Make up your mind!

NEW RULE: health studies cannot be released until they actually say something.

there has been yet another study about the possible effects of caffeine, particularly in coffee, on blood pressure. over the past few years, these studies have flip-flopped more than a blow-hard politician, citing one minute indications that a cup o' joe can have serious averse effects on blood pressure and cardiovascular health, then saying the next minute that it's just not true.

the most recent study was conducted in finland, consisting of approximately 27,000 fins (insert jimmy buffet song here). maybe there's a difference in the coffee the fins drink and what we drink. why is it that none of these "studies" are ever conducted here? saccarine caused cancer at one point, but only in brits because that's where the study was conducted. of course, they forgot to mention in their half-assed study that one would have to chew about 150 packs of saccarine-containing gum per day to actually be at risk at all. and why can't they do studies on things people actually care about? saccarine. really?

science is an inexact science. we get it. but what's with the rush to judgment all the time, scientists? is it really that fun to throw half the world's population into a panic because you have a new hypothesis that you came up with while you were completely cracked out in a whorehouse in munich? what the hell kind of scientists are you anyway that you that you can't even complete the whole scientific process (e.g. stating the problem, hypothesizing, testing the hypothesis and drawing a conclusion) before issuing some sort of report? even my 11th grade chemistry teacher made me do that.

i know, i know, the pharm companies pay a lot of money for you to come up with something for them to create a new drug for. but c'mon, "scientists," think like a businessman for just one second. take a hint from your pharm company bed companions. wouldn't it be better business for you to create the "cure" for whatever ails us before telling us what ails us? we'll all be so relieved to know that the pill you developed for restless leg syndrome will, by pure happenstance, also cure the mysterious cancerous growths we develop in our knee cartilage from wearing the wrong brand of jeans.

I made a mistake

by now we've all certainly heard the gory details of michael vick's involvement in dogfighting. as a dog owner, i'm beyond disgusted by stories like these, amplified by the fact that he's such a high-profile athlete.

everyone is right in their condemnation and criticisms of him and his cohorts, but now the NAACP has chimed in, stating that vick should be allowed to return to the NFL once he's finished his sentence. maybe, but it's not their call. regardless, as abhorrent as the situation is, my ire has been raised yet another notch because of one little phrase--he made "a mistake."

teammates, friends, and NAACP reps alike have continued to throw every cliche known to man at the scenario. "he made a mistake." "he just got involved with the wrong people." "it's just a bad situation." let's get one thing straight here, the only "mistake" made on anyone's part is believing that vick didn't have complete and utter control over his life and his future, just as we all do.

making an accounting error is a mistake. having a bad car accident can be a mistake (assuming the driver isn't drunk). mispronouncing a name is a mistake. but bankrolling a dogfighting ring and willfully and actively participating in the torture, mutilation, and killing of animals is not a mistake, it's criminal.

it's fine that the NAACP wants to rally support behind someone whom they identify as their own (though i'd be willing to put money down that vick has not sent a dime to them in support), so long as the situation fits within the confines of their mission--advancing the cause of people of color.

the NAACP was among the first to condemn the duke lacrosse players for allegedly raping a black stripper--which was later proven false--and has yet to issue any type of apology. in that situation, they felt (understandably) the need to protect and support an african american in a time of need, as the victim.

vick is no victim. and in this situation, the NAACP has no reason to be involved nor anything to gain. no one was out to get vick because he's rich and black and just wanted to oppress him because of his race. the fact that he's agreed to a plea deal should signify to the world, and particularly the NAACP and others who want to bring race into the equation, that vick is guilty and is a victim only of his own poor judgment and bad decision making. the only "mistake" being made here is by the people and organizations that continue to try and deflect the blame away from vick and place it squarely on the shoulders of a racist country.

The Rut

damnit, it's happened again. i tried to keep myself occupied. i tried thinking creatively and "outside the box" (jesus, i hate that term), but it's happened again....i've fallen back into a rut. get up, go to work, come home, eat, go to the gym, shower and sleep. 5 days a week, this is my routine and the 2 off days in between are filled with more of the same--minus the going to work thing.

it's affected my ability to write, seeing as how there is so little going on and even less to get the writing juices flowing. i've become numb to the annoyances of the gym. i go through the motions at the office, occasionally waking from my hypnotic state to eek out a reply when i'm being berated by boss and client alike. the only modicum of stimulus in my life right now is the pennant race, one that will surely end in disappointment and heartbreak. i'm a cub fan after all.

i've lost the passion for my bike, which is a thought so outrageous that it kind of hurts my head to try and figure out how it happened. i climbed a 14er a few weeks back, but haven't had the motivation or desire to do it again, even though i like doing it (well, i hate the suffering part of it, but it's fun to tell your friends who couldn't ever imagine doing it).

i've been relegated to living vicariously through the creativity of others, reading with great frequency the musings of hwood, the curly haired girl and her sidekick roonie. a new soccer season is starting in a few weeks. and with all hopes that my ankle will FINALLY be healed enough to play, hopefully that'll jumpstart the ole life blood.

so, maybe i need another change. no, i'm not moving again (unless i get into thunderbird, at which point i'll have to drag myself down to the arizona desert, where my pale ass may very well burn to an actual crisp). maybe i need a new job (working on that as we speak--one that pays significantly more. fingers crossed.). maybe i need new friends, or to just do something completely out of character and stupid. maybe what i need is a friend like crash davis to punch me in the face and snap me out of it. or maybe what i really need is a simple slump buster.

i'm open to suggestions.

Acronym-onious

acronyms are fun. especially the ones of the new generation. out with the old and in with the new such as MILF (and for some, even GILF).

if you're young enough to be reading a blog, you're old enough to know that MILF stands for "mother i'd like to fuck." sure, it's a funny term certainly coined by teenaged or 20-something males. but i'm interested more in what happens after said mission has been accomplished.

i was having a conversation about this with a friend of mine, who most certainly fits the bill for being a MILF (trust me, she's smokin' hot), and it really piqued my interest about the evolution of such creative, yet arbitrary terms.

for instance, what happens if you're lucky enough to bag this MILF? then it's no longer a "mother i'd like..", but now is a "mother i already..." that's just how it has to be, since it would no longer make sense, right? i mean, what if you, at one point, wanted to bed her, then did, but were so disappointed that you'd never consider it again? these are the questions we must ask ourselves as we rewrite the english lexicon. so, will the evolution of the term take on additional forms? i think so. here's a brief list of possibilities. your feedback on MILF and others is welcomed and encouraged:

-MILF (mom i'd like to fuck)
-MIAF (mom i already fucked)
-MIWFA (mom i want to fuck again)
-MIRF (mom i regret fucking)
-MIWNF (mom i would never fuck.....shows differing opinions between your buddy and you)

Fuel Deficient

while i'm on my music kick.....

i caught a performance by fuel on leno this evening and there are few ways to describe how awful it was. fuel was one of my favorite bands of the '90s ever since they burst onto the scene with sunburn, which featured the song "shimmer." they followed up in 2000 with something like human (highlighted by "hemorrhage") and 2003's natural selection, headlined by "falls on me." yeah, they were a mainstream, trendy band but i liked them anyway. scratch that--i liked brett scallions, who was the voice and the face of the band. he was pretty much awesome by all accounts. unfortunately, he split in 2004 and the band should have just ceased to exist right then and there.

but in true rock star arrogance, the band just had to keep the name and simply replace the lead vocalist. this is something i've never quite understood. as a fan, a band to me consists solely of the individuals that make it up at the height of its success. i never really cared if they replaced a drummer or a bassist since the most important of the bunch is the lead singer because, well, he's the lead fucking singer!

after an exhaustive search (which included some dude from american karaoke who has his own band now), the remaining boys of fuel selected toryn green, a local sack of crap who physically resembles a mix between the tool from fall out boy--the really pretty one with brown hair pushed aside emo style--and the asian guy from hoobastank. not that looks really matter when making records, the sound does. this, too, is unfortunate because green sounds like a dj compilation of a dying cat and a tone deaf retarded kid. they should have known from the moment they selected green that they'd never regain the magic they'd found with brett.

perhaps i'm just bitter that a band i really liked at one point just didn't know when to stop. or that they wouldn't rename the band once they got a new lead "singer," and therefore actually recognizing that they became a different band. regardless of my hostile feelings, an objective observation of fuel redux will show that they now are nothing more than a garbage garage band, an utter disappointment to fans of 90s rock.


PS. oh well, RAGE is back!!!!!!!

