OK, so I am a Daddy now. Little Lila was born 11/25 and I am learning that my life as I knew it is over, and I am now reborn as "Daddy". This isn't a problem really. Actually, I like the new found feeling of importance in the lives of my little one, and my beloved wife.
One thing that has struck me is the thought of things I tried, but did not succeed at. I am thinking of some of my capricious youth, and dreams of fame fortune- rock stardom. When I was 17 I bought my first guitar. It was a burgundy Les Paul knock off that I thought looked like Slash's from Guns N' Roses. I brought home my new (very used) guitar with the idea I would learn to play it, and join my friend Sam's band SYZ. I took the guitar to his house and plugged it in, then I tried to "figure it out", but to no avail. The guitar as it turned out would not come "naturally" to me, even though I had spent countless hours watching Mtv and emulating Kirk Hammet, Dave Mustane, and Slash on air guitar I had not learned any chops, and thus stood before my bandmates as nothing more than a fraud. That was ok though, because they were frauds too! Well, everyone except the drummer- he actually played in the marching band, and knew his way around a drum kit. I was then self demoted to "manager" (which meant I was friends with a bunch of guys who gathered together in the basement to wail on instruments). Unfortunately this meant I was not "in the band". Instead I was "with the band" which would never land me anywhere closer to the vacinity of a girls underpants. Lets face it, that is what being in a band when you are 17 is all about.
I took it upon myself to master my new guitar. After all, those drugged out guys in the bands I saw on Mtv could do it- Why the hell couldn't I? I took exactly 2 lessons before I gave it up.
Later I sold that guitar and bought a Fender short neck Bass- 4 strings are easier than 6 right?
Wrong.
Eventually the Bass got sold as well. I accepted defeat. I was not going to be in a band. Don't pity me just yet though. I did have a car, and I discovered that even an 86 Ford tempo can get you laid under the right circumstances. In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king... but I digress.
At age 32 I decided it was guitar time again. I believe this delusion resurfaced after mastering the medium difficulty level on Rock Band. I went out and spent $150 on an electric guitar, a book with a DVD, and a neat little plug in thing that allows me to use my headphones as an amp. This way I could play twinkle twinkle little star to my hearts content and my wife would have nothing to complain about.
Then a bunch of shit happened. Life got in the way yadda yada yada- I never sat down to learn to play. So my new (used) guitar has sat in a corner for many months neglected. Sad story. And then I discovered guitar books. I have been reading detailed histories of guitars. Trying to get a feel for how they work. I suppose this is a way of working my way up to making another attept aqt learning to operate the instrument.
We will see...
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Things I Have Learned
Happiness is measured by the smile on your face, and nothing else.
I would rather be pretty good at a hundred things than be really good at only one.
We may not all leave an indelible mark on humanity, but we will all affect the people in our lives.
1 tequila! 2 tequila! 3 tequila! FLOOR!
The kinds of women I like are more impressed by a muddy Jeep than a shiny Ferrari.
Old men can be mean drunks, and great story tellers.
Variety is good, but experience is the spice of life.
I am not a race car driver
Friendships can be maintained over long distances, relationships cannot.
Four pints of Guinness is a square meal.
If at first you don't succeed: get a divorce, move to Texas, and figure out that you prefer blondes anyway.
Don't tell anyone what she did with you last night unless she tells them first.
If you are celebrating New Years in Times Square, there will be nowhere to pee.
If you take your hat off and wave it around like a jack-ass while riding a mechanical bull you won't be riding the mechanical bull for very long at all.
Sometimes an ounce of prevention stifles innovation.
Once you have heard your buddies recount the same story more than three times over drinks- it is time for a new adventure.
I would rather be pretty good at a hundred things than be really good at only one.
We may not all leave an indelible mark on humanity, but we will all affect the people in our lives.
1 tequila! 2 tequila! 3 tequila! FLOOR!
The kinds of women I like are more impressed by a muddy Jeep than a shiny Ferrari.
Old men can be mean drunks, and great story tellers.
Variety is good, but experience is the spice of life.
I am not a race car driver
Friendships can be maintained over long distances, relationships cannot.
Four pints of Guinness is a square meal.
If at first you don't succeed: get a divorce, move to Texas, and figure out that you prefer blondes anyway.
Don't tell anyone what she did with you last night unless she tells them first.
If you are celebrating New Years in Times Square, there will be nowhere to pee.
If you take your hat off and wave it around like a jack-ass while riding a mechanical bull you won't be riding the mechanical bull for very long at all.
Sometimes an ounce of prevention stifles innovation.
Once you have heard your buddies recount the same story more than three times over drinks- it is time for a new adventure.
Europalooza and the Pickled Liver (from 2007)
We left saturday evening, arrived in Prague (sans baggage) Sunday afternoon.
After short deliberation a few coworkers and I determined that a bing drinking excursion was in order
After about 5 hours at U-Fleku (a beer garden). I realized that "chain drinking" (the server landed a fresh pint on the table before you finished your last pint) was an excellent way to improve international relationships. We ended up hanging out with a crew of Russian Journalists and doing the chicken dance amongst other things... (I have video). Everyone was having a good time EXCEPT for a small group from Boston who made the humble request that our party "not be so American". I explained thats not happening- eventually they left, and hilarity ensued.
Based upon my intercultural learning from this trip I now believe that if the world leaders could just get together and pound some fresh brewed Czec lager we would live in a much better place.
Post intoxication we brazenly wandered through the streets of eastern europe slurring our speech and staggaring toward the Hilton. Upon arrival we discovered that the airline had delivered our bags- celebration ensued. How did we celebrate? By staying up until 1 am cocktailing in the hotel bar.
@ 9:00am Monday we all attended a big meeting with our CEO, it lasted 6 hours and was mostly propaganda- kind of a "drink the corporate kool-aid" kind of pep-rally. once concluded we celebrated by drinking in the bar until it was time to attend the "casual dinner"
Casual dinner was held in a medeval battle emplacement. The tower was 3 stories tall, I sat on the third floor with the "Red Clan" we were given red plastic tunics to wear over our clothes. Being on the third floor proved to be what myBritish friends refer to as "Shite".
First, the food was cold, but that was ok because it tasted aweful. It is also a scientific fact that warm air rises. So here I was sitting on the third floor of a large stone cylinder as our hosts furiously stoked the fires on the first floor to keep the chill off the green clan on the flirst floor, the blue clan on floor 2 was temperate, but the red clan was sweltering. After approx an hour I realized that I was being baked, so I shed my big red sweat tent.
In apology for this sad state we were given unlimited amounts of ale, which we consumed readily.
At this point we also began playing drinking games- green glass door, name association- hilarity ensued.
After dinner we returned to the hotel- and then adjurned to a dance club made famous in the instant cinematic classic "XXX" staring that incredibly talented block of wood- Vin Diesel. Guess what we did there?
I drank absinthe- and nearly yacked. If you want to try Absinthe, just mix cheap tequila with equal parts mouthwash and shoot. Had a strange encounter with two fellows in the bath room who apparently wanted to discuss rap music (they kept exclaiming "50 Cent! 50 Cent!" and refering to me as they said America! it was very weird.) The club was kind of sucky- the actually played the Numa Numa song. At about 5:00am we returned to the Hilton where I passed out until 2:00pm the following day.
Spent a good chunk of the time between 2:00 and 6:00 wandering around Prague and taking random photos.
7:00pm we got dressed up and went to the Prague museum of modern art for cocktail party, and dinner. James Bond Theme- complete with stunt show.
Open Bar... Guess what we did... Are you noticing the theme here? Party ends at 2:00am, and we head back to the hotel and drank in the bar until 8:30am. No I am not fucking kidding. Eight fucking thirty.
at 4pm I boarded flight to Paris on the european equivilent of Southwest Airlines. Arrival Paris Orly-I discovered at the currency exchanger counter that the French really ARE assholes.
Took a cab into the city for 34 euros- arrive hotel- this place is nice. Take shower, then Dinner in a side street cafe, bottle of wine, passed out in bed while listening to my Ipod.
Awake- touring Paris... Walked along the Sienne, visited the Louve- the Monalisa is tiny, japanese tourists are not shy about stepping into your photos. Cathedral of Notre Dame- religion is commerce- same problem with the Japanese. Discover Hard Rock Cafe, and declare it the unofficial American Embassy in Paris. Consumed 10 (yes 10) long island iced teas, and an untold number of heinekins. I also began faking an austrailian accent. I bought a t-shirt, then we wandered home along the darkened streets of Paris singing Aleuetta, and at times skipping (yes skipping). Got a great shot of the Louve Pyramid entrance lit up for night. Crashed at hotel.
Awake again- slept in a little, and it is raining. After hesitation we departed for the Eiffel Tower. We arrive, we see, I take photos. On to the Arc de Triomphe - we see, I take more photos and we wander back to the Louve, hit the gift shop, then back to the Hotel for a well deserved steam in the sauna.
Feeling refreshed we embark on the dinner mission and end up at a Tex-Mex joint on Rue St. George. Our server is charming, the food is a decent representation and we start in on Mohitos and Margaritas- and adjurn to some clubs off the beaten path as advised by Elsa (the server who was blown away when we tipped 20%)
At club 1- we decended 4 flights of stairs into a tomb like club with pulsing techno music. We ordered some Mohitos- which the bar tendress tainted with bitters. I decided we should leave before someone bit my neck and I grew adverse to sunlight. We left the drinks there, and proceeded to club 2- which turned out to be a sausage party. Adjourn to hotel, pack get ready for 7 AM departure.
Charles de Gaulle International Airport eats my ass. Check in, and gate security are totally fucked. I get on my plane to discover that the seat vacated by Amanda has been filled.....
By the cutest French girl I have ever seen.
Her name is Charline. She speaks about as much English as I speak French, but we manage to communicate by using a translator program on her laptop. She is going to Vancouver to study, and we pass a few messages about British Columbia, and the things that interest us. We watched stranger than fiction, and the prestige on in flight movie channels.
I took a cab home, and was relieved to sit in my own living room, turn on my big ass TV... And for the first time in over a week- not drink (until about 10pm when I met up with Jeremy, but that is another story)
so that was my trip to Europe! I'd like to thank Vanco for the international ticket, and hotel stay in Prague, not to mention open bars, and swanky events. I'd like to thank Andrew for being Andrew, Charnoch- You rock Babe, wouldn't have been the same without ya!
Jeremy, Kevin, Brady, Deb, Lisa, Hook, and everyone else I got inebriated with- thanks for being friends. that shit was awesome.
After short deliberation a few coworkers and I determined that a bing drinking excursion was in order
After about 5 hours at U-Fleku (a beer garden). I realized that "chain drinking" (the server landed a fresh pint on the table before you finished your last pint) was an excellent way to improve international relationships. We ended up hanging out with a crew of Russian Journalists and doing the chicken dance amongst other things... (I have video). Everyone was having a good time EXCEPT for a small group from Boston who made the humble request that our party "not be so American". I explained thats not happening- eventually they left, and hilarity ensued.
Based upon my intercultural learning from this trip I now believe that if the world leaders could just get together and pound some fresh brewed Czec lager we would live in a much better place.
Post intoxication we brazenly wandered through the streets of eastern europe slurring our speech and staggaring toward the Hilton. Upon arrival we discovered that the airline had delivered our bags- celebration ensued. How did we celebrate? By staying up until 1 am cocktailing in the hotel bar.
@ 9:00am Monday we all attended a big meeting with our CEO, it lasted 6 hours and was mostly propaganda- kind of a "drink the corporate kool-aid" kind of pep-rally. once concluded we celebrated by drinking in the bar until it was time to attend the "casual dinner"
Casual dinner was held in a medeval battle emplacement. The tower was 3 stories tall, I sat on the third floor with the "Red Clan" we were given red plastic tunics to wear over our clothes. Being on the third floor proved to be what myBritish friends refer to as "Shite".
First, the food was cold, but that was ok because it tasted aweful. It is also a scientific fact that warm air rises. So here I was sitting on the third floor of a large stone cylinder as our hosts furiously stoked the fires on the first floor to keep the chill off the green clan on the flirst floor, the blue clan on floor 2 was temperate, but the red clan was sweltering. After approx an hour I realized that I was being baked, so I shed my big red sweat tent.
In apology for this sad state we were given unlimited amounts of ale, which we consumed readily.
At this point we also began playing drinking games- green glass door, name association- hilarity ensued.
After dinner we returned to the hotel- and then adjurned to a dance club made famous in the instant cinematic classic "XXX" staring that incredibly talented block of wood- Vin Diesel. Guess what we did there?
I drank absinthe- and nearly yacked. If you want to try Absinthe, just mix cheap tequila with equal parts mouthwash and shoot. Had a strange encounter with two fellows in the bath room who apparently wanted to discuss rap music (they kept exclaiming "50 Cent! 50 Cent!" and refering to me as they said America! it was very weird.) The club was kind of sucky- the actually played the Numa Numa song. At about 5:00am we returned to the Hilton where I passed out until 2:00pm the following day.
Spent a good chunk of the time between 2:00 and 6:00 wandering around Prague and taking random photos.
7:00pm we got dressed up and went to the Prague museum of modern art for cocktail party, and dinner. James Bond Theme- complete with stunt show.
Open Bar... Guess what we did... Are you noticing the theme here? Party ends at 2:00am, and we head back to the hotel and drank in the bar until 8:30am. No I am not fucking kidding. Eight fucking thirty.
at 4pm I boarded flight to Paris on the european equivilent of Southwest Airlines. Arrival Paris Orly-I discovered at the currency exchanger counter that the French really ARE assholes.
Took a cab into the city for 34 euros- arrive hotel- this place is nice. Take shower, then Dinner in a side street cafe, bottle of wine, passed out in bed while listening to my Ipod.
Awake- touring Paris... Walked along the Sienne, visited the Louve- the Monalisa is tiny, japanese tourists are not shy about stepping into your photos. Cathedral of Notre Dame- religion is commerce- same problem with the Japanese. Discover Hard Rock Cafe, and declare it the unofficial American Embassy in Paris. Consumed 10 (yes 10) long island iced teas, and an untold number of heinekins. I also began faking an austrailian accent. I bought a t-shirt, then we wandered home along the darkened streets of Paris singing Aleuetta, and at times skipping (yes skipping). Got a great shot of the Louve Pyramid entrance lit up for night. Crashed at hotel.
Awake again- slept in a little, and it is raining. After hesitation we departed for the Eiffel Tower. We arrive, we see, I take photos. On to the Arc de Triomphe - we see, I take more photos and we wander back to the Louve, hit the gift shop, then back to the Hotel for a well deserved steam in the sauna.
