quick post tonight...i'm tired.
this story is odd. it's bizarre. and it's probably not true, or there's more that the 5.0 aren't telling, but i'm not certain which is worse: to be (allegedly) killed by getting stabbed with a salad fork as you wrestle drunk in your front yard, or that your parents thought so little of you when you were born to name you Timber John Wolfe. poor guy.
http://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/8183962/detail.html
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To
it used to be that my birthday, any birthday really, was a huge event. when i was young there were parties...but i didn't have clowns. i hate clowns. that clown from "it" scared me shitless and....oh, tangent. back to the point. i had birthday parties. my friends had them too. high school was mostly just hanging out with friends, having dinner with the parents, or whatever i felt like doing that particular day.
college was a completely different story, at least from what i can remember of it. my 21st was epic, like most would claim theirs to be as well. i actually had my first cavity filled the morning of my 21st, and spent the rest of the night in a complete drunken stupor. fantastic is how i'd describe it. the 2 or 3 years following graduation were fun too. usually spent at a bar in chicago, i'd go out till all hours of the night and end up calling into work the next day.
today is my birthday. i'm not sure if it's the sobering experiences i've had in the last 3 or 4 months, the fact that the weather is shitty on my "special" day for the first time in my memory, or the fact that i have so fewer friends here than i ever imagined i would, but today doesn't feel special. it feels like a monday. any monday.
i went to work today, to a job i hate incidentally, and went through the motions of what i perceive to be doing a good job. there were the obligatory "happy birthday"s from people that don't really care, and phone calls and emails from those that do. i got some money, as is the custom on march 20th, because for some reason i hate receiving gifts. but when i got home, i found only my dogs waiting to be taken out and an empty calendar, devoid of the watering hole activities i've grown accustomed to.
it's odd to think, but there's a battle going on in my head about what today really means. on one hand, it's very depressing to me that i don't have enough friends or enough knowledge of the area to go out and have a good time. and i've become an old fart, since i no longer care to go out till even 11pm on a weeknight, knowing i'll have to be up early for work. and it's equally saddening to think back to the days when my birthday was such a blast and the stark contrast in which they stand compared to today.
on the other hand, birthdays are just like any other day. or so i tell myself. today is monday. tomorrow is tuesday. same thing with a different spelling. i got up, went to work, came home. tomorrow i'll get up, go to work, and come home. really the only difference is that tomorrow i won't have anyone wishing me a happy anniversary of my birth, which i'm totally fine with.
what irks me is that the transformation from day of drunken fun and irresponsibility to day of regularity and mundane tasks came and went without so much as a hint that it was coming. at what point does your birthday become just another day? is there a standard number of years on earth where when you reach it you just stop caring?
it could be that i'll celebrate this weekend with some friends and have the time then i thought i'd have tonight. or, it could be that i won't do anything at all but sit back and reflect on how shitty the past 4 months have been and how i'm just grateful to even have another chance to celebrate the fact that i'm alive. for the past 26 years, 364 days of my life, i never cared, never even thought of expressing gratitude on a day supposedly dedicated to receiving attention.
today is different. i received a card each from my parents and from my grandmother. i've never been one to read the cards, but rather rip open the envelope and see how much money i got. today i read them. and then i broke down in tears. this birthday, though not nearly as entertaining as the others, is certainly more memorable. i guess this is growing up.
college was a completely different story, at least from what i can remember of it. my 21st was epic, like most would claim theirs to be as well. i actually had my first cavity filled the morning of my 21st, and spent the rest of the night in a complete drunken stupor. fantastic is how i'd describe it. the 2 or 3 years following graduation were fun too. usually spent at a bar in chicago, i'd go out till all hours of the night and end up calling into work the next day.
today is my birthday. i'm not sure if it's the sobering experiences i've had in the last 3 or 4 months, the fact that the weather is shitty on my "special" day for the first time in my memory, or the fact that i have so fewer friends here than i ever imagined i would, but today doesn't feel special. it feels like a monday. any monday.
i went to work today, to a job i hate incidentally, and went through the motions of what i perceive to be doing a good job. there were the obligatory "happy birthday"s from people that don't really care, and phone calls and emails from those that do. i got some money, as is the custom on march 20th, because for some reason i hate receiving gifts. but when i got home, i found only my dogs waiting to be taken out and an empty calendar, devoid of the watering hole activities i've grown accustomed to.
it's odd to think, but there's a battle going on in my head about what today really means. on one hand, it's very depressing to me that i don't have enough friends or enough knowledge of the area to go out and have a good time. and i've become an old fart, since i no longer care to go out till even 11pm on a weeknight, knowing i'll have to be up early for work. and it's equally saddening to think back to the days when my birthday was such a blast and the stark contrast in which they stand compared to today.
on the other hand, birthdays are just like any other day. or so i tell myself. today is monday. tomorrow is tuesday. same thing with a different spelling. i got up, went to work, came home. tomorrow i'll get up, go to work, and come home. really the only difference is that tomorrow i won't have anyone wishing me a happy anniversary of my birth, which i'm totally fine with.
what irks me is that the transformation from day of drunken fun and irresponsibility to day of regularity and mundane tasks came and went without so much as a hint that it was coming. at what point does your birthday become just another day? is there a standard number of years on earth where when you reach it you just stop caring?
it could be that i'll celebrate this weekend with some friends and have the time then i thought i'd have tonight. or, it could be that i won't do anything at all but sit back and reflect on how shitty the past 4 months have been and how i'm just grateful to even have another chance to celebrate the fact that i'm alive. for the past 26 years, 364 days of my life, i never cared, never even thought of expressing gratitude on a day supposedly dedicated to receiving attention.
today is different. i received a card each from my parents and from my grandmother. i've never been one to read the cards, but rather rip open the envelope and see how much money i got. today i read them. and then i broke down in tears. this birthday, though not nearly as entertaining as the others, is certainly more memorable. i guess this is growing up.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Setback
i got a call today from the doctor. it was a much anticipated call following the cardiac stress test i underwent yesterday. the test, if you're not familiar, is one in which they pump you full of radioactive materials, take some xrays and imaging, put you on a treadmill to get your heartrate up, and take "after" pictures to see if there have been any significant or abnormal changes.
there were. so, i'm faced with my first setback on my road to recovery. the conversation went something like this:
doctor: scott, this is dr. ____. i looked at your nuclear tests from yesterday and they're a bit abnormal.
me: what do you mean, "abnormal?" what's wrong?
doctor: well, it shows that when you exercise, the area of the stent (remember? the little titanium mesh tube inserted in the artery to keep it open) seems to close a little. we have a couple of options here. you can go thru another angiogram or up your medication.
me: FUCK. okay doc, i want to come in and talk about it.
if you don't know what an angiogram is, well, it fucking hurts. a tube is inserted in the femoral artery (seriously, just look it up) and up to the heart where they can probe the problem area and, if need be, insert a new stent. i really don't like this option, since i'm not much of a fan of being hospitalized for another 3 days, nor do i like not being able to walk for a week. sadly, i may have no other choice.
so, i've come to a detour in my progress. i'm not happy about it. in fact, i'm downright pissed that this shit keeps happening to me. but i pretty much have to maintain some sense of inner strength. i guess the old saying is true, "if it doesn't kill ya, it makes ya stronger." we'll see.