Hard rock with a soft touch

last week i picked up a couple of albums (cds, records or whatever the hipsters call them these days) that i've been dying to find. flyleaf and the twilight singers are on complete opposite ends of the musical spectrum, but are satisfying each in their own ways.

flyleaf, whom you may have heard of on account of their recent single "all around me" is a hard-rocking group from good ole texas. it's a bunch of dudes and a chick lead singer whose vocal range runs the gamut from mariah carey-like falsetto to mere alto, a la kay hanley of letters to cleo, while still maintaining the arrogance and attitude of someone like the donnas--but with more talent.

the disc collectively sounds like a femmed up version of the newer linkin park efforts, alternating between head banging, vocal chord straining cries of emotional anguish and softer, nearly ballad-like songs of devotion and love. there are many interesting guitar riffs sprinkled in that remind me of a mixture of elastica and audioslave. weird combination, i know. but pretty damn sweet nevertheless.

twilight singers is the relatively new brainchild of greg dulli, former lead of the afghan whigs (one of my all time favorite cincinnati bands) and his good friend, mark lanegan, formerly of the screaming trees. there's nothing hard-rocking about this EP effort. the 5 songs are classic raw, emotional rock found in the (formerly) smokey clubs in the seedy part of town. i won't hold it against dulli that he's the single biggest asshole i've ever personally met. but his trademark off-key and mildly tone deaf vocals are the perfect complement to the smooth, southern inspired beats.

while the afghan whigs drew merely a small following and little critical acclaim, dulli's partnerships with lanegan, ani defranco, and joseph arthur have been rewarded with prominent placements in shows like FX's uberhit "rescue me." watching the show last week is actually what prompted me to pick up "stitches in time," as TS lent their efforts to the dramatic, fire-filled opening scene of last week's show. the lure would prove too much was the ideal song for the scene. i'd have recognized dulli's music anywhere, and i'm glad i did because these are 5 of the best mellow, classic rock songs you'll find.

Bourne Again

Bourne Ultimatum reviewed...in 100 words or less

Fucking. Awesome. Better than “Supremacy,” equal to “Identity.” Finally, something worth admission prices.

Damon phenomenal. Stone cold, stoic, determined, struggling to find humanity while facing most highly trained killers yet. Always 3 steps ahead. Super-creative weaponry. Best. Role. Ever.

National secrets revealed. Personal secrets retold. Rogue intelligence agency uncovered. Treadstone meets Blackbriar. Joan Allen vs. David Strathairn. Julia Stiles hotter with age. Interesting character situation. Pre-Marie affair? Still a weak actress.

Greengrass creates excitement from nothingness. Character development overlooked, action a touch overblown. Heart-pumping, pulse racing footage. First movie in years I’d see a 2^nd time. “Legacy” coming next!

Grade: solid A

Word count: 99

Lil thangs poppin'

it could only happen in arkansas. ok, maybe in utah too, but they get extra help there.

an arkansas family--monogamous man and wife, mind you--just welcomed into the world their 17th child. that's right, 17. so, their nuclear family of 19 outnumbers my entire extended family....on both sides!

the number 17 is quite impressive, if not disgusting (even my friend nikki, who found this story, brought up how "worn out" this lady must be. gross), but there are other numbers, too, that are just as impressive, if not astonishing.

numbers like 90,000. as in, over 90,000 diapers used while rearing these children. or 10.5, which is the length--in YEARS--this woman has been pregnant during her lifetime. 10 and a half years of one's life carrying around another mini life. that's longer than many careers. "So, Ms., what do you do for a living?" "I'm pregnant."

it should come as no surprise that someone in the family is actually named jim bob (not like kyle bob. this is a given name.), which happens to be the poppa. really the only surprise here is that there's absolutely no mention of a trailer park.

Fatty Fatty 2 X4

the trend is disturbing, this reality tv thing. first it was (ruined) real world, then road rules, then survivor as the staples of people just being and being observed. then the focus shifted to love, what with classics like joe millionaire, paradise island and of course the bachelor and bachelorette. after a brief stint of obsession with gameshows, we've arrived at the latest fad: fat people.

there are alot of fat people in our country. big shock, i'm sure. and, of course, when you have an abundance of something to make fun of and exploit, there's no better way to do so than to make a reality show of it. or five.

celebrity fit club and the biggest loser started us off, followed by something else, something else, shaq's big challenge, something else and now...fat march?!?! a bunch of fat people walking off their blubber on a 500 mile hike across the country. i guess nowadays anything will pass as entertainment.

it may seem that i have something against shows about fat people (i do), or that i'm simply a little late to the party by stating the obvious about the proliferation of (pseudo) reality shows. no, the roundabout point in all of this is the irony of all the shows: that the very people watching the fat people change their lives and get healthy are slowing rotting themselves to death, sitting on their couch engaging in exactly the same lifestyle habits that got the "contestants" on these shows in the first place. maybe we could have a reality show about that? what would it be called.....

Spud-nik

i don't travel as well as i used to. in the good ole days, i could take a trip and pick up exactly where i left off when i got home. now, however, it seems that every time i go somewhere, i need about 4 days to recover.

last week my company sent me to potato land to train some people how to sell in a foreign language. i was happy to go...until i realized my flight there left at 6:30 am (i live 20 minutes from the airport, plus the 10 minute shuttle, plus the 1 hours arrival before flight. ugh). i got berated by an irritable delta employee at 5:30 in the morning and then my flight, natch, was late, leaving me exactly 12 minutes to catch my connection in salt lake shitty.

i thought that since i'd gotten exactly 3 hours of sleep the night before that i'd be able to take a quick power nap on one of my flights. no dice. i arrived at the office around 10:30 am and, save a few breaks here and there, worked till 12:30--the next morning. of course i'd be tired from that. but even after a solid 7 hours of sleep, i awoke less than refreshed and took on another day chock full o' work.

i was elated to get out of the office for a few days. but even as i began to doze off on the plane home, we were struck with severe turbulence, the price of admission to denver's airspace in mid summer and an obvious sign from the sleep gods that i am not a chose one . i rushed to the kennel to pick up the monsters and headed home, where i promptly fell asleep around 8pm.

i figured that sleeping from 8pm to 6am would be sufficient to recover from 2.5 days of non-stop work. but 6am turned to 11am, which turned into 4pm, which turned into midnight and eventually to 10am on sunday. yes, i literally slept the entire weekend because of one little business trip. i didn't even cross time zones! but was all that sleep enough? nope. woke up this morning and headed to work, bleary eyed and exhausted. and, of course, i took a nap when i got home.

since i'm neither elderly nor narcoleptic, and i don't have mono or any other illness that causes fatigue, what on earth could compel a lively, active and healthy 28 year old to sleep nearly 2 full days after a trip to a destination only an hour and a half flight away? surely it isn't jet lag, 'cause i've had medical procedures that lasted longer than my flight. i'm completely stumped. i guess i'll sleep on it and see what i come up with in the morning.

The Peak of Humanity

yesterday i climbed my 2nd 14er, Mt. Bierstadt (14,060 feet). and while the sense of accomplishment and physical exhaustion are still present (i slept for 13 hours), neither resonates with me as much as the surprising realization that the people on the mountain yesterday were really, really friendly.

ordinarily, hiking 7 miles at altitudes ranging from 11,000 to 14,000 ft. leaves me tired, hungry, focused (on getting finished) and generally just not in the mood to socialize. but the mountain, deemed the easiest of the 14ers (bullshit) was packed solid with hikers from all walks of life, pun intended. more often than expected, i engaged in conversations with complete strangers--either individuals or groups of people--about a variety of topics. best part was, i didn't even start most of the conversations.

for some, it was their first time. for others it was just a continuation of their weekend rituals. and for a few, it was their milestone achievement in life, climbing this mountain. regardless of experience, the setting was very communal, completely the opposite of the isolation and solitude of climbing pikes peak last summer. it was almost like a block party on the side of a mountain--just without the booze, or real food (clif bars get really old after your 3rd one), and chicks in bikinis.

the climb itself wasn't very memorable. i suffered immensely during the ascent, and the path to the summit was a 1/4 mile of boulders. but none of that will be filed within the memory banks; only the realization that i think i found myself a new community of which to be a part and my one regret: i didn't get her number.

14er hikers are even more friendly than cyclists. and for those of you who ride, that's a significant statement. the path to the top of the world is long, tough and full of obstacles. it miraculously becomes much easier and more navigable with a few friendly faces.

UPDATE: Pics have been posted on myspace. i need a new photographer. mine's really slow.

A-Muse-ing

double post today 'cause, well, i'm fuckin' stoked!

today i successfully procured my tickets to see muse at red rocks in september. that month is gonna be all kinds of bad ass, since i'm going to see the killers at red rocks also. oh yeah, i'll be getting my guster tickets soon for, you guessed it, september. i love the beginning of fall.

The Program

always respect the program.

minds smarter than mine have long stated that adapting a workout program is the best way to avoid plateaus and to achieve results. inspired by TJ's 20 lbs. goal, i've changed my workout program and set my goal equal to his...-20lbs. by sept. 15.

obviously, diet plays a huge part of this, so i've reverted back to my immediately-out-of-the-hospital diet for the time being (low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol, low calories. basically, the "low diet). but diet can only do so much. so, here's the exercise plan that will get it done, as detailed in the Journal of Applied Physiology (Feb. 22, 2007)


M, W, F, Sa
-3o min aerobic of choice (bike, mtn bike, treadmill, elliptical) at moderate-high intensity.
-20 min "rest" period for ab work. rest 1 min between sets and exercises and 3 min before beginning 2nd 30-min aerobic session.
+hanging leg raises, 2 set 10 rep
+bicycle maneuvers, 2 set 20 rep
+vertical crunches, 2 set 10 rep
+reverse crunches, 2 set 10 rep
+ab crunches, 2 set 20 rep
-3o min aerobic of choice

Tu, Th (Su optional)
weight training. 1 min rest between sets. 1 min rest between exercises. complete all exercises in the list. 14 exercises, 42 sets, 450 reps and a TON of sweat.

