a double post for this friday nite (yes, i'm bored). in a scant 15 minutes, the smoking ban in the state of colorado goes into effect. of course the bars are open till 2am, so the ban will actually be en force in 2 hours and 15 minutes. music to my ears and to my lungs. and to my clothes. and hair. and taste buds.
yes, i was a smoker. oddly enough, even when i did smoke i never cared much for secondhand smoke. and now, as a non-smoker, i don't have to. partisan politics aside, our state legislature and governor (republican) actually deserve credit for all they've done to put this into effect. sure, they made concessions such as allowing smoking in cigar bars (of which there are approximately .5 in the state), in casinos, and smoking lounges at DIA, but seeing as how i don't venture to any of those three locales, i'm cool with it.
the measure was, as expected, met with great resistance from the bar lobby, but it has proven to be such a popular decision that even apartment complexes, as is their right as a private business under this act, have banned smoking. curiously, smoking tenants in these complexes have chosen to move out rather than quit.
my decision to quit wasn't really a hard one (harder to quit than to want to quit though). the thin air at mile high altitude was the first impetus, followed by a heart attack. easy decision from that point on, i suppose. but, if i were still a smoker, it occurs to me that when my state outlaws the act in virtually every venue i may possibly visit, i'd probably view that as an opportune time to quit. oh well. not my problem anymore.
smoke free colorado in t-minus 2 hours, 2 minutes. 2hours, 1 minute.........
Friday, June 30, 2006
Bartender, a beer for my kid!
....continuing with the theme from my last post about customer service after my, ahem, "experience" at the 'you can do it, we can help' store. i stopped back in to target tonite on my way to the gym to pick up some new headphones. i found what i needed and zoomed to the front of the line in the express lane. as i was completing my transaction, i heard a ruckus in the lane next to me.
almost as ridiculous as airport security personnel strip searching an 80 year-old white woman in a wheelchair on suspicion of terrorist activities is the policies retailers employ to regarding alcohol purchases to "comply" with the government's mandate a few years back to card anyone that doesn't look 30. in today's american society, however, it really is difficult to peg an exact age to people of the younger generation. after all, "i thought she was 18" is an excuse used in court. i digress.
the scene: target, express lane 2. an attractive woman, probably between 30-33 stands in line purchasing some cookies, bread, tylenol and a six pack of fat tire (mmmm) beer. with her stands her husband (yes, they are married. i could tell by the boulder on her ring finger), who is undoubtedly over 30, and quite possibly pushing 40. his face is weathered and starting to wrinkle. his hair is jet black with traces of gray around the sideburn area. oh, and they happen to have their kid with them that is probably around 5 (he can form a complete sentence in english. so, he's either a prodigy 2 year old, or he's of the age when verbal communication is the norm--i.e. 5.).
the clerk, who had the unbelievably annoying habit of talking with her eyes closed and was quite possibly, um, "special," asked the woman for her id. the woman obliged. the clerk, eyes wide shut, turned to the husband and asked for his. he didn't have it on him, and the SPED, er, cashier quickly grabbed the beer back and told them she couldn't sell unless the mid-30's man could prove his age. arguing ensued. the lady customer exclaimed that she had her id, was of age (like her husband) and wanted to speak with a "manager" (i love the gratuitous use of "" when talking about supervisors and others in leadership positions in retail environments. really gives the due respect to the position, i feel). the manager waddled over, yes waddled, took in the situation, and calmly gave the couple the same lame evasion-in-the-form-of-company-policy as the clerk. he did, however, offer the man the opportunity to run out to his car to grab his ID and come back in to prove he was over 21. naturally, he declined and they cancelled the entire transaction and left.
now, i certainly understand why the "over 30" law was written. i remember my underage days where folks like shaun and the wolfe twins and others would walk with me to the store and buy some "beer" (ok, in this instance the "" are in reference to the laughable quality of the alcoholic piss-water we drank in college. but surely you could figure that out....if you're over 30, of course). but in the legal system, there is something called "the spirit of the law," which is to say that yes, the law is in place, but can and should be interpreted and applied in a fair and logical manner--such as when a 20 something comes in with a teenager and tries to buy alcohol. but when a married couple, obviously of legal age of consumption, arrives WITH THEIR 5 YR OLD KID and tries to buy an adult beverage (and when it's 10pm on a friday night and no one else is in the store), what really is the harm in not making the man run out to his car to prove his age?