TBD
there were. so, i'm faced with my first setback on my road to recovery. the conversation went something like this:
doctor: scott, this is dr. ____. i looked at your nuclear tests from yesterday and they're a bit abnormal.
me: what do you mean, "abnormal?" what's wrong?
doctor: well, it shows that when you exercise, the area of the stent (remember? the little titanium mesh tube inserted in the artery to keep it open) seems to close a little. we have a couple of options here. you can go thru another angiogram or up your medication.
me:
if you don't know what an angiogram is, well, it fucking hurts. a tube is inserted in the femoral artery (seriously, just look it up) and up to the heart where they can probe the problem area and, if need be, insert a new stent. i really don't like this option, since i'm not much of a fan of being hospitalized for another 3 days, nor do i like not being able to walk for a week. sadly, i may have no other choice.
so, i've come to a detour in my progress. i'm not happy about it. in fact, i'm downright pissed that this shit keeps happening to me. but i pretty much have to maintain some sense of inner strength. i guess the old saying is true, "if it doesn't kill ya, it makes ya stronger." we'll see.
TBD
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Yeah, I'm Hooked
i know it's juvenile. i know it's gen-y, as some may say. but make no mistake about it, i'm hooked on myspace. it's sad, really, that i find myself at all hours of the day logging in and out to see if anyone from my past has made an effort to track me down and see what i've been up to. i'm on and off hoping for just one more message in that inbox to boost my self-esteem.
there have been reports on the news recently warning parents to monitor their teenagers' activities online, in particular, myspace. all maladies aside, i can't help but keep a browser window open, or at least available, at all times knowing that at any second, someone i haven't seen in 5 years could have sent me an email saying, "hey, what's going on? how are you?" even better, what if it's some girl that lives near me that writes that she loved my profile and thinks i'm great? and wants to meet me for drinks? and thinks i'm hot? and wants to, er, uh, ya know? what if i'm destined to meet my soulmate on this dangerous internet medium?
obviously that won't happen. nor do i wish it to. but these are the mental processes of an addict. you should know, you're one too. go on, admit it. you and i are in direct competition with everyone else between the ages of 18-34 to see who can garner the most "friends." we all know that if you have 856 "friends" on myspace it means your popularity hasn't waned since high school and you love it. you like the attention. we all do.
everyday there is a new online community forming. but none of them (yet) have the mind-controlling power that myspace possesses. we should all be thankful, 'cause nothing in the world would be accomplished if they did. if it weren't for myspace, i'd actually get some work done between 8:30 am and 5:30 pm monday-friday. of course, when i'm not on myspace, i'm browsing craigslist (gawwwwd i love craigslist! you can find whatever you want and need....oh, tangent).
i doubt there is a 12 step program for myspacers. there probably should be, but who really wants one? sadly, i think we're nearing a point where a couple of support groups will be popping up here and there. and rightfully so.
it's an innocent act trying to reconnect with your old friends and finding some new ones through the wonders of technology. but there's a direct correlation, an inverse relationship if you will, between myspace surfing and work productivity. the more friends you have or want to find, the more your real, working, professional life (ya know, the one that pays the bills?) suffers. i could get into the science and mathematics of how that works, but i'm smarter, sexier, and more wonderful than you, and you wouldn't understand. at least, that's what my 68 friends at myspace.com tell me. will you be my friend?
there have been reports on the news recently warning parents to monitor their teenagers' activities online, in particular, myspace. all maladies aside, i can't help but keep a browser window open, or at least available, at all times knowing that at any second, someone i haven't seen in 5 years could have sent me an email saying, "hey, what's going on? how are you?" even better, what if it's some girl that lives near me that writes that she loved my profile and thinks i'm great? and wants to meet me for drinks? and thinks i'm hot? and wants to, er, uh, ya know? what if i'm destined to meet my soulmate on this dangerous internet medium?
obviously that won't happen. nor do i wish it to. but these are the mental processes of an addict. you should know, you're one too. go on, admit it. you and i are in direct competition with everyone else between the ages of 18-34 to see who can garner the most "friends." we all know that if you have 856 "friends" on myspace it means your popularity hasn't waned since high school and you love it. you like the attention. we all do.
everyday there is a new online community forming. but none of them (yet) have the mind-controlling power that myspace possesses. we should all be thankful, 'cause nothing in the world would be accomplished if they did. if it weren't for myspace, i'd actually get some work done between 8:30 am and 5:30 pm monday-friday. of course, when i'm not on myspace, i'm browsing craigslist (gawwwwd i love craigslist! you can find whatever you want and need....oh, tangent).
i doubt there is a 12 step program for myspacers. there probably should be, but who really wants one? sadly, i think we're nearing a point where a couple of support groups will be popping up here and there. and rightfully so.
it's an innocent act trying to reconnect with your old friends and finding some new ones through the wonders of technology. but there's a direct correlation, an inverse relationship if you will, between myspace surfing and work productivity. the more friends you have or want to find, the more your real, working, professional life (ya know, the one that pays the bills?) suffers. i could get into the science and mathematics of how that works, but i'm smarter, sexier, and more wonderful than you, and you wouldn't understand. at least, that's what my 68 friends at myspace.com tell me. will you be my friend?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
He Shoots, He Scores!
a quick post today... i'd like to belatedly congratulate vp dick cheney for his shot of the day. managing not only to shoot your hunting partner, but also lodge birdshot in the guy's heart causing a mild heart attack? that, mr. vice president, is pure skill. perhaps you'd like to compete in the next summer games? i'm sure the u.s. squad has room for one more sharpshooter. bang!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Screw You, Hallmark
dear hallmark,
it's a week before valentine's day, and i'd like to take this opportunity to, on behalf of all men, tell you how much i (we) hate you for creating this and other ridiculous "holidays" that cost us money and make us feel like shit.
for all but 2 of my 26 (soon to be 27) years on this earth, i have been with out that "someone special" on your bullshit holiday. please do not mistake my recognition of this fact for a manner of benchmarking how pathetic my love life often is. rather, it's a not-so-subtle reminder of how you have ruined love and mankind as we know it.
each february 14, i, along with countless millions of other men, am made to feel completely inadequate if i don't have someone important, aside from family or close friends, to buy bouqets of roses, boxes of chocolates, and (meaningless) poetic or romantic cards for. with your incessant advertising of how important and special this made-up holiday is, i cannot help but feel lonely, unappreciated, or cheap...despite my best efforts and the knowledge that you made this day up for no better reason than to beat me into economic submission.
it's no secret that you and debeers, kay jewelers, and godiva have conspired to con millions of dollars from innocent, and often underfunded, men like me. you tell us our wives, girlfriends or flavor-of-the week will truly appreciate a card, some diamonds, more diamonds, and chocolate. they'll give us love and affection that we'd ordinarily not be party to. you're lying, and i'm calling bullshit.
after the roses have wilted, the diamonds been lost or pawned (or broken...if the guy was cheap enough to buy cubic zirconia), and the spike in sexual activity has subsided, we reach a common state....unsatisfied. the men are left with less money, less sex, and the persistent memory of the disappointed look on their women's faces upon receiving the aforementioned gifts. you, incidentally, are unsatisfied as well. 8 months pass and the spike in sales are a distant memory. it's time for one more go-around with your sucker customers--sweetest day. thanks alot, assholes, i hate you.
oh, by the way, your card is in the mail, the chocolates should be delivered any day now, and are 2 carats enough for you? see you in october!
love,
scott
it's a week before valentine's day, and i'd like to take this opportunity to, on behalf of all men, tell you how much i (we) hate you for creating this and other ridiculous "holidays" that cost us money and make us feel like shit.
for all but 2 of my 26 (soon to be 27) years on this earth, i have been with out that "someone special" on your bullshit holiday. please do not mistake my recognition of this fact for a manner of benchmarking how pathetic my love life often is. rather, it's a not-so-subtle reminder of how you have ruined love and mankind as we know it.
