unfortunately sometimes a good idea doesn't become comedy gold. Just a fuzzy image when you shrink it 10 times.

A picture of Iwo Jima. I had a brief week period this spring where I read a book about the flag raising and became obsessed with it and sent the picture to multiple people talking about the people in the picture.

Lastly, well the last thing of note as there is too much to list here, a comparison chart I made up showing the nutritional values of a Big Mac value meal versus a meal at Chipotle. Chipotle only lists their nutritional contents by ingredient, so I needed to put together a spreadsheet to get the fat/calorie of a whole burrito. The results were surprising.

This afternoon was a path through the efforts I put forth to keep myself occupied.

Carpe Diem

2006-04-26T06:01:00.000-07:00

After many years of post college battle, I've finally resigned myself to my fate in the morning. For much of the space of time between middle school and graduating college, I skipped breakfast. In highschool, it was mainly a function of lack of time and needing to make 1st period. College, mostly just a function of never being up during the hours of said meal needing to take place. I can eat a bowl of cereal at 1 PM, but contrary to what your wake and bake friend says, that still doesn't make it breakfast. It makes it slovenly.

So when structure began to take ahold of my life, I decided to start each morning with a bowl of cereal. Yes, it meant getting up 5 minutes earlier, but I was ready to take that step. My snooze bar is a little less worn. However, with this meant me entering 6 years of internal battle. Me standing in the cereal aisle debating on what to buy. Struggling for two weeks every morning trying to choke down another bowl of grain and nuts. I wanted to eat the good cereals. Especially Total. Good god. 100% of everything? By 7 AM? That's awesome! Oh, it tastes like ass? hmm, well, I'm a big boy now, time to suck it up.

Well, evidently not. About a year ago, I went on a "every other" policy with my cereal choice. 1 box of healthy (or at least a healthy sounding name like "Life" or "Wheaties") balanced by 1 box of the good stuff...Lucky Charms, Corn Pops, etc.

Over time, I came to the realization that on mornings of when I was promised a bowl of sugary goodness after my shower, I was more inclined to not be completely grumpy getting up. Those mornings with figs and sticks waiting me, I was more inclided to have a sudden craving for toast.
So after some long walks on the beach doing some serious soul searching, I've decided to completely give up healthy cereal. And why not? Its not like I'm eating a cow's heart and 6 eggs every morning. I generally eat okay, like most people I need to mix more fruits and vegetables in, but overall, I don't live on fast food. If sugary cereal gives me that ray of hope in the morning when I don't want to go into work or was up too late the night before, then I'm willing to give up the 100% of Niacin that Frsoted Flakes lacks compared to Grape Nuts.

So don't snicker when you see me in the grocery store with a box of Boo Berry in 1 hand, a box of Count Chocula in the other, and look of concentration on my face. At least I'm being honest with myself.

Of First Borns

2006-04-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

My dad was a first born. I was a middle child. I'll gladly admit that I play up the middle child syndrome whenever I can.

I hide from attention. He seeks it. I blame this on birth order.

My dad has a weird ability to gather attention in a unusual manner. Whether it by dress or confusing the hell out of the waiter by talking about something that only he understands.

As a child, you learn quickly how to divert, ignore, or otherwise avoid the gaze of your friends when your father is mowing the lawn in bellbottoms the size of manhole covers and and big Circular blue Elton John glasses. This would happen in 1987 mind you. Which, unfortunaltely, was the brief period in which 70's fashion was out because it wasn't the 1970's anymore and before the time in the 1990's when it was cool to be nostalgic about it.

Obviously, a teenager being embarrassed by their parents is nothing new. In fact, I suppose its a mandatory stage in the coming of age process.

But this awkwardness never fully left me. I still feel the need to warn my friends. But its for their own good, in my opinion. "Yes, my dad most likely will have the pricetag on his obviously new shirt. He meant to leave it there and will have a story about the good deal he got ready for that someone who tries to be nice and let him know that a "Clearance $.94" tag is on his sleeve. Its best just to let it go." or "No, you can't move that weird looking bear out of the backseat of the car. My dad has befriended and named him, therefore that's his seat and he stays there. Just ignore it. Yes, I know its missing an eye and a bit frightening at night, sorry."

I know to the outsider its cute, harmless, and quirky. But this is where I invoke my birth order argument. As a middle child, I'm alien to the concept of seeking attention, so when my dad does things that get him attention, I get uncomfortable. I love him, but we're just different that way.

Or at least I thought.

When my parents came to visit last week I invited my dad to play poker with my usual weekly game. In true form, halfway through the game he excitedly broke out a few "beers" that he had found and presented them to the group. 1 was a beer with yeast from a sunken 1865 vessel. 1 was essentially a bottle of Malt liquor that I still can't figure out why he bought. But his prize offering was a 6 pack of "Minnesota's Brew" which from my experince in liquor stores in MN, sits alone in the cooler because even Natty Light and Keystone and embarrassed to be seen with it. A couple of us took a can and drank it with watering eyes. (okay, it wasn't that awful, but it still was pretty bad).