retailers in general are smart. they're smart about logistics, smart about pricing, smart about supply and demand and other business-related concepts. they make money hand over fist and funnel some of those funds back into training programs to teach their employees about said business principles. somehow common sense is too precious a commodity to spread the wealth.
almost as ridiculous as airport security personnel strip searching an 80 year-old white woman in a wheelchair on suspicion of terrorist activities is the policies retailers employ to regarding alcohol purchases to "comply" with the government's mandate a few years back to card anyone that doesn't look 30. in today's american society, however, it really is difficult to peg an exact age to people of the younger generation. after all, "i thought she was 18" is an excuse used in court. i digress.
the scene: target, express lane 2. an attractive woman, probably between 30-33 stands in line purchasing some cookies, bread, tylenol and a six pack of fat tire (mmmm) beer. with her stands her husband (yes, they are married. i could tell by the boulder on her ring finger), who is undoubtedly over 30, and quite possibly pushing 40. his face is weathered and starting to wrinkle. his hair is jet black with traces of gray around the sideburn area. oh, and they happen to have their kid with them that is probably around 5 (he can form a complete sentence in english. so, he's either a prodigy 2 year old, or he's of the age when verbal communication is the norm--i.e. 5.).
the clerk, who had the unbelievably annoying habit of talking with her eyes closed and was quite possibly, um, "special," asked the woman for her id. the woman obliged. the clerk, eyes wide shut, turned to the husband and asked for his. he didn't have it on him, and the SPED, er, cashier quickly grabbed the beer back and told them she couldn't sell unless the mid-30's man could prove his age. arguing ensued. the lady customer exclaimed that she had her id, was of age (like her husband) and wanted to speak with a "manager" (i love the gratuitous use of "" when talking about supervisors and others in leadership positions in retail environments. really gives the due respect to the position, i feel). the manager waddled over, yes waddled, took in the situation, and calmly gave the couple the same lame evasion-in-the-form-of-company-policy as the clerk. he did, however, offer the man the opportunity to run out to his car to grab his ID and come back in to prove he was over 21. naturally, he declined and they cancelled the entire transaction and left.
now, i certainly understand why the "over 30" law was written. i remember my underage days where folks like shaun and the wolfe twins and others would walk with me to the store and buy some "beer" (ok, in this instance the "" are in reference to the laughable quality of the alcoholic piss-water we drank in college. but surely you could figure that out....if you're over 30, of course). but in the legal system, there is something called "the spirit of the law," which is to say that yes, the law is in place, but can and should be interpreted and applied in a fair and logical manner--such as when a 20 something comes in with a teenager and tries to buy alcohol. but when a married couple, obviously of legal age of consumption, arrives WITH THEIR 5 YR OLD KID and tries to buy an adult beverage (and when it's 10pm on a friday night and no one else is in the store), what really is the harm in not making the man run out to his car to prove his age?
retailers in general are smart. they're smart about logistics, smart about pricing, smart about supply and demand and other business-related concepts. they make money hand over fist and funnel some of those funds back into training programs to teach their employees about said business principles. somehow common sense is too precious a commodity to spread the wealth.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
You can't do it, and we won't help
if there was ever a moment when i have been truly embarrassed to be a part of the marketing/advertising industry, tonite was it. we've all long known that customer service in our country as eroded in a not-so-subtle manner over the past generation. it's also been understood that during the slide of customer attentiveness, advertisers and marketers have become less messengers and more spin doctors, aiming to shed positive light on the increasingly negative feeling consumers have when entering their local stores.
the spin-meister marketers are employed to create slogans, tag lines, and messaging to ingratiate themselves with potential buyers; to create a warm and fuzzy feeling deep within the consumer, as it were. take, for instance, home depot. surely everyone has heard the "you can do it, we can help" campaign the big box retailer has been espousing the past couple of years. tonite i found out that it is truly all about the spin.
this past weekend i went looking for a grill for my patio. i had little luck finding something adequate and in my price range, and i ended up settling on a little number from target of all places. unfortunately, in my haste to get a-bar-b-queing, i paid virtually no attention to the fact i'd just plunked down some dough for a charcoal grill--a no no in dry-ass, "we've got forest fires all over the damn place" colorado. more unfortunate still was the fact that i hadn't noticed any of this until i'd gotten the grill home, which, incidentally, was after i'd shelled out $47 for a tank of propane (and you thought regular unleaded was expensive? that's $3.13 a gallon!).