each february 14, i, along with countless millions of other men, am made to feel completely inadequate if i don't have someone important, aside from family or close friends, to buy bouqets of roses, boxes of chocolates, and (meaningless) poetic or romantic cards for. with your incessant advertising of how important and special this made-up holiday is, i cannot help but feel lonely, unappreciated, or cheap...despite my best efforts and the knowledge that you made this day up for no better reason than to beat me into economic submission.
it's no secret that you and debeers, kay jewelers, and godiva have conspired to con millions of dollars from innocent, and often underfunded, men like me. you tell us our wives, girlfriends or flavor-of-the week will truly appreciate a card, some diamonds, more diamonds, and chocolate. they'll give us love and affection that we'd ordinarily not be party to. you're lying, and i'm calling bullshit.
after the roses have wilted, the diamonds been lost or pawned (or broken...if the guy was cheap enough to buy cubic zirconia), and the spike in sexual activity has subsided, we reach a common state....unsatisfied. the men are left with less money, less sex, and the persistent memory of the disappointed look on their women's faces upon receiving the aforementioned gifts. you, incidentally, are unsatisfied as well. 8 months pass and the spike in sales are a distant memory. it's time for one more go-around with your sucker customers--sweetest day. thanks alot, assholes, i hate you.
oh, by the way, your card is in the mail, the chocolates should be delivered any day now, and are 2 carats enough for you? see you in october!
love,
scott
Sunday, January 29, 2006
1986 - An Explosive Year
this time 20 years ago, i was six years old approaching 7. i was like all other kids at that age: rowdy, obnoxious, high-strung, and in class from 8am-2:30pm. we'd learn our math, english, ohio history, and of course....science.
on this day 20 years ago, my science lesson was one of horror, that i wouldn't completely understand until i was older. my classmates, teacher and i watched on television as nasa prepared to launch the space shuttle challenger. i had no idea back then the magnitude and seeming importance of the space program, nor did i understand what they were even going to study once they go there. all i knew was there was a big space ship about ready to blast off to a place i'd never in my lifetime get to see, complete with a crew including a teacher, scientists, and others (their names and professions escape me at the moment. perhaps i should google it). sadly, they didn't get to see it either.
we arranged our chairs in rows so that everyone could see the countdown to launch and the subsequent commentary as the shuttle was to exit our atmosphere and enter the great beyond. "t-minus 10...9......8... and so on down to 1." ignition and blast off. again, i didn't understand exactly what was going on, but it sure was exciting. all that fire and smoke, and then this huge ship just lifted off the ground. 73 seconds later, it came to a tragic end.
i remember looking on in amazement, shock, and child-horror as the challenger shuttle morphed into a huge ball of fire and falling schrapnel. i can't recall any of the commentary verbatim, but the word "tragedy" was sure used an awful lot.
i saw on the news yesterday that this was the 20th anniversary of the accident. though we've made great strides technologically in the advancement of our ships, it's still a very dangerous occupation being an astronaut; and one that requires the courage only a few humans possess.
with each passing mission, and intermittent tragedies like the columbia disaster in 2003, we are learning more and more about the world and universe around us. even through such tragedies, we are still blessed with individuals that will give their own lives in the name of science and advancement. i only hope that the advancements in science and technology born of the experiments they conduct are worthy of their sacrifices. we should all be thankful that it was they, and not someone like me, that volunteered for a mission that returned them to their original ashes. may they rest in peace
http://www.hq.nasa.gov/office/pao/History/Biographies/challenger.html
on this day 20 years ago, my science lesson was one of horror, that i wouldn't completely understand until i was older. my classmates, teacher and i watched on television as nasa prepared to launch the space shuttle challenger. i had no idea back then the magnitude and seeming importance of the space program, nor did i understand what they were even going to study once they go there. all i knew was there was a big space ship about ready to blast off to a place i'd never in my lifetime get to see, complete with a crew including a teacher, scientists, and others (their names and professions escape me at the moment. perhaps i should google it). sadly, they didn't get to see it either.
we arranged our chairs in rows so that everyone could see the countdown to launch and the subsequent commentary as the shuttle was to exit our atmosphere and enter the great beyond. "t-minus 10...9......8... and so on down to 1." ignition and blast off. again, i didn't understand exactly what was going on, but it sure was exciting. all that fire and smoke, and then this huge ship just lifted off the ground. 73 seconds later, it came to a tragic end.
i remember looking on in amazement, shock, and child-horror as the challenger shuttle morphed into a huge ball of fire and falling schrapnel. i can't recall any of the commentary verbatim, but the word "tragedy" was sure used an awful lot.
i saw on the news yesterday that this was the 20th anniversary of the accident. though we've made great strides technologically in the advancement of our ships, it's still a very dangerous occupation being an astronaut; and one that requires the courage only a few humans possess.
with each passing mission, and intermittent tragedies like the columbia disaster in 2003, we are learning more and more about the world and universe around us. even through such tragedies, we are still blessed with individuals that will give their own lives in the name of science and advancement. i only hope that the advancements in science and technology born of the experiments they conduct are worthy of their sacrifices. we should all be thankful that it was they, and not someone like me, that volunteered for a mission that returned them to their original ashes. may they rest in peace
http://www.hq.nasa.gov/office/pao/History/Biographies/challenger.html
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Treason: The Dennis Miller Story
there was a time when all my favorite comedians, many considered icons, were on the same page. lewis black, bill maher, george carlin, and dennis miller were always the voices of my conscience. they wove the topics of sex, drugs, politics, and gender issues into a quilt of laughter. until recently.
long ago, george left us. not physically, since he's still alive. but mentally. old man's lost it. went crazy, and his most recent HBO special was among the worst "comedy" shows i've ever seen. it was so bad that i even have to use the "" around the word comedy to emphasize the point. so lewis, bill, and a few newcomers like dane cook continued to carry the load, entertaining me with insight and humor. dennis, however, is a traitor.
i'm a staunch democrat. not because i actually like any of the people in the party, but because i like many of their ideals. and they're not republicans. so maybe i'm just a staunch liberal. though i think barack obama should be made king if for no other reason than his DNC speech in '04. anyway, to get back on topic, these comedians were always the bastion of liberal thinking. nothing was off limits and the conservatives were always wrong. just like they always are.
dennis, however, went astray. i believe he was kidnapped by a conservative think-tank and anally probed to insert a microchip in his brain forcing him to recite certain propagandous, conservative messaging. over the past several years i could just feel dennis creeping to ever so slightly to the right. tonight, my suspicions were confirmed when i caught dennis' latest HBO special from vegas. dennis is a conservative.
after years of reading all his books, following his stand up act, and dutifully watching "the dennis miller show," i've been betrayed and want retribution. miller should be tried for treason, as it's obvious to anyone with a brain (read: liberal) that he is a traitor. i will watch gleefully from my couch, with my low-fat popcorn and diet soda, as dennis, anne coulter, and bill o'reilly sit before a congressional hearing for treason. though the committee will undoubtedly find them not guilty of any real treason, they will impose stiff fines and punishment for stupidity, which will be a federal crime when barack takes office and signs it into law.
in addition to being forced to donate money to the pro-choice cause and coerced into championing the gay marriage issue, they will also be losing out on a lot of money, since stupidity (or "conservatism" as i call it) will be outlawed and no one will be permitted to read, watch, or listen to any of the bullshit they once spewed. their pocketbooks will hurt as much as their pride and it'll be perfect justice for me; because, dennis has betrayed me. and now he must suffer.
fuck off, flip-flopper.
