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.

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

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.

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

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...