Feeling refreshed we embark on the dinner mission and end up at a Tex-Mex joint on Rue St. George. Our server is charming, the food is a decent representation and we start in on Mohitos and Margaritas- and adjurn to some clubs off the beaten path as advised by Elsa (the server who was blown away when we tipped 20%)
At club 1- we decended 4 flights of stairs into a tomb like club with pulsing techno music. We ordered some Mohitos- which the bar tendress tainted with bitters. I decided we should leave before someone bit my neck and I grew adverse to sunlight. We left the drinks there, and proceeded to club 2- which turned out to be a sausage party. Adjourn to hotel, pack get ready for 7 AM departure.
Charles de Gaulle International Airport eats my ass. Check in, and gate security are totally fucked. I get on my plane to discover that the seat vacated by Amanda has been filled.....
By the cutest French girl I have ever seen.
Her name is Charline. She speaks about as much English as I speak French, but we manage to communicate by using a translator program on her laptop. She is going to Vancouver to study, and we pass a few messages about British Columbia, and the things that interest us. We watched stranger than fiction, and the prestige on in flight movie channels.
I took a cab home, and was relieved to sit in my own living room, turn on my big ass TV... And for the first time in over a week- not drink (until about 10pm when I met up with Jeremy, but that is another story)
so that was my trip to Europe! I'd like to thank Vanco for the international ticket, and hotel stay in Prague, not to mention open bars, and swanky events. I'd like to thank Andrew for being Andrew, Charnoch- You rock Babe, wouldn't have been the same without ya!
Jeremy, Kevin, Brady, Deb, Lisa, Hook, and everyone else I got inebriated with- thanks for being friends. that shit was awesome.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I don't need protected from myself...
As a Libertarian, it is my view that we should be allowed to make these decisions for ourselves. Legalize drugs? Fine, legalize prostitution, and gambling too. Why not let people have their vices? This is the land of the free right?
IMO we prosecute people for all the wrong reasons, and our system of crime and punishment has gone way askew.
If drugs were legal, it doesn't mean that you have to take them. You make your own choices, and face your own consequences. I can see use being restricted to designated places, and private use- what you do in the privacy of your own home is your business. The thing you want to stay away from is some guy free-basing some blow, or smoking a joint on the bus- at that point he would be affecting others, and that is not in the spirit of the legislative agenda.
Laws that are meant to inflict the values of others on the populace are ridiculous. Like a helmet, or a seatbelt law- are you kidding? Why are we trying to protect people from themselves? What ever happened to the theory of Darwin?
The only laws of this nature that I can endorse are those that are meant to protect people from each other like speed laws, DUI, and the laws meant to protect children before they reach what is legally defined as "the age of reason". That age varies from state to state, but tends to fall between 13, and 15. A baby is helpless, and can't decide if it wants to sit in a child seat- but it should sit in a child seat- so that law is OK by me.
It is funny, I have felt this way since I was 9. I remember listening to a talk radio program when I was on the road with my Dad. The host was postulating "an island where everything goes" with regard to vice. The argument was that the island of vice would exist, and if you didn't want to deal with it, just stay off the island. I have spent the 24 years since listening for a reasonable counter argument- and I have never heard one.
Worried about yourself? Don't use drugs, go to prostitutes, or gamble your savings away.
Worried about your kids? Raise kids who won't use drugs, or go to prostitutes, or gamble their lives away.
honestly- Can you think of a reason why not?
IMO we prosecute people for all the wrong reasons, and our system of crime and punishment has gone way askew.
If drugs were legal, it doesn't mean that you have to take them. You make your own choices, and face your own consequences. I can see use being restricted to designated places, and private use- what you do in the privacy of your own home is your business. The thing you want to stay away from is some guy free-basing some blow, or smoking a joint on the bus- at that point he would be affecting others, and that is not in the spirit of the legislative agenda.
Laws that are meant to inflict the values of others on the populace are ridiculous. Like a helmet, or a seatbelt law- are you kidding? Why are we trying to protect people from themselves? What ever happened to the theory of Darwin?
The only laws of this nature that I can endorse are those that are meant to protect people from each other like speed laws, DUI, and the laws meant to protect children before they reach what is legally defined as "the age of reason". That age varies from state to state, but tends to fall between 13, and 15. A baby is helpless, and can't decide if it wants to sit in a child seat- but it should sit in a child seat- so that law is OK by me.
It is funny, I have felt this way since I was 9. I remember listening to a talk radio program when I was on the road with my Dad. The host was postulating "an island where everything goes" with regard to vice. The argument was that the island of vice would exist, and if you didn't want to deal with it, just stay off the island. I have spent the 24 years since listening for a reasonable counter argument- and I have never heard one.
Worried about yourself? Don't use drugs, go to prostitutes, or gamble your savings away.
Worried about your kids? Raise kids who won't use drugs, or go to prostitutes, or gamble their lives away.
honestly- Can you think of a reason why not?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Self Actualization
I think that if you look at anyone closely enough you will find they have some hidden insecurity. No one is perfect, and no one is more or less deserving of love than anyone else. The saddest thing a person can do is to deem themselves unworthy of the love of others.
I honestly believe that we are all perfectly flawed individuals with strength and weakness. Those individuals who play too strongly to either side are the unbalanced.-
Those who allow themselves to be consumed by their weakness do so in spite of their strengths, and those who play toward their strengths may conceal their weakness- but it still exists.
With that in mind, I would also say that self actualization is the greatest asset of a personality. Knowing yourself, and confronting your windfalls, and shortcomings will give you the balance you need to be the best possible person you can be.
If practice makes perfect then I can assure you I have a lot of work to do, but I am pleased that at least I know this is the case. The knowledge tells me I am headed in the right direction.
I honestly believe that we are all perfectly flawed individuals with strength and weakness. Those individuals who play too strongly to either side are the unbalanced.-
Those who allow themselves to be consumed by their weakness do so in spite of their strengths, and those who play toward their strengths may conceal their weakness- but it still exists.
With that in mind, I would also say that self actualization is the greatest asset of a personality. Knowing yourself, and confronting your windfalls, and shortcomings will give you the balance you need to be the best possible person you can be.
If practice makes perfect then I can assure you I have a lot of work to do, but I am pleased that at least I know this is the case. The knowledge tells me I am headed in the right direction.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Just Say No
Nanigans has made a convincing argument for home birth, and in order to do this you must have a certified person known as a Midwife. The Parent/Midwife association is an interesting relationship because it is like a first date, you meet the person, decide if you like them or not, and you both try to convince each other that you are awesome, and they want to accept you, and move forward with a relationship. The problem is that when you have a specific person that you have heard about, it becomes like trying to court the most desireable girl in school- you know of her, she has a good rep, so you want to impress her so that she will be interested, but she has never heard of you and she has no problem finding dates, so you need to find an angle.
We thought we had a good angle because Nanigans is currently in the baby marketing industry, and she has a few connections. She has met a few very competent midwives in a sort of social environment, and we were able to get an appointment to discuss the possibility of bringing one on as our Midwife for Lila. the appointment was for 5 o'clock yesterday evening, and it was with our 2nd choice. The gist of this meeting was supposed to be that we were discussing costs, and this womans ability to serve as a back up in the event of emergency because our first choice tends to travel a bit.
To make a long story short, Midwife #2 cancelled on us. I figured it was just a matter of rescheduling, but no, in fact she was taking herself out of contention.
Why? Who knows... But lord did she have excuses. "well, I work as much as I want to, would really love to do it but I am just too busy at that time, I don't really need the money, I don't really do this for the money, So and so is a really great Midwife, and I think you will do great with her, I met your wife and she is really great, I think you are great candidates for a home birth... ect ect ect.
I felt a sudden pang of confused dissappointment, and a little bitterness. This is something that my wife REALLY wants, but this woman who is supposed to be very good just flaked out on us citing a scheduling conflict, and love for the game. Honestly, I just want to get off the phone, but this woman won't quit justifying her decision to step aside, and I find myself glad handing her- "No, it's no problem. Sure we understand, I guess that is just the way it goes right?" Still she kept going, and at this point I am tuning her out as my mind starts to work over the fact that both Nanigans and I had left work early- we were in the car on our way to see this woman, and got prematurely rejected for reasons I could only classify as "miscellaneous". I actually got more frustrated because this woman wouldn't stop explaining herself. Why set the appointment up at all?
This got me thinking about rejection. When you are rejecting someone, I think the best method is to make it brief and to the point- like removing a band-aid. Just grip it and rip it man! Face it, you are not going to be liked by the person you rejected. You will be an asshole to them. Dragging the shit out with a pile of excuses, and reasoning doesn't help the rejected solve for anything other than you are an asshole who can't manage their schedule, eventually leading to the conclusion that you are an asshole who doesn't know when to shut the fuck up. Keep it brief, that is the ticket!
"Sorry, it isn't going to work out" If they ask why, then give 1 reason. "my schedule is just too full" and if you want to be nice, then recommend an alternative "I have a number for an associate that may be able to help". after that, the conversation is over.
You can apply that formula for every rejection in your life. No shit.
Break up: "Sorry it just isn't going to work out. Why? well, I am just not into it. Try match.com I hear it works well- later"
Business: "Sorry, it just isn't going to work out. Why? The numbers are just too far apart so we went with another bidder. Alright, later"
Family: "Sorry, it just isn't going to work out. Why? It is just too far to drive. Alright, later"
Friends: "Sorry, we can't make it. Why? Last time you got all hammered and threw up all over yourself. Got to an AA meeting. Alright later."
See? Simple.
We thought we had a good angle because Nanigans is currently in the baby marketing industry, and she has a few connections. She has met a few very competent midwives in a sort of social environment, and we were able to get an appointment to discuss the possibility of bringing one on as our Midwife for Lila. the appointment was for 5 o'clock yesterday evening, and it was with our 2nd choice. The gist of this meeting was supposed to be that we were discussing costs, and this womans ability to serve as a back up in the event of emergency because our first choice tends to travel a bit.
To make a long story short, Midwife #2 cancelled on us. I figured it was just a matter of rescheduling, but no, in fact she was taking herself out of contention.
Why? Who knows... But lord did she have excuses. "well, I work as much as I want to, would really love to do it but I am just too busy at that time, I don't really need the money, I don't really do this for the money, So and so is a really great Midwife, and I think you will do great with her, I met your wife and she is really great, I think you are great candidates for a home birth... ect ect ect.
I felt a sudden pang of confused dissappointment, and a little bitterness. This is something that my wife REALLY wants, but this woman who is supposed to be very good just flaked out on us citing a scheduling conflict, and love for the game. Honestly, I just want to get off the phone, but this woman won't quit justifying her decision to step aside, and I find myself glad handing her- "No, it's no problem. Sure we understand, I guess that is just the way it goes right?" Still she kept going, and at this point I am tuning her out as my mind starts to work over the fact that both Nanigans and I had left work early- we were in the car on our way to see this woman, and got prematurely rejected for reasons I could only classify as "miscellaneous". I actually got more frustrated because this woman wouldn't stop explaining herself. Why set the appointment up at all?
This got me thinking about rejection. When you are rejecting someone, I think the best method is to make it brief and to the point- like removing a band-aid. Just grip it and rip it man! Face it, you are not going to be liked by the person you rejected. You will be an asshole to them. Dragging the shit out with a pile of excuses, and reasoning doesn't help the rejected solve for anything other than you are an asshole who can't manage their schedule, eventually leading to the conclusion that you are an asshole who doesn't know when to shut the fuck up. Keep it brief, that is the ticket!
"Sorry, it isn't going to work out" If they ask why, then give 1 reason. "my schedule is just too full" and if you want to be nice, then recommend an alternative "I have a number for an associate that may be able to help". after that, the conversation is over.
You can apply that formula for every rejection in your life. No shit.
Break up: "Sorry it just isn't going to work out. Why? well, I am just not into it. Try match.com I hear it works well- later"
Business: "Sorry, it just isn't going to work out. Why? The numbers are just too far apart so we went with another bidder. Alright, later"
Family: "Sorry, it just isn't going to work out. Why? It is just too far to drive. Alright, later"
Friends: "Sorry, we can't make it. Why? Last time you got all hammered and threw up all over yourself. Got to an AA meeting. Alright later."
See? Simple.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The Rage, a Mass which is Critical, and a Happy Friday
I love my bicycles as much as I love my cars. When I moved to Chicago I started riding my bikes (yes plural- I have had as many as 5 at once) in order to get from place to place within the city. This has its advantages, and disadvantages.
An advantage is that I can get damn near anywhere fast, and for free. Chicago is big, but it is flat and there are bike lanes everywhere. Public transport has proved reliable, but there aren’t necessarily stops near where you want to go, so you end up taking a train, a bus, and then walking significant distances. If I take the bike, I go where I need to go, get a little exercise and see the sites. Other perks if I was a single guy: It seems like women riding in cars like to talk to a guy riding along next to them in traffic. I have been asked all sorts of questions, Some ladies want directions, or they ask me how I am doing. They complain about traffic, and sometimes they hit on me. I have been cat called, wolf whistled and I have been subtly propositioned ex: “HEY SEXY!” “NICE LEGS!” Or the always popular “WANNA FUCK?” Good times.
The downside is that a bicyclist is somewhat inconspicuous to drivers. People get hit all the time, and when you are on a bike traveling at any kind of speed getting hit by a car, or hitting a car can be fatal. I have had my share of close calls. Last summer I was riding in the bike lane on Lawrence when an SUV driver suddenly decided he wanted to make a right turn. He damn near pushed me into a parked car. I slapped his rear window and he quickly moved back to his left and made way. On another night I was riding down Clark, and a guy in a Civic suddenly pulled out of a parking space in front of me. I was barely able to miss him, and then the fucking douche bag gave me the finger.