long ago, george left us. not physically, since he's still alive. but mentally. old man's lost it. went crazy, and his most recent HBO special was among the worst "comedy" shows i've ever seen. it was so bad that i even have to use the "" around the word comedy to emphasize the point. so lewis, bill, and a few newcomers like dane cook continued to carry the load, entertaining me with insight and humor. dennis, however, is a traitor.
i'm a staunch democrat. not because i actually like any of the people in the party, but because i like many of their ideals. and they're not republicans. so maybe i'm just a staunch liberal. though i think barack obama should be made king if for no other reason than his DNC speech in '04. anyway, to get back on topic, these comedians were always the bastion of liberal thinking. nothing was off limits and the conservatives were always wrong. just like they always are.
dennis, however, went astray. i believe he was kidnapped by a conservative think-tank and anally probed to insert a microchip in his brain forcing him to recite certain propagandous, conservative messaging. over the past several years i could just feel dennis creeping to ever so slightly to the right. tonight, my suspicions were confirmed when i caught dennis' latest HBO special from vegas. dennis is a conservative.
after years of reading all his books, following his stand up act, and dutifully watching "the dennis miller show," i've been betrayed and want retribution. miller should be tried for treason, as it's obvious to anyone with a brain (read: liberal) that he is a traitor. i will watch gleefully from my couch, with my low-fat popcorn and diet soda, as dennis, anne coulter, and bill o'reilly sit before a congressional hearing for treason. though the committee will undoubtedly find them not guilty of any real treason, they will impose stiff fines and punishment for stupidity, which will be a federal crime when barack takes office and signs it into law.
in addition to being forced to donate money to the pro-choice cause and coerced into championing the gay marriage issue, they will also be losing out on a lot of money, since stupidity (or "conservatism" as i call it) will be outlawed and no one will be permitted to read, watch, or listen to any of the bullshit they once spewed. their pocketbooks will hurt as much as their pride and it'll be perfect justice for me; because, dennis has betrayed me. and now he must suffer.
fuck off, flip-flopper.
Friday, January 13, 2006
It's not just them
ignorance is america's worst problem. or maybe it's arrogance. or maybe it's both. on my most recent visit to a cardiac specialist, i saw perhaps the most disturbing sight i've ever seen in a doctor's office: kids younger than me receiving ekgs and other heart-related testing.
i was patiently waiting in the lobby for my name to be called, i noticed a kid, maybe 17, enter a patient room with his parents. i could see through the open doors that the nurse practioner had wheeled in an ekg machine. though HIPPA prohibits me from knowing the exact reason for the kid's visit, it did get me thinking....
americans must be the dumbest people on earth. or the most arrogant. or the most ignorant. pick your word that ends in "ant," and we're probably that. for a country's citizenry to be so proud of all its scientific, business, and educational advancements over the past 200+ years, and to still be completely in the dark about how to simply take care of themselves is utterly inexcusable.
we all take it for granted that old people are the ones that will experience health problems, given the body's propensity to break down over the years. but what does it say about us when a 26 year old like me, or a 17 year old like the kid in the office today either have a heart attack or need to see a doctor to prevent a potential one? simply means that we don't get it.
we work longer than everyone else. we sleep less. we consume more goods, especially food, than everyone else on the planet. yet, we're continuously surprised at the increasing number of health problems plaguing us as a society.
we need to be re-educated. ideally, such information should be demonstrated from an early age while kids are in school. they should learn how to eat properly, exercise, and how to take care of themselves. it's such a simple concept. the government went through such trouble, maybe an entire day, to put together the food pyramid (which, mind you, has recently been updated). the least we could do is use it. nah.
most people visit their doctors once a year at the max. can we really depend on them to fully educated us about what is going on with our bodies, with our lives? their advice helps, but in the end the answer is a resounding "no."
how 'bout morgan spurlock, mr. "super-size me?" well, his efforts were wrought with good intentions. but alas, he's not my pal, so his words mean very little to me.
ultimately, you are responsible for you. no one else will take care of you the way you can. or should. it's up to each of us to find the information we need to make better choices concerning our health. surely there are people willing to help, but how much legwork do you think they'll put in?
i was told recently by a friend of mine that my ordeal has made him rethink his lifestyle. he's since made significant changes and even picks my brain from time to time about what i'm eating, how much, etc. he gets it. i get it. now it's your turn to get it while you're still young and able to comprehend it. health problems aren't just for old people anymore.
i was patiently waiting in the lobby for my name to be called, i noticed a kid, maybe 17, enter a patient room with his parents. i could see through the open doors that the nurse practioner had wheeled in an ekg machine. though HIPPA prohibits me from knowing the exact reason for the kid's visit, it did get me thinking....
americans must be the dumbest people on earth. or the most arrogant. or the most ignorant. pick your word that ends in "ant," and we're probably that. for a country's citizenry to be so proud of all its scientific, business, and educational advancements over the past 200+ years, and to still be completely in the dark about how to simply take care of themselves is utterly inexcusable.
we all take it for granted that old people are the ones that will experience health problems, given the body's propensity to break down over the years. but what does it say about us when a 26 year old like me, or a 17 year old like the kid in the office today either have a heart attack or need to see a doctor to prevent a potential one? simply means that we don't get it.
we work longer than everyone else. we sleep less. we consume more goods, especially food, than everyone else on the planet. yet, we're continuously surprised at the increasing number of health problems plaguing us as a society.
we need to be re-educated. ideally, such information should be demonstrated from an early age while kids are in school. they should learn how to eat properly, exercise, and how to take care of themselves. it's such a simple concept. the government went through such trouble, maybe an entire day, to put together the food pyramid (which, mind you, has recently been updated). the least we could do is use it. nah.
most people visit their doctors once a year at the max. can we really depend on them to fully educated us about what is going on with our bodies, with our lives? their advice helps, but in the end the answer is a resounding "no."
how 'bout morgan spurlock, mr. "super-size me?" well, his efforts were wrought with good intentions. but alas, he's not my pal, so his words mean very little to me.
ultimately, you are responsible for you. no one else will take care of you the way you can. or should. it's up to each of us to find the information we need to make better choices concerning our health. surely there are people willing to help, but how much legwork do you think they'll put in?
i was told recently by a friend of mine that my ordeal has made him rethink his lifestyle. he's since made significant changes and even picks my brain from time to time about what i'm eating, how much, etc. he gets it. i get it. now it's your turn to get it while you're still young and able to comprehend it. health problems aren't just for old people anymore.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Ready. Set. Lift!
it's been a trying couple of weeks, but i've slowly and surely (with help of friends and family) been putting the pieces of my life back in order. i've finally accepted taking 6 pills a day as a fact of my life and, save for not eating anything with fat, sodium, or cholesterol (taste is optional too), i feel like i'm just about ready to get back into the swing of things.
you see, i used to be quite the gym rat. not that i was ever in great shape, but i did go often enough to maintain my body while i slowly killed it with shitty food, alcohol, and, regrettably, cigarettes. anyway, i'd spend an hour or 2 in the university gym trying to work off all that extra weight, with moderate success. i moved to chicago and kept on a regimen of lesser intensity, but eventually i got fat and lazy and gave up (i still like to blame this on the continual "sweet" weather that engulfs that city, making it virtually impossible to get motivated to do anything. but i digress). thankfully, i was able to pick up cycling when i moved to denver. but that hobby proved short-lived also as summer turned to fall (when i typically get sick), and fall to winter.