thankfully, the people at target were understanding and glad to refund my money on the grill, for which i'd thrown out the box and the receipt. i figured a 15-gallon tank of propane gas wouldn't be an issue. wrong.
i walked into the "we can help" store with my unopened, fully stocked tank of gas and waited patiently in line at the returns counter. upon seeing my tank of gas, the foreign girl at the counter freaked out, as if i were threatening to blow up her store with my highly flammable liquid fuel. she and her manager rushed my tank outside the store and placed it with the 50 other tanks.....10 feet from the entrance of the store. much safer i'm sure. nevertheless, i walked up to the counter with credit card and license in hand eager to get my much-needed money back. before i could even open my mouth to explain what i needed, the girl looked at me and flatly said, "no." i replied that she didn't know what i was going to say, to which her response was some barely-audible version of "we don't accept returns on propane."
i tore the return policy notice next to her counter off the pole it was taped to, put it on the counter, and asked her to point to where it says they can't accept this type of return. and before she could mention that i didn't have a receipt, i read aloud the section that clearly states that if a purchase was made on a credit or debit card, the purchase would be looked up in the system in the instance that the customer does not have a receipt present.
apparently stunned by my super-human abilities to read, write, and speak english, the clerk called for her manager with nary a word nor hesitation. her redneck supervisor, one of 3 on duty "managers," showed up about 5 minutes later and asked for a briefing. he agreed to refund my money and asked for the card with which i made the purchase. again, without hesitation, the "manager"looked at my card and gave me a half-assed "nope."
"nope? what do you mean, 'nope?'" i asked.
"i can't do it. i'm sorry. have a good nite." he replied.
"you didn't even run my card."
"i don't need to. i just know i can't do it. i'm sorry. BUT, i will give you store credit if you want."
"uh, no. thanks. i won't be coming back here again after tonite."
realizing that a complete meltdown could result in the cops being called, i calmly (but sternly) told both of them to wait where they were (yeah, right) for 10 minutes...i was going home to get my receipt.
i stormed back in roughly 10 minutes later--the store is only a mile and half from my apartment--and cut in front of about 10 people to the front of the line, placing the receipt politely in front of the clerk and her manager. without a word, he swiped my card, pushed a pen in front of me to sign the new receipt, and turned his back and walked away.
i'm not much of a handyman, but even i need the occasional trip to a hardware store. but, now that i've crossed home depot off my list of acceptable vendors, i'm left with few other options. and since the "you can do it, we can help" people won't, i'm hesitant to put my trust in "the helpful place" (ace) or the store that wants to "build something together" (lowes). my life may now be in permanent disrepair. damn the advertising man.
the spin-meister marketers are employed to create slogans, tag lines, and messaging to ingratiate themselves with potential buyers; to create a warm and fuzzy feeling deep within the consumer, as it were. take, for instance, home depot. surely everyone has heard the "you can do it, we can help" campaign the big box retailer has been espousing the past couple of years. tonite i found out that it is truly all about the spin.
this past weekend i went looking for a grill for my patio. i had little luck finding something adequate and in my price range, and i ended up settling on a little number from target of all places. unfortunately, in my haste to get a-bar-b-queing, i paid virtually no attention to the fact i'd just plunked down some dough for a charcoal grill--a no no in dry-ass, "we've got forest fires all over the damn place" colorado. more unfortunate still was the fact that i hadn't noticed any of this until i'd gotten the grill home, which, incidentally, was after i'd shelled out $47 for a tank of propane (and you thought regular unleaded was expensive? that's $3.13 a gallon!).
thankfully, the people at target were understanding and glad to refund my money on the grill, for which i'd thrown out the box and the receipt. i figured a 15-gallon tank of propane gas wouldn't be an issue. wrong.
i walked into the "we can help" store with my unopened, fully stocked tank of gas and waited patiently in line at the returns counter. upon seeing my tank of gas, the foreign girl at the counter freaked out, as if i were threatening to blow up her store with my highly flammable liquid fuel. she and her manager rushed my tank outside the store and placed it with the 50 other tanks.....10 feet from the entrance of the store. much safer i'm sure. nevertheless, i walked up to the counter with credit card and license in hand eager to get my much-needed money back. before i could even open my mouth to explain what i needed, the girl looked at me and flatly said, "no." i replied that she didn't know what i was going to say, to which her response was some barely-audible version of "we don't accept returns on propane."