-incline dumbbell bench press, 3 x10
-incline dumbbell flye, 3 x10
-seated dumbbell overhead shoulder press, 3 x10
-seated dumbbell front raises, 3 x10
-seated dumbbell side laterals, 3 x10
-rear raises on incline bench, 3 x10
-wide-grip lat pull, 3 x10
-bent over barbell rows, 3 x10
-two-arm seated preacher curls, 3 x10
-skull-crushers (or substitute), 3 x10
-one-leg squat (each leg), 3 x10
-leg extensions, 3 x10
-hamstring curls, 3 x10
-standing calf raises, 3 x20

the high intensity and fast pace of the routine keeps the heart rate elevated for fat metabolism, and the exercises have been sequenced to maximize the activation of key muscle fibers (as determined through electrode testing) for the greatest muscle-building/fat burning effect. after only 2 weight training sessions (from which i'm STILL sore) i've already seen a difference in the mirror and on the scale.

i'll check back in 2 months (the prescribed program time) with some results. yikes, this is gonna be hard to keep up....

Puppy Love

there are few simple pleasures in life as great as the love of man's best friend. in my case, that's friends, plural. i took my monsters to the kennel while i headed out of town for drunken debauchery. they went in as a couple of obnoxious, bobble-headed furry nuisances, who liked to eat everything and jump up and scratch me. they came out happy to see me, but much more subdued, cuddly, and just generally appreciative of having a nicer roof over their heads. who says prison doesn't work?

Flight of Feeble (Minded)

i've begun to like flying a whole lot less than i used to. i still like airports, though. there's something about them that, when walking through them, still gives me a feeling of adventure--even if i'm just flying in from a run-of-the-mill midwestern city. i think the decline in my attraction to flying has a little to do with flying in and out of denver, because i've never had a smooth trip getting into the city. the way the winds flow down the mountains and flood the plains--airfield included--makes for horrific turbulence, especially in summer. but today i pinpointed the true reason that hopping on a silver bird is a lot less fun than it used to be: the people.

specifically, i'm talking about the bumbling idiots on the plane that do/say/(visibly and outwardly) think/consider the most remarkably dumb things. i've long believed that with humans being sentient creatures that it would be instinctive to learn the customs of an airplane. there are so many outlets to get out the message of how to do things. things like how to buckle the seat belt, how to open the overhead compartment, when you may/may not use electronic devices and exactly why you are not supposed to use a cell phone on the flight.

it could be something as simple remembering back to the last time you flew to conjure up the muscle memory needed to insert the flat thing into the clicky thing. or, you could pay attention to the head flight attendant's safety speech before take-off. or, if all else fails, you could simply watch someone else and mimic their motions.

perhaps i am a bit too critical in my observations of these buffoons. after 5 days of drinking while melting in the midwestern humidity and suffocating on sea-level air, my judgement could have been clouded. the fact that i couldn't figure out what time it was for 4 of the days left me sleep deprived (the drinking helped that too) and restless, and the discomfort from hyperactive case of man chafe could have further narrowed my views of acceptable behavior. nevertheless, i offer my suggestions to fellow passengers to make future flights more accommodating to even the surliest of travelers.

any one of the three methods above would have helped the cretin in seat 15A (across the aisle from me) figure out how, exactly, to secure a seat belt. rather than making any attempt at doing so, he waited till we were preparing for takeoff ring the flight attendant bell and ask for help. guy, you're 60 years old. surely you've done this in one manner or another (remember, cars have them too) once or twice in your life.

and to the 20-something in seat 12F, you see where it says "push button to open" on the overhead bin? perhaps you should consider reading and following the directions instead of trying to tear the plane apart and looking around aghast as if to suggest that boeing mis-engineered a storage bin.

crying baby lady in row 17...when the lavatory (that's bathroom or restroom to anyone not on a plane or who has seemingly never been on one) door is locked and the signs on both the handle and the light say "occupied," it would be a safe assumption that there is someone in there taking care of business. i'd also venture a guess that they'd prefer you not bang and shake the door, making them believe that the rear half of the plane is about to be violently torn apart, a la "lost."

and finally, to the guy 2 seats over from me wearing an alaskan wolf t-shirt and a fanny pack, i offer you this: when the announcement comes over the PA that electronic devices (approved or otherwise) are not to be used until 10 minutes into the flight--or not at all, in some cases--it'd be a wise choice, and quite possibly a life saving one, to follow suit. even with the rumbling of the engines and the noise of the wheels against the runway i managed to identify what i believed to be your cell phone ringing. the same phone that i swear i could see you were outwardly contemplating answering... WHILE THE REAR WHEELS WERE OFF THE GROUND. and while i, too, enjoy the ipod, i'm just dumb enough to not understand the reasons it could fuck up the plane, but i'm smart enough to know not to tempt fate. i would suggest in the future that you apply the same logic if you plan on flying again. oh, and for the record, a 45 year old guy playing a PSP is just creepy. or pathetic.

ahh, the joys of air travel.

***i should add in a positive note...the flight to the 'burgh went off without a hitch. all passengers were well-educated in airplane etiquette, the flight was smooth and (most importantly) on time, and i even had a seat between me and the dude on the window. 1st class flight on a coach budget.***

RAOG on the road

greetings from the midwest. er, the mid-atlantic. or whatever designation this place gets. i'm in pittsburgh, PA till the end of the weekend. i logged on to see what my fellow bloggers (and all 3 readers) were up to and figured i'd share a few random thoughts from the road.

i haven't been to the 'burgh in about 18 years. i think the last time i came here i was with my dad, crashing at one of his friend's places. my lasting impression of the steel city was gray, dank, dirty and altogether unattractive.

times have changed a bit. here are some observations:

-the grayness of the city has seemingly dissipated, along with the existence of the actual steel industry. now the under-educated manual labor force spends its time inhabiting any of the 2.6 million bars in town.

-this city is old a shit. every major city i've been to has at least one part that has new homes, new commercial developments, etc. pittsburgh does not. at all. except for the PNC park and Heinz field, there is nothing in this city built after 1972.

-there are too many colleges/universities in the same area. there are literally 4 universities that share one neighborhood of the city. SE michigan had a few schools that were a few miles apart, which was a nice way of sharing the land. pittsburgh's schools mix, match and meld into one bohemian, urban college campus. sounds cool? remember, soilent green is people. there's not a patch of green for miles. ew.

-the girls on the campus(es) are surprisingly good looking. very much so, in fact. i'd go so far as to call them "stellar." joke around town is that the only good looking pittsburgh girl is one that is not from here. i must find out where they came from then and move there. i fell in love about 6 times on a 1 hour campus tour.

-people here have a weird accent. i don't know what it's called or even how to characterize it. it's not like the east coast with NYC and boston. nor is it like the south, with its easily identifiable drawl. there's no west coast surfer slang to speak of, and they don't annoyingly add an "r" to words like "wash" as they do in cincinnati. i don't know what it is, but evidently, people here are all bilingual.

-there are 3 rivers here that all look the same. everything around them looks the same. and the people who "planned" this city may very well have been blind. or retarded. take your pick. chicago is on a square grid, detroit was planned on a spoke and wheel, and denver is a flat grid and a cross grid (our planners were dumb too). pittsburgh has no plan. it has no grid. nothing makes sense. roads that travel north-south quickly turn to east-west, and then back to north-south. even the natives get lost.

-pittsburghers love their food. a lot. for as many beautiful hills and valleys as the region has for running and cycling, locals evidently do not take advantage of them at all. how could they when they're busy stuffing their faces with all sorts of italian and german goodies? oh, and beer. milwaukee and chicago are beer cities. add the 'burgh to the list. i'd put a 'burgher up against and chicagoan every day of the week and twice on sundays. and i'd lay big odds on the man from PA.

-humidity is god's way of telling people he hates them. i moved from the midwest for a reason. all this time i thought it was the cold, dreary winters. nope. it was the hot, insufferably humid summers. now i remember. nothing quite like needing a shower after a shower. and for a high plains dweller like me (5280, remember?), consuming the thick, humid air is like trying to inhale a brick. oppressive and suffocating.

-businesses like pittsburgh. i don't know why either, but many large, respected companies make their homes here. or at least have a huge presence. alcoa, verizon, ppg, del monte, heinz (of course) and many others inhabit the buildings that create the skyline. pittsburgh is 2 weeks from everywhere, except cleveland. but cleveland doesn't count because it's a hole and no one actually considers it a real city. so the isolated nature of the city and its penchant for drawing large businesses makes the job market relatively attractive, even in a down economic cycle.

-lastly, i know now that i do, in fact, prefer the western U.S. to the mid-west/mid-atlantic/eastern seaboard. but, with everything the region has to offer, there are worse places to procure an MBA and put it to good use.