[an aside: i haven't completely given up on cycling. i'll pick back up when the weather gets better and am aiming to finish the 32 mile elephant rock course this year.]
but now, i have a renewed motivation. i like to call it "not dying." not dying involves following doctor's prescriptions for a new lifestyle. and thus, i've entered step 3 in the successful steps for not dying program. steps 1 and 2 are simple: step 1 is to take all required medications. step 2 is to not eat food with any taste, but that is quite healthy. step 3 takes this all one, um, a step further: incorporate steps 1 and 2 with a workout routine.
though i've yet to be cleared by my doctors to go back to work full time or do anything remotely stressful (physically or mentally), i've done some housekeeping and taken care of some other important things--namely applying for admission into club health, the completion of step 3.
club health is an exclusive club with many different names. it's a club where a member's standing is directly proportional to his (or her) BMI, percent body fat, and bench press max. Often the club goes by silly names like bally, gold, or the ambiguous moniker, "y." nevertheless, it is my intent to join the ranks of the fit and gain admission to this exclusive club. and for $35 a month, i think i'm well on my way.
i'm now a pledge in the 24 hour fitness chapter of club health. the club was nice enough to offer me 5 personal training sessions for the low, low price of $300. but, come to think of it, it's probably a hell of a lot cheaper than a funeral.
i'm awaiting clearance from my doctor to resume physical activity on monday. when the paper is signed and the handshake received, it's time to get ready. get set. lift!
www.24hourfitness.com
www.americanheart.org
you see, i used to be quite the gym rat. not that i was ever in great shape, but i did go often enough to maintain my body while i slowly killed it with shitty food, alcohol, and, regrettably, cigarettes. anyway, i'd spend an hour or 2 in the university gym trying to work off all that extra weight, with moderate success. i moved to chicago and kept on a regimen of lesser intensity, but eventually i got fat and lazy and gave up (i still like to blame this on the continual "sweet" weather that engulfs that city, making it virtually impossible to get motivated to do anything. but i digress). thankfully, i was able to pick up cycling when i moved to denver. but that hobby proved short-lived also as summer turned to fall (when i typically get sick), and fall to winter.
[an aside: i haven't completely given up on cycling. i'll pick back up when the weather gets better and am aiming to finish the 32 mile elephant rock course this year.]
but now, i have a renewed motivation. i like to call it "not dying." not dying involves following doctor's prescriptions for a new lifestyle. and thus, i've entered step 3 in the successful steps for not dying program. steps 1 and 2 are simple: step 1 is to take all required medications. step 2 is to not eat food with any taste, but that is quite healthy. step 3 takes this all one, um, a step further: incorporate steps 1 and 2 with a workout routine.
though i've yet to be cleared by my doctors to go back to work full time or do anything remotely stressful (physically or mentally), i've done some housekeeping and taken care of some other important things--namely applying for admission into club health, the completion of step 3.
club health is an exclusive club with many different names. it's a club where a member's standing is directly proportional to his (or her) BMI, percent body fat, and bench press max. Often the club goes by silly names like bally, gold, or the ambiguous moniker, "y." nevertheless, it is my intent to join the ranks of the fit and gain admission to this exclusive club. and for $35 a month, i think i'm well on my way.
i'm now a pledge in the 24 hour fitness chapter of club health. the club was nice enough to offer me 5 personal training sessions for the low, low price of $300. but, come to think of it, it's probably a hell of a lot cheaper than a funeral.
i'm awaiting clearance from my doctor to resume physical activity on monday. when the paper is signed and the handshake received, it's time to get ready. get set. lift!
www.24hourfitness.com
www.americanheart.org
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Heavy Heart
i think the worst is over. hopefuly it is. i had a heart attack 7 days ago on december 21st. i know, i can't believe it either. a week ago tonite i, a previously-in-good-health 26 year-old male suffered a myocardial infarction. i spent 3 lovely days in some dump hospital worthy of a third world country and returned home the day before christmas, only to go to a different hospital two days later....this time for periocarditis.
i'm now a walking pill box, but don't confuse this statement with a complaint. i'm happy and lucky to be alive. it was a pretty harrowing ordeal that has changed my life (read: diet, exercise, alcohol, tobacco, etc). ordinarily, i'd be loathe to give a blow-by-blow description of what happened, but given the circumstances, i think everyone would be better off hearing what exactly happened so they can look for signs of similar goings on in their lives. so.........
for a few days leading up to the heart attack (hereafter referred to as the "attack" or "event") i had been experiencing some tension just below my collar bone and some tightness in the windpipe. i thought maybe it was either a cold coming on or just some mild inflammation of my ribcage, which i'd had before. i started popping ibuprofen left and right and using a heating pad, which made it feel a little better.
through the weekend and into the beginning of the week, the pain got worse and worse. tuesday rolled around at work and i was in some serious pain at this point. i lost my breath by standing and the pain in my chest was damn near unbearable at times. i went home sick after visiting my GP (general practitioner for you healthy people that don't go to doctors) earlier in the afternoon. he checked me out, gave me an ekg, and surmised that the lining between my lungs and chest cavity had flared up for any number of reasons. solution: take 2000 mg of ibuprofen and call him 3 days if not better.
by that night, the pain grew greater, becoming a complete constriction of every muscle in my chest (think of how you feel when you pull a muscle. now multiply by every muscle in your body. yeah, it hurt that badly). my roommate took me to the ER where, after some testing, determined i was suffering an anxiety or stress attack--because there's no way a 26 year-old could possibly be having a heart attack.
i ate the anxiety pills given to me by the ER staff like candy, but with no results. figuring they'd take some time to work, i skipped work on wednesday to relax (since i got home from the ER at 4am). by wednesday night, there was no relief and i was getting worse. i became delirious, completely unaware of my surroundings. i vaguely remember laying on the couch and seeing double, but have no recollection of what i was seeing, who was there, or any conversations i may have been having. my ex was visiting (i think?) and took me back to the ER, whose staff FINALLY put the simple math together..... i was in fact having a heart attack.
i woke up in the hospital the next day with tubes and lines coming out of my arms, hooked up to every machine imagineable. oh, there was also a little matter of a significant pain in my groin (yes, the groin. not to be confused with the member). to circumvent the clogged artery, the cardiac surgeon inserted what's called a stent, which is a mesh titanium tube, in the artery.....through. my. fucking. groin.
after a couple of days recuperating, i was discharged and sent home, only to return to the hospital because of an inability to control my body temperature (severe night sweats, chills, etc.), which i found out to be caused by periocarditis, and inflammation of fluid around the heart.
so, i'm home now relaxing. i'm forbidden to drive, work, eat good food, or do, well, anything. my focus during this time is, naturally, to get better but also to re-learn how to eat properly. i'll be ok when all is said and done. i'm lucky.
it's cliche for someone suffering an affliction to become a champion of the cause when he or she recovers. cliches are "cliche" because they are true. so, as i continue to recover, i urge anyone reading this to visit their doctor in the near future and get checked out. if you smoke, stop. if you drink a lot, stop that too. and if you're a good, ole-fashioned pig that eats everything in sight with little apprehension, perhaps my ordeal will give you a little pause.
thanks to everyone for their prayers and support. it's really been helpful in getting through all this. to all good health, and to all a happy heart.
learn more here: http://www.americanheart.org
i'm now a walking pill box, but don't confuse this statement with a complaint. i'm happy and lucky to be alive. it was a pretty harrowing ordeal that has changed my life (read: diet, exercise, alcohol, tobacco, etc). ordinarily, i'd be loathe to give a blow-by-blow description of what happened, but given the circumstances, i think everyone would be better off hearing what exactly happened so they can look for signs of similar goings on in their lives. so.........