There is always the potential to get my bike stolen. I lock it up but that won’t prevent some asshole who really wants my bike from getting it. My buddy Jon lost his ride to some motherfucker who was carrying some sort of high-speed portable saw. Cut a kryptonite lock like it was butter…
Then there is a new phenomenon- Cycle hate. I didn’t know it existed, but it does. Assholes trying to knock riders off their bikes, or restrict their ability to ride in a given area. Last week I was riding down to my buddies house and the beach trail ended near Sheffield. I made a quick turn onto the sidewalk to ride up to the end of the block where I could merge with traffic and this asshole steps out in front of me (on purpose). I come to a stop. “You can’t ride on the sidewalk” he says. Great, I appreciate the advice. I just came off the beach trail and need to get 30 ft up the sidewalk to the next intersection. I have no comment for the street lawyer, so I ride around him, but he isn’t done talking; now he is making smart assed comments to my back as I ride away… I wanted to remind him that he was a douchebag in a pink shirt walking a little foofoo miniature poodle that was shitting on the public sidewalk. Then I figured insulting me to my back was probably the highlight of his pathetic day, as he was clearly a lower form of life. I let it go and rode on thinking of how wonderful it was that the asshole would shortly be handling Princess Foofeekins excrement. In my head I was thinking of all the wonderful things I wish I had said or done, but didn’t because I am not witty enough, and I am not the confrontational sort- (Translation) I should have smacked that bitch, but alas- I am a big pussy… moving on.
I came upon an interesting news article from Portland Oregon. I am posting the link below
Cycle Hate In Oregon
It appears that the rising price of gas has lead to more folks taking to their bikes (good) but that has lead to some serious motorist-on-cyclist rage (bad). Check out the link, and then watch this video of some drunk charging down the road with a cyclist on his fucking hood! Unreal.
I decided to throw my hat into the cycling advocacy ring. I wanted to descend upon the public en-masse and take by force what I have previously been denied. I wanted to storm the roadways like Wallace stormed the field at Stirling, with a hoard of my brethren at my back. As per usual, I also figured out a way to diffuse my mission in a blur of alcohol. Critical Mass!!! Whoopee! I am letting you fuckers know I own the road, and I am getting drunk whilst I do it! Fuck yeah!
OK, maybe it wasn’t cycling advocacy I was going for. It was cycling self-esteem. And Critical Mass was the ultimate vehicle. It is a completely non-sensical event, with no real leadership, or agenda. Still the Mass manages to fuck people over without any rhyme or reason, and that brings me a twisted sort of fulfillment that I might have enjoyed if I had only had the balls to confront that fucker on the sidewalk and kick hios sorry ass… I admit it, I have weaknesses as a person, and I like to roll into battle heavy. So it was that on the last Friday of July I found myself amongst hundreds of other cyclists sitting astride my trusty Specialized Langster, biding my time in Daley Plaza waiting for the rest of the crowd to assemble, and making guesses about when the ride would begin. I packed a liter and a half of Margarita into my camelback for the occasion, and chatted with my friends as I surreptitiously took steady pulls of hooch from my backpack. I was ready to roll.
Critical Mass is a unique event. On one hand you have folks pining for cycling advocacy- “Share the road” they cry, and “give 3 feet, It’s the Law” they demand. Yet once the ride starts going, Everyone completely ignores all the laws that road use requires-
Stop at traffic signals? Nope.
Utilize bike lanes? Not today!
Yield to Pedestrians? What pedestrians?
No Drinking and driving! FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!!!!!
So we embark in a heard of what seemed to be a thousand bicyclists. People of all ages, genders, orientations, races, religions, political affiliations, and agendas. We were a coalition of cyclists bound together by the common goal of having no common goal. It was reckless, it was stupid, it was somewhat illegal, and it was totally glorious in every way I hoped it could be.
It would only have been better if I could have passed a gridlocked Pink Shirt man angrily pounding out his frustration on the steering wheel of his asshole-mobile while little Foofekins yelped out the window at a thousand cyclists wishing him an acerbic “Happy Friday”. Hey- he said I ought to ride on the road right? RIGHT?!?!?!? Fucker.
We rode all over the city. I saw parts of Chicago I had never seen. We dominated the roadway, and we all cheerfully acknowledged four wheeled traffic with cynicism normally reserved for stand up comedians. Happy Friday! I hope you like that CD your listening to, cause you are going to be there for awhile!
In short, I heart Critical Mass. I am already planning on riding again in August. This is why I was really disturbed by the following Video
I guess it stands to reason. I mean we do fuck with a lot of people’s patience. But this guy was a Cop, and look how he set up to put a hit on that rider. Totally intentional. He tried to write it up like the cyclist hit him, but YouTube puts the squash on that…
I suppose that is the risk you take. I still plan to ride again!
Edit to asdd additional info 8/18
More Bike Rage reported on CNN
Monday, July 21, 2008
Complaint to the TSA
I did something today I have not done before- I sent in a letter of complaint. i didn't do it to be petty, or because I felt like someone had wronged me. I did it because I was alarmed to the point of concern. Read what I wrote and see if you agree...
Date 7/20/2008 Time: approx 11:45am BUF (Buffalo Niagara International)
I had an experience yesterday that at first thought seemed a bit off, but the more I think about it, the more disturbed it makes me. I am concerned about the vigilance of the TSA staff at the BUF terminal.
When I went through the TSA security checkpoint to head out into the terminal I handed my ticket stub to the attendant and then reached back for my wallet- before I can fish out my wallet she looks down at the ticket, initials it, and then hands it back to me- I thought she was supposed to be comparing the information from my ID to the ticket. I handed her back my ticket, and this time- my ID. She got all red and said something about getting her in trouble, but then verified the info and let me pass. I was the only person in the line, so I put my carry on bag on the treadmill, and started putting all my stuff (belt, hat, wallet, keys ect.) into a grey bin. I push the bin onto the belt and step over to the metal detector. The attendant barely looked at me, as she was entrenched in conversation with a coworker about how many red bulls she drank that morning. She just waved me through. The detector didn't alarm (I travel a lot, and know what not to carry). Once past the metal detector I stepped over to the receiving end of the conveyor belt for the baggage scan. My bag was held up due to all the empty grey bins that had been left on the rollers. The guy sitting at the scanner was still talking to metal detector girl about her red bull consumption and didn’t say a word, he just left the belt running and my bag was held in place by the accumulated bins on the roller area.
I looked down toward the end of the rollers, and 4 more TSA people were gathered in conversation, and paying no mind to the traffic jam that was holding up my bag. I started grabbing bins and stacking them so my bag could come off the conveyor, and once my bag, and bin came through I started putting my belt, hat, and sandals back on. At no point did any of the TSA employees bother looking at me, or assisting me with stacking the bins. I was a little stunned.
I started to wonder if any of them were paying attention to anything that was going on at their station. Based on the fact that there wasn’t really anyone in front of, or behind me it must have taken some time for the bin jam up to take place. I put my bag over my shoulder and moved on.
So my question is this- is that the SOP for the TSA staff at that terminal? I couldn't tell you if anyone scrutinized my bag as it came through the scanner, and I can assure you that a review of surveilance tape will show exactly what I have described.
I have flown many times post 9/11, and I have never seen such lax security at any of the airports I have traveled through. This caused me some concern considering the orange level of alert.
Date 7/20/2008 Time: approx 11:45am BUF (Buffalo Niagara International)
I had an experience yesterday that at first thought seemed a bit off, but the more I think about it, the more disturbed it makes me. I am concerned about the vigilance of the TSA staff at the BUF terminal.
When I went through the TSA security checkpoint to head out into the terminal I handed my ticket stub to the attendant and then reached back for my wallet- before I can fish out my wallet she looks down at the ticket, initials it, and then hands it back to me- I thought she was supposed to be comparing the information from my ID to the ticket. I handed her back my ticket, and this time- my ID. She got all red and said something about getting her in trouble, but then verified the info and let me pass. I was the only person in the line, so I put my carry on bag on the treadmill, and started putting all my stuff (belt, hat, wallet, keys ect.) into a grey bin. I push the bin onto the belt and step over to the metal detector. The attendant barely looked at me, as she was entrenched in conversation with a coworker about how many red bulls she drank that morning. She just waved me through. The detector didn't alarm (I travel a lot, and know what not to carry). Once past the metal detector I stepped over to the receiving end of the conveyor belt for the baggage scan. My bag was held up due to all the empty grey bins that had been left on the rollers. The guy sitting at the scanner was still talking to metal detector girl about her red bull consumption and didn’t say a word, he just left the belt running and my bag was held in place by the accumulated bins on the roller area.
I looked down toward the end of the rollers, and 4 more TSA people were gathered in conversation, and paying no mind to the traffic jam that was holding up my bag. I started grabbing bins and stacking them so my bag could come off the conveyor, and once my bag, and bin came through I started putting my belt, hat, and sandals back on. At no point did any of the TSA employees bother looking at me, or assisting me with stacking the bins. I was a little stunned.
I started to wonder if any of them were paying attention to anything that was going on at their station. Based on the fact that there wasn’t really anyone in front of, or behind me it must have taken some time for the bin jam up to take place. I put my bag over my shoulder and moved on.
So my question is this- is that the SOP for the TSA staff at that terminal? I couldn't tell you if anyone scrutinized my bag as it came through the scanner, and I can assure you that a review of surveilance tape will show exactly what I have described.
I have flown many times post 9/11, and I have never seen such lax security at any of the airports I have traveled through. This caused me some concern considering the orange level of alert.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Whole Wide World (Wreckless Eric)
When I was a young boy
My mama said to me
There's only one girl in the world for you
And she probably lives in Tahiti
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
Or maybe she's in the Bahamas
Where the Carribean sea is blue
Weeping in a tropical moonlit night
Because nobody's told her 'bout you
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Find out where they hide her
Why am I hanging around in the rain out here
Trying to pick up a girl
Why are my eyes filling up with these lonely tears
When there're girls all over the world
Is she lying on a tropical beach somewhere
Underneath the tropical sun
Pining away in a heatwave there
Hoping that I won't be long
I should be lying on that sun-soaked beach with her
Caressing her warm brown skin
And then in a year or maybe not quite
We'll be sharing the same next of kin
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Find out where they hide her
My mama said to me
There's only one girl in the world for you
And she probably lives in Tahiti
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
Or maybe she's in the Bahamas
Where the Carribean sea is blue
Weeping in a tropical moonlit night
Because nobody's told her 'bout you
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Find out where they hide her
Why am I hanging around in the rain out here
Trying to pick up a girl
Why are my eyes filling up with these lonely tears
When there're girls all over the world
Is she lying on a tropical beach somewhere
Underneath the tropical sun
Pining away in a heatwave there
Hoping that I won't be long
I should be lying on that sun-soaked beach with her
Caressing her warm brown skin
And then in a year or maybe not quite
We'll be sharing the same next of kin
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Just to find her
I'd go the whole wide world
I'd go the whole wide world
Find out where they hide her
Monday, July 14, 2008
The price of Rice...
I got the following email from my Mother in Law last week, and I thought i might post it, and my response here so anyone reading could enjoy. Lord knows, I don't even know if anyone reads this, but what the fuck, why not right?
Here is a cut/ paste of her email-
The oil price bubble is unfairly taxing American families and restricting our nation's economic potential. I sent a message to Congress asking them to adopt common-sense solutions, and I urge you to take a moment to send a message, too. Congress can dramatically reduce the price of oil and gas, providing immediate relief for businesses and hard working Americans, and your letter will help make our elected officials be more aware how high energy prices are hurting hard working Americans.
so here is my response-
Oil and Gas exist on a free market. Oil companies will charge what the market will bear, and any intervention from Congress to "fix prices" will only have harsh long term consequences for the market, and for the industry.
If Congress price fixes Gas @ 2.50 per gallon- everyone consumes at the rate they can afford @ $2.50. The problem is, oil supplies are a non renewable resource- This means there is a limited supply in the world, and we are burning it off every day. If the price is fixed low, and consumption remains high we will use up the supplies that much faster.
Higher prices mean people will budget their consumption, and the resource will last longer. That is the reason prices are escalating. Less oil available= higher value.
Most people have no concept of what the actual cost per gallon is for an oil company to provide fuel at the pump. There is a lot more to the price of oil than I think people are considering- one of the "costs" of the oil business is exploration (finding new oil reserves), and another significant cost is refining (reducing crude into the various products we use every day- not just Gas, but plastics, hydraulic fluids, coolants for tooling, everything from candles to KY- all contain petroleum based by-products. Transportation is another major expense (moving the product from place to place by ship, by train, by pipeline, and by truck. These expenses consume billions a year from the oil companies "profits", and would suffer if the congress "fixed" fuel prices. This is why they will never regulate the prices.
If you REALLY want to lower the price of gas- use less. Once demand drops, so will the price.
You have a nice shiny bike. Ride it.
OH-
Did you forget?
I am the son of an Oil Executive...
Here is a cut/ paste of her email-
The oil price bubble is unfairly taxing American families and restricting our nation's economic potential. I sent a message to Congress asking them to adopt common-sense solutions, and I urge you to take a moment to send a message, too. Congress can dramatically reduce the price of oil and gas, providing immediate relief for businesses and hard working Americans, and your letter will help make our elected officials be more aware how high energy prices are hurting hard working Americans.
so here is my response-
Oil and Gas exist on a free market. Oil companies will charge what the market will bear, and any intervention from Congress to "fix prices" will only have harsh long term consequences for the market, and for the industry.
If Congress price fixes Gas @ 2.50 per gallon- everyone consumes at the rate they can afford @ $2.50. The problem is, oil supplies are a non renewable resource- This means there is a limited supply in the world, and we are burning it off every day. If the price is fixed low, and consumption remains high we will use up the supplies that much faster.
Higher prices mean people will budget their consumption, and the resource will last longer. That is the reason prices are escalating. Less oil available= higher value.
Most people have no concept of what the actual cost per gallon is for an oil company to provide fuel at the pump. There is a lot more to the price of oil than I think people are considering- one of the "costs" of the oil business is exploration (finding new oil reserves), and another significant cost is refining (reducing crude into the various products we use every day- not just Gas, but plastics, hydraulic fluids, coolants for tooling, everything from candles to KY- all contain petroleum based by-products. Transportation is another major expense (moving the product from place to place by ship, by train, by pipeline, and by truck. These expenses consume billions a year from the oil companies "profits", and would suffer if the congress "fixed" fuel prices. This is why they will never regulate the prices.
If you REALLY want to lower the price of gas- use less. Once demand drops, so will the price.
You have a nice shiny bike. Ride it.
OH-
Did you forget?
I am the son of an Oil Executive...
Friday, June 6, 2008
Check this out...
This guy was an Apache Pilot in Afgahnistan, was shot down, and lost his right arm. Now he is taking a hiatus from Med school, and traveling around the country with his 3yr old behaviorally challenged Boxer, in an 84 Suburban.- hilarity ensues!
Click this following link
www.DanielsBigTrip.blogspot.com
This is a highly entertaining blog,The writing is excellent and upbeat. I hope you check it out, and drop a couple bucks to help him pay for gas.