I relayed this story to my friends back in Minnesota. And got this response:

Pete, have you already forgotten that you had a 6-pack of Minnesota Brew in my fridge for like two years? We finally used the last can for brats shortly before moving last year. Realizing you were never coming back for the beer.

Holy mother of God. Upon reading that, I got a flood of a memory that years ago upon seeing the "Minnesota's Brew" sitting in the cooler unwanted, I bought a 6 pack and made a big deal to the party I brought it to about how it was "Minnesota's Brew" and that all being Minnesotan's, we should be drinking it. It was our responsibility. I mean, it said it right there on the can. It was our beer, why weren't we drinking it?

So, What did this coincidence mean?

I was like the defendant on the witness stand. And the prosecutor.

"Did you or did you not once wear Blue Blocker sunglasses to a poker game to get a rise out of people?"
"Yes...but"
"And are planning on wearing a headband for the same reasons?"
"Yes"
"And its been that you have been known to bring weird beers and objects to parties"
"Yes, that's true"
"Aren't these exactly the kinds of things your dad would do to get attention?"
"Yes"
"So doesn't this render you birth order attention style theory false?"
".....Yes, damn it! I'll admit it. Its all lies! I'm more of my father than I'd ever admit!"

(cue swelling music and a sobbing Pete)

and scene.

Do what you Love.

2006-03-22T13:20:00.000-08:00

Wil Wheaton posted this comment today, which was actually a quote from some dude who I have idea who he is, anyway here's the quote:

If you want the secret, I have it.

It's about the work. Regardless of your chosen profession or station in life, the work is what matters. Skip it and you will be caught. Slack off, and others will catch up to you. Cut corners and you will have to answer to yourself at some point.

Of course, that said, the hardest question to answer once it is assumed that hard work is part of the equation is, "Now, what do I work on?" Whatever you love. Work on whatever you love and don't think about the payoff, but instead the road. If part of your road is a continual hunt for a payoff, so be it, but pick a life and career that makes you happy even in the very pursuit of the thing you've chosen.

I like Wil, but I've always hated this kind of thinking. It’s pounded into you growing up and throughout your academic career. "Find what you love and go with it!" BAH!

Yes, I'm intensely jealous of those who found their career path early, studied on a track throughout college, and got a job. Those people who loved computers as a kid, which just evolved into coding. Or those who screwed up their knee playing flag football and because of that, found a love of physical therapy and helping people. But in reality, not all of us are like that. Its just doesn't happen. Some of us never find our passion. Or choose to find their passion in other areas of their life. And I hate feeling less actualized because of this.

In honesty, my dream job is a Temp worker. Its glorious work, the swinging bachelor of the corporate industry. I did it for a couple of years, and I think if I could, I'd strongly consider doing it again. You have no commitment or your commitment is a set amount of time. Your responsibilities are only up to the level in which you have shown you are capable of. The expectations are set so low that you can blow them away every time. And as soon as you start to tire of the enviable bullshit that lurks in every office like moss, you're out. Done. No worrying about resolving that issue that is okay for now, but soon will become a huge deal that can't be ignored or fixed easily. No worrying about that boss that wears on you to a point that you can't take it anymore. You're off to the next bed in your anti-monogamous lifestyle. Plus, a new company every 3 months means you are always the hit of the party with new and exciting tales of a different office and their resident wacko. For me, it’s the bowling alley job for Homer.

But alas, not having:
Benefits, guaranteed employment, a regular raise based on performance, paid holidays and vacations, an outside company taking a big chunk of your pay every week and all the other pluses of working for 1 company basically prevents me from fulfilling this dream job.

I suppose its the underachiever in me who's scared of success is writing this post. I've worked at the same company for more than 3 years for the first time in my life. With this tenure, there is a part of me who is both dealing with the power of people listening to my opinion and using it to make decisions, but also learning that I just can't ignore what I don't like about my environment, as the next job isn't necessarily 1 month away. It’s a new experience, and one that I’m not comfortable with yet.

But my original point stands true. Not everyone is going to find his or her passion in life and be able to turn it into employment. Some of us will merely stand our jobs so we can do the things we want. Some of us may even despise our jobs, but deal with it because it pays well and has great benefits for the family. And if we are quoting pop psychology, allow me to use Stuart Smalley's words: "And that's okay"

I find that shallow and pedantic

2006-03-02T07:04:00.000-08:00

I think I'm getting ready to be done with my car. It still runs great after 24oK miles, but the stuff besides the engine is breaking down. The brakes started acting up again and its been too cold to fix them. My power steering pump is bad, etc etc.