Movie review

ocean's 13

....in 100 words or less

lots of hype. good reviews. critics are stupid. better than 2. not as good as 1. pitt, clooney very smooth. dashing, even. damon’s role too big. caan and affleck likeability gone because they’re overplayed. pacino despicable, but believable. garcia (benedict) doesn’t fit. gould useless and ellen barkin is a cougar. meow. eddie izzard cameo pricesless (favorite comic).

plot contrived, over the top. beyond believability. many slow parts, not nearly enough drama. plans not explained like in 1 and 2. humor not up to snuff. laughs are few and far between. entertaining, but not great. wait till video.

grade: c-. please don't let there be an ocean's 14.

word count: 97

That's a Manne, Man

understand that i write this with a bit of fire in my belly. i'm pretty enraged at the idiocy of some people in our society. i'll try my best to make this coherent and pointed.

a wise man once wrote about how americans foolishly choose their idols and give non-stop airtime to people who are famous for being famous. while i agree that the paris hiltons of the world should be put in their proper places, it's not just hollywood celebrities getting disproportionate airtime. it's the politicos too--particularly of the talking head variety.

i'm pretty liberal, and tend to disagree with just about everything that comes from the right, with the exception of ron paul, who may very well be the last sane politician in our country. i laugh at the sheep who willingly allow chris matthews, rush limbaugh, bill o'reilly and other so-called pundits to direct their ideologies (an aside: let's get something straight, it's one thing to agree with a talking head and his position simply because he's better able to articulate what you feel. it's something completely different to be devoid of any original thought or common sense and to depend on these overpaid blowhards to do the heavy lifting for you.) .

but as much as i dislike their views and often the terms they use to express them, i understand that it's a bunch of spin and propaganda to help an administration and an ideology in which they firmly believe. and of course, for good ratings.

then there's anne coulter. or manne coulter, if you prefer.

i concluded shortly after hearing her latest attacks on john edwards, whom she wished had been killed by an assassin's bullet, (and for whom i will not be voting for in the colorado primary. full disclosure) that manne is simply the most despicable public figure of our time.

while the other talkies (liberals like franken, et al included) attack the opposing party on issues and personal beliefs, mr. coulter attacks liberals simply to attack them. she attacks them individually in books, on radio, on tv and in magazine articles. she attacks their family life, their looks, their accents and wishes them ill in their personal lives, not in their professions.

her attacks are viscious, classless and rooted in nothing more than hate. they're often times so outlandish that there is no other plausible explanation for them other than that she likes to hear herself talk and hopes to sell a few more books. her views are so far right that even the most conservative republicans look downright liberal in comparison. and she does absolutely nothing to advance the conservative agenda. many in the grand old party are trying to distance themselves from her (since any link could sink any hopes at a successful run for office), the media, however, seem not to mind one bit.

how does a hate-mongering, truthless, self-serving sociopath get so much airtime? paris hilton. anne is the skinnier (even than paris), uglier, politically charged, more intellectual and vocal version of paris. she's slandered and libeled her way to prominence, despite no evidence of any discernable talent. yet the chris matthews, larry kings, and (this really pains me to say this) even the bill mahers of the world give her a pulpit, a platform to spew her hate anytime and anywhere she wants.

i've met countless conservatives/republicans in my life (many of whom are my friends) that are able to hold intelligent, meaningful conversations and express their personal political beliefs with grace and dignity. this type of discourse should be applauded and should have its place in the halls of congress, the floor of the city council, and in circles of friends discussing the issues of the day. manne coulter's hate-filled, slanderous brand of propaganda has only one place--the fiery pits of hell. i'll save him a seat.

My Wish

every once in a while, the world of sports takes a step back to, as the cliche goes, "put everything in perspective." sadly, this shuffling of priorities comes almost exclusively after the death of one of their own. certainly there were a few deaths this week, notable only to those who closely follow sports (or sports entertainment if you're a chris benoit fan), but the greater proverbial step back this week was taken by the worldwide leader in sports, espn, as it resurrected its "my wish" series this week.

for the uninitiated, "my wish" is a weeklong segment during which entertainment and sports programming network teams up with the make a wish foundation to deliver sports-related wishes to kids who have endured excruciating, heartbreaking, and life-altering battles with illness and adversity.

wish recipient number one was a kid, noa, from hawai'i that survived a liver transplant, a staph infection and gangrene....when he was 3 months old. since he can't play contact sports like football, he adopted basketball as his favorite sport and dwayne wade as his favorite player. true to the theme of the segment, ESPN delivered a full weekend with dwayne wade (complete with h.o.r.s.e. and 1-on-1 competitions) to noa to complete his dream.

ordinarily, i'm apathetic to contrived altruism (that's a bit oxymoronic, no?), such as much of the publicity stunts, er, philanthropy our celebrities do. but as a sports fan, i'm unable to resist the heartwarming stories the "my wish" program brings, since--for once in my life--i can actually relate to these kids on a fundamental level on account of our shared passion for sports and my own desire to live out some childhood dreams.

7 fulfilled wishes out of millions isn't a great percentage, but i commend ESPN for making the effort and giving a platform and a microphone to so many causes. it's great to see young people that have gone through so much get rewarded for their perseverance and determination in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. i just hope that no one i know will have the chance to be part of the program. that's my wish.

Hail, Hail

i'm back from hiatus. i've recharged my mental battery, so to speak, by working an ungodly amount of hours (doing other people's jobs no less) and spending inordinate amounts of time in the gym. oh yeah, i also started reading newspapers again.

i love my adopted hometown. 5280 has a bit of everything: outdoor activities, some culture, TONS of sun (yeah, california...even more than you) and a few decent restaurants and bars. but for a town full of transplants that so desperately wants to fit in with LA, chicago and new york--i'll never quite understand exactly why--it seems that none of the common sense from those metropoli ever seemed to rub off on denver.

i had my suspicions and i'd heard the rumors, but i recently found out that it's actually illegal to hail a cab in denver. yeah, you read that right. read it again. "illegal to hail a cab in denver." now the council is--try not to laugh--considering repealing the ordinance and replacing it with one that would allow people to hail a cab anytime day or night...with the caveat that the passenger must be fully loaded and ready to roll in 90 seconds.

with the ever-too-low legal BAC of .08, DUI arrests have skyrocketed in our state and city (no word on if this increase is proportional to the influx of californians and texans), and with limited options to avoid a likely DUI scenario, it's easy to see why. the city has slowly--and i mean slowly--"improved" its public transit, while simultaneously stepping up its DUI checkpoints and giving cops and patrol more loopholes for probable cause than ever before. so, more arrests, fewer transportation options. yeah, that seems logical.

somehow, in the excitement and chaos of what all state and city lawmakers have deemed an epidemic, the idea that providing easy access to taxi transportation as a reduction method has been completely lost. remember, mr. mayor, the most logical answer is often the correct one.

it's no wonder the colorado natives so resent transplants. natives clamor for new and stylish ways to mimic the more glamorous and notable hotspots. they see something on tv highlighting LA nightlife, nyc clubs, and chicago brewpubs and just assume that slapping a sign on a refurbished warehouse will draw the masses. they're partly right. those of us from more sophisticated areas of the country are just trying to apply some logic as the vehicle to help get them home safely. seems they're finally starting to get it.

Descriptile Dysfunction

you may have noticed the stark absence of any posts from me lately. or maybe you didn't. either way, i haven't written anything in a while because, well, i just haven't had much to say--writer's block, if you will (how ironic that i'm writing about having writer's block. eesn't dat vierd?)

i'll say that between finally solving my air conditioning conondrum, getting my increasingly fat ass back to the gym, and working more hours than i really care to, i haven't had much of an opportunity to have anything funny or interesting happen to me.

so, don't fret, friends of mine in the blogosphere. i'm in good health, good spirits, and a nicely cooled apartment. sooner or later something fun or interesting is bound to happen somewhere in the world. and as usual, when stories break, i fix them. i'll be back.

The Cold Shoulder

summer is rapidly approaching and my A/C is in need of a re-charge (seems like there's always something wrong with this damn thing). friendly landlord lady called her "girl" to have her call me and set up a service time. it's been a frustrating ordeal, so let's peek in after the douchebag serviceman no call/no showed on me....twice!

fll: did you get everything taken care of?

me: no. idiot no called/no showed on me twice.

fll: oh my god! are you kidding?

me: nope, but i took care of it. it'll happen, and we may even get it discounted

***flashback to monday morning*** (how do you do dream sequence waves?)

general manager: good morning, this is amy. how can i help you?

me: hi. i was supposed to have an A/C service call on wednesday, but your guy didn't show up. he called me on thursday to tell me he was too busy and forgot to call and say he'd not be coming.

GM: are you serious?

me: do i sound like i'm joking? not only did he pull this on wednesday, when i rearranged my meeting schedule to accomodate him, but he did it on saturday as well, when i rearranged my social schedule. obviously, i'm incredibly unhappy with this. not so much because it's hot and i need the a/c, but moreso because it's just a lack of courtesy and really, really bad customer service.

GM: do you remember who was supposed to come out?

me: yep. tim. both times. does tim know how to use a phone?

GM: i'm beginning to wonder. well, i'm very sorry about this and we'll get out there as soon as possible.

me: what does that mean? because if it doesn't mean today or tomorrow, then evidently, you don't want the work. i'm sure it'll be easy to find someone who does.

GM: we can squeeze you in between 3 and 5 on tuesday.

me: squeeze me in? are you serious? and between 3 and 5? are you the cable company or something? i get off work at 4pm. i'll expect him there between 4:30 and 5.

GM: okay. that's fair. and i'll personally call you when he leaves here.

me: great. click.

****flash forward to today, the day of the appointment****

rush home from work, still without a phone call. phone rings at 4:50pm. it's good ole tim, telling me he's leaving now...from arvada (for those of you not familiar with 5280 geography, arvada is a 25 minute drive....without rush hour traffic).

at present time, 6:15pm on tuesday, still no tim. it's gonna be a hot summer.