Click this following link
www.DanielsBigTrip.blogspot.com
This is a highly entertaining blog,The writing is excellent and upbeat. I hope you check it out, and drop a couple bucks to help him pay for gas.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Sorry bout that Bob...
I had a memory of a buddy of mine from back in highschool this morning. When I think about my friend Sam I have to remember some of the strange moments we encountered during our friendship.
I have always been pretty ecclectic with whom I choose to be friends with. I guess i always wanted to model myself after Ferris Bueller in a way- "Sportos, motorheads,
geeks, sluts, pinheads, dweebies, wonkers, richies, they all adore him. they think he's a righteous dude..."
I could give you more detail about Sam- like how on his 13th birthday he got hit by a semi truck and narrowly survived after being crushed between the wheels. he suffered an extended coma, and massive reconstructive surgery- but that wouldn't be telling you anything I really knew. I didn't know Sam when that happened, I didn't meet him until we were 16 years old, and he was already well on his way to living his perfectly normal, even if miraculous teeneaged life.
Sam is the guy who put me in a band- even though I didn't know how to play an instrument. He put a 4 string Bass in my hand and said- ok- figure it out. I plugged in, and we made noise. It was a good time. My friendship with him was good, and bad, and all the things one would expect teenaged friendships to be. We didn't always agree, or identify with one another, but from an overall perspective he difinitly colored my life in a way few others did. Sam was about living for the day- possibly as a result of his experience, but diffinitly as a result of his charecter. I have never read of anyone in fact or fiction that could match him.
So on to the memory- we were probably 17 or 18, and Sam, along with his brother Mike were hanging out with my mom and I at our little apartment in Beaver. It should be told that Sam and Mike and I were stoned to bejeezus for the duration of this event, but my Mother was none the wiser. We came accross what looked like a classic Burt Reynolds flick. When we came into the movie Burt was hooning around some backwoods mountains in an International Scout II. I figured Burt Reynolds + Scout II + driving hoonage would equal some sort of cinimatic classic of the Smokey and The Bandit / Cannonball sort. How wrong was I? VERY!
So we settle in and start watching the drama unfold as Burt and his buddies embark on a canoeing trip in the Ozarks. My Mother watches along with us- but with a secret knowledge she chose not to share. The movie is dragging on- but we are stoned, and unmotivated to change tha channel. Then it happens- the "Piggy" scene (if you have seen "Deliverence" then you know what I am talking about. Ned Beatty's charecter is sexually assaulted by two rednecks in extremely graphic fashion. This is probably the most disturbing scene in all of celluloid, and even in my stupor I am overwhelmed with feelings of disgust, and bewilderment that this movie could take such a turn- still it never occured to me to turn it off...
Once the scene is concluded, I look over and see Sam in a similar state of shock. Then from the floor in front of the couch Mike pipes up, and says the following-
"You know, everyone says they will be cool about something like that, but you KNOW that the minute that guy pisses one of them off they are going to be all like "yeah? Well at least I didn't get fucked in the ass on the camping trip Bob"
Fucking Brilliant...
I have always been pretty ecclectic with whom I choose to be friends with. I guess i always wanted to model myself after Ferris Bueller in a way- "Sportos, motorheads,
geeks, sluts, pinheads, dweebies, wonkers, richies, they all adore him. they think he's a righteous dude..."
I could give you more detail about Sam- like how on his 13th birthday he got hit by a semi truck and narrowly survived after being crushed between the wheels. he suffered an extended coma, and massive reconstructive surgery- but that wouldn't be telling you anything I really knew. I didn't know Sam when that happened, I didn't meet him until we were 16 years old, and he was already well on his way to living his perfectly normal, even if miraculous teeneaged life.
Sam is the guy who put me in a band- even though I didn't know how to play an instrument. He put a 4 string Bass in my hand and said- ok- figure it out. I plugged in, and we made noise. It was a good time. My friendship with him was good, and bad, and all the things one would expect teenaged friendships to be. We didn't always agree, or identify with one another, but from an overall perspective he difinitly colored my life in a way few others did. Sam was about living for the day- possibly as a result of his experience, but diffinitly as a result of his charecter. I have never read of anyone in fact or fiction that could match him.
So on to the memory- we were probably 17 or 18, and Sam, along with his brother Mike were hanging out with my mom and I at our little apartment in Beaver. It should be told that Sam and Mike and I were stoned to bejeezus for the duration of this event, but my Mother was none the wiser. We came accross what looked like a classic Burt Reynolds flick. When we came into the movie Burt was hooning around some backwoods mountains in an International Scout II. I figured Burt Reynolds + Scout II + driving hoonage would equal some sort of cinimatic classic of the Smokey and The Bandit / Cannonball sort. How wrong was I? VERY!
So we settle in and start watching the drama unfold as Burt and his buddies embark on a canoeing trip in the Ozarks. My Mother watches along with us- but with a secret knowledge she chose not to share. The movie is dragging on- but we are stoned, and unmotivated to change tha channel. Then it happens- the "Piggy" scene (if you have seen "Deliverence" then you know what I am talking about. Ned Beatty's charecter is sexually assaulted by two rednecks in extremely graphic fashion. This is probably the most disturbing scene in all of celluloid, and even in my stupor I am overwhelmed with feelings of disgust, and bewilderment that this movie could take such a turn- still it never occured to me to turn it off...
Once the scene is concluded, I look over and see Sam in a similar state of shock. Then from the floor in front of the couch Mike pipes up, and says the following-
"You know, everyone says they will be cool about something like that, but you KNOW that the minute that guy pisses one of them off they are going to be all like "yeah? Well at least I didn't get fucked in the ass on the camping trip Bob"
Fucking Brilliant...
Monday, May 12, 2008
Odyssey of the broken nose...
Sooo... I got my nose broken Friday.
I know what you are thinking, but NO I didn't go around talking smack on American Muscle Cars (actually, you probably know that I am quite on board with GM small blocks lately)
No- I actually have (had) a deviated septum- This ailment is commonly viewed as the excuse all the little rich girls with big noses use to get rhinoplasty, but in my case it was causing some serious snoring issues, along with some apnea-meaning- short pauses in my breathing while I sleep.
The snoring got on Shannon's nerves, but the apnea was downright frightening. I lost a friend last year due to sleep apnea, and while my case is nowhere near as severe as his, it would occasionally wake me with an adrenaline surge as my body would fight to recover- pretty scary when you wake with a shock like that.
So, I commited to getting a surgery called septoplasty- They went into my nose, broke, and then re-set my septum cartilage so that it would open my airway, and allow me to breath more easily. i am pleased to report after my first full night sleep without blockage that it appears to have worked!
The story isn't about the ending though- it is about how I got here.
Friday 9:00am Nanigans and I report to out patient surgery- I sign the documents and shed my street clothes for one of those awesome hospital gowns. The nurse tries to stick my hand for the IV drip- ok my ex-wife was (is?) an RN and she had used me for practice on this more than once. Long story, but we used to trade- I would let her stick me with an IV if she would let me play Gran Turismo for a few hours... So I know that it is better to go for the inside of my elbow when inserting an IV, as I have a big fat vein there that is easy to get to. This lady wants to go for the hand- and as she is sticking me I feel the familier pinch that tells me the vein is rolling, and she is chasing it around under my skin.
It hurts. I calmly look over at her (I was looking away) and suggest she go for the elbow. She relinquishes the chase, and follows my advice to immediate effect.
Once hooked up I was taken into an Operating Room where I was given anesthetic, and then "treated" (they broke my nose). once the break was done, the Docs packed my nose with material to keep all the blood from running out of my head, and I got packaged up and sent out to recovery. About two hours later and they let me go home.
Having a broken nose is unpleasent. First- my eyes would not stop tearing up, second- the packing material is incredibly uncomfortable. It leaves you feeling a bit claustrophobic not being able to breath through your nose, and not being able to clear it in any way.
All day Friday and Saturday I suffered- cleaning excess blood out from around my nose, and changing the dressing on my face. My nose stuffed with packing looked about 4 times as wide as usual- and that made it uncomfortable to wear my glasses, and the constant tearing in my eyes made it difficult to wear my contacts.
Before you pity me too much- you should also know I was under a 1000mg dose of Vicodin every 6 hours- so I wasn't really feeling a lot of pain- or a lot of anything really- just kind of coasting along in a fog through the discomfort.
Sleeping was impossible- the nose dressing was taped to my face, which was uncomfortable- and for some reason even if I did fall asleep I would just wake up an hour later, have to get up and change my dressing. Friday night was aweful, Saturday not as bad as the bleeding had stopped so the exterior dressing wasn't really needed.
Sunday morning I went into the ER to meet my doctor in order to have the packing removed. All went well, except the doctor indicated the pack for my left nostril had "come apart". He was still able to pull it out though- along with the one from the right.
I got my first look at the "packing" and I will say that it didn't look anything like I had assumed. Each pack is about 5 inches long, and basically looked like a giant tampon wrapped in plastic- both were soaked in blood. It was an immense relief to have them out though. I still felt a bit plugged up, but much relieved. After a cursory exam we left the hospital, and i could breath through my nose.
Sort of...
About 3 blocks from the hospital I got a tickle in the back of my throat that caused me to gag- Shannon pulled over and I lea ned out the door and coughed up blood, and mucus- it was pretty gross, but I felt a little better. We continued on home. When we got here I went into the bathroom to clean up the dried blood around my nostrils. While I was doing that I noticed a thin fiber sticking out of my left nostril. I got out some tweezers and gave it a pull ever so gently. When I did, I felt something in the back of my sinuses move. I carefully continued to pull and the fiber became more like material, by this time it is about a half inch out of my nose. I kept pulling, and it kept coming out- longer, thicker, and covered in blood, mucus some kind of nasty geletin.
Here is what I ended up with...
Once this was pulled out- I could breath clearly from both nostrils, and the bleeding stopped. My guess is that this is what remained of the pack that fell apart. Fortunately I was able to fish it out on my own.
Today (Monday) I am feeling much better. I got a great nights sleep last night. My nose is a little tender, but otherwise healing nicely. I kept the piece of the packing to take when I see the doc for a follow up on Thursday. I really think he ought to have taken a closer look after the pack fell apart- fortunately, no harm, so IMO no foul. I like the Doc, I just hope he is more careful in the future.
I know what you are thinking, but NO I didn't go around talking smack on American Muscle Cars (actually, you probably know that I am quite on board with GM small blocks lately)
No- I actually have (had) a deviated septum- This ailment is commonly viewed as the excuse all the little rich girls with big noses use to get rhinoplasty, but in my case it was causing some serious snoring issues, along with some apnea-meaning- short pauses in my breathing while I sleep.
The snoring got on Shannon's nerves, but the apnea was downright frightening. I lost a friend last year due to sleep apnea, and while my case is nowhere near as severe as his, it would occasionally wake me with an adrenaline surge as my body would fight to recover- pretty scary when you wake with a shock like that.
So, I commited to getting a surgery called septoplasty- They went into my nose, broke, and then re-set my septum cartilage so that it would open my airway, and allow me to breath more easily. i am pleased to report after my first full night sleep without blockage that it appears to have worked!
The story isn't about the ending though- it is about how I got here.
Friday 9:00am Nanigans and I report to out patient surgery- I sign the documents and shed my street clothes for one of those awesome hospital gowns. The nurse tries to stick my hand for the IV drip- ok my ex-wife was (is?) an RN and she had used me for practice on this more than once. Long story, but we used to trade- I would let her stick me with an IV if she would let me play Gran Turismo for a few hours... So I know that it is better to go for the inside of my elbow when inserting an IV, as I have a big fat vein there that is easy to get to. This lady wants to go for the hand- and as she is sticking me I feel the familier pinch that tells me the vein is rolling, and she is chasing it around under my skin.
It hurts. I calmly look over at her (I was looking away) and suggest she go for the elbow. She relinquishes the chase, and follows my advice to immediate effect.
Once hooked up I was taken into an Operating Room where I was given anesthetic, and then "treated" (they broke my nose). once the break was done, the Docs packed my nose with material to keep all the blood from running out of my head, and I got packaged up and sent out to recovery. About two hours later and they let me go home.
Having a broken nose is unpleasent. First- my eyes would not stop tearing up, second- the packing material is incredibly uncomfortable. It leaves you feeling a bit claustrophobic not being able to breath through your nose, and not being able to clear it in any way.
All day Friday and Saturday I suffered- cleaning excess blood out from around my nose, and changing the dressing on my face. My nose stuffed with packing looked about 4 times as wide as usual- and that made it uncomfortable to wear my glasses, and the constant tearing in my eyes made it difficult to wear my contacts.
Before you pity me too much- you should also know I was under a 1000mg dose of Vicodin every 6 hours- so I wasn't really feeling a lot of pain- or a lot of anything really- just kind of coasting along in a fog through the discomfort.
Sleeping was impossible- the nose dressing was taped to my face, which was uncomfortable- and for some reason even if I did fall asleep I would just wake up an hour later, have to get up and change my dressing. Friday night was aweful, Saturday not as bad as the bleeding had stopped so the exterior dressing wasn't really needed.
Sunday morning I went into the ER to meet my doctor in order to have the packing removed. All went well, except the doctor indicated the pack for my left nostril had "come apart". He was still able to pull it out though- along with the one from the right.
I got my first look at the "packing" and I will say that it didn't look anything like I had assumed. Each pack is about 5 inches long, and basically looked like a giant tampon wrapped in plastic- both were soaked in blood. It was an immense relief to have them out though. I still felt a bit plugged up, but much relieved. After a cursory exam we left the hospital, and i could breath through my nose.
Sort of...
About 3 blocks from the hospital I got a tickle in the back of my throat that caused me to gag- Shannon pulled over and I lea ned out the door and coughed up blood, and mucus- it was pretty gross, but I felt a little better. We continued on home. When we got here I went into the bathroom to clean up the dried blood around my nostrils. While I was doing that I noticed a thin fiber sticking out of my left nostril. I got out some tweezers and gave it a pull ever so gently. When I did, I felt something in the back of my sinuses move. I carefully continued to pull and the fiber became more like material, by this time it is about a half inch out of my nose. I kept pulling, and it kept coming out- longer, thicker, and covered in blood, mucus some kind of nasty geletin.
Here is what I ended up with...
Once this was pulled out- I could breath clearly from both nostrils, and the bleeding stopped. My guess is that this is what remained of the pack that fell apart. Fortunately I was able to fish it out on my own.