So I think this spring we are looking to sell of the car and buying something else. And I'm actually leaning towards an SUV. Should I feel guilty about this?

I'm having a huge ethical dilemma about it: the classic Me first/hug the earth. I work hard and want to reward myself for that. But as a country, we are killing our own in order to fill up our 40 gallon tanks. Jessica and I do alot of outdoor activities, and this will increase once we are back in the midwest. But its not like we are hiking Mt Reiner every weekend. I feel like the second I buy an SUV, I've officially turned my back on the liberal I was in college.

Yes, I know there are green friendly options out there, but right now, they are out of my price range. The Highlander and Escape Hybrids are still like 30K, and on top of that, in their first year of production. I like to have the kinks worked out before I buy.

Not sure what I'm going to do. But right now, I have that college liberal in a corner with a knife to his throat. Not looking good for him.

Hyrule is a land of peace once again

2006-02-20T06:20:00.000-08:00

I was going to write a long explorative blog about how, after 7 years, I finally beat Zelda Orcarina of Time. I planned on using this game is as the illustration of how video games can be such an enthralling experience (first time I played this game, my friend Mark and I played for 8-10 hours without food or water without realizing it), how this game in particular marked different points of my life (played in college in various states of (un)sobriety, tried to beat it again in that brief period between college and being married when I lived alone and had nothing to do, and now playing it again as a emerging adult) , and how all of this was eerie in that it took me 7 years to beat it, and that's exactly the amount of time the main character needs to warp into the future in order to win. But, in the end, its just a video game.

I finally slew Gannon, Zelda is free from captivity, and Hyrule is safe from tyranny, and now I can close that chapter of my life and sleep better at night.

Current Events

2006-02-15T07:54:00.000-08:00

Hey! I'm going to post my thoughts on current events. How bloggingly mundane of me.

I'm going to ruffle some feathers of a person close to me by saying this, but here goes. Part of me hopes for American loses in the Olympics. Well, not the Curling Team, (SHOUT OUT to my MN bruthas and sistas! Represent in Torino!) but for everyone else, I have this tinge of hope for the Americans to miss a step or falter on their way to the podium.

I think the "why" behind that tinge is pretty easy to explain. I'll cite two examples.

Apollo Ohno: the guy who won gold in Salt Lake after the South Korean was DQ'ed. Last time I heard, South Koreans were still mad about this. Like really mad. American's? Not so worked up. I would say its fair to say 1/100 even remember it. And that's a pretty generous statistic.

The American Sprinters with the posing and strutting in 2004. After that, the US was accused of arrogance and egocentrism. (which may be the case, but whatever) Essentially the Sprinters, and therefore the US as a whole were against the spirit of the games.

My point here is that when the US wins, it just becomes another example of the US's attempt for world dominance, the gold makes a headline for the day, then the US starts placing bets on March Madness. I haven't been in other countries during the Olympics, but from things like the Ohno incident, I have to think that its a big deal for a gold medal in some of these countries.

Let's face it, the Olympics aren't what they used to be here. And I'm certainly not the first to point this out. The ratings are still high, but they are slipping, especially this year compared to SLC. I have very distinct memories of the 1984 Olympics. It was a HUGE deal. So much that at my school, every class took a country and learned about that specific country for a month, and all of this culminated with a Opening Ceremonies parade through the school. Your class was supposed to have taken what they've learned over the last month and implemented it into a parade friendly format for the rest of the school to see. The most creative class won a pizza party or something.

My class had China. I remember little about what I learned, but I do remember the parade distinctly. My class put on Chinese peasant hats and walked through the school with our hands in our sleeves. Yes, sadly, I'm serious. That's what we learned after a month of study. The Chinese wore funny hats. God bless the multi-cultural Midwest. I wouldn't be surprised if we wore glasses and buck teeth and said "Ahh Soo" alot. Come to think of it, maybe that would have got us the pizza party, which we lost to the class that had Brazil and bribed the judges with coffee.

I digress. The point being that back then, the Olympics meant something. The prevailing opinion on the decline in interest is due to the mass expansion of channels and activities available to Americans now, the lack of a rival with the fall of USSR, and the loss of innocence due to the addition of professional athletes to the games. Stories like the 1980 Hockey team are the thing of the past.

In my opinion, if the Olympics aren't such a big deal anymore, let's change our philosophy. The world pretty much hates us right now. I'll leave the validity of this notion for another time. But that being the case, let's use the Olympics to let other countries beat up on us for 2 weeks every 2 years. Like punching a pillow in a therapy session. I'm not saying we throw the games, just saying we pull the pros out, and send nothing but amateurs over. No sponsorships, no nothing. Or maybe just enough sposorships to live comfortably. But no big money Nike "Dan vs. Dave" stuff.