Whew!

been a busy weekend...and it's not even over! last night, my old boss finally got to show some of his art. for you photography buffs out there, his stuff is pretty interesting. he specializes in giclee, which if you're unfamiliar, is the practice of creating prints from a digital source. he takes various photographs of unrelated subjects and mixes, matches, splits and splices them and prints them on archive-quality canvas, which he stretches himself. cool stuff. and the gallery opening was pretty tight too. yeah, i'm now bourgeois.

ordinarily, 5am on a saturday is one of the last hours of the day i'd imagine seeing. this morning, however, it greeted me like an old friend. up at 5 to be downtown at 6....to help set up the 10th annual denver heartwalk. the weather was perrrrrfect for the 9,500 participants. sacrifice sleep to save lives? you betcha. now i'm bourgeois and philanthropic.

tomorrow, i will once again greet my friend 5am as i prepare for my 3rd installment of the elephant rock ride. i'm stretching it a bit this year, participating in the 50 mile version, though i'm clearly not ready for it. let's say i'm easily persuaded sometimes. so, once that grueling ride through the black forest is complete, it's off to record the first of what i hope to be many, many voice over samples. this shows i'm ambitious.

bourgeois, philanthropic and ambitious. maybe that should be the new subhead of the RAOG blog.

They Must've Been High

we can all agree that the real world ruined everything. but tv execs didn't stop there. they followed with other trainwrecks like the bachelor, the bachelorette, american karaoke (and other variations), and a whole host of other "reality" shows. the process, obviously, was the tv land equivalent to throwing shit at a wall to see what would stick. sadly, most of it did.

as cheap, smutty, or ridiculous and as many of the american reality series may be (pointing directly at "National Bingo Night"...i still can't get over this one), the dutch have scored the coup d'gras in the battle for the least tasteful show. ever.
they call it the "big donor show." the creators must've used all their creative juices in comprising the premise, leaving nothing to come up with a catchy title. as in the states, there is a great debate over the merits (or lackthereof) of the show, with the producers claiming social benefit and critics--government included--claiming exploitation and smut.

the intent of the show, as you may already be aware, is to raise awareness of the shortage of donor organs in the nearly underwater, purple hazed country (perhaps they wouldn't need so many donor organs if they laid off the hash just a bit?). needless to say, the best way to draw attention to an issue like this is to create a reality show on which contestants vie for a much needed, life-saving organ...which is awarded by the family of the donor.

i'm not going to get off on some pro-american rant here, but when we have a national health crisis, such as diabetes, breast cancer, heart disease, etc., we organize marches, fundraisers, or just wait for jerry lewis to come on tv and tell us to give money. but when the dutch are running fatally low on organs they desperately need, they...create a fucking reality show? the only logical explanation is that they must've been high.

A letter to my dogs...

who can't read this 'cause they're stupid. and they're dogs.

dear dogs,

i love you guys. i really do. you're my furry little companions who are always there waiting for me when i get home from work. you're always excited to see me even if i've been gone for all of five minutes. it makes me feel good. really, it does. it's cute the way you always want my attention and your unconditional love is very much appreciated. however, since we live in a relatively confined space, i must now do what i've been remiss in doing for years....setting ground rules. so, below is a list of new rules (real time style) that, if followed, will make all our lives much more enjoyable.

new rule: when i say "bedtime," i mean for me. not you. you are a dog, which means you cannot buy or own anything. including my bed. you should learn that when i kick you off the bed 3-6 times per night, that i don't want you there. please take this under advisement.

new rule: no whining. whining is a form of communication reserved for infant humans and 28 year old males that write blogs. since you have no manner in which to convey what you really want once you've gotten my attention, you must cease and desist from whining. forever.

new rule: stay the fuck out of the bathroom garbage. i know you're a fucking dog, so it's obviously beyond your realm of comprehension, but garbage cans are for refuse--things i've used that i no longer need. please stop removing tissues, floss, and toilet paper rolls from the bathroom and strewing them about my, er, our apartment.

new rule: please don't bark at EVERYTHING. seriously. it's okay for you to bark from time to time. you're dogs, it's what you do. barking at a passing cat or dog? fine. a human? not preferable, but tolerable nonetheless. but a plastic bag being blown across the road by the wind? are you kidding? why waste your breath barking at that? stupid little furry animal.

new rule: remember, you're on a leash. since we're talking about things outside, let's review proper etiquette for walks. you have a leash around your neck, which is connected to a handle held by my hands. if you're familiar with the anatomy song (the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc.) you'll recall that my hands are connected to my arms, which are held in place to my body by virtue of my shoulders. shoulders are vulnerable. so, when you take off running like you're fucking barbaro, shoulders tend to get hurt. what's worse is that you've been on a leash for walks for over 2 years....and you STILL can't remember this. please don't do that anymore.

new rule: grass is not a foodgroup. once you've stopped eating my garbage, we can move onto other things that shouldn't remain staples of your diet. for instance, grass and the things and substances that may be contained therein. one of you sniffs the grass incessantly, as if it'll give you a high like a magic marker. the other chomps at the grass with each step, emulating a grazing cattle, i suppose. have you not figured out yet that this is one of the primary causes of you having painful, nasty shits? do us all a favor and stick to the food i feed you. believe it or not, "dad" knows best.

new rule: socks belong on feet, not in your mouth. i'm not even sure how you manage to get ahold of my socks. they're either in a drawer or in a hamper with a lid. yet, somehow, i come home to find at least one of them in the living room, usually between your feet as you look up at me as if to say, "oh, you mean this sock?" actually, i mean all of them. don't eat my socks, god damnit.

and finally...

new rule: you are essentially brother and sister and incest is not permitted in colorado, even of the canine variety (okay, i made that part up. but still, gross). one of you i got from the pound. i rescued you, had you fixed, made sure you were a healthy, pretty puppy. i guess i did too well 'cause the other one of you, whom dog #1 found in a field, cannot hold back your primal needs when she's around. frankly, it's appalling. or maybe unnerving considering, well, you don't have any manhood left because you were fixed too. look, i know all about sexual frustration and i know that you guys are the reason we have the term "doggy style." but please, do your human a favor and keep it in your pants. er, keep it in your fur. enjoy the fact you have company when i'm not around; you have someone to occupy you and to help get you into trouble. but when friends (or brothers and sisters) get sexually involved, nothing good can come out of it. just ask angelina jolie's brother.

dogs, following these simple rules will give us all better lives. i'll be much less tense around you, much less likely to blow up at you, and generally even nicer to you than i am right now. i think we can all agree on 2 things moving forward to improve our living arrangement: 1) you'll leave my stuff alone, as i'll leave yours and 2) let's leave the fucking to the humans. mmmkay?

Might as Well be Walking on the Sun

how i came to realize that i'm an idiot:

saturday morning, 8:10am

j: nice shot dude! you're nuttin' that club today.

me: yeah, not bad. fuck, it's hot already? it's not even 9am yet.

j2: it's gonna get hotter. good thing we have carts and good thing i'm mexican....i'm used to this shit.

j: you should try going to vietnam in the summer. talk about fucking hot.

me: why the hell would i go there in the summer? that's just gluttony. and you both suck for not being white. buy me a drink.

(after 5 holes...)

me: look at my fucking hat. it's drenched already and it's hotter than a slave ship out here!

j: must suck to be white sometimes.

me: yeah, good thing i brought.....oh FUCK!

j2: you forgot your sunscreen didn't you?

me: yeah.

j2: how long have you lived out here?

me: almost 3 years.

j2: almost 3 years and you still manage to forget sunscreen? idiot. you're gonna fry.

me: probably.

j: that sucks for you, dude. lemme see. (sees my red neck) holy shit, man, you're gonna be in pain for a while.

me: that bad?

j: no, i always say "holy shit" when something isn't that bad. i'd recommend not showering the rest of the weekend. you're like fire-engine red and a shower is gonna hurt like a mofo!

me: sweet. this happens every summer out here. it's like my memory is reset over the winter and i always manage to get torched at the beginning of the summer.

j +j2: stupid white boy idiot mother fucker. (smack me simultaneously on the back of the neck.

me: (sigh).

Side-Walk

n. path for pedestrians on the side of a street.

that's right, the sidewalk is meant for walking. go figure. so, why then must you use the sidewalk as your personal bike lane? you're an adult. you should be responsible. you should know the rules of the road by now. and should have been wearing a helmet. asshat.

you ride on the sidewalk with your shitty ass bike wearing headphones--a no-no in heavy traffic areas--and are riding in the wrong. fucking. direction. what's more, you have the gall to dismount said bike, remove said headphones from your pudgy, ugly ass head and incite an argument because--GASP--dogs want to chase after a moving vehicle( yeah, a bike is a vehicle, you silly trollop) that shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place!

i'm a cyclist. you're a heffer who somehow managed to find a bike that would support her immense weight. i follow the rules of the road. you don't even ride on it. get a brain, get a clue, or get of your god damned bike.

whore.

PS. in most cities, riding a bike on the sidewalk, provided you're not a child, is illegal and punishable by fines.