i tore the return policy notice next to her counter off the pole it was taped to, put it on the counter, and asked her to point to where it says they can't accept this type of return. and before she could mention that i didn't have a receipt, i read aloud the section that clearly states that if a purchase was made on a credit or debit card, the purchase would be looked up in the system in the instance that the customer does not have a receipt present.
apparently stunned by my super-human abilities to read, write, and speak english, the clerk called for her manager with nary a word nor hesitation. her redneck supervisor, one of 3 on duty "managers," showed up about 5 minutes later and asked for a briefing. he agreed to refund my money and asked for the card with which i made the purchase. again, without hesitation, the "manager"looked at my card and gave me a half-assed "nope."
"nope? what do you mean, 'nope?'" i asked.
"i can't do it. i'm sorry. have a good nite." he replied.
"you didn't even run my card."
"i don't need to. i just know i can't do it. i'm sorry. BUT, i will give you store credit if you want."
"uh, no. thanks. i won't be coming back here again after tonite."
realizing that a complete meltdown could result in the cops being called, i calmly (but sternly) told both of them to wait where they were (yeah, right) for 10 minutes...i was going home to get my receipt.
i stormed back in roughly 10 minutes later--the store is only a mile and half from my apartment--and cut in front of about 10 people to the front of the line, placing the receipt politely in front of the clerk and her manager. without a word, he swiped my card, pushed a pen in front of me to sign the new receipt, and turned his back and walked away.
i'm not much of a handyman, but even i need the occasional trip to a hardware store. but, now that i've crossed home depot off my list of acceptable vendors, i'm left with few other options. and since the "you can do it, we can help" people won't, i'm hesitant to put my trust in "the helpful place" (ace) or the store that wants to "build something together" (lowes). my life may now be in permanent disrepair. damn the advertising man.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
the white d-wade
it's been a while since i last wrote, and much has happened (all good...or for the most part at least). i'll write about some of those things later. but more importantly, a thought hit me when i was at the gym tonight.
i was getting some run on the court (that's "playing basketball" for the laymen), when i realized that i'm the white version of dwayne wade of the nba champion miami heat. really, there are only a few differences between the man they call "flash" and me: he's black, i'm white. he's tall, i'm short. he can dunk, dribble, pass, shoot, run, block shots, defend, buy cars, houses and fancy toys. i can't.
so there you have it. if you're ever out in the 'hood and happen by a pickup game of hoops, you'll know it's me the ballers are talkin' about when they mention the "white d-wade" or "white flash." now, where's my ring?
i was getting some run on the court (that's "playing basketball" for the laymen), when i realized that i'm the white version of dwayne wade of the nba champion miami heat. really, there are only a few differences between the man they call "flash" and me: he's black, i'm white. he's tall, i'm short. he can dunk, dribble, pass, shoot, run, block shots, defend, buy cars, houses and fancy toys. i can't.
so there you have it. if you're ever out in the 'hood and happen by a pickup game of hoops, you'll know it's me the ballers are talkin' about when they mention the "white d-wade" or "white flash." now, where's my ring?
Monday, May 29, 2006
Welcome to the Real World
18 years ago mtv launched a novel idea. put 7 complete strangers in a pimped-out super house, give them a completely unattainable job, and see what happens. the drama, hilarity, and utter ridiculousness makes for great tv. er, made for great tv.
the first couple of seasons were fun. the people were "real," though their surroundings and circumstances were not. it was most certainly entertaining, at the very least, to live a rock star, silver spoon lifestyle vicariously. but, like all good things, too much is bad for you.
over the years, mtv recruited increasingly less sophisticated individuals. sure, you can argue that the backwoods kentuckian (i think that's what they're called. we simply called them hillbillies in ohio) from season 2 - los angeles was anything but a sophisticate, but i'd counter with the notion that he was a good guy that simply led a sheltered life somewhere in the bluegrass state. his intentions, as i see them, of being on the show were merely for the experience of it all--to meet new people, see new places, and learn from the whole thing. he was a respectable and respectful person, and for the intents and purposes of my point, he was a sophisticate.