I'm not sure how much goodwill leeway this Olympic punching bag approach will grant us in the world public opinion forum, but how we look with Bush, Iraq, torture, etc. It couldn't hurt.

Practicality

2006-02-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

So a friend of mine just got a new car:

My initial reaction was "Man, that's going to be alot to upkeep."

Shame. Have I gone that far? So focused on the rational vs. the romantic that my first thought is cost and ease of maintenance? I mean, look at that car. Its the kind of car that people save up their whole life to buy so they can drive it in the "Popcorn Days" parade with the Mayor waving from the passenger seat. Hard to look/feel anything but super awesome driving that.

In my defense, there is a house purchase on my horizon, which looms like a cold front approaching on the plains. It’s definitely shifted my mindset to a "be prepared", so that I will be ready for the 200K-debt storm that will hit.

That being said, my reaction to this has jarred me a little out of my slumber. I think I need a shot of frivolity/spontaneity in my life. You can't take it with you, no one ever said they wished they would have spent more time in the office on their deathbed, etc, etc. All those McPhilosophies and such.

And yes. I do see the irony of planning to be spontaneous. Thanks.

Ode to the Burrito

2006-02-09T05:34:00.000-08:00

Can we as a society get together and finally publicly acknowledge that the Burrito is the culmination of 2000 years of evolution? That it is our generation's contribution to the ever-increasing peak of what humankind is capable of?

You ask, what do we look for in a food, and I answer that the Burrito has them all in spades.

Portable? Yes. A professionally wrapped Burrito has a tortilla can withstand the wear and tear of our fast paced life to keep the party inside until you are ready to join in. The genius of the design is that it needs no other protection. The tortilla is the membrane, keeping everything in place while not allowing outside forces to act upon the treasure inside, but the tortilla is also an essential ingredient to the goodness to the overall product. I’m awed but the beauty of simplicity and genius of that.

Adaptable? Oh yes. Vegetarian? No problem. Like Spicy? Got that. How about bland? Can do that to. There are thousands of combinations of the main 10ish ingredients, as well as sauces, serving style (grilled anyone?), size, etc. It’s a tapestry for the artist (you) to paint all over and make your own creation.

Goodness? Well, this one I suppose has some subjectivity. If you don't like the perfect melding of the warm meat and beans meeting the cooling force of the cheese, sour cream, and guacamole, then I can't do anything about it. Except declare you an alien from the planet "no idea what tastes good" and report you to our government so they can bring you in to do tests and find out what technologies allowed you travel here.

Presentation? When you get a burrito in a restaurant, the chefs usually align the burrito in the middle of the plate, shower it with melted cheese and set up various things around the Burrito like rice, lettuce, or beans to worship the perfection on earth that they have the honor of being in the presence of. I think other foods worshiping you is gets you high marks on presentation.

Am I missing any important food judging categories? If so who cares, I've made my point. And how awesome is it that the Burrito is an American invention? Take other cultures, rape them of any historical and spiritual meaning, rip them down to what’s good, and build it back into something greater. God bless you, USA.

Grey's Vagina

2006-02-06T06:58:00.000-08:00

Grey's Anatomy was good last night.

There, I said it.

Normally, I tend to be overly elitist in my pop culture preferences. But with this show, my resistance to watching it isn't because of any assumption that its crappy TV. Its because I can guarantee how the pitch for the show went to the ABC execs in Hollywood:

"Ok, Ok, you ready for this? Ally McBeal meets ER! GOLD! Why has no one thought of this before? I don't know! But we can go ahead and start printing our own money, because we're rich!! Rich, rich, I tell ye!"

Ok, maybe not the printing the money part, but I will put mass amounts of money down against anyone who disputes a claim that "Ally meets ER" wasn't the main focus of the pitch.

In a world of sequels and Hollywood running out of ideas, I couldn't support any show that repackages a previous success in a shiny new wrapper and expects us to gobble it down.

So admitting last night's show was good...very difficult. But there you have it.

10:00 AM

2006-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:00

There was a unique experience in college that I would say most who attended had. It was when you stayed up all night writing a paper or finishing a project. After you hand it in and head back to your room, there a moment of pure bliss. Its a weird yet perfect combination of exhaustion from being up all night, relief from 9+ hours of stress of a deadline, and a sense of fulfillment from obtaining a difficult goal.

I miss that feeling. Where you are staring at you bed after such a long night and know that you can allow yourself to sleep as long as you want, because you earned it.

Maybe my work isn't challenging enough to put me through that pressure/relief cycle. Or maybe I'm just being nostalgic.

Bed of Roses

2006-01-23T06:34:00.000-08:00

I always attempted to get out and see the world. As much as I could at least. When traveling, I think sometimes you are lucky enough to get into the heart of a culture and see beyond the big sights. Like while in Ireland, I was able to be there long enough that I feel like I got beyond the blarney stone (which I proudly never visited) and got a pretty good understanding of the Irish mentality and way of life.