for a few days leading up to the heart attack (hereafter referred to as the "attack" or "event") i had been experiencing some tension just below my collar bone and some tightness in the windpipe. i thought maybe it was either a cold coming on or just some mild inflammation of my ribcage, which i'd had before. i started popping ibuprofen left and right and using a heating pad, which made it feel a little better.
through the weekend and into the beginning of the week, the pain got worse and worse. tuesday rolled around at work and i was in some serious pain at this point. i lost my breath by standing and the pain in my chest was damn near unbearable at times. i went home sick after visiting my GP (general practitioner for you healthy people that don't go to doctors) earlier in the afternoon. he checked me out, gave me an ekg, and surmised that the lining between my lungs and chest cavity had flared up for any number of reasons. solution: take 2000 mg of ibuprofen and call him 3 days if not better.
by that night, the pain grew greater, becoming a complete constriction of every muscle in my chest (think of how you feel when you pull a muscle. now multiply by every muscle in your body. yeah, it hurt that badly). my roommate took me to the ER where, after some testing, determined i was suffering an anxiety or stress attack--because there's no way a 26 year-old could possibly be having a heart attack.
i ate the anxiety pills given to me by the ER staff like candy, but with no results. figuring they'd take some time to work, i skipped work on wednesday to relax (since i got home from the ER at 4am). by wednesday night, there was no relief and i was getting worse. i became delirious, completely unaware of my surroundings. i vaguely remember laying on the couch and seeing double, but have no recollection of what i was seeing, who was there, or any conversations i may have been having. my ex was visiting (i think?) and took me back to the ER, whose staff FINALLY put the simple math together..... i was in fact having a heart attack.
i woke up in the hospital the next day with tubes and lines coming out of my arms, hooked up to every machine imagineable. oh, there was also a little matter of a significant pain in my groin (yes, the groin. not to be confused with the member). to circumvent the clogged artery, the cardiac surgeon inserted what's called a stent, which is a mesh titanium tube, in the artery.....through. my. fucking. groin.
after a couple of days recuperating, i was discharged and sent home, only to return to the hospital because of an inability to control my body temperature (severe night sweats, chills, etc.), which i found out to be caused by periocarditis, and inflammation of fluid around the heart.
so, i'm home now relaxing. i'm forbidden to drive, work, eat good food, or do, well, anything. my focus during this time is, naturally, to get better but also to re-learn how to eat properly. i'll be ok when all is said and done. i'm lucky.
it's cliche for someone suffering an affliction to become a champion of the cause when he or she recovers. cliches are "cliche" because they are true. so, as i continue to recover, i urge anyone reading this to visit their doctor in the near future and get checked out. if you smoke, stop. if you drink a lot, stop that too. and if you're a good, ole-fashioned pig that eats everything in sight with little apprehension, perhaps my ordeal will give you a little pause.
thanks to everyone for their prayers and support. it's really been helpful in getting through all this. to all good health, and to all a happy heart.
learn more here: http://www.americanheart.org
Monday, December 19, 2005
Daily Link
from MSN ('cause they always have the funnies): Bush: Leaking 'shameful'
scientific advancements have created drugs for this problem, while CPG specialists have developed what they call "wings" for a certain other leaking problem. look into it.
scientific advancements have created drugs for this problem, while CPG specialists have developed what they call "wings" for a certain other leaking problem. look into it.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Who Dey?!?!?!
life as a bengals fan hasn't been very easy, to say the least, for most of my existence. in fact, i believe their last good season pre-dates nirvana, pearl jam, and the rest of the grunge movement. come to think of it, milli vanilli was still big the last time the bengals sniffed success.
fast forward to 2005. on the verge of their first playoff appearance in an epoch (i'm not exactly sure how long an epoch is, but i know it's really, really, really long), the bengals have come roaring out of the gates this year with a new attitude and a renewed sense of "who dey?!?!?" They got a new stadium a few years back, followed by a new coach, and finally, followed this year by some actual football players.
for those of you not jive enough to understand late '80s cincinnati slang, "who dey?!?!" was the bengals' answer to the '85 bears "super bowl shuffle." it was a really lame rap/song/slogan/garbage led by one ickey woods that basically went thusly: "who dey, who dey, who dey think gone beat dem bengals? where do they play? in tha jungle. afrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaid of nooooooooooooooobody!" yeah, pretty pathetic, but still catchy enough to spawn soft drink, candy bar, and clothing labels back in the day.
for the last 15 years, the franchise has been hard pressed to get asses in the seats (who could blame them) or real talent on the field (who could blame them?). these two items shouldn't be mutually exclusive. the ownership had been cheap and lacking in any real football operational knowledge. they kind of resembled then what the detroit lions look like now: a few good players from time to time, and several horrible signings/draft picks by a front office that makes decisions based on instant messenger conversations they have had with underaged girls, such as.....
"go get joey harrington, he's sooooo dreamy".
[an aside: the bengals' brass in the late '80s most likely didn't have instant messenger, since the advent of the internet was still a few years off. however, they're decisions were presumably made by the "IM" of the time, the magic 8 ball]
but this year is different. the club has a solid quarterback, a trash-talking (albiet abso-fucking-lutely hilarious) wide receiver, and several "role" guys that know what it takes to win. this year, they go into each game not hoping to not get blown out, but to win....a novel concept.
i am once again proud to be a bengals' fan. no longer do i have to pretend to watch other games at the bar while secretly rooting for the black and orange stripes. i proclaim loudly to anyone who'll listen where i come from and which is my team. after 15 loonnng, painful years, "WHO DEY?!?!?!?" think i'm gonna root for?
fast forward to 2005. on the verge of their first playoff appearance in an epoch (i'm not exactly sure how long an epoch is, but i know it's really, really, really long), the bengals have come roaring out of the gates this year with a new attitude and a renewed sense of "who dey?!?!?" They got a new stadium a few years back, followed by a new coach, and finally, followed this year by some actual football players.
for those of you not jive enough to understand late '80s cincinnati slang, "who dey?!?!" was the bengals' answer to the '85 bears "super bowl shuffle." it was a really lame rap/song/slogan/garbage led by one ickey woods that basically went thusly: "who dey, who dey, who dey think gone beat dem bengals? where do they play? in tha jungle. afrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaid of nooooooooooooooobody!" yeah, pretty pathetic, but still catchy enough to spawn soft drink, candy bar, and clothing labels back in the day.
for the last 15 years, the franchise has been hard pressed to get asses in the seats (who could blame them) or real talent on the field (who could blame them?). these two items shouldn't be mutually exclusive. the ownership had been cheap and lacking in any real football operational knowledge. they kind of resembled then what the detroit lions look like now: a few good players from time to time, and several horrible signings/draft picks by a front office that makes decisions based on instant messenger conversations they have had with underaged girls, such as.....
"go get joey harrington, he's sooooo dreamy".
[an aside: the bengals' brass in the late '80s most likely didn't have instant messenger, since the advent of the internet was still a few years off. however, they're decisions were presumably made by the "IM" of the time, the magic 8 ball]
but this year is different. the club has a solid quarterback, a trash-talking (albiet abso-fucking-lutely hilarious) wide receiver, and several "role" guys that know what it takes to win. this year, they go into each game not hoping to not get blown out, but to win....a novel concept.
i am once again proud to be a bengals' fan. no longer do i have to pretend to watch other games at the bar while secretly rooting for the black and orange stripes. i proclaim loudly to anyone who'll listen where i come from and which is my team. after 15 loonnng, painful years, "WHO DEY?!?!?!?" think i'm gonna root for?