Tall Glass of Milf

i live next to the rich area of denver. the boulevard is really what separates the haves from the have-nots or almost beens. but, since we're in such close proximity, we do share several things...like target.

the target by my place is reknowned for good looking women. college aged, middle aged, almost old aged. you name it, we've got em. and they're hot. i went there today to pick up a few items, and while standing in line my gaze was met by two super milfs. i noticed many more as i was walking through the store, so many so that i nearly forgot to recognize all the cutie little college girls running around too.

this brought up an interesting thought in my mind: why, all of a sudden (within the past year), have i found myself much more attracted to hot mommies than sultry college coeds or young professionals? sure, i still turn my head at the sight of smokin' hot blonde that just came from the gym. but my eyes have gravitated, inexplicably, toward the mommies of the world. i'm not old by any stretch, nor am i "middle aged", AND i hate kids. those 3 qualifications alone should mandate that i gawk needlessly only at the girls my age or younger (not YOUNGER (gross), but younger as in a couple of years or so).

i chalk it up to the fantasy of the whole thing. ya know, the mrs. robinson syndrome, if you will. obviously i choose to date girls closer to my age, but there's just something more mystifying (sometimes) to me about a hot mom than there is about a fit 20-something. i hope it's not part of the, um, maturation process. nor do i hope it signifies that it's time to look to the older crowd for a relationship. that'd suck.

i guess the only real explanation is the simplest. the deli man spiked my food again with a magic potion to direct my attention to milfs so as to eliminate me from his competition pool. that must be it. curse you, deli man.

Requiem for a Dream

question: what is the chemical in food that causes insanely vivid, impossible, and often freakish dreams?

answer: i have no clue, but whatever it is, there's an abundance of it in whatever i've been eating. in fact, i'd venture a guess that i'm taking in about 3 times the daily recommended allowance of "it."

last night i dreamt (for the second time) that i'd returned to my college town and couldn't get out. almost "hotel california-ish" in it's you can never leave theme. i was so desperate to get out of there (in real life) that a prolonged return would be my equivalent to purgatory. ugh. thankfully i woke up, but i'm sure when i visit dreamland again, i'll still be stuck in ypsisucky.

of course, being stuck in a ghetto podunk town (yes, i'm aware of the oxymoronic qualities of this assessment. you really have to go there to see for yourself) pales in comparison to being convicted of murder. i'm fuzzy on the details of that dream, but i know that i was sentenced to life in prison...at OZ (see, i told you it's fucked up).

naturally, the murder conviction dream was only slightly less palatable than the animal abuser/cruelty one. that one actually made me physically ill. in fact, i woke up mid-dream because i was so nauseated by the imagery.

and what dream sequence would be complete, speaking of imagery, without a jaunt through a grand canyon-like landscape while flying on a pink dinosaur with wings? never ending story anyone? cripes.

so, to recap, in the past few weeks i've been stranded in a town i hate, convicted of murder, abused puppies, kittens and horses, and flown on pink dinosaurs with wings through a fanciful landscape. there MUST be something in my food. makes me want to stop eating. or sleeping. or both. i bet it's that damned deli kid.

European Vacation

i'm not much of a PBS guy, but i must rave about "rick steve's europe" series on the free channel. yeah, he's geeky, pretty bland, and surprisingly married, but his shows are incredibly informative and interesting. they're chock full of interesting historical tidbits about the location he's in, which is often off the beaten path.

obviously, his show is 180 degrees from E!'s "wild on" series, but that's the charm of the show. it's simple, cheaply made, with no fancy, well, anything. it's great late night weekend viewing (check your local listings). i now have a jones to hit tuscany, florence, venice, certain places in switzerland and a few locales in germany. all because of mr. boring steve's. thanks rick!

Movie review

Disturbia....in a hundred words or less

comedic beginning. charming, witty. shia lebouf is an up and coming star with tremendous character flexibility. carrie ann moss, hot mommy. dad dies. sad and destructive. little neighbor kids annoying as hell. we all have them. new neighbor girl scorching hot. new neighbor guy creepy as hell. asian friend stereotypical, but uber funny. screams like a girl.

slasher/screamer movie not expected. plot reminiscent of “rear window.” very hitchcock-ish. not a word. doesn’t count. high intensity, seemingly never-ending drama. wrought with paranoia, which turns to truth. occam’s razor at its core.

perfect mix of comedy, horror, suspense, and thrills. Score: A-

word count: 100, not including "hitchcock-ish."

FORE!

i played golf yesterday. "played" is really a loose term here. more accurately, i was on a golf course yesterday, swinging clubs, hitting a ball, and then going off on an adventure to find said ball. actually, it was like a search party come to think of it. "JY, search party of 3. your ball is lost."

god, it was awesome. i forgot, since i haven't played in over a year, just how fun it is to "spoil a good walk (screw you mark twain. you're an idiot. posthumously.). being out with the boys, discussing boy stuff and screaming at an inanimate object to do what you want may be the pinnacle of life. now i have the bug, but not the money. is there such a thing as whoring for golf? i'm not too proud and i'll do it. i swear i will.

oh yeah, hey summer, thanks for FINALLY coming. we've been expecting you. cheers everyone!

It's early. So Shut the F*CK UP!

attention all gym members: there is a new policy in place effective immediately. if you are in the gym at or before 5am, you MUST SHUT THE FUCK UP.

i was at the gym at 4:45 this morning completing workout number 1 of the day (i'm currently in 2-a-day training for elephant rock ride, which is a mere 3 weeks away. between being injured, stressing over my stupid ass exam and our shitty spring weather, i needed some drastic measures to get ready). apparently the two college-aged chatty cathy's didn't get the memo. the ONE time i decide i'm not awake enough to listen to music while i'm working out, i get stuck next to these two broads, forced to listen to 30 minutes of incessant cackling, giggling and a shriek/laugh mix that sounded like something that may come from the serengetti.

hey broads, read the sign: if you're at the gym at or before 5am, you must SHUT THE FUCK UP. enjoy your "work-out."

I coulda been a contenda

update from yesterday...the test is over. it sucked. hard. i didn't do poorly, but i certainly don't believe my score reflects anything about me, other than the fact that i find math about the most useless discipline for a marketing guy. i did just above average, which is not what i am by any stretch. anyway, after some consideration and even a conversation or two with admissions reps at select schools (thanks for your advice, katz people), i'll taking it again come august. this time, however, i'll be fully prepared.

i wasn't ready for the onslaught of confusion. it was pyschological warfare, really. sure, it's one thing to have a grasp of the material, but all GMAT takers know going in that it's a computer adaptive test, meaning you get a harder question following a correct answer and an easier one following an incorrect answer. it is nearly impossible not to crawl inside your own head while taking the test and try to examine what must've happened on the last question. you realize, "shit, this is a hard question. i must've gotten the last one right," and thus you self impose even more pressure.

not to mention the prison-like accomodations. actually, the test center is quite nice. it's clean, updated and such. but it's ANYTHING but comforting or comfortable. in fact, it's just a cube farm, but with cameras overhead and a glass monitoring station behind. any time you need anything, anything at all, you must raise your hand and wait for the administrator to come help. for breaks, you must be escorted to and from your desk, stopping to have your fingerprint scanned upon entrance and exit.

all in all, it's a lot to take in. it's pretty overwhelming. oh yeah, then there's the test itself. so, next time (mid-late august) i'll be better prepared. not only will i study on my own--though not for 5 months this time--but i'll also be enrolling shortly in a prep class offered by DU (that's university of denver for those not living here. yes, i know, it's backwards. don't ask). i'd like to take a kaplan course, but at $1200 a pop, DU's $400 course is a better value. either way, i'll come out with a better score, i'm convinced of it, which will justify spending more $$ in the near term. right?

btw, anybody know where i can find descartes' grave? i'd like to piss on it. or exhume him and beat the hell of him.

GMATically Correct

tomorrow's the big day. seriously, i don't know if i put this much effort into all of my undergrad classes combined. but, tomorrow is GMAT day and i'm ready. i think. actually, i'm not so sure i'm ready. but since i'll be mid-test 12 hours from now, i guess i have to be ready for all intents and purposes.

it's weird that i'm nervous. i don't tend to get nervous very often or for very many reasons. except maybe if i have a gun pulled on me, or i'm interviewing for a position that's waayyyyy above my capabilities but that i really want. or, when i'm faced with an exam that schools claim isn't the be all, end all to their admissions process (when really we know it's a hugely significant factor). but i'm not normally nervous. especially when i know that if i don't do so hot the first time, i can take it again over the next couple of months. but i'm nervous. and ready. i think. maybe i'll get some sleep tonight. probably not, though. i don't sleep well anyway. it's okay. my brain functions better with little sleep and lots o' caffeine.

yeah, i'm ready. bring it.

**update to come tomorrow. fingers crossed it'll be above average news.

Remember that dream where you're falling?

yeah, well, mine came true. after 2 full years of riding consistently and often, i had my first crash on saturday. my friends all told me it would happen someday. i just didn't think it'd be my first ride of the season. just for the record, it fucking sucked. a lot. could have been worse, since i wasn't going that fast (approx. 15 mph), but i lost some skin and sprain a wrist. good thing i had a dorky helmet on...since i slammed my head on the pavement. that was fun. falling sucks. not recommended. don't do it.

It's Late and I'm Pissed

so, i'm at the neighborhood corporate coffee shop plugging away at impossible math questions, ridiculous sentence corrections and horrifically boring reading comprehension questions. GMAT is 7 days away and i'm getting in some final study prep. 3 hours into a practice exam, my script goes completely haywire and crashes my system....losing ALL of the work i'd done. so i don't even know how i was doing, didn't get any type of score, and have to redo it tomorrow. sometimes i really fucking hate technology. t-minus 7 days till i get my life back. bastard admissions people.