Other times, you basically check off you've been there. Just so you can say you've done it. "Niagra Falls...yep, that's a lot of water. What's for lunch?" There are alot of sights that you really should see, and when you do them, you just need to get it over with and move on. Times Square in NYC, Notre Dame and the Mona Lisa in Paris, Liberty Bell in Philly, White House in DC, etc.

This weekend, I had a "check off" experience. I think while in Jersey, its important to get drunk and shout along with a Bon Jovi song in a crowded bar at least once in your life. Just to say you've done it.

Tats

2006-01-13T09:25:00.000-08:00

After looking at some geek tattoos, (warning, it has a weird subscription thing after looking at like 5 pages. And do not look while eating as I did, geeks are generally not a good looking people with their shirts off) I've decided that if I were ever to get a Tattoo or T-Shirt to emblazon my geek pride, it would be:

c:\doom -fast

Yeah, I'm that hardcore.

Flight 93

2006-01-06T08:30:00.000-08:00

Something that has always bugged me is that in the aftermath of 9/11, the story about how the passengers Flight 93 managed to take down the plane into a PA field was never the huge deal I thought it would/should. In essence, they potentially saved anywhere from hundreds of lives, the president's, half of congress, or who knows depending on where the plan was to crash the plane.

So why isn't that #1 story about 9/11 behind the Towers collapsing? On a normal news day, we search for heroes like bears for food. Ripping through the actual story in order to get 1 morsel of uplifting goodness. I would have thought that in the time after 9/11, American's would have rallied behind the fight back spirit of that flight and that it would have been used as a symbol by politicians. But it wasn't. I see a few "Let's Roll" bumper stickers, but I have no idea of the names of any of the people on that flight. And I should. They did more to help us from a complete post 9/11 free fall than Cindy Sheenan ever did, yet she's a hero whose name I know and the people on the PA flight are faceless and nameless to me.

Imagine if that plane does hit the Capital building. Our greatest symbols of Commerce, Government, and Defense all stuck in the same day. And the Capital building has 100% for symbolic value than the Pentagon does.

I'm sure the answer has to do it being a sign of the times. No video, no audio, no story. If it can't be replayed ad nauseam, then it just doesn't make the impact. All we had were accounts from relatives and I think there was a black box tape that was released too long after for the normal public to care.

Well, I think that might change:

Flight 93

Most people may say its too soon for a movie like this. I say it’s not soon enough. Depending on the slant the director takes, I think it may bring to the forefront how important this story should be in our memory of 9/11. I trust the director to do this correctly. I saw Bloody Sunday; another pseudo-documentary by Greengrass that I thought was very well done. Time will tell, I guess.

Bentham

2006-01-04T06:44:00.000-08:00

I think my boss reads Faucault.

Not really, but it would be sweet if she did. During the winter months, there are a few days due to weather or school closings, she will be late to work. Which is of no relevence to me. However, here's the awesome part. On the days she knows she won't be in until 10 or 11, she has a insider in the office open her office door and turn the light on, thus providing the illusion that she's there.

ie: The Panopticon.

Her power so complete over us that she rules with only the chance of her being there to keep us in line.

I tried to explain this to my coworkers and was met only with blank stares. I don't think my revolt will go very well.

So...

2005-12-21T09:12:00.000-08:00

I just realised that 90% of my posts up until now have all begun with "So...blah blah..." As in the word "So" has been the first word in each post. I will be editing that out now. I thought about leaving the posts how they were initially constructed, but after noticing it, I got all gross inside and can't stand to see all those "so's" sitting there mocking me. I would assume its part of the learning process of a blog, like how you learn not to write emails in all CAPS and not put "..." on the end of every IM. A conversational voice is assumed in a blog, so there is no need to add "so" to set the time. Got it. The problem is, if I leave them there, they will haunt my dreams. The So's just realized that they aren't the only "so" and are powerful enough together to overtake me.

So they will die now.

Testing

2005-12-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

Just checking how easy it is to post a picture from picasa into a blog...(previewing)...

WOW! THAT IS EASY!

Always Low Prices. Always.

2005-12-13T11:44:00.000-08:00

In the retail business, there are several categories of Retailers. Two of the most popular are Hi-Lo and EDLP. A Hi-Lo retailer is one that offers an everyday price that is higher than the mean price for the items they carry, but then will have sales in which the price is lowered to well below the mean for a short period of time. These retailers are like many grocery stores and a Musicland in the mall.

EDLP or Everyday Low Price retailers have exactly that. A set price which is slightly below the mean price, but rarely if ever have items on sale. Wal-Mart, essentially.

I think as a friend and a husband, I'm EDLP.