fast forward to season 8 - hawaii. it is immediately evident, given teck's and ruthie's nude romp in the pool in the first moments of the premiere, that mtv wanted slightly less "nice" people, and substantially more edge. as therapists would warn, this is the proverbial slippery slope.
in the ensuing seasons, mtv has systematically ruined 9 cities by transforming its once novel experiment into a launching pad for instant celebrity (no water needed). now, they have decended upon my fair mile high city.
every city has its "it" place. you know, the hot spot where all the beautiful people come to drink insanely overpriced drinks for the privilege to hang out in the trendy bars and clubs; to see and be seen. detroit has royal oak, chicago has lincoln park, new york has the village, and la, well, all of la is like that from what i can gather. some of us despise the type of people that infest these areas. some of us actually are these people. regardless, it is common belief and concensus that these areas have enough of the stereotypical chads and trixies to survive a long, long time. so, why, mtv, why the overkill with adding more of "that'" type of person, especially when they're transplanted and likely to draw the ire of the locals, rather than going back to your roots and casting "real" people with good intentions that accentuate the personalities of the cities you've invaded?
though the added drama and hijinx these 20-something actors/waiters/jocks/drunks bring to the areas they infest (witness the dude from the san diego show getting his face crushed in a street fight 'cause the simpleton couldn't keep his drunken mouth shut) is often infuriating, i've come to realize that it's the lack of credit the show gives to the hosting town that really pisses me off.
i've never been to new orleans, honolulu, or even la (thank god for small favors), but i'm fairly certain there must be more to these places than just the bars. ok, maybe not la, but new orleans had (pre-katrina) much more to offer than rue bourbon...from what i'm told. hawaii has a fascinating ancient culture and, as importantly, a prominent place in american history (something about pearl harbor being bombed or something comes immediately to mind). god forbid mtv actually illustrate some real culture, or worse, show its subjects interacting with that culture rather than the club one.
as surely as i can paint with a broad brush the archetypes of the "real world" characters (the token gay guy, the token black guy, the hillbilly with an abusive father, the skater kid that drinks too much, the innocent virgin from an elite east coast family, the normal college kid that left his girlfriend behind to tape the show, and the 19 year-old pouty pants that whines and broods over every decision made), mtv has similarly painted each town it visits with the same strokes. new orleans is rue bourbon and nothing more. chicago has little more to offer than (my beloved) the cubs and rush street, and seattle only contributes coffee and grunge rock to society.
thankfully, denver isn't really known for much aside from its altitude, the mountains, and the fine, fine looking people that have moved here. as expected, friends and i have spotted the real worlders trapsing about LoDo (lower downtown for those of you outside 5280) followed by camera crews. i'm certain now that upon airing, those that don't live here will know little more about denver than its thin air and the abundant microbrews. i guess reality is perception, and this is the real world.
the first couple of seasons were fun. the people were "real," though their surroundings and circumstances were not. it was most certainly entertaining, at the very least, to live a rock star, silver spoon lifestyle vicariously. but, like all good things, too much is bad for you.
over the years, mtv recruited increasingly less sophisticated individuals. sure, you can argue that the backwoods kentuckian (i think that's what they're called. we simply called them hillbillies in ohio) from season 2 - los angeles was anything but a sophisticate, but i'd counter with the notion that he was a good guy that simply led a sheltered life somewhere in the bluegrass state. his intentions, as i see them, of being on the show were merely for the experience of it all--to meet new people, see new places, and learn from the whole thing. he was a respectable and respectful person, and for the intents and purposes of my point, he was a sophisticate.
fast forward to season 8 - hawaii. it is immediately evident, given teck's and ruthie's nude romp in the pool in the first moments of the premiere, that mtv wanted slightly less "nice" people, and substantially more edge. as therapists would warn, this is the proverbial slippery slope.
in the ensuing seasons, mtv has systematically ruined 9 cities by transforming its once novel experiment into a launching pad for instant celebrity (no water needed). now, they have decended upon my fair mile high city.
every city has its "it" place. you know, the hot spot where all the beautiful people come to drink insanely overpriced drinks for the privilege to hang out in the trendy bars and clubs; to see and be seen. detroit has royal oak, chicago has lincoln park, new york has the village, and la, well, all of la is like that from what i can gather. some of us despise the type of people that infest these areas. some of us actually are these people. regardless, it is common belief and concensus that these areas have enough of the stereotypical chads and trixies to survive a long, long time. so, why, mtv, why the overkill with adding more of "that'" type of person, especially when they're transplanted and likely to draw the ire of the locals, rather than going back to your roots and casting "real" people with good intentions that accentuate the personalities of the cities you've invaded?