Delicamessin'

why do the people at the deli counter insist on wrapping the zip lock part of the bag underneath the price sticker? is it because they know that when you try to open the bag by slowly ripping off the sticker that it'll rip your entire bag? maybe it's a conspiracy. or they're trained to do it to increase revenue. yeah, that's it. they do it so that as soon as you rip open the bag of whatever lunchmeat or cheese you just purchased, you'll have only a few days before you have to run right back because your stuff has spoiled. sneaky deli man. never trust anyone with a meat slicer.

A Vote for Myspace

while visiting the preferred website of people ages 14-33, i noticed that there were some "cool new people" that have joined the network recently. they looked oddly familiar, if not a bit too old for the demographic, and had some pretty cool monikers like "bill," "mitt," and "barack." i thought that was interesting.

every refresh of the homepage saw another politician trying to fit in make the "cool new people" list. i'm sure some of these guys are pretty cool if you get to know them. problem is, i don't want to. it's amazing the levels these jackasses will go to to pander to the voters. not that this is a new idea or anything, but if bill richardson, mitt romney and my presidential fave, obama, think that by getting on myspace and adding 34,976,658 friends will have an impact on my vote, then they should be drafting up the termination papers for their campaign advisors.

i don't want to be your friend, politicos. i find you as a group to be disgusting, sleazy, and pathetic enough without you infiltrating my virtual social playground (believe it or not, i used to have a real-life social playground. now it's more of just a social jungle gym without the gravel below to cushion any fall).

no, what i want you to do is stop trying to be hip and innovative in your quest for the 1600 pennsylvania address and campaign like a real politician should: go out and raise ungodly amounts of money from the sheep who will believe anything you say, and spend it on attack ads, newspaper ads, special appearances in other venues i'd prefer not to see you in (save an appearance on "real time with bill maher" because i'm confident in his ability to make them uncomfortable and challenge them on certain points. it's funny watching politicians backpedal), and then make tons of promises you can't keep.

in short, i want you to take the traditional route in making me despise you just a little less than the other candidates. invading myspace has made me hate you just a little more, because now there's not a shred of evidence to counter the idea that there's nothing you people won't do to secure a vote.

the funniest part of this to me is how many more democrats are on there than republicans, given that the site is owned by sleazeball supreme, rupert murdoch, and his band of merry propagandists. but that's another story for another time. for now, end rant.

The Best Job Ever

dear station manager,

this letter is to inform you of my interest in filling your need for a chief meteorologist/weather anchor. though there is no formal posting for the position, i am fairly certain that after this weekend's debacle, there surely will be one come monday, and i simply want to be ahead of the pack.

while i may not possess the classical training or skills of most weathermen, i feel i'm certainly as unqualified for the position as your current staff is, and can bring tremendous value to your station since my salary demands (high 5 figures) are significantly lower than their current pay grade (low 6 figures). for example, had i been the one to completely botch this weekend's forecast, predicting upwards of 18 inches of snow--prompting flight cancellations at the airport--only to be followed by clear skies and 65 degrees, think of how much your station could have saved. you'd be a hero in the eyes of the corporate executives. meanwhile,the ratings would be through the roof since your female viewers would want to be with me, while your male viewers would, naturally, want to be me. what does that add up to? more money for the station via increased ad revenues and thus, more "bang" for your buck.

in conclusion, i feel that i'd be a tremendous asset to the weather team and make the station even more financially successful that it already is. undoubtedly you seek a team player who can savagely butcher a forecast without hesitation or apprehension. simply stated, you're looking for me. please review my lack of qualifications and feel free to contact me at the phone number or email address listed atop my resume.

sincerely,

JY

The Cornfield: Don Ho

no, not nappy headed ho. "tiny bubbles" don ho passed away today at 76 years of age. yet another victim of heart disease. rest in peace, bra'.

Upon Further Review

....my performance review will only be about 2 weeks later than the stated date. which is also about 3 months later than originally expected. i will, however, be getting a raise before my review is even complete. only time (next payday) will tell how much i'm getting. suffice it to say it won't be nearly what i'm worth. but, hey, at least she's not the only one that kicks ass at her job.

i'm thinking that since my review is so late, i'll charge the company interest for every business day that it's late beyond the stated date. so, by my records, by the time it actually will occur, i'll be getting at least another 5k added on. that'll be nice...cuz i'm worth it. yeah, that'll work.

To Every Season...Turn the Channel!

i love ESPN. i love sports. it's common knowledge at this point that i'll watch most every sport, with a few notable exceptions. if i could only have 5 tv channels the rest of my life, the Entertainment and Sports Programming Network would top the list. but lately, the worldwide leader has done some really annoying shit...like mix up the sports seasons.

look, it's april, okay? college basketball just ended, the nba is mercifully winding down, and the national pasttime is heating up (except in cleveland, where they got 10 inches of snow. ha ha.). so why does ESPN insist on scheduling NFL primetime every night? unless i missed something, i'm pretty certain that the last meaningful NFL game was played in february (no, the pro bowl doesn't count. it's a lame excuse for rich guys to get a free trip to hawaii. 'cause they really need it). so why the incessant coverage? sure, the draft is "exciting." but when this ridiculous coverage started, it was also more than a month away.

meanwhile, baseball's opening day got some dap. it got some tv coverage from the family of networks. and, of course, baseball tonight--the world's greatest show--premiered (why BBTN had to wait till opening day to premiere, while NFL primetime gets started 6 months early is beyond me). it used to be that each sport had a nightly recap show that got its own hour. NFL primetime, BBTN, NBA fastbreak and a few others (is NHL tonight still around?). this season, however, they cut the NBA and MLB shows to 40 minutes, and gave NFL primetime the leftover 40. what the hell?

this would make perfect sense if we were talking about the NFL Network. ya know, 'cause they kind of have to. the league's name is on the network for cripe's sake. but ESPN, the "worldwide leader in sports?" c'mon.

the NFL is all well and good. i like it (though i still prefer saturday football to sunday football. something about passion and pride just seems to win out for me over money), but for fuck's sake, if it's the offseason, limit your coverage to, oh here's a novel idea, breaking news! like when mike vick decides he can't wait to get home to smoke his weed and wants to carry some on the plane. or when one of my bengals gets arrested in an attempt to set some sort of world record. but the draft? how many different ways can you say that jamarcus russell has a great arm (not that it matters, the raiders will find a way to fuck him up)?

yeah, it's impressive russell can throw a ball 50 yards from his ass, or that brett far vrah is coming back for a 17th season and is going to break some records. but can't this wait till, oh, september when it actually matters? or better yet, right before it happens so we can enjoy the other "major" sports in the world?

there are no fewer than 4 ESPN channels (plus ABC on weekends). you'd think they could find SOME time during the week to cover the sports that are actually in season. novel idea, indeed.

Late Night Review: The Lookout

usually, "psychological thrillers" and charcter dramas are contrived, forced and utter rip-offs of their predecessors. they're often unimaginative, unoriginal and simply ordinary. the premise has been overdone, the plot poorly planned, the script uninspired, and the acting is something straight out of a collegiate drama course. the exception to the rule is "the lookout."

i'm not sure where to begin with a description that will do the film justice. jeff daniels will win an award of some sort for his supporting role--where he belongs. and his portrayal of his blind-man character who befriends a former high school star athlete (joseph gordon levitt) who'd suffered severe brain trauma in an auto accident is nothing short of stellar.

the characters' relationship isn't the standard mentor/pupil dynamic. it's a much deeper bond, a true friendship despite their difference in age and background. they look out for one another, and work together to overcome their various disabilities.

naive and lacking the mental capacity to see through the feaux friendship forged with bank heist ring leader, gary (matthew goode), levitt's "chris" gets caught up in a not-so-complex scheme to rob the bank for which he works.

throughout the film, levitt battles flashbacks of his accident, the frustrations of his handicaps, and often struggles with the need for instant gratification the wrong way vs. achieving long term goals the right way. goode's performance is so convincing and true, that it's easy to see how this dilemma becomes so pressing. he's everything a villain should be, but without the typical trappings directors add in to remind the audience he's the bad guy.

the violence is kept to a minimum. there aren't any explosions, and only a handful of gunshots. this is a near-perfect mix of character drama, crime/heist, and suspense. the plot and premise are unique and buck the trend of the high speed chases and large explosions usually associated with heist movies. the script is suspenseful and intense, but with spots of pure humor (provided by daniels, of course) thrown in and the acting all around gives depth to the characters--just as good acting should. "the lookout" is easily one of the best movies released in a long time, and now ranks alongside "the usual suspects" as one of my personal faves. critics give it two thumbs up and a few stars. i give it a solid "A."

March sadness brings April gladness

march madness is almost over. another year, another busted bracket. thanks arron afflalo for not heeding my plea not to suck. and thanks roy hibbert, acie law, and the entire oral roberts team for choking when i needed you the most.

ncaa tourney time is both the greatest, most disappointing, and then greatest again time of the year for me, speaking strictly in terms of sports. i love the excitement of the first two rounds, when cinderellas and wannabes step up to the big boys. some slay goliath (thanks VCU) and some come up juuuuust a bit short (seriously, hometown Xavier, how on earth do you blow a game like that?!?!). but as quickly as the buzz comes, it goes away, always waiting till next year when my bearcats remember that they're actually a D-1 basketball program. and just when march turns into sheer disappointment, i remember that april is lurking in the shadows, waiting to erase the sadness the previous month had brought.

for all intents and purposes, the college basketball season is over for me and now, so is the month of march. i really don't care who wins monday night. instead, my march bracket sadness is giving away to my april baseball gladness. my beloveds on the north side of chicago open the season tomorrow in the city of my birth, and for the next 7 months, i'll follow every win (few), loss (many) and injury (infinite) my team endures. i'll pray for rain when we're behind, an opposing injury when we're ahead, and for a miracle to reach the series. i'll tell everyone to wait till next year when, once again, we come up painfully short. i'll pick my b-team to root for in lieu of my boys in blue. and i'll get ready to do it all over again next april, once my march sadness has subsided.

oh yeah, the shield, sopranos and entourage all return this week too. welcome to april, the month of gladness.