Hi-Lo are those who woo with flowers, are the life of the party, are romantic and maybe impulsive. But they also can be less than pleasant, irresponsible, or lacking other areas. On the other hand, EDLP friends and Significant Others won't typically surprise book you a flight to Paris on your anniversary or get you to stay out drinking on a work night till 4AM, but they also won't cancel on you last minute.

Now, maybe I say Hi-Lo instead of just Hi (inferring that there are people who are just generally awesome all around), because I'm biased towards the category that I file myself into, but
1) I think its human nature to take what you can get. And if being a really entertaining person to be around buys you a little leeway to be an ass, I think most people take it.
2) I assign no level of "better than" to either category. I sometimes wish I could be a little bit more High-Lo, because I have to think it’s a more exciting way to go through life, but meh, you are who you are.

I think most of my friends are more in the High-Lo category. I'm pretty sure that's not coincidence, but I'm not really sure why.

Adult

2005-11-30T06:41:00.000-08:00

There are 2 things that have forced the revelation of adulthood is upon me.

1st: I can choose a piece of chocolate blindly out of a verity box and not worry that I'm going to spit it up gagging when its filled with cherry. I understand Forrest Gump already made a life analogy using the same base subject, but that doesn't mean you can't still use it.

2nd, I basically see the world in a completely rational and unromantic "fun vs. money spent" ratio. I was an avid skier as a teenager, but have since given it up. For the last few years I never think when I go skiing "Boy, that was $100 worth of fun." I think that type of thinking puts me in firm a "ready for fatherhood" category. Instead of frivolously spending money, I am now ready to be annoyed at offspring frivolously spending money.

Another thing I stopped doing because of the Money/Fun ratio was going to concerts. After much thought, I realized why I never had much fun at them. For me, it would be the same as what I would assume going to a prostitute is like. I could never enjoy myself because I was too worried that the other person wasn't having a good time. Like all the performers say "The reason I'm in this is to perform live, blah blah." BS. After the 30th night of the tour, you think they aren't faking it? Going through the motions? Same with a hooker. I just could never buy into the fantasy that both parties were getting something out of it besides my money.

And besides, why go through all through the messy stuff the live experience when you have the polished version at home? The waiting in line, the crowd, the scratchy I’ve-been-singing-for-a-month-straight voice, when there is a polished perfect version in your CD player at home? Same with the ladies of the night, why go through the clunkiness and imperfections of sex when you have porn?

Unromantic, I know, but it’s logical to me at least.

Junior Executive

2005-11-18T09:46:00.000-08:00

I have worked at the same company for like 2.5 years. Which for me, is a new record. Usually by now, I'm so sick of my coworkers and the political BS, that I look to move on.

Anyway, my company is pretty good about BS, and there is only 1 coworker that I routinely want to hit in the face with a shovel. So overall, I'm okay with things.

Because of my new found acceptance of a monotonous relationship with my company, I happened upon a new perk. I was upgraded parking spots this week. My company operates on the seniority principal with spots. When I was hired here, they literally had to build an extension onto the parking lot so I could have a space. I and other people who parked there affectionately knew this “add-on lot”, which basically cut into the nearby woods, as the “loser lot”. It was our badge of courage. Those of us who parked in the lot had a bond that those who didn't have to walk the extra 20 feet every morning and night couldn't understand.

Then I got an email late on Tuesday. "After 6 months, we've had some employees come and go, so here are the new parking assignments." I was out. Promoted from the loser lot into the regular lot with the BMWs and Audis. Called up to the big leagues. My big moment. I said my goodbyes to those I was leaving behind and the next morning, rolled into parking space #50 with a big grin on my face.

Since then, I've had hours of fun playing up my new found power. I told a guy at work I couldn't "hang" with him because I had a new crowd now. And us being seen together couldn't happen. I've tried to get out of mundane tasks at home by shouting at Jessica (my wife) "Do you know where I park at work? People with those kind of spots don't make their own bed!" etc.

I figure I have about a week more humor left in it.

Problem #1 with being bald

2005-10-21T06:43:00.000-07:00

I have this dumb habit of never looking at myself before coming into work.

Not once. I shave in the shower. I brush my teeth before I wake up really, so I'm not looking at anything. And when I get out of the shower, the mirror is fogged up.
I dress without use of a mirror. I shave my head, so I miss that crucial "while combing the hair in the mirror, realizing I cut myself badly in the shower and I have a big scar on my face" moment.

Probably once a month, after 3 conversations and 1 meeting, I will look at a mirror for the first time in a day in my office bathroom and realize that people must think I'm a moron who shaves with a butter knife and doesn't mind looking grotesque in public.

Today was one of those days.

FF and NLHE -Training wheels

2005-10-05T06:53:00.000-07:00

If you aren't a fan of Poker or Fantasy Football, dear god. Move on. Nothing to see here. This post will bore you to tears.

A while back, I became obsessed with the idea that FF and poker are essentially the same thing, only different formats. I want to explain out here why I think so and then figure out how that can help me.