Today (Monday) I am feeling much better. I got a great nights sleep last night. My nose is a little tender, but otherwise healing nicely. I kept the piece of the packing to take when I see the doc for a follow up on Thursday. I really think he ought to have taken a closer look after the pack fell apart- fortunately, no harm, so IMO no foul. I like the Doc, I just hope he is more careful in the future.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Eat it or Wear it- a personal vent...
Man, sometimes it just seems like the rug is getting pulled out from under me. This is a big time in my life, I just got married, I have a kid on the way- and everything feels like it is ready to fall apart at a moments notice.
After working so hard through my late twenties to minimize my debt structure in an effort to facilitate being a "grown up" I have found myself awash in the fear and uncertainty I swore to myself I would never experience again.
I own my car
I have minimal unsecured personal debt
I have a good job
I am making more money than ever before in my life, but it just isn't enough.
It isn't enough to overcome my wifes debts now that she is earning a 3rd of what she used to.
It isn't enough to cover the move into a larger apartment
It isn't enough to cover the rent on a bigger apartment- an amount which could have paid the mortgage on a 3 bedroom home in Texas. Now I just need a second bedroom, and I am coming up short.
I am exasperated
Add to that- my company is in a state of flux. The CEO was just forced to step down, and trading of our stock is suspended pending confirmation of last years revenues- Translation: The banks are pissed because they think our management cooked the books, and now they asked the majority shareholder to step down from his management position while they figure out if we are solvent or not. None of this is particularly reassuring given that my wife and I are expecting, and she is dependant on my health insurance for both the pregnancy, and an issue with "nodules" on her thyroid. If I lose my job, we are going to have to commit to a COBRA, the cost of which will consume my unemployment allowance...
But wait- there is more!
My wife has a 72 month loan on a car that is out of warranty and worth a 3rd of the loan value. We don't need two cars, and cutting one loose would cut our monthly liabilities but trading in my paid for and reliable vehicle in conjunction with hers would still leave us 3 grand upside down going into a newer vehicle. That equates to a larger payment than the one we are currently shouldering for the Dodge + my $100 per month garage payment + the additional insurance I pay for the second vehicle. We wouldn't save, so it isn't worth it.
I would sell my car outright and just put the cash on ice, but my 99 Accord is the better of the two vehicles. Imagine that. A 1999 Honda with 108k on the clock is actually more reliable, and worth more on trade-in than a 2006 Dodge. Unfortunately that doesn't equate to being enough to overcome the staggering depreciation of said Dodge. Eat it, or wear it.
For the first time since I was 21 I have to seriously consider asking my folks for help, and I am ashamed that my decisions have brought me to this.
After working so hard through my late twenties to minimize my debt structure in an effort to facilitate being a "grown up" I have found myself awash in the fear and uncertainty I swore to myself I would never experience again.
I own my car
I have minimal unsecured personal debt
I have a good job
I am making more money than ever before in my life, but it just isn't enough.
It isn't enough to overcome my wifes debts now that she is earning a 3rd of what she used to.
It isn't enough to cover the move into a larger apartment
It isn't enough to cover the rent on a bigger apartment- an amount which could have paid the mortgage on a 3 bedroom home in Texas. Now I just need a second bedroom, and I am coming up short.
I am exasperated
Add to that- my company is in a state of flux. The CEO was just forced to step down, and trading of our stock is suspended pending confirmation of last years revenues- Translation: The banks are pissed because they think our management cooked the books, and now they asked the majority shareholder to step down from his management position while they figure out if we are solvent or not. None of this is particularly reassuring given that my wife and I are expecting, and she is dependant on my health insurance for both the pregnancy, and an issue with "nodules" on her thyroid. If I lose my job, we are going to have to commit to a COBRA, the cost of which will consume my unemployment allowance...
But wait- there is more!
My wife has a 72 month loan on a car that is out of warranty and worth a 3rd of the loan value. We don't need two cars, and cutting one loose would cut our monthly liabilities but trading in my paid for and reliable vehicle in conjunction with hers would still leave us 3 grand upside down going into a newer vehicle. That equates to a larger payment than the one we are currently shouldering for the Dodge + my $100 per month garage payment + the additional insurance I pay for the second vehicle. We wouldn't save, so it isn't worth it.
I would sell my car outright and just put the cash on ice, but my 99 Accord is the better of the two vehicles. Imagine that. A 1999 Honda with 108k on the clock is actually more reliable, and worth more on trade-in than a 2006 Dodge. Unfortunately that doesn't equate to being enough to overcome the staggering depreciation of said Dodge. Eat it, or wear it.
For the first time since I was 21 I have to seriously consider asking my folks for help, and I am ashamed that my decisions have brought me to this.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Automaton
An automaton (plural: automata or automatons) is a self-operating machine. The word is sometimes used to describe a robot, more specifically an autonomous robot. Used colloquially, it refers to a mindless follower.
I remember the first time I heard the word "automaton"- it was a line of dialogue in the movie "Clerks". The dialogue was meant as an impetuous snear toward the great faceless masses. the nameless corporate "them" that were subject of disdain. I remember thinking how I identified with that.
Last night I had a revelation that caused me to think about that word again. I was passing through the revolving door to the train station and I noticed a man of about my age, and build who was dressed very similar to me. It struck me odd, and shook me out of my post work walking coma for long enough that I began observing the people around me. Between that revolving door, and my train ride home I spotted 9 other people wearing Khakis, and a Black NorthFace jacket. If I opened up the sampling to just include the same color combination of Tan Pants, Black Jacket, then I saw 28 others dressed just like me. I started to think about that.
Sure, it is true that Black, and Tan are popular colors in the world of business casual dress, but beyond that- I started to believe that I had become "one of the crowd". I never viewed myself that way before. I always thought that in some way I was outstanding, or dare I say- "better" when compared to the others around me.
As I looked around I couldn't help but wonder what the lives of these similarly dressed people were like. Did the guy standing in line in front of me have a family at home waiting for him? did he have a new baby on the way like I do? What will he do when he gets home? Where is he coming from? Is there anyone else standing in this line at this moment thinking about these things?
The end result was that I found myself looking at peoples faces. Thankfully I was doing this from behind the darkened lenses of my sunglasses- nobody like to think someone is watching them. As I sat on the train I looked at all the people who were sitting on the opposite side of the train.
I took inventory of each of them. Were they reading? What were they reading? What were they listening to on those earphones? I recognized the subtle differences in each person. Suddenly I realized that I wasn't part of the crowd anymore.
The truth be told- there was no crowd. There was a mass of individuals, each with their own purpose for being, their own individual tastes, likes, and dislikes.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Counting backwards from nine
Ok, so maybe you picked up on my new theme- and just in case you are dim- 9 months equals the gestation period for a human child. That is right. I am going to be a Father. A Dad. A Poppa. A "Proud Parent" if you will. I think the time is right.
I remember when I was in my twenties, and I got married the first time. My wife and I came up with all sorts of reasons not to have a child. "We want to travel" was one of them, and the rest were basically variations on that theme. It was all about what we would be giving up, and what we would be missing if we settled down. We both agreed that if it happened then we would consider it a good thing and move forward, but I must admit I was still living in a degree of fear. Birth control was in full effect, and in the back of my mind I knew I just didn’t want it to happen. Good thing too, because 3 years later I got divorced. Strangely enough I think I was the person most surprised by that event. If you ask my closest friends you might gather the impression that there was a pool going regarding the eventuality of fate for my first marriage. Nobody really liked Diane for me. We just weren’t a good fit I suppose.
Fortunately the only custody to consider in the split was that of our little dog Romeo- I do miss the little guy, but he was a gift I gave to her and a fight seemed moodt. The day we signed the papers was the last time I laid eyes on Diane. that chapter closed, and the next 5 years adventure began.
As a suitor I have always been a bit quirky. I have had a handful of relationships that panned out poorly, and some that probably could have gone better if not for my own hang-ups. All along I was careful to avoid making promises that went beyond the end of a year.
Then I met Nanigans- and all of that changed pretty immediatly. I loved living alone, but she would stay. As overnights turned into over weeks the progression felt natural, and comfortable. She went from my date to my companion, and co-conspirator. Weeks turned into months, and now a year. We have our struggles, but if I have learned anything from experience it is that everyone struggles. It is how you feel about the person as a whole that really counts. She matches me in passion, wit, and enthusiasm. She has a great heart, and she loves my people. This is important: She readily embraces my friends, and family- and if you know me at all then you know that they are as much a part of my being as my own personality. We fight very little, and we love very much.
I love her.
And now the news- We are going to be 3. Within the next year I will have another person to whom I will owe every responsibility. It isn’t about me anymore, it will be about "us"- and more specifically "them".
There are some who have shunned this reality as yet another of my folly’s. I disagree. Some say that I am not ready- I disagree.
I know this is the right thing because the first thought that entered my mind when the maternity tests came back positive was- "Wow" and the feeling that came with it was pure joy. A smile has come to my consciousness that I can’t really describe. It lives in my mind, and everytime it shows itself you best believe I am thinking about the future, and the potential for great things. It is a revolution of mindset. A baby is no longer something that would hold me back- it is something that will move me forward. It isn’t about what we can’t do- it is about what we will do, and the promise is intoxicating.
I am far from perfect. I realize that there are those of you who probably read my post about my family reunion in San Antonio and wonder how a guy who blacked out and locked himself out of a hotel room after a major drinking binge can be ready for the massive responsibility of parenthood. Well folks- you ought to hear my Dad’s story about the bottle of Mezcal, and how he accidentally shaved off half his mustache. That was just an episode in lifes adventure. Many of you know of my episodes- some of them are legendary. I am still pleased to have played my part, for better or for worse. I am likely to continue to folly as I grow as a person, but that isn’t the complete reflection of my paternal abilities.
Fortunately I know that being a parent doesn’t require perfection- what it requires of a father is desire, intent, and dedication. I have those qualities. I am so enthusiastic I can hardly contain myself as the next chapter is beginning.
Let the countdown commence...
I remember when I was in my twenties, and I got married the first time. My wife and I came up with all sorts of reasons not to have a child. "We want to travel" was one of them, and the rest were basically variations on that theme. It was all about what we would be giving up, and what we would be missing if we settled down. We both agreed that if it happened then we would consider it a good thing and move forward, but I must admit I was still living in a degree of fear. Birth control was in full effect, and in the back of my mind I knew I just didn’t want it to happen. Good thing too, because 3 years later I got divorced. Strangely enough I think I was the person most surprised by that event. If you ask my closest friends you might gather the impression that there was a pool going regarding the eventuality of fate for my first marriage. Nobody really liked Diane for me. We just weren’t a good fit I suppose.
Fortunately the only custody to consider in the split was that of our little dog Romeo- I do miss the little guy, but he was a gift I gave to her and a fight seemed moodt. The day we signed the papers was the last time I laid eyes on Diane. that chapter closed, and the next 5 years adventure began.
As a suitor I have always been a bit quirky. I have had a handful of relationships that panned out poorly, and some that probably could have gone better if not for my own hang-ups. All along I was careful to avoid making promises that went beyond the end of a year.
Then I met Nanigans- and all of that changed pretty immediatly. I loved living alone, but she would stay. As overnights turned into over weeks the progression felt natural, and comfortable. She went from my date to my companion, and co-conspirator. Weeks turned into months, and now a year. We have our struggles, but if I have learned anything from experience it is that everyone struggles. It is how you feel about the person as a whole that really counts. She matches me in passion, wit, and enthusiasm. She has a great heart, and she loves my people. This is important: She readily embraces my friends, and family- and if you know me at all then you know that they are as much a part of my being as my own personality. We fight very little, and we love very much.
I love her.
And now the news- We are going to be 3. Within the next year I will have another person to whom I will owe every responsibility. It isn’t about me anymore, it will be about "us"- and more specifically "them".
There are some who have shunned this reality as yet another of my folly’s. I disagree. Some say that I am not ready- I disagree.
I know this is the right thing because the first thought that entered my mind when the maternity tests came back positive was- "Wow" and the feeling that came with it was pure joy. A smile has come to my consciousness that I can’t really describe. It lives in my mind, and everytime it shows itself you best believe I am thinking about the future, and the potential for great things. It is a revolution of mindset. A baby is no longer something that would hold me back- it is something that will move me forward. It isn’t about what we can’t do- it is about what we will do, and the promise is intoxicating.
I am far from perfect. I realize that there are those of you who probably read my post about my family reunion in San Antonio and wonder how a guy who blacked out and locked himself out of a hotel room after a major drinking binge can be ready for the massive responsibility of parenthood. Well folks- you ought to hear my Dad’s story about the bottle of Mezcal, and how he accidentally shaved off half his mustache. That was just an episode in lifes adventure. Many of you know of my episodes- some of them are legendary. I am still pleased to have played my part, for better or for worse. I am likely to continue to folly as I grow as a person, but that isn’t the complete reflection of my paternal abilities.
Fortunately I know that being a parent doesn’t require perfection- what it requires of a father is desire, intent, and dedication. I have those qualities. I am so enthusiastic I can hardly contain myself as the next chapter is beginning.
Let the countdown commence...
Friday, March 14, 2008
Got into a fight this morning...
I bumped into a guy while I was getting off the train. I had been listening to my iPod, and reading a headline on my newspaper and just wasn't watching where I was going.
So I am walking along, and I bump into this guy and knock him down. Yeah, well, I could NOT believe it. He was a DWARF! and you know how you sometimes just-get-sooo-stressed and life-stuff seems to get funny?
He gets up and brushes himself off, looks up at me with anger in his eys and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"
So, I look down at him and simply say, "Well, which one are you then?"
... and that's how the fight started.
So I am walking along, and I bump into this guy and knock him down. Yeah, well, I could NOT believe it. He was a DWARF! and you know how you sometimes just-get-sooo-stressed and life-stuff seems to get funny?
He gets up and brushes himself off, looks up at me with anger in his eys and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"
So, I look down at him and simply say, "Well, which one are you then?"
... and that's how the fight started.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Ghost Ridin the Delorean...
Doc Brown gets 1.22 Jigga what?!?!'s
I saw this and orange juice came out of my nose- swear to God,
P
I saw this and orange juice came out of my nose- swear to God,
P
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
DUI and the Public drunk
Sometimes it is easy to go out, knock back a couple in a responsible manner and then lay off for a while so you can feel ok about driving home.
It is the same basic plan a lot of my peers used to go by when I lived in TX. Cabs, and public transportation weren't all that readily available in Plano. If you have ever been there you will understand- it is a huge suburb, but taxi services are Dallas based, and they aren't readily available. We would usually have a few beers, tempered with some food (usually pizza, nachos, or wings) then head out of the bar for the short drive home.
Until the night my roomate and I got busted.