though the added drama and hijinx these 20-something actors/waiters/jocks/drunks bring to the areas they infest (witness the dude from the san diego show getting his face crushed in a street fight 'cause the simpleton couldn't keep his drunken mouth shut) is often infuriating, i've come to realize that it's the lack of credit the show gives to the hosting town that really pisses me off.
i've never been to new orleans, honolulu, or even la (thank god for small favors), but i'm fairly certain there must be more to these places than just the bars. ok, maybe not la, but new orleans had (pre-katrina) much more to offer than rue bourbon...from what i'm told. hawaii has a fascinating ancient culture and, as importantly, a prominent place in american history (something about pearl harbor being bombed or something comes immediately to mind). god forbid mtv actually illustrate some real culture, or worse, show its subjects interacting with that culture rather than the club one.
as surely as i can paint with a broad brush the archetypes of the "real world" characters (the token gay guy, the token black guy, the hillbilly with an abusive father, the skater kid that drinks too much, the innocent virgin from an elite east coast family, the normal college kid that left his girlfriend behind to tape the show, and the 19 year-old pouty pants that whines and broods over every decision made), mtv has similarly painted each town it visits with the same strokes. new orleans is rue bourbon and nothing more. chicago has little more to offer than (my beloved) the cubs and rush street, and seattle only contributes coffee and grunge rock to society.
thankfully, denver isn't really known for much aside from its altitude, the mountains, and the fine, fine looking people that have moved here. as expected, friends and i have spotted the real worlders trapsing about LoDo (lower downtown for those of you outside 5280) followed by camera crews. i'm certain now that upon airing, those that don't live here will know little more about denver than its thin air and the abundant microbrews. i guess reality is perception, and this is the real world.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The Babe Didn't Wear Pink
it is called our national pastime. a game played in hallowed stadium, in timeless uniforms. it has long represented the pysche and persona of america. a game invented by americans (allegedly), for americans (but only 50%, the other half are latinos). and as of the last 15 years, it's a game played by steroid-riddled, egomaniacal, multi-millionaire asshats. this is baseball.
for all the scandal of steroids, the storylines of barry bonds' chase of babe ruth and hank aaron, broken curses (and those that continue....thanks cubs. you suck), baseball has finally done something worthy and right--though it will hardly get the media attention it deserves.
sunday, may 14th is mother's day. according to MLB, it's also the opportune time to help raise awareness and money for the susan g. komen breast cancer foundation. as a lifelong baseball fan and a newly initiated member of the society of people that donate things, this is a very proud moment for me. however, it's not mlb i'm proud of, it's the very same "me" guys that play the game that are allowing this to happen.
starting sunday, some of the biggest names and brightest stars of the game such as david ortiz, jim edmonds, derek jeter, and adam dunn among others, will be sporting pink wristbands and swinging pink bats for a week. home plate and each of the bases will be emblazoned with a pink ribbon emblem and all items will be auctioned off at week's end, with all the proceeds donated to the foundation.
for all the negative attention the game and its players have gotten in recent years and for all the ways the selfishness and egos of these overpaid athletes manifests itself (e.g. steroids, contract disputes, union grievances, throwing bats at umpires...i could go on), it takes a humble man, a big man to stand in front of 40,000 people--often on national television--sporting a pink bat and a near-pink uniform.
the sport's greatest symbol, its icon, babe ruth, was many things: a womanizer, a drunk, a smoker, an adulterer. he was, and to many still is, the greatest player to ever live. baseball is a game whose players are defined by their statistics and no one was more statistically dominant than babe ruth. but for all his accomplishments--the world series titles, 714 home runs, most walks and strikeouts in history, and single-handedly bringing misery to the boston red sox for nearly a century-- the larger-than-life babe ruth never wore pink.
if you'd like to make a donation this mother's day to the susan g. komen breast cancer foundation, visit www.komen.org
or, if you prefer to donate to another worthy cause, the denver heart walk sponsored by the american heart association (of which i am a proud participant), please click the link below to visit my personal donation page.