At their core, poker and FF are popular because they have that magic balance of luck vs. skill. They involve enough strategy and technique in order to allow for endless amount of analysis, discussion, and advice. See the multitudes of poker books and FF mags/websites out there. In both arenas, there is what is considered the "correct play" that's been decided on by the gurus: drafting LT #1 or raising AK preflop, etc.

However, with that correct play for those who take game seriously, there is a luck factor big enough that those who do not study up can compete based on the variance of the results. You can have a NL Tourney with wives and uncles and people who have little experience, and the best player won't always win. In fact, if they win a majority of the time, they should be happy. Same with FF.

The amount of effort you put into both activities for sure increases your advantage and chances to be successful, but it does not guarantee anything.

Which is why so many people are drawn to both. In almost everything I do, I love to analyze everything to irk out the maximum advantage. Shopping for a new TV, for example. I'll research it down to the best store to buy the exact model I want for the exact price I want. This translates directly to Poker and FF as I study them both pretty extensively. When I show up to a draft or sit down at a table, I want to feel like I'm better prepared and therefore at an advantage. I want to make those who are unprepared pay for their "grasshopperness."

Conversely, I understand with a larger investment comes a greater risk of agony upon defeat. For those who play either game with little investment, I can see the reward offered to them of getting something for nothing. They invested almost nothing, yet feasted off the back of the laborers. For example, the guy who shows up to your draft with a six pack and no cheatsheet, yet somehow seems to win the league every once in awhile. Or Chris Moneymaker or Varkonyi.

Once that correlation is established. I think it may be quite easy to make comparisons between the two that help you get better at both. Take strategy from one and apply it to the other.

Big cards are like Stud players. You want to have them. In the long run, they will make you money. However, AK misses the flop much of the time, and LT sometimes gets you 30 yards. That doesn't mean you shouldn't stop raising Pre-Flop with big cards, or bench a stud when the matchup is tough. Both give you a higher % of winning and you must play them strong until circumstances dictate otherwise. But don't get too obsessed. Overcards to a ragged flop are like an aging stud. They might get you there with a spike on the turn or an outburst in week 6, but generally its best to cut ties.

One of the bigger things I've learned lately while playing poker is that ABC poker can only take you so far. At some point, you have to take the training wheels off. Make a move on instinct, read, and table situation rather than what Dan Harrington says in his latest book. As I grinded my way up the micro limit tables, I realized that the biggest difference as you move up is that aggression factor increases in your opponents. This is because good players at the higher limits are well aware that you need to make moves that are unorthodox, but hope to get you paid off later. This is one of the main things I haven't translated to FF, but need to.

FF underwent a revolution about 5-7 years ago. Gone were the days of buying a newspaper to check weekly injuries and a 2-month-old magazine to help you in your draft. With teh internets, all the information was out they’re to be had by everyone. Almost Gutenberg, actually. With everyone having the same information, the new strategy is not knowing more, it’s making the right assessment. Preseason, everyone has the same top 10 list, and unfortunately, most draft I see or am in, the picks go in order. All the information has frozen people into slots. They are afraid to draft anyone besides who their list says to draft next for fear of looking the fool. But really, these lists are far more arbitrary than people give them credit for. There is good reasoning Player A comes before Player B, but in the end, its a pretty loose science.

I have been as guilty as anyone in this. And it’s a guaranteed ticket to a 7-7 record. You may get lucky every third year or so, but generally you aren't ever going to shoot the moon. A more aggressive strategy, I think, will leave you dead in the water some years, but have you 12-2 in others. Now, back to poker, taking off the training wheels doesn't mean you turn into a maniac LAG. You can be creative but still keep a base in fundamentally solid poker.

Whether I have the courage to do this is still in the air. Its easy to talk about, but when it comes down to making trades or draft picks in which you are sacrificing current value for what you believe is long term potential, its a risk. A risk that takes courage, because no one wants to look the fool, but maybe you look the smart one in the end. I dunno.

Wally World

2005-10-03T07:03:00.000-07:00

I've had long discussions about Walmart, blah blah. Essentially, I'm not proud that I shop there occasionally, but when you need a loaf of bread, kleenex, some pills, a card, and some windshield wiper fluid, and the nearest mall is 25 minutes away, you suck it up and go to walmart. Cause you are lazy.

The walmart that I go to is especially awesome because it lies in Willamantic, the heroin capital of New England. ie: One time upon entering the front door, I see man #1 walking and man #2 come at him from the side and land a flying punch to his temple area. The crowd jumps in and breaks up the two. Man #1, within the 30 seconds of the fight getting broke up has a welt the size of a baseball on his head. Top Ten Walmart shopping experience ever.