We had stopped off to grab a quick bite and a few games of Golden Tee, over a few after work beers on a Thursday night. We split a decent sized pizza while we played, and then headed out to the jeep for the short trip home. I have been drunk on numerous occasions, and I am comfortable saying, this wasn't one of them. I can say the same of my roomate whom I have known, and drank with for over 13yrs since we were fraternity brothers in college.
We drove on a main route, no weaving, no speeding. Police followed us onto our street and we got pulled over 5 houses down from our own- on suspicion of "drag racing" (we were in a 4 cylinder Jeep Wrangler, and there weren't any other cars around us)
the officers first question was if we had anything to drink that evening- after that it was pretty mechanical- My buddy refused the breathalizer (based on some bad advice he was given by a street lawyer years before), he was arrested and placed in the patrol car before I could even blink. I was then asked to step out of the vehicle. The officers asked if I had anything to drink- I thought they were going to ask me to drive the jeep home, so I said "yes, I had a few drinks, but will not be driving" I was then zip tied, and placed in a second patrol car so they could charge me with public drunkeness. I was not offered a sobriety test, or a breathalizer. In TX and officer makes the determination of your degree of "drunkeness" no tests required. 1 month until my 30th birthday I was being detained for the first time in my life, and it wasn't even for one of the times I had been boldly shit-faced...
I was upset.
We ended up staying overnight in borrowed orange pajamas from the Hotel Plano- I was released the following morning with a summary offense charge, and a court date. I appeared in court 3 months later to challenge, but the officers recording of me saying (in perfect intonation: no slurring) that "I had a few drinks" was enough to uphold my citation- I was fined $200 some odd dollars + fees.
My Roomate got shipped to the county jail the following morning. I bonded him out as soon as possible, but it took several hours for them to "process" him in, and then back out of their system. He then became entangled in the arduous, and expensive legal process required to avoid a jail sentence.
Plano TX hates DUI offenders- here is the dance
step 1- hire a lawyer- pay out $$$
step 2- go to court- attorney will engage in the legal wrangling to try and get a "deal"
step 3- "the deal" in this case = Probation, loss of license 1yr- (do NOT refuse breathalizer), DWI "education" courses, victim impact sessions, fines, community service hours, and then continuing "surcharge" payments to the state of roughly $100 per month for 3 years after reinstatement. After all is said and done, a couple of beers and a pizza cost my friend nearly 10k.
In the months after the incident I spoke to a waitress from the bar we had been in. She told me that the officer who arrested us made a habit of hanging out in the area, and that our story was very similar to others she had heard. We had been "trapped".
There are those who would say "good- you got what you deserved", but for those people I have some perspective- Most restaurants that serve alcohol have a parking lot. If you go out to dinner and have a drink or two with dinner then drive home you are every bit as guilty as we were. Think about that next time you order a nice red wine to compliment your steak.
It has been a few years now, and I have reflected on what happened- here is what I got out of it.
We broke the law. There isn't any way around it. There can't be a varience for the degree to which we broke the law. In my years as a bar tender I had seen people pound beers all night yet never appear "impaired", I have also seen grown men get absolutly wasted after a few glasses of wine on an empty stomach. The fact is you just can't drink and drive without a degree of risk. The best solution to that risk is to not take it. Can I be pissed at the officer for "stalking" the parking lot? sure, but in reality wasn't he just doing his job? If you are looking for criminals, is it not a good idea to look where crimes are being commited?
Lesson learned: It isn't worth it.
I still like to go out for drinks, but I live in Chicago now- we have public transport readily available, and that is all I use. If I lived somewhere like Plano again- I would need to plan accordingly. No excuses.
I was still pissed about my "not really drunk in public" fine, even though it seemed like a small penance compared to what my roomate went through.
I got a tip from the bail bondsman when I went to pick up the bond to get my friend out: If a police officer asks if you have had anything to drink- be polite, follow any instructions you are given, but keep your mouth shut. Don't nod, don't shake your head- don't speak.
You might still get arrested, but it is hard to charge you without evidence.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Makin Chili Bitches...
As I get older I have become fascinated with annual events. The gathering of friends at designated times of the year to indulge in friendly competition. One of those annual events is "The Chili Cook-Off"- sponsored by my friend Fuzzy, and His Wife, whom I will refer to as Mrs. Fuxxy (an inside joke that I can't really explain, and have it seem funny to an outsider).Last year I introduced the world to Cobra- a unique chili creation. I talked a lot of shit about my culinary skill, and it was warranted: I won the overall competition at the Second Annual Chili Cook-Off.
For the past year, the coveted Blue Ribbon has resided upon my kitchen wall, and as this years competition swiftly approaches I feel compelled to up my game. This is largely due to the fact that I emerged victorious from the vacuum created by the fact that the previous years cook-off champion did not compete. Captain Dogg, and his notorious chili- (good stuff to be sure) was the overall winner the first year, but the Captain could not be present during the second cook-off due to a sad loss of a loved one, and a need to travel to be with the family.
As a result, my championship defense maintains an element of under-dog status. the Paper Champion vs. The Salty Vet. Can I emerge victorious, and justify my previous accomplishment, or will I fade, and drop tears in my beer like Drew has for the past two events...
Here are the Catagories-
1. Best in Show (overall award for plating and presentation)
2. Chili with the most HEART-INESS (Best use of the Bean)
3. Prettiest Crockpot (a competition favorite)
4. Five Alarm (which chili is too hot to handle?)
5. Most Innovational (best use of artistic licensewith a focus on the ingredients chosen)
6. Best Variation on a Chili (a non-beef category)
7. BEST OVERALL FLAVOR (The Blue Ribbon Category!!!)
I am shooting to ace catagories 1,2,3,5, and 7, although I think under the rules I can only win one.
I began this odyssey by taking on a partner. Shananigans is my willing compatriot. I decided to alter my approach to Chili cook-off success. I may have won last year, but a warrior never comes at you the same way twice, so I need to alter my game.
We are going with a Fresh is Better approach- and my pre-game preparation began last night.
Presentation plan? Check
Hearty base? Check
Reliable spice? Check
Girlfriend decorating the crockpot according to Blue Ribbon / Cobra Theme? Check
Secret ingredient? Check
Taste? Me Thinks so...
We shall see how this all pans out in next weeks entry.
Wish me luck!
[Edit to name result 2/4]
We won "Most Heart-iness"- and I think a 3rd overall in taste. Tatters is the new champ- my hat is off to him, his contender was very tasty.
I am already thinking about next year... What can I do with booze?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Car Story
My Dad says I loved cars before I even knew what they were. When I was 3 or 4 I climbed out of bed and went out to our detached garage. Dad found me fast asleep with my blanket in the cubby area behind the seats of his 1977 Corvette. Dad is a car guy, so we had a lot of cool cars as I grew up. My first memories are of my Mothers 1971 Mustang Mach 1, my Dads K-series Blazers, and our Corvette. My Dads best friend had a Porsche 911 that he kept in our garage, and we had a 1970 or so MGB at one point. We had a lot of "3rd cars" as I grew up because Dad was in sales and was given company cars to drive on his routes throughout Western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Michigan. We actually "owned" 2 cars, and the third would be a company vehicle. Dad sure took care of those though, I remember he used to pull the wire wheel covers off the company cars, and take all the spokes out in order to run them through our dishwasher, then he would polish all the spokes as he put the hub caps back together. He is the real deal when it comes to detailing, and our NSX is just further proof of how far he will go. Dad has always worked in sales of industrial lubricants, hydraulic fluids, and coolants for the Tool and Die industry for as long as I can remember. It was pretty cool to go along with him on his trips. I got to tour all kinds of cool factories all over the midwest. When we would go out on the road I would bide my time on the highway by identifying cars, and badging. I am observant by nature so I quickly began to note the subtle differences in tail light configurations, paint schemes, wheels, and exhaust. Somewhere in my mind I began cataloging all that data. I can't look at a car today without analyzing it to determine what year and model I am looking at.
I mowed lawns from the time I was 13, and my Dad used to have my customers pay by check. He would take my checks and deposit them, and then give me part of the money to spend, along with my tips. I also got a decent allowance for household chores- which included washing the family cars once a week- even in the dead of a Cleveland winter. At that time my Stepmother had a gorgeous deep blue 1988 BMW 325i coupe. The car had a 5-speed, so Dad taught me 2 gears. Reverse to back out of the garage, and 1st to pull back in. In Winter I would back a car out of the garage and then maneuver the other into the middle and wash / wax the car in the heated garage. At that time we had a 2 and a half car garage, the Bimmer, a Suzuki 750 motorcycle from the early 70's, and a Lincoln Mark VII with a Paxton S/C (I used to call it the executive fighter jet- that car had a button for everything) I honed my skills detailing those cars.
My Stepmother was an exec with Blue Coral Inc. (car wax) and the company owner Mr. Adelman had a decent collection of cars. On many occasions My stepmother would bring home Mr. Adelman's cars and Dad and I would go to work on them. I recall a Mercedes 600 AMG- a huge white monster with AMG Hammer wheels, he had an assortment of Mercedes 500 convertibles over the years, a Porsche 928, and a Ferrari Mondial Convertible. I worked on all of these, and they were generally pretty rough- Mr. Adelman's wife was a 2-footed driver, so brake dust in the wheels was pretty thick, but my smaller fingers could get inside the small slots in the wheels to clean them.
In Jr. High I developed a fascination with Corvettes. I was captivated by the subtle differences in the mid-year models. The ways you could tell a 64 from a 65, or a 66, (63's and 67's were always obvious) The powertrain options, FI, Dual Quads, and Tri-Power- The Bill Mitchell history, and Zora Arkus-Duntov. In interesting bit of trivia- as much as I love, and respect the Corvette- I have never driven one. I had the opportunity to drive a C6 once at a GM Drive event in Houston- I drove the Cadillac CTS-V instead. A month later I was driving home from work and I came upon a C6 in traffic. It dawned on me that I had NEVER driven a Corvette, and that I was an idiot for passing on that opportunity. I called Dad immediatly and we had a laugh, and agreed I should definitly drive one, and I should make it a point to do so. I still haven't done it- but I am always looking for an opportunity.
When I turned 16 my Dad produced the deposit book for my bank account and I had just shy of $5k to use to buy a car. We had a deal that Dad would either match me dollar for dollar for a car, and I would pay all of my own insurance, or I could buy a car and he would pay half my insurance. I immeadiatly set my heart on a 1968 Camaro hotrod for sale up the street. The car was just beyond my reach financially, so I would need to invoke the dollar matching agreement- so we priced insurance. 16yr old + 1968 Camaro SS (the car had a non original 396 and Muncie 4-speed in it). The insurance man squashed my dreams. Dad and I came to terms on a 1988 Honda Accord LXi cpe, and my recently divorced Dad came to terms with the cars female owner. They actaully got married about 5 months later, and are still married today. Cathy is a big Honda fan, and it quickly rubbed off on Dad- He hasn't bought anything but Hondas in the 16 years they have been married, and the garage currently houses an 05 MDX, and 06 RL and our 94 NSX (our second NSX- the first was a 91).We then moved from Cleveland to Chicago, and our relationship was strained to the point where I left my car and moved to Pennsylvania to live with my Mom. I promptly aquired a 1979 Pontiac Firebird (affectionatly referred to as "The Chicken") I got my V8, and liability insurance. i had a few misadventures in that car, and eventually blew the Pontiac 301. I replaced it with a Chevy 350 (BLASPHEME!) out of an old police cruiser. My Mom's boyfriend at the time owned a cab company, and he bought up old cop cars to convert into cabs. I worked in the maintainence garage with his mechanic repainting the black and white cruisers yellow, and doing brake jobs, tune-ups, and gas tank replacements. He gave me the engine for free, and we did the swap in the garage. I think the engine had 200k on it when I got it, but it got the job done. On a school snowday 3 of my friends and i were out in the chicken drifting (literally) and the 350 sucked a valve. I was able to hobble the car home, but it was never "right" again. I sold it for what I paid for it and moved on. I bought an 5-speed Ford Tempo Cpe we called "The Bud Mobile"- and I drove that until graduation. I sold the Tempo, and Dad helped me buy another 88 Honda Accord LXi Cpe to take to college.
I elected to take a semester off first, and then sold the car when I went away to school in January- I was going to college and wanted to focus on the important things rather than work to pay auto insurance. So I went to school, and promptly partied my way right out.After a year and a half, the university kindly asked me to move on, so i went home to Pittsburgh and got a job as security supervisor in my Mom's office building. I bought her 1991 Ford Escort LX- which I named "Milk"- I had already flogged that poor car relentlessly while in highschool, and that little Mazda motor kept on winding away. I took Milk back to school with me, where I promptly flunked out again, but I DID meet my future wife.
This time I got all responsible, and got a job selling Volkwagens. I came into VW at the "right time" the New Beetle was in it's second year, and the New Jettas were selling as fast as we could get them. I was making really good money, and my new wife was a Registered Nurse, so she was doing well too. I promptly leased a brand new 99 Honda Accord sedan.
Things were going well, but the owner of my dealership decided to sell the VW franchise to another dealer. I ended up getting shuffled over to his new Hyundai franchise, the victim of a non-compete agreement that prevented me from leaving to go with VW.I left and went to Honda. At Honda I was the young gun in the showroom the "Wiz Kid". People like dealing with me, and i did a decent volume. I mainly sold Accords, Civics, and Odyssey's, but that picture on the wall of my (now EX) Wife and the 1991 NSX always got peoples attention that i was interested in the less mundane autos. To fill my need I focused on the Civic Si, the Prelude SH, and the beautiful Honda Accord Coupe from 1998-2002. You can imagine- when the S2000 came out it was love at first site. I poured over the technical specs, absorbing every detail about the suspension, the high X-bone chassis, and the 240hp 2.0 4 cylinder with a 9000 RPM redline. When the first one arrived at our dealership, I drove it from the truck back to storage. I helped our lead car-prep unwrap it, and I took it to PDI. I subsequently sold 4 of our 5 car allocation for sticker price (no gauging).
I wanted to go back to school, the owner of the dealership wanted me to stay. He made me a finance manager for the autogroup, and my income nearly doubled.
I still wanted to go back to school, so I paid my bills off, and I went. I also got rid of my wifes aweful Dodge Neon, and bought my Integra GSR.