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Torture
link of the day: from MSN-Bush, McCain reach torture deal.
that's the spirit, guys. you torture my back, i'll torture yours. classic.
that's the spirit, guys. you torture my back, i'll torture yours. classic.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
So long, Tookie
tookie williams was executed last night, er, early this morning. whatever. i've composed an ode to an icon, a legend if you will, below.
so long tookie, old friend. your body may be gone, but your spirit and legacy live on in all of us. you did it the right way. you showed us the way, what it means to live a life that is true, meaningful, and good. you showed those innocent convenience store owners just how guilty they were for being in that store just at the same time you went to rob it. fucking tards. they should have known better. but you, my friend, taught them a lesson they'd not soon forget. you taught us all a lesson we'll never forget.
you were a visionary. creating a group of young men and women in LA so influential that no one could escape the fashion trends, the vigilantism and self rule of the streets you so proudly preached. in fact, i'll go as far to say that you are los angeles. you are everything right about that fair city. you taught us all how to survive, how to get what we need and want through honorable means.
you were, and still are, an inspiration. manson, gacy and the others couldn't hold a candle to you, to your prowess. the bloods aspired to be all that you and the crips were. imitation is the ultimate compliment, and many compliments have been paid your way. even today, on the day of your unjust passing, supporters such as actors and activists stood outside san quentin praying, marching, and hoping to persuade the terminator not to carry out his modus operandi. most who attended the vigil believe you've transformed yourself, bettered yourself through your writings, and repented. i ask how such a great man could possibly better himself, lest he be deified.
today, on the day following your passing, i mourn. i regret the loss our society has been dealt. i fear that the path of righteousness lit by your beacon has since become darkened. there will be an eternal hole in my soul, knowing that my guide, my inspiration, and my idol has been wronged. so, as a matter of closure, i'll end. goodbye my friend. you will not be forgotten and i will carry with me for the rest of my days the wisdom you've imparted upon me: do what's necessary, take what you want, destroy the meek, and long live the crips. amen.
so long tookie, old friend. your body may be gone, but your spirit and legacy live on in all of us. you did it the right way. you showed us the way, what it means to live a life that is true, meaningful, and good. you showed those innocent convenience store owners just how guilty they were for being in that store just at the same time you went to rob it. fucking tards. they should have known better. but you, my friend, taught them a lesson they'd not soon forget. you taught us all a lesson we'll never forget.
you were a visionary. creating a group of young men and women in LA so influential that no one could escape the fashion trends, the vigilantism and self rule of the streets you so proudly preached. in fact, i'll go as far to say that you are los angeles. you are everything right about that fair city. you taught us all how to survive, how to get what we need and want through honorable means.
you were, and still are, an inspiration. manson, gacy and the others couldn't hold a candle to you, to your prowess. the bloods aspired to be all that you and the crips were. imitation is the ultimate compliment, and many compliments have been paid your way. even today, on the day of your unjust passing, supporters such as actors and activists stood outside san quentin praying, marching, and hoping to persuade the terminator not to carry out his modus operandi. most who attended the vigil believe you've transformed yourself, bettered yourself through your writings, and repented. i ask how such a great man could possibly better himself, lest he be deified.
today, on the day following your passing, i mourn. i regret the loss our society has been dealt. i fear that the path of righteousness lit by your beacon has since become darkened. there will be an eternal hole in my soul, knowing that my guide, my inspiration, and my idol has been wronged. so, as a matter of closure, i'll end. goodbye my friend. you will not be forgotten and i will carry with me for the rest of my days the wisdom you've imparted upon me: do what's necessary, take what you want, destroy the meek, and long live the crips. amen.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Eye twitch
a simple post for a simple friday at work. my eye won't stop fucking twitching and it's driving me nuts. i've perused the internet for some information on the cause and, as expected, i've found conflicting information. some sites, and my colleagues as well, suggest it's due to an overabundance of stress. work has been hell lately. what, with my boss leaving and thrice the normal project load falling on my shoulders. nevertheless, stress could be it.
it could also be lack of sleep, as suggested by other sites. the latter seems equally plausible, seeing as how i average only 6 hours of sleep per night. however, i've not been one to get more than 6 hours of sleep since joining the chain gang, er, work force.
so, what's the answer. easy: who fucking cares. just make my eye stop twitching, damnit! it's going to result in my death by car accident or a coworker's death by a pen-stabbing.
it could also be lack of sleep, as suggested by other sites. the latter seems equally plausible, seeing as how i average only 6 hours of sleep per night. however, i've not been one to get more than 6 hours of sleep since joining the chain gang, er, work force.
so, what's the answer. easy: who fucking cares. just make my eye stop twitching, damnit! it's going to result in my death by car accident or a coworker's death by a pen-stabbing.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Common Courtesy
i was walking into my corporate prison, er, office building this morning with my daily cup o' joe in hand. approaching the double doors at the entrance, also known as the "Gates of Hell," i arrived with another condemned soul (an older gentleman roughly twice my age. poor guy). the simultaneous arrival was awkward, as neither of us were particularly inclined to open the door at first, but seconds later arrived at the decision to open the door....again at the same time.
i backed off a bit and let the old man do the honors. i followed him into the buffer area between the dual sets of doors (hereafter called the "netherland"). i politely thanked him for opening the first door for me, to which he offered a forced "you're welcome." as he reached for the second set of doors, i froze. not out of fear of entering the building and heading upstairs to my slave job as you might expect. rather, i froze from apprehension about thanking him yet again. i quickly decided to mumble a "thank you" under my breath, still not quite sure if it was appropriate.
this non-incident got me thinking. is it common courtesy to thank someone for opening 2 sets of doors? is it overkill and unnecessary? or is it rude to not "double thank?" after much deliberation (during my 3-floor elevator trip---upward, ironically), i've concluded that the second "thank you" should be assumed by the door opener if the openee had, in fact, offered the thanks in the first place. if the opener doesn't have the wherewithall to assume the second thanks, well, then they didn't deserve it in the first place.
so, there you have it. the next time 2 sets of doors are opened for you, only offer 1 "thank you." consider it a 2-for-1 deal. that's a bargain! just watch out for revolving doors. that can be a sticky situation.
i backed off a bit and let the old man do the honors. i followed him into the buffer area between the dual sets of doors (hereafter called the "netherland"). i politely thanked him for opening the first door for me, to which he offered a forced "you're welcome." as he reached for the second set of doors, i froze. not out of fear of entering the building and heading upstairs to my slave job as you might expect. rather, i froze from apprehension about thanking him yet again. i quickly decided to mumble a "thank you" under my breath, still not quite sure if it was appropriate.
this non-incident got me thinking. is it common courtesy to thank someone for opening 2 sets of doors? is it overkill and unnecessary? or is it rude to not "double thank?" after much deliberation (during my 3-floor elevator trip---upward, ironically), i've concluded that the second "thank you" should be assumed by the door opener if the openee had, in fact, offered the thanks in the first place. if the opener doesn't have the wherewithall to assume the second thanks, well, then they didn't deserve it in the first place.
so, there you have it. the next time 2 sets of doors are opened for you, only offer 1 "thank you." consider it a 2-for-1 deal. that's a bargain! just watch out for revolving doors. that can be a sticky situation.