Anyway. So I go there over the weekend. Shop and want to purchase some items. Then get the typical Walmart log jam where they have 80 people to check out and 5 lanes open. Through the haze of frustration I see a beacon of hope shining at me.

Self-check out.

I scoot over there and get in line. About 15 seconds after I switch lines, I realize I've made a horrible error. I overestimated the typical Walmart shopper. Why would I assume they have the mental capacity to check themselves out? This escapes me now. Maybe I was too focused on the prize of getting the hell out of there before I thought it through. So as I watched the person behind me in the line I was in get checked out, I turned inside out with anguish as the person in front of me trying to "self-check out" had to call the attendant over on every item.

Its fool's gold. Don't get lured by it. Grocery stores, airports, etc yes. Self check out is a god send. But Walmart customers are stupid.

But... in their defense, when I finally got to check myself out, I realized that Wal-mart doesn't trust their customers (which they probably shouldn't) to the point that they have scales on the bags. So if you scan an item and it doesn't create any weight in the bag, the system calls the attendant. So in order to avoid this, you have to make a big deal of slamming every item into the bag so it doesn't freak out.

Leading me to the conclusion that whoever the sales person at the "self check out" company that got them placed in Walmart should get a bonus. How he/she got past the "our customers are too stupid and we don't trust them" objections is probably a good story.

100% make you sad guarantee

2005-09-28T11:35:00.000-07:00

I challenge you to find a more sad page on the internet.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001705/

35 movies.

35.

Some in pre-production. As in, him working right now.

Forward (Take Two..Damn not knowing what I'm doing and losing an entire post)

2005-09-26T07:31:00.000-07:00

I received this forward from a coworker today: (There were pictures of frilly flowers and Precious Moments looking people scattered through out, but I'm far too lazy to copy them over)

The 'L I T T L E' things .

As you might know, the head of a company survived
9/11 because his son started kindergarten.

Another fellow was alive because it was
his turn to bring donuts.

One woman was late because her
alarm clock didn't go off in time.

One was late because of being stuck on the NJ Turnpike
because of an auto accident.

One of them
missed his bus.

One spilled food on her clothes and had to take
time to change.

One's
car wouldn't start.

One went back to
answer the telephone.

One had a
child that dawdled

and didn't get ready as soon as he should have.

One couldn't
get a taxi.

The one that struck me was the man

who put on a new pair of shoes that morning,

took the various means to get to work

but before he got there, he developed

a blister on his foot.

He stopped at a drugstore ! to buy a Band-Aid.
That is why he is alive today.

Now when I am

stuck in traffic,

miss an elevator,

turn back to answer a ringing telephone...

all the little things that annoy me.

I think to myself,

this is exactly where
God wants me to be

at this very moment..

Next time your morning seems to be
going wrong,
the children are slow getting dressed,

you can't seem to find the car keys,

you hit every traffic light,

don't get mad or frustrated;

God is at work watching over you.

May God continue to bless you

with all those annoying little things

and may you remember their possible purpose.

Pass this on to someone else, if you'd like.
There is NO LUCK attached.
If you delete this, it's okay:

God's Love Is Not Dependent On

E-Mail !!

(that's the cool part)

AMEN

I'm pretty sure this is worst forward I've ever received.

First off, let's give it the annoying forward check list:

/center turned on at the beginning and never turned off? Check!
Annoying color schemes? Check!
Unnecesarily large font? Check!
Send this to all of your friends or your mom will die voodoo threats? Che...wait. It doesn't pass that one. Kudos to the writer there.
Psuedo-inspirational "Enjoy the small things" type crap? Check!
Adding in a "God Bless you" etc? Check!

But anymore, its not even the "God Bless You" stuff that annoys me. I would say its about 5% of the population is militant atheist, so it's reasonable to for my coworker to send this out and assume no backlash. Hey, I'm not saying its right, just that that's the way it is. What got to me about this forward that its so flawed: its half humorous, half offensive.

From the email:
God has a plan for you. He had a plan for all those people who didn't die in 9/11 because he made them oversleep, miss the bus, get donuts, etc.

And from that logic, God also had a plan to kill the 3,000 people who managed to get to work on time, evidently. So I guess God has a plan to kill all the punctual people in the world.

And as a person who prides himself on getting to work at 8:00 everyday, I'm a little scared.

So here we go

2005-09-26T06:46:00.000-07:00

I've avoided doing this for a year now because of one thing. Well, besides thinking that I'm really not clever enough to have anything of importance to say. But the real reason that I haven't joined the Blog phenomenon is that I know that this blog is doomed. I'm intentionally bringing something into this world with a horrible fate.

I'll love and care for it initially. Then, I'll become distracted and the neglect will start. Death will not be far off. Then, like a public hanging, the spectacle will hang out there for all who stumble onto it. A blog who was loved then forgotten about. Destined to sway for eternity. Or until Blogger does a clean up. One of the two.