The decision to leave a blossoming career has haunted me a few times, and it ultimately cost me my marriage, but I did go back and this time I graduated with a 3.0 GPA. a year or so after graduation I sold the integra and bought a used Lexus. After a year and a half with the Lexus I was rear ended by a jack ass in a Lincoln Aviator. I was stopped in traffic and he rear-ended me going 65 mph. all those safety design elements I had pitched so often to my car sales customers- crumplezones, and safety glass did their work, and I stepped from my ruined ES300 nearly unscathed.
Irony? I was on my way to take the Texas Insurance Licensing exam at the time of the collision.
Dad found me my 99 Accord Coupe near his home in Houston. The insurance settlement from the Lexus paid for the Accord, and then some. 6 months later i got the job offer that put me where I am today. Making the same money I was making in the car biz.
Now I am looking for a BMW E36 M3, or an S2000 to make my own...
To be continued..
I mowed lawns from the time I was 13, and my Dad used to have my customers pay by check. He would take my checks and deposit them, and then give me part of the money to spend, along with my tips. I also got a decent allowance for household chores- which included washing the family cars once a week- even in the dead of a Cleveland winter. At that time my Stepmother had a gorgeous deep blue 1988 BMW 325i coupe. The car had a 5-speed, so Dad taught me 2 gears. Reverse to back out of the garage, and 1st to pull back in. In Winter I would back a car out of the garage and then maneuver the other into the middle and wash / wax the car in the heated garage. At that time we had a 2 and a half car garage, the Bimmer, a Suzuki 750 motorcycle from the early 70's, and a Lincoln Mark VII with a Paxton S/C (I used to call it the executive fighter jet- that car had a button for everything) I honed my skills detailing those cars.
My Stepmother was an exec with Blue Coral Inc. (car wax) and the company owner Mr. Adelman had a decent collection of cars. On many occasions My stepmother would bring home Mr. Adelman's cars and Dad and I would go to work on them. I recall a Mercedes 600 AMG- a huge white monster with AMG Hammer wheels, he had an assortment of Mercedes 500 convertibles over the years, a Porsche 928, and a Ferrari Mondial Convertible. I worked on all of these, and they were generally pretty rough- Mr. Adelman's wife was a 2-footed driver, so brake dust in the wheels was pretty thick, but my smaller fingers could get inside the small slots in the wheels to clean them.
In Jr. High I developed a fascination with Corvettes. I was captivated by the subtle differences in the mid-year models. The ways you could tell a 64 from a 65, or a 66, (63's and 67's were always obvious) The powertrain options, FI, Dual Quads, and Tri-Power- The Bill Mitchell history, and Zora Arkus-Duntov. In interesting bit of trivia- as much as I love, and respect the Corvette- I have never driven one. I had the opportunity to drive a C6 once at a GM Drive event in Houston- I drove the Cadillac CTS-V instead. A month later I was driving home from work and I came upon a C6 in traffic. It dawned on me that I had NEVER driven a Corvette, and that I was an idiot for passing on that opportunity. I called Dad immediatly and we had a laugh, and agreed I should definitly drive one, and I should make it a point to do so. I still haven't done it- but I am always looking for an opportunity.
When I turned 16 my Dad produced the deposit book for my bank account and I had just shy of $5k to use to buy a car. We had a deal that Dad would either match me dollar for dollar for a car, and I would pay all of my own insurance, or I could buy a car and he would pay half my insurance. I immeadiatly set my heart on a 1968 Camaro hotrod for sale up the street. The car was just beyond my reach financially, so I would need to invoke the dollar matching agreement- so we priced insurance. 16yr old + 1968 Camaro SS (the car had a non original 396 and Muncie 4-speed in it). The insurance man squashed my dreams. Dad and I came to terms on a 1988 Honda Accord LXi cpe, and my recently divorced Dad came to terms with the cars female owner. They actaully got married about 5 months later, and are still married today. Cathy is a big Honda fan, and it quickly rubbed off on Dad- He hasn't bought anything but Hondas in the 16 years they have been married, and the garage currently houses an 05 MDX, and 06 RL and our 94 NSX (our second NSX- the first was a 91).We then moved from Cleveland to Chicago, and our relationship was strained to the point where I left my car and moved to Pennsylvania to live with my Mom. I promptly aquired a 1979 Pontiac Firebird (affectionatly referred to as "The Chicken") I got my V8, and liability insurance. i had a few misadventures in that car, and eventually blew the Pontiac 301. I replaced it with a Chevy 350 (BLASPHEME!) out of an old police cruiser. My Mom's boyfriend at the time owned a cab company, and he bought up old cop cars to convert into cabs. I worked in the maintainence garage with his mechanic repainting the black and white cruisers yellow, and doing brake jobs, tune-ups, and gas tank replacements. He gave me the engine for free, and we did the swap in the garage. I think the engine had 200k on it when I got it, but it got the job done. On a school snowday 3 of my friends and i were out in the chicken drifting (literally) and the 350 sucked a valve. I was able to hobble the car home, but it was never "right" again. I sold it for what I paid for it and moved on. I bought an 5-speed Ford Tempo Cpe we called "The Bud Mobile"- and I drove that until graduation. I sold the Tempo, and Dad helped me buy another 88 Honda Accord LXi Cpe to take to college.
I elected to take a semester off first, and then sold the car when I went away to school in January- I was going to college and wanted to focus on the important things rather than work to pay auto insurance. So I went to school, and promptly partied my way right out.After a year and a half, the university kindly asked me to move on, so i went home to Pittsburgh and got a job as security supervisor in my Mom's office building. I bought her 1991 Ford Escort LX- which I named "Milk"- I had already flogged that poor car relentlessly while in highschool, and that little Mazda motor kept on winding away. I took Milk back to school with me, where I promptly flunked out again, but I DID meet my future wife.
This time I got all responsible, and got a job selling Volkwagens. I came into VW at the "right time" the New Beetle was in it's second year, and the New Jettas were selling as fast as we could get them. I was making really good money, and my new wife was a Registered Nurse, so she was doing well too. I promptly leased a brand new 99 Honda Accord sedan.
Things were going well, but the owner of my dealership decided to sell the VW franchise to another dealer. I ended up getting shuffled over to his new Hyundai franchise, the victim of a non-compete agreement that prevented me from leaving to go with VW.I left and went to Honda. At Honda I was the young gun in the showroom the "Wiz Kid". People like dealing with me, and i did a decent volume. I mainly sold Accords, Civics, and Odyssey's, but that picture on the wall of my (now EX) Wife and the 1991 NSX always got peoples attention that i was interested in the less mundane autos. To fill my need I focused on the Civic Si, the Prelude SH, and the beautiful Honda Accord Coupe from 1998-2002. You can imagine- when the S2000 came out it was love at first site. I poured over the technical specs, absorbing every detail about the suspension, the high X-bone chassis, and the 240hp 2.0 4 cylinder with a 9000 RPM redline. When the first one arrived at our dealership, I drove it from the truck back to storage. I helped our lead car-prep unwrap it, and I took it to PDI. I subsequently sold 4 of our 5 car allocation for sticker price (no gauging).
I wanted to go back to school, the owner of the dealership wanted me to stay. He made me a finance manager for the autogroup, and my income nearly doubled.
I still wanted to go back to school, so I paid my bills off, and I went. I also got rid of my wifes aweful Dodge Neon, and bought my Integra GSR.
The decision to leave a blossoming career has haunted me a few times, and it ultimately cost me my marriage, but I did go back and this time I graduated with a 3.0 GPA. a year or so after graduation I sold the integra and bought a used Lexus. After a year and a half with the Lexus I was rear ended by a jack ass in a Lincoln Aviator. I was stopped in traffic and he rear-ended me going 65 mph. all those safety design elements I had pitched so often to my car sales customers- crumplezones, and safety glass did their work, and I stepped from my ruined ES300 nearly unscathed.
Irony? I was on my way to take the Texas Insurance Licensing exam at the time of the collision.
Dad found me my 99 Accord Coupe near his home in Houston. The insurance settlement from the Lexus paid for the Accord, and then some. 6 months later i got the job offer that put me where I am today. Making the same money I was making in the car biz.
Now I am looking for a BMW E36 M3, or an S2000 to make my own...
To be continued..
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
More Slo-Mo Goodness
Call me obsessed- I am really into slow motion lately.
I think I am attracted to the deliberateness of the action- somehow the fact that it is happeneing so gradually, and is so relentless, and inevitable. Each frame of motion is so purposeful.
It is inspiring.
I think I am attracted to the deliberateness of the action- somehow the fact that it is happeneing so gradually, and is so relentless, and inevitable. Each frame of motion is so purposeful.
It is inspiring.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Visiting the Folks- Priorities
So here I go with another post that will probably start off one way, and then skew off in another direction. I have decided this is just my writing style, so I am going to go with it and see what happens.
It is official- Shenanigan's has met all of my parents. This past weekend we traveled to Houston and she made acquaintance with my Dad, and Stepmother. It went well. I guess in contrast to events past.
I always get nervous when it comes to introducing the women in my life to my parents. It has gone badly in he past.
I remember Introducing Michele to my mother- Judgement: We looked too much alike
Pamela to my Mother and Stepfather- Judgement- Pam mistakenly told my folks where she had a tattoo on her foot done- step dad was from the area, and identified it as a seedy place. I think that was the first step in the wrong direction, and then while we were having a conversation about a trip we had just been on to go white water rafting we discovered that we had stayed in the same cottage that my parents had stayed in on their honeymoon. It was a fun coincidence until Pam playfully pointed out that we had all very likely had sex on the same bed... That would have been funny had we been among our peers, but not my parents. In this case, awkward silence.
Next was Britney- This one was sort of special. First- I was 22 years old basically thinking with the little head all the time, and this girl was very attractive. Unfortunately she was also one of those girls that would play dumb in order to get attention, she also dressed like a stripper, so that didn't help much.
Dad was living in California, and his assistant had convinced him that I was at an age where I might want to bring my girlfriend home with me. Dad mentioned this to me on the phone one day when I was flirting with Britney, and what came to pass was a perfect storm of mortifying embarrassment.
Brit and I weren't really dating, we were just flirting around, and had hooked up only once. I am not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to take her out to California with me, but I did. It started badly as about a week before we were to leave her behavior went totally erratic. I caught her trying to steal some things from a friend of mine, and she was increasingly unstable when she drank- which was often, and there were nights where I basically had to scrape her off the street to get her home. I knew it was a bad idea, but tickets had been bought, expectations set... The night before we were meant to leave I spent my day chasing Britney- I should have just left her. We finally got going, and arrived at my Mothers house for dinner- Mom got the first gander at the dumb act. We boarded a plane and flew to California. I will say that my folks were as accommodating as they could be. Although I can recall at least two episodes that make me want to gag in embarrassment to this day. I actually had one of those moments you see in the movies where i just impulsively ordered 5 shots of terquila in an effort to mask the horror I was experiencing.
The whole thing was best summed up when my ex-wife made the ill concieved faux paux of seating my Mother, and Father and their significant others accross a table from each other at our rehearsal dinner. Even though nearly 20 years had passed, there was a degree of awkward silence which my Stepmother broke with a single, well placed comment.
"Thank God it isn't Britney"
When I brought my Ex-wife home for the first time things went differently. I think there was a degree of relief. Diane was outwardly normal, although a bit bashful when they met initially. She eventually became more comfortable. Upon our later seperation my mother revealed that she had never really taken to her, and always felt she was being secretive- this was not a misjudgement, as Diane was extremely closeted, and in that way misleading about the fact that she was a control freak. Mom picked up on it, and made note after we seperated.
Introduced Grace to my Dad- Grace slept the whole time, it was a bit weird.
Mom's comment when I told her about Grace- Cultured, artistic, bright, Mormon- Moms reply? "Oh honey, that's a cult". We eventually went our seperate ways, but it wasn't over that.
Introduced 1st Lauren to my Dad- event was sort of blah. Nothing positive, or negative.
2nd Lauren didn't like house pets, so she didn't quite fit into a household of 4 cats, although she was liked...
That brings us to Shananigans
Mom- I got an email the day after they met advising that she was "a treasure", and "a keeper". Step dad approval as well. It seems to be a mutual like since Shananigans came along on another trip to Pittsburgh shortly after.
Dad & Cathy- I don't think Cathy and my ex Wife exchanged as many words in the 5 years I was with her as Shananigans, and Cathy did on the first day we were in Houston.
So it went well, and I was relieved.
It is official- Shenanigan's has met all of my parents. This past weekend we traveled to Houston and she made acquaintance with my Dad, and Stepmother. It went well. I guess in contrast to events past.
I always get nervous when it comes to introducing the women in my life to my parents. It has gone badly in he past.
I remember Introducing Michele to my mother- Judgement: We looked too much alike
Pamela to my Mother and Stepfather- Judgement- Pam mistakenly told my folks where she had a tattoo on her foot done- step dad was from the area, and identified it as a seedy place. I think that was the first step in the wrong direction, and then while we were having a conversation about a trip we had just been on to go white water rafting we discovered that we had stayed in the same cottage that my parents had stayed in on their honeymoon. It was a fun coincidence until Pam playfully pointed out that we had all very likely had sex on the same bed... That would have been funny had we been among our peers, but not my parents. In this case, awkward silence.
Next was Britney- This one was sort of special. First- I was 22 years old basically thinking with the little head all the time, and this girl was very attractive. Unfortunately she was also one of those girls that would play dumb in order to get attention, she also dressed like a stripper, so that didn't help much.
Dad was living in California, and his assistant had convinced him that I was at an age where I might want to bring my girlfriend home with me. Dad mentioned this to me on the phone one day when I was flirting with Britney, and what came to pass was a perfect storm of mortifying embarrassment.
Brit and I weren't really dating, we were just flirting around, and had hooked up only once. I am not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to take her out to California with me, but I did. It started badly as about a week before we were to leave her behavior went totally erratic. I caught her trying to steal some things from a friend of mine, and she was increasingly unstable when she drank- which was often, and there were nights where I basically had to scrape her off the street to get her home. I knew it was a bad idea, but tickets had been bought, expectations set... The night before we were meant to leave I spent my day chasing Britney- I should have just left her. We finally got going, and arrived at my Mothers house for dinner- Mom got the first gander at the dumb act. We boarded a plane and flew to California. I will say that my folks were as accommodating as they could be. Although I can recall at least two episodes that make me want to gag in embarrassment to this day. I actually had one of those moments you see in the movies where i just impulsively ordered 5 shots of terquila in an effort to mask the horror I was experiencing.
The whole thing was best summed up when my ex-wife made the ill concieved faux paux of seating my Mother, and Father and their significant others accross a table from each other at our rehearsal dinner. Even though nearly 20 years had passed, there was a degree of awkward silence which my Stepmother broke with a single, well placed comment.