Ya'll Hirin' n' Shit?

it's no secret i work in a less than high society environment. i work with some people with felonies on their records, GEDs as their high achievements in life, and other societal rejects that just needed (and sometimes actually deserved) a second chance. such is life in a call center.

make no mistake, my job is of an executive capacity. i'm not a telemarketer. i'm a glorified account manager, sometimes sales manager, and often times HR rep. beyond my principle duties of being the face and voice of the company to the outside world, i do it all. most of the managers there do a lot, but where they all have backup and some help, i have none. i'm alone. i'm an island unto myself.

as we continue to grow, adding new clients, booking more hours from existing ones, we need new employees. interviewing is one of my least favorite activities, but a necessary evil if you're in management and you actually want your company to succeed. what i've noticed since stepping up to help out with hiring is shocking and alarming to my good senses, and an affront to everything i learned in my business curriculum (i'd say "b-school," but that's a year off). to illustrate:

you'll recall the guy who foiled crimes in his spare time. he was but one example of many of how the lesser educated, or those from less fortunate circumstances, have been ill prepared for the challenges of life...like interviewing.

we got a call recently in response to an ad we'd placed in the local paper. the voice on the other end of the line asked, "are ya'll hirin' n' shit?" stunned, our receptionist asked him to repeat himself, unsure she'd heard correctly. she did. no, asshole, we're not hiring.

there was the lady i interviewed with a lazy eye, 3 teeth, and a runny nose. yes, her nose was running and she asked for a kleenex. i didn't have one, so she decided her sleeve would be an appropriate replacement....while i was asking her interview questions. of course, the official reason i didn't hire her was that she couldn't read. at all. and through it all, she managed to avoid breaking down in tears until the very end. bravo.

of course, what story would be complete without the stay at home single mom (seriously, how do you even do that? welfare can't pay that much) who hadn't worked in 8 years? her only work experience was fast food. when she was 17. in her words she "(i) is a good people person, wit good talkin' skills." the hallmark of any good salesperson, i presume.

one of today's 6 interviews may have taken the cake....the gang banger chick who hadn't worked in 3 years because she had some personal issues to tend to. i probed a bit to learn more. mistake. i was met with a barrage of "fuckin' niggas,"bitches," "shit, dawg" and other stereotypical 'hood slang. i thought she was joking. really, i did. i tried to hold in my laughter, but when she told me her skillz made her queen bitch at her last job, i lost it. and then she lost it...any chance at a job, that is. needless to say, i removed her from the office, once i caught my breath.

stories of employees behaving badly after they've been hired are abundant, and will be saved for a rainy day. if anything, interviewing these, er, social invalids has made me better appreciate my upbringing, my education, and the opportunities i've been afforded. welcome to life in an urban call center. i can't wait till grad school comes to rescue me. dawg.

I'm Torn

so, another birthday has come and gone. no matter. i'm getting older and i no longer feel the need to celebrate multiple days for the occasion like i had in during my collegiate years. i no longer ask for many presents (some people will confirm that i've never been one who particularly likes gifts, but this year i did want a pony to fulfill a lifelong dream). and so, i've settled into my birthday routine, my annual groove if you will. people who care know the date. people who pay attention know to either not get me anything at all or keep it super simple.

i, however, didn't follow the rules and bought myself an expensive entry level mountain bike. my body, not to be outdone, presented me this year with a torn ankle ligament and frays of 2 other tendons shortly after this purchase. talk about going all out! multiple 100s of dollars on a bike and a couple thou on xrays and MRIs. now THAT'S a celebration. i also got a very fashionable boot, one that would make GPG both jealous and insecure of her own collection of footwear, and alot of sympathy...from women. i like it.

and to think, i haven't even hit the vaunted 30 year mark yet. lord knows what that birthday will hold. thankfully, i have 2 years to worry about it...and a shit ton of vicodin to ease the anguish of the thought.

The Riches, A First Look

...in 100 words or less

creepy, dark, dramatic. 2 british actors, 2 american accents. minnie driver. southern drawl. Weird. Strung out, alcoholic. Nervous, worrysome, moody. plays her part to the hilt. eddie izzard. my comedic hero. not funny, witty. mysterious, smooth, cunning, wanting the best for his family. no remorse, no regret, no plan. just vision.

son #1, white trash. son #2, older white trash. Daughter, sense of morality, but goes with the flow. Wait till age 18. Family background, gypsy and hillbilly mix. Wanderers.

Premise unique. Interesting. Original. Script average. Acting, superb. Intriguing show, not great. Entertaining. Watch next week. Grade: B-

98 words. not bad. next week, we'll focus on constructing complete sentences. g'nite.

Look it up

i opened my front door today and found a stack of new phone books. yippee! i don't use the local telecommunications giant's services, but i commend them on the gesture. but seriously, is it absolutely necessary to deliver 4 phone books to a 1 bedroom apartment? even i can't lose that many things.

since al gore invented the internet web machine a number of years back, the phone book has become virtually obsolete. i should call the phone company and tell them i don't need any more books. anyone have their number?

Inspiration

with march madness in full effect, i sometimes reflect on the impact of certain athletes and personalities on my life or on society in general. i think the most inspirational sports figure in a generation wasn't an athlete, but a coach.

it's been 14 years, but i believe this is the best speech given in my lifetime regarding any topic, given by anyone, anywhere. enjoy, your moment of zen. (thanks JStew).


Jim Valvano's Espy Speech

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Trust Me, I'm a Doctor

i'm not sure why i bother taking off work to go to the doctor anymore. what i should be doing is simply calling to schedule the most expensive tests i can find, which is essentially the end result of nearly every visit i've had in the past year. case in point, this morning's appointment:

dr: how are you?

me: well, i'm here, right?

dr: good point. so what's up?

me: (explanation).

dr: (bunch of questions to which he already has the answers, such as what medications i'm on. ya know, the ones HE PRESCRIBED TO ME.)

me: it hasn't gotten any worse, so i wasn't really worried. (insert something about better to be safe than sorry).

dr: yeah, better to be safe than sorry.

Me: (thinking): right, i just said that. thanks, dr. echo.

me: so, what's going on?

dr: could be anything really.

me: no shit.

dr: i think we'll need to do some tests to be sure. we can't keep running you through nuclear tests, 'cause they add up (not to mention i'll start to glow eventually). here are your options: test 1 will cost a few fingers. test 2 will cost an arm. test 3 will cost an arm and part of a leg, but it's the only way to really tell what's going on. it'll also involve a hospital stay of about 2 days. i know you've been shying away from test 3, which is okay, it's just not the course i would take.

me: (of course you'd go a different way, you make 5x's the salary i do). right, i think i'll avoid test 3 again. so, how 'bout i try taking _____ instead for a bit and see how that works?

dr: okay, that's a good thought for the next few days. i'm scheduling you for test 1 and for test 4, which i never told you about. after that, i'll probably prescribe you another medication which, unfortunately, doesn't have a generic (i.e. costs more than my mortgage). so, schedule that with the admin and i'll see you in a few weeks.

me: um, great.

RECAP: my suggestions were all good. doctor doesn't know. scheduled for really fucking expensive tests that will probably show that there's nothing wrong. he's the doctor, i'm broke. groovy.

Vigilante

it's funny how hypervigilant and overly sensitive you become once you've experienced a life-altering trauma. people who've been critically injured in car accidents are certainly more aware than most of us where the trucks, other cars, and potential dangers lie. gun shot victims are equally likely to know exact blocks of streets and parts of neighborhoods to avoid.

heart attack survivors are no different. so, as this discomfort in my chest has continued, i called my doctor this morning. i noticed this feeling a few days ago, but armed with the memory of how the first go around felt, i decided this probably wasn't much to worry about. hell, i climbed a mountain and went to the gym yesterday and actually felt better while doing both than i have while being completely sedentary.

the discomfort has persisted for about 5 days now. i called the nurse, she asked some questions and agreed after my answers that this probably wasn't anything to be alarmed about. nevertheless, the old saying "better safe than sorry" is applicable. i'll be heading to the dr. office tomorrow morning, anticipating paying an ungodly amount of money only find out i have a deep muscular strain or some sort of infection. oh well, better those than a faulty ticker.

the last few days, my attention has been completely divided between whatever it is i'm supposed to be doing and whatever sensation i'm feeling in my chest at the moment. had the discomfort intensified, i'd know (based on previous experience, thus certifying me as an expert) that'd i'd surely be in trouble. but it hasn't. it's almost like indigestion in my chest and it's more annoying than it is painful. regardless, it's high time i found out what's going on. at the very least, for my own sanity. it's quite unnerving being at the gym wondering with half a brain if my next rep may be my last. obviously i'm a bit more positive than that right now. but hey, a dead me doesn't do anyone any good. updates to follow.