LIFO
it's nice to be back from the holiday break. now i need a vacation. it's funny how visiting the family for 5 days can take so much out of you, even when you didn't really do, well, anything. i did, however, have much time to think about the simple things in life and how to improve them.
during the many hours i spent in an airport or on an airplane, i've come to conclude that the manner in which airlines board their passengers needs a small, yet fundamental change. and i think accountants are the ones that have already solved the problem.
the issue here is that for those of us not privileged to fly first class (instead relegated to a $700 coach seat. ouch!), boarding a plane is quite the lengthy process. not so much getting on the plane, but rather how much time is spent sitting idly by waiting for take off and conversely, how much more time is spent waiting to get off.
i had the misfortune of being seated at the back of the plane on each leg of my trip. not a racially motivated segregation, but one of class and privilege. but i digress. to continue, i waited, like everyone else, to get off the plane when we reached our destination. however, my wait was sufficiently longer than everyone else's due to the fact i was in the last. fucking. row.
so, here's the solution to the problem known as the waiting game: LIFO. yes, my accounting friends, i said "LIFO." last in, first out. 1st class fliers will always be the chosen few to be seated and exit first. but they are few in numbers and the greater concern is with the numerically superior coach passengers.
i think moving forward, airlines should continue seating by "zones," as it seems to be the most efficient means of getting everyone on and getting on our way. however, coach passengers assigned seating toward the front of the plane should board first. passengers at the back will board last. the process will be reversed upon arrival at said destination. it equals out waiting times and everyone is happy. now, if we can just do something about $700 coach fare. that's a different story.
during the many hours i spent in an airport or on an airplane, i've come to conclude that the manner in which airlines board their passengers needs a small, yet fundamental change. and i think accountants are the ones that have already solved the problem.
the issue here is that for those of us not privileged to fly first class (instead relegated to a $700 coach seat. ouch!), boarding a plane is quite the lengthy process. not so much getting on the plane, but rather how much time is spent sitting idly by waiting for take off and conversely, how much more time is spent waiting to get off.
i had the misfortune of being seated at the back of the plane on each leg of my trip. not a racially motivated segregation, but one of class and privilege. but i digress. to continue, i waited, like everyone else, to get off the plane when we reached our destination. however, my wait was sufficiently longer than everyone else's due to the fact i was in the last. fucking. row.
so, here's the solution to the problem known as the waiting game: LIFO. yes, my accounting friends, i said "LIFO." last in, first out. 1st class fliers will always be the chosen few to be seated and exit first. but they are few in numbers and the greater concern is with the numerically superior coach passengers.
i think moving forward, airlines should continue seating by "zones," as it seems to be the most efficient means of getting everyone on and getting on our way. however, coach passengers assigned seating toward the front of the plane should board first. passengers at the back will board last. the process will be reversed upon arrival at said destination. it equals out waiting times and everyone is happy. now, if we can just do something about $700 coach fare. that's a different story.
Friday, November 18, 2005
RANT: To The Black Jack Pizza Guy
dear black jack pizza guy:
you and your coworkers all suck, and i hope you get fired from your insanely meaningless jobs. you are a disgrace to the already-disgraced customer service industry. why must you all be such dicks each and every time i, my roommate, or the homeless guy that sleeps in my dumpster call?
if i've lost you, dear pizza-order-taker-guy, i'm not surprised. you and your coworkers are what we intellectuals (hell, even normal people) call "fucking morons." if you've still yet to piece together what i'm talking about, let me remind you:
for some odd reason, when i call to order a hot, cheesy pizza, you are more concerned about sounding like a hard ass and worrying about how much extra you will charge me for using various forms of payment. unfortunately for me, the few times i've actually been able to complete a transaction with you, you've fucked up my order, presumably because you were so giddy to rip me off that you forgot that i hate olives. and anchovies. and fucking mushrooms. you goddamn idiot.
i'd ask you to explain to me how on one day your store gladly will accept my debit card, which is the 21st century's easiest form of payment (haven't you heard ANY of the commericals? christ!), and the next you want to charge me more for using it, but i hate you too much to form the words.
as if your illegal pricing activities aren't enough of an aggravation, the next time i called, you told me you didn't even accept debit or credit cards. were you kidding the first time when you did take it? if so, that's a funny joke, fucktard. so, as i wonder aloud on the phone how it is that your store survives as the only business in america that does not accept debit cards, you take your usual "i'm a cock, but i'm better than you" attitude and tell me that you've never accepted them to begin with and that your biz is going just fine, click. i bet it is.
we've called your corporate offices to complain. they said they were very concerned and will "look into it." apparently, there is a reason that they are in corporate, and you toss dough for a living....they're better liars than you are. they know full well that the little people like us don't have the time, energy, or resources to take on a corporate entity, even if what they're doing is illegal. however, that doesn't preclude me from making your life miserable.
if you start receiving faxes (you DO have a fax machine, right, luddite?) with boorish language, or prank calls to deliver somewhere that doesn't exist, or orders for items you don't carry...you'll know it's me, you wretched, imbeclic, moron. you can't like tossing dough for a living as it is. but your disregard for service to your customers, especially lying to them and illegally charging them more for the same items than you charge others, has led me on a conquest to make your "job" your personal hell. i hope you rot there. i'll save you a seat, sweetie.
you and your coworkers all suck, and i hope you get fired from your insanely meaningless jobs. you are a disgrace to the already-disgraced customer service industry. why must you all be such dicks each and every time i, my roommate, or the homeless guy that sleeps in my dumpster call?
if i've lost you, dear pizza-order-taker-guy, i'm not surprised. you and your coworkers are what we intellectuals (hell, even normal people) call "fucking morons." if you've still yet to piece together what i'm talking about, let me remind you:
for some odd reason, when i call to order a hot, cheesy pizza, you are more concerned about sounding like a hard ass and worrying about how much extra you will charge me for using various forms of payment. unfortunately for me, the few times i've actually been able to complete a transaction with you, you've fucked up my order, presumably because you were so giddy to rip me off that you forgot that i hate olives. and anchovies. and fucking mushrooms. you goddamn idiot.
i'd ask you to explain to me how on one day your store gladly will accept my debit card, which is the 21st century's easiest form of payment (haven't you heard ANY of the commericals? christ!), and the next you want to charge me more for using it, but i hate you too much to form the words.
as if your illegal pricing activities aren't enough of an aggravation, the next time i called, you told me you didn't even accept debit or credit cards. were you kidding the first time when you did take it? if so, that's a funny joke, fucktard. so, as i wonder aloud on the phone how it is that your store survives as the only business in america that does not accept debit cards, you take your usual "i'm a cock, but i'm better than you" attitude and tell me that you've never accepted them to begin with and that your biz is going just fine, click. i bet it is.
we've called your corporate offices to complain. they said they were very concerned and will "look into it." apparently, there is a reason that they are in corporate, and you toss dough for a living....they're better liars than you are. they know full well that the little people like us don't have the time, energy, or resources to take on a corporate entity, even if what they're doing is illegal. however, that doesn't preclude me from making your life miserable.
if you start receiving faxes (you DO have a fax machine, right, luddite?) with boorish language, or prank calls to deliver somewhere that doesn't exist, or orders for items you don't carry...you'll know it's me, you wretched, imbeclic, moron. you can't like tossing dough for a living as it is. but your disregard for service to your customers, especially lying to them and illegally charging them more for the same items than you charge others, has led me on a conquest to make your "job" your personal hell. i hope you rot there. i'll save you a seat, sweetie.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Ok, So We Can't All Be Genius
so, naturally, there are those of us that are simply smarter than others. though the information below is in no way indicative my intellect, i did find the underlying theme interesting....no matter what order the interior letters of a word are in, the human mind pieces the word puzzle together to allow a person to read the jumble. give it a whirl, you'll feel like einstein, jr.
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh, and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt..
yeah, i couldn't believe it either. thanks cambridge.
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh, and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt..
yeah, i couldn't believe it either. thanks cambridge.
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