"Thank God it isn't Britney"
When I brought my Ex-wife home for the first time things went differently. I think there was a degree of relief. Diane was outwardly normal, although a bit bashful when they met initially. She eventually became more comfortable. Upon our later seperation my mother revealed that she had never really taken to her, and always felt she was being secretive- this was not a misjudgement, as Diane was extremely closeted, and in that way misleading about the fact that she was a control freak. Mom picked up on it, and made note after we seperated.
Introduced Grace to my Dad- Grace slept the whole time, it was a bit weird.
Mom's comment when I told her about Grace- Cultured, artistic, bright, Mormon- Moms reply? "Oh honey, that's a cult". We eventually went our seperate ways, but it wasn't over that.
Introduced 1st Lauren to my Dad- event was sort of blah. Nothing positive, or negative.
2nd Lauren didn't like house pets, so she didn't quite fit into a household of 4 cats, although she was liked...
That brings us to Shananigans
Mom- I got an email the day after they met advising that she was "a treasure", and "a keeper". Step dad approval as well. It seems to be a mutual like since Shananigans came along on another trip to Pittsburgh shortly after.
Dad & Cathy- I don't think Cathy and my ex Wife exchanged as many words in the 5 years I was with her as Shananigans, and Cathy did on the first day we were in Houston.
So it went well, and I was relieved.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Cohabitation and Representation
After reading my last post it occurs to me that I came off as a bit of a minimalist. This is not true at all. In fact, the representation is incredibly obtuse. My Desert Isle would be a nightmare of epic proportions, even if I did have the items I mentioned. I wasn't trying to say that in some way I wish that were the way my life could be.
I need people in my world, and I love my "stuff"- you know, all the shit I own, and have accumulated over the 32 years of my life.
I was watching the news, and saw a huge apartment building similar to mine that had burnt to the ground. The interview with a displaced couple was particularly moving, as they had lost all that they own. I felt sorry for their loss, and it made me think about my own coverage if something like that happened to us.
It is important to be sure you have adequate insurance, so I increased my coverage to compensate for Shananigan's belongings as well as my own. I also added her name to the policy. While I was at it, I added her to my auto insurance policy. I realized at that moment that I now have everything in common with Shananigans that I ever had with my ex-wife. We share the same address, same bed, same bank accounts, and insurance. We are now a $250 weekend package to Vegas, and a name change away from being hitched.
So why not?
Well... It really is too soon. We have rushed into this very serious situation with little caution, so now is the time to slow down a bit, and evaluate the future. Perspective is a lot clearer now as comfort permeates our lives. Now we are being who we are, and not who we think we ought to be. Now is the time when we really get to meet each other, and not simply each others manufactured representative.
I bet you know what I am talking about if you really think about it. Your Representative is you putting on your "best face". It is your cocktail party self- the person who talks about high ideals, and appears to really have it "together" all the time. Strangely enough, your representative is more often defined by who they are not, rather than who they are.
Your representative doesn't fart, they don't forget to flush, they certainly don't get drunk and passout in hallways, and they don't complain, or speak wistfully of a better life. Representatives don't fail, and they don't falter. Their lives are pristine and successful.
The people that REALLY know you, don't know your representative. The people that love you would probably think your representative is an asshole.
So what does that say about the person who fell in love with this perfect alter ego?
Well...
This is why we aren't getting married right now. We have been together for a year, and we just met.
I need people in my world, and I love my "stuff"- you know, all the shit I own, and have accumulated over the 32 years of my life.
I was watching the news, and saw a huge apartment building similar to mine that had burnt to the ground. The interview with a displaced couple was particularly moving, as they had lost all that they own. I felt sorry for their loss, and it made me think about my own coverage if something like that happened to us.
It is important to be sure you have adequate insurance, so I increased my coverage to compensate for Shananigan's belongings as well as my own. I also added her name to the policy. While I was at it, I added her to my auto insurance policy. I realized at that moment that I now have everything in common with Shananigans that I ever had with my ex-wife. We share the same address, same bed, same bank accounts, and insurance. We are now a $250 weekend package to Vegas, and a name change away from being hitched.
So why not?
Well... It really is too soon. We have rushed into this very serious situation with little caution, so now is the time to slow down a bit, and evaluate the future. Perspective is a lot clearer now as comfort permeates our lives. Now we are being who we are, and not who we think we ought to be. Now is the time when we really get to meet each other, and not simply each others manufactured representative.
I bet you know what I am talking about if you really think about it. Your Representative is you putting on your "best face". It is your cocktail party self- the person who talks about high ideals, and appears to really have it "together" all the time. Strangely enough, your representative is more often defined by who they are not, rather than who they are.
Your representative doesn't fart, they don't forget to flush, they certainly don't get drunk and passout in hallways, and they don't complain, or speak wistfully of a better life. Representatives don't fail, and they don't falter. Their lives are pristine and successful.
The people that REALLY know you, don't know your representative. The people that love you would probably think your representative is an asshole.
So what does that say about the person who fell in love with this perfect alter ego?
Well...
This is why we aren't getting married right now. We have been together for a year, and we just met.
Monday, January 7, 2008
My Desert Isle... Needs vs Wants
What would you like to have if you were stranded on a Desert Island? This is a popular question people ask each other. Most people take it as an opportunity to discuss their favorite things- music, art- What could you be alone with for the rest of your life...
But people aren't practical- they dont consider things like the fact that they will reach the end of that book, or the painting they love won't shelter them from a tropical depression. you will eventually run out of booze, and your Wii isn't any good without electricity. This is a deserted island people, as in uninhabited.
In fact most people who answer this way are thinking about what they would do if they were to be a hermit in their apartment for a weekend, not doomed to an eternity of lonliness after being cast away upon some uninhabited rock. Secured in their solitude by the deep blue vastness of ocean. What would you like to have in order to insure your survival? A fucking CD? Are you serious?
In the name of practicality I would normally say "satalite phone, case of Yeungling, and a flare gun" but that answer is uninteresting and reveals little about me other than that I am practical, and I try to come prepared. this is a blog. I gotta keep it interesting.
First thing you have to know is that I am THE man you want with you on a desert island. I spent 81 days in the desert when I was 15- two weeks of which were spent "solo". I can start fires with friction, fish with a spear, and interpret the impending weather conditions. I have made stone tools, and found fresh water in the desert. I am not trying to brag, and I am not trying to say that I would definently survive- but I am WAY ahead of the next guy as far as experience, therefore my chances of welfare on a desert island are far greater than his.
If we are talking survival equipment- I am taking one of those big swiss army knives that has all the stuff in it- knife, fork, spoon, and most importantly- magnifying glass. I would also take about 300 sq ft of blue tarp- you can build an awesome shelter with blue tarp. For my third object I would bring a big pot to use to boil water over the fire I started with my magnifying glass, and cook the fish I caught using the tackle I wittled with the knife. During the day I would lounge beneath my blue tarp shelter and try to recreate some of the conveniences I am so accustomed to- things like furniture, and storage. I would also use a solar evaporation method to reduce salt water to salt for use as a seasoning agent, and also as a preservative for the meat I captured.
Hopefully my desert island would have some vegetation I could use to construct a frame for my tarp shelter, but in a worst case scenario I could just dig out a hole and use the tarp to cover it.
So there- I have it covered for you- food, water, shelter, fire
That is what you NEED people- not a play list on your fucking Ipod.
But people aren't practical- they dont consider things like the fact that they will reach the end of that book, or the painting they love won't shelter them from a tropical depression. you will eventually run out of booze, and your Wii isn't any good without electricity. This is a deserted island people, as in uninhabited.
In fact most people who answer this way are thinking about what they would do if they were to be a hermit in their apartment for a weekend, not doomed to an eternity of lonliness after being cast away upon some uninhabited rock. Secured in their solitude by the deep blue vastness of ocean. What would you like to have in order to insure your survival? A fucking CD? Are you serious?
In the name of practicality I would normally say "satalite phone, case of Yeungling, and a flare gun" but that answer is uninteresting and reveals little about me other than that I am practical, and I try to come prepared. this is a blog. I gotta keep it interesting.
First thing you have to know is that I am THE man you want with you on a desert island. I spent 81 days in the desert when I was 15- two weeks of which were spent "solo". I can start fires with friction, fish with a spear, and interpret the impending weather conditions. I have made stone tools, and found fresh water in the desert. I am not trying to brag, and I am not trying to say that I would definently survive- but I am WAY ahead of the next guy as far as experience, therefore my chances of welfare on a desert island are far greater than his.
If we are talking survival equipment- I am taking one of those big swiss army knives that has all the stuff in it- knife, fork, spoon, and most importantly- magnifying glass. I would also take about 300 sq ft of blue tarp- you can build an awesome shelter with blue tarp. For my third object I would bring a big pot to use to boil water over the fire I started with my magnifying glass, and cook the fish I caught using the tackle I wittled with the knife. During the day I would lounge beneath my blue tarp shelter and try to recreate some of the conveniences I am so accustomed to- things like furniture, and storage. I would also use a solar evaporation method to reduce salt water to salt for use as a seasoning agent, and also as a preservative for the meat I captured.
Hopefully my desert island would have some vegetation I could use to construct a frame for my tarp shelter, but in a worst case scenario I could just dig out a hole and use the tarp to cover it.
So there- I have it covered for you- food, water, shelter, fire
That is what you NEED people- not a play list on your fucking Ipod.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Rearview- 2007
January- Dating Amanda- that pretty much sums up the month.
February- Won Chili cook-off, Dumped Amanda, settled lawsuit, and bought Big TV
March- Went to Prague for work, Paris to get Drunk, and at the End of the month I went to KeyWest for a week on vacation.
April- met Shannon, started dating. Went to London for work. Turned 32.
May- Keels and Wheels show in Houston. Meet Carroll Shelby. Shannon has infamous 1 and 1/2 Margarita night.
June- Lost a friend to sleep apnea, visited Michigan for a funeral, and a wedding. Beach volleyball begins.
July- 4th of July with Fuzzy, and Jessie in Erie, Family reunion in San Antonio featuring "The Hallway Incident". Fuzzy's Bachelor party takes place in Pittsburgh- Hilarity ensues.
August- Fuzzy & Jessie Stag-n-Drag party- Shannon meets the gang, Shannon meets my Mum. All goes well with both meetings. Beach volleyball comes to it's end.
September- I figure out that it is ok to go watch Steelers games at the bar by myself. Fuzzy and Jessie get hitched.
October- Shannon and I move into our new apartment. the new place is bigger than my old place, but too small for our combined stuff. We have 9 months to figure out how to deal with that. Shannon gets promoted at work. Nothing doing on Halloween, I leave for Vegas.
November- I am in Vegas for the SEMA show. Hotel room is ridiculously expensive. I lose money in the casino, but then I manage to recover my lost funds at the roulette tables. I leave after breaking even. Hence: I am not a "winner", but I am also not a "loser" in Vegas. Thanksgiving spent in Michigan with Shannon's family- nice bunch of folks. Shannon's promotion is stressing her out.
December- Lots of shopping. Gave in and bought a PS3, although I refuse to become addicted. Bountiful Christmas as Shannon showered me with gifts. I only hope she is equally as pleased. We had company throughout the month, and I enjoyed hanging out with Shannon's brother Clayton. We spent Christmas with Shannon's aunt Colleen, and Uncle Joe, and their daughter Elizabeth. Good times were had by all. Clayton returned on Dec. 28th to stick around through NewYears, and we ended the year quietly at home with family and friends in our cramped little apartment.
So that was 07- Not a bad year in all. I liked the travel, and there were a few little adventures to report here with more grandiose, and spediferous detail. Stay tuned. I might just tell the one about that time I went sleepwalking in San Antonio...
For the year to come? We are going to Houston this month, there is a Chili cookoff championship to defend in February, and we are going to Barcelona, and Copenhagen in March. In April i turn 33, and god knows what will happen if we end up going to Mexico in May. 08 is shaping up to be another big year. I hope you will come along for the ride!
February- Won Chili cook-off, Dumped Amanda, settled lawsuit, and bought Big TV
March- Went to Prague for work, Paris to get Drunk, and at the End of the month I went to KeyWest for a week on vacation.
April- met Shannon, started dating. Went to London for work. Turned 32.
May- Keels and Wheels show in Houston. Meet Carroll Shelby. Shannon has infamous 1 and 1/2 Margarita night.
June- Lost a friend to sleep apnea, visited Michigan for a funeral, and a wedding. Beach volleyball begins.
July- 4th of July with Fuzzy, and Jessie in Erie, Family reunion in San Antonio featuring "The Hallway Incident". Fuzzy's Bachelor party takes place in Pittsburgh- Hilarity ensues.
August- Fuzzy & Jessie Stag-n-Drag party- Shannon meets the gang, Shannon meets my Mum. All goes well with both meetings. Beach volleyball comes to it's end.
September- I figure out that it is ok to go watch Steelers games at the bar by myself. Fuzzy and Jessie get hitched.
October- Shannon and I move into our new apartment. the new place is bigger than my old place, but too small for our combined stuff. We have 9 months to figure out how to deal with that. Shannon gets promoted at work. Nothing doing on Halloween, I leave for Vegas.
November- I am in Vegas for the SEMA show. Hotel room is ridiculously expensive. I lose money in the casino, but then I manage to recover my lost funds at the roulette tables. I leave after breaking even. Hence: I am not a "winner", but I am also not a "loser" in Vegas. Thanksgiving spent in Michigan with Shannon's family- nice bunch of folks. Shannon's promotion is stressing her out.
December- Lots of shopping. Gave in and bought a PS3, although I refuse to become addicted. Bountiful Christmas as Shannon showered me with gifts. I only hope she is equally as pleased. We had company throughout the month, and I enjoyed hanging out with Shannon's brother Clayton. We spent Christmas with Shannon's aunt Colleen, and Uncle Joe, and their daughter Elizabeth. Good times were had by all. Clayton returned on Dec. 28th to stick around through NewYears, and we ended the year quietly at home with family and friends in our cramped little apartment.
So that was 07- Not a bad year in all. I liked the travel, and there were a few little adventures to report here with more grandiose, and spediferous detail. Stay tuned. I might just tell the one about that time I went sleepwalking in San Antonio...
For the year to come? We are going to Houston this month, there is a Chili cookoff championship to defend in February, and we are going to Barcelona, and Copenhagen in March. In April i turn 33, and god knows what will happen if we end up going to Mexico in May. 08 is shaping up to be another big year. I hope you will come along for the ride!
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