https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=122700&lis=1&kntae122700=7866AEE7097F4D6AA068B9FB0C131A47&supId=129111124
for all the scandal of steroids, the storylines of barry bonds' chase of babe ruth and hank aaron, broken curses (and those that continue....thanks cubs. you suck), baseball has finally done something worthy and right--though it will hardly get the media attention it deserves.
sunday, may 14th is mother's day. according to MLB, it's also the opportune time to help raise awareness and money for the susan g. komen breast cancer foundation. as a lifelong baseball fan and a newly initiated member of the society of people that donate things, this is a very proud moment for me. however, it's not mlb i'm proud of, it's the very same "me" guys that play the game that are allowing this to happen.
starting sunday, some of the biggest names and brightest stars of the game such as david ortiz, jim edmonds, derek jeter, and adam dunn among others, will be sporting pink wristbands and swinging pink bats for a week. home plate and each of the bases will be emblazoned with a pink ribbon emblem and all items will be auctioned off at week's end, with all the proceeds donated to the foundation.
for all the negative attention the game and its players have gotten in recent years and for all the ways the selfishness and egos of these overpaid athletes manifests itself (e.g. steroids, contract disputes, union grievances, throwing bats at umpires...i could go on), it takes a humble man, a big man to stand in front of 40,000 people--often on national television--sporting a pink bat and a near-pink uniform.
the sport's greatest symbol, its icon, babe ruth, was many things: a womanizer, a drunk, a smoker, an adulterer. he was, and to many still is, the greatest player to ever live. baseball is a game whose players are defined by their statistics and no one was more statistically dominant than babe ruth. but for all his accomplishments--the world series titles, 714 home runs, most walks and strikeouts in history, and single-handedly bringing misery to the boston red sox for nearly a century-- the larger-than-life babe ruth never wore pink.
if you'd like to make a donation this mother's day to the susan g. komen breast cancer foundation, visit www.komen.org
or, if you prefer to donate to another worthy cause, the denver heart walk sponsored by the american heart association (of which i am a proud participant), please click the link below to visit my personal donation page.
https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=122700&lis=1&kntae122700=7866AEE7097F4D6AA068B9FB0C131A47&supId=129111124
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Heartwalk Fundraising Begins
to part with the normal theme of my posts, i write today to inform all readers (and by all, i mean exactly 3) that i have officially registered a team today to participate in the denver heartwalk 2006, put on by the american heart association (www.americanheart.org). the event is scheduled for saturday, june 3 at 8:30 am. for many of you, participation isn't likely, as you're not colorado residents (but hey, if you want to come out for a visit....). however, if you'd like to support the cause in absentia, feel free to follow the link below to make a donation on behalf of my team. any amount is helpful and greatly appreciated.
i'm ordinarily not much one for charity or philanthropic efforts, and in this case my motives are purely selfish. i have a personal vested interest in helping fund the education, prevention and treatment of heart disease so that others won't endure what i went through (december 22, 2005). i hope my friends, family and anyone else reading this can empathize and will support this worthy cause.
happy heart, happy life.
http://heartwalk.kintera.org/faf/home/default.asp?ievent=122700&lis=1&kntae122700=6AF3DBE6742A48D680690A05837FE2E4&login=o
(click on sponsor participant, search participant name: scott stransky. the rest is intuitive)>
i'm ordinarily not much one for charity or philanthropic efforts, and in this case my motives are purely selfish. i have a personal vested interest in helping fund the education, prevention and treatment of heart disease so that others won't endure what i went through (december 22, 2005). i hope my friends, family and anyone else reading this can empathize and will support this worthy cause.
happy heart, happy life.
http://heartwalk.kintera.org/faf/home/default.asp?ievent=122700&lis=1&kntae122700=6AF3DBE6742A48D680690A05837FE2E4&login=o
(click on sponsor participant, search participant name: scott stransky. the rest is intuitive)>
Monday, May 01, 2006
Could ya sleep?
saturday was a boring day. the baseball games were shitty, the weather was ok at best, and my pecs and abs were absolutely on fire from the previous night's and that day's workouts. so, by night time i'd had enough and called up some friends to go out. these people are ordinarily the club scene kids, longing to shake their asses on crowded dance floors, to shitty music, with watered-down drinks. saturday night, however, was "dive night."
i ventured over to meet the crew at kazmos (yes, the bar is about as retarded as the name), and after 15 long minutes, we bolted. place was dead and too much of a dive for even the most ardent dive-bar goers. we mosied (is that seriously a word?) over to hoffbrau, a little less dive-y place around the block. the music was okay, there were actually people in there, and the beer specials were utterly ridiculous.
roger (10-4 good buddy) and jess made their way to the pool table, where they met johnny, a 50-something greased up guido (package included black leather jacket, tight black t-shirt, gaudy silver cross pendant, and of course, paulie walnuts-like slicked-back greasy hair). johnny seemed friendly enough at first, in an irritating type of way. thankfully, i had some friends sitting in a bo0th, so i was able to split my time between playing pool next to johnny and drinking disgusting (but well priced) beer with some friends across the room.
the 2 friends in the booth (we'll call them jordo and wilson to protect their anonymity) slipped out and presumably hit the strip club. roger was so completely tanked by the time he arrived at the bar that i'm amazed he could stand up straight enough to play pool. jess walked him home just before he passed out. that left greg and me......and johhny.
greg and i took over the booth and the 2 pitchers of (free) beer left behind by our compatriots. the waitress, anne (a cutie little asian) joined us since the traffic was slow. johnny saw me, came over, and against all prayers, sat down right. next. to. me. i played nice, hoping he'd not say a word and just go somewhere else and bother other people--preferably the ginormous mountain of a man at the table across the aisle (with the fine little blondie). my wishes were not granted and johnny began to talk.
it is a widely known fact (i use the terms "widely" and "known" very liberally) that the usual suspects is one of my all time favorite films. and why not? what, with its twisty plot lines, amaaaaaazing acting (thank god for kevin spacey) and the dreamboat that is gabriel byrne, how could anyone not love this movie? anyway, it's one thing to love a movie. it's completely another to meet a character--especially one as, um, "odd" as benicio del toro's fred fenster. johnny, i'm convinced, was fenster.
after reminding us (literally) 32 times that he's 44 years old, and complimenting me for being "good people" (maybe it was paulie's cousin?), things turned a bit more, how shall i say, scary. looking straight at greg, johnny asked repeatedly, "if you killed a man, could ya sleep at night? could ya sleep? could ya sleep?" with johnny mere inches from his face, greg let out a wimpering "uhhhh, no. i don't think so." johnny continued to profess that if the money is right, he'd kill. but only for his brother. and only, gulp, for me. i thought surely he was joking. but after comparing me to john belushi (seriously, i couldn't even make that up), his attention turned back to killing people without remorse. i think i may have even heard him use the term "shank."
at any rate, i was at this point scared shitless. now, back in college i used to be a pretty good drinker. so when greg gave me the "chug whatever's left so we have an excuse to get you out from the booth and leave" look, i harkened back to my swilling days. we downed a full pitcher in mere seconds, told johnny guido we needed another drink from the bar, and sprinted out the front door and into oncoming traffic. it was the safest i'd felt all night. fugetaboudit.
i ventured over to meet the crew at kazmos (yes, the bar is about as retarded as the name), and after 15 long minutes, we bolted. place was dead and too much of a dive for even the most ardent dive-bar goers. we mosied (is that seriously a word?) over to hoffbrau, a little less dive-y place around the block. the music was okay, there were actually people in there, and the beer specials were utterly ridiculous.
roger (10-4 good buddy) and jess made their way to the pool table, where they met johnny, a 50-something greased up guido (package included black leather jacket, tight black t-shirt, gaudy silver cross pendant, and of course, paulie walnuts-like slicked-back greasy hair). johnny seemed friendly enough at first, in an irritating type of way. thankfully, i had some friends sitting in a bo0th, so i was able to split my time between playing pool next to johnny and drinking disgusting (but well priced) beer with some friends across the room.
the 2 friends in the booth (we'll call them jordo and wilson to protect their anonymity) slipped out and presumably hit the strip club. roger was so completely tanked by the time he arrived at the bar that i'm amazed he could stand up straight enough to play pool. jess walked him home just before he passed out. that left greg and me......and johhny.
greg and i took over the booth and the 2 pitchers of (free) beer left behind by our compatriots. the waitress, anne (a cutie little asian) joined us since the traffic was slow. johnny saw me, came over, and against all prayers, sat down right. next. to. me. i played nice, hoping he'd not say a word and just go somewhere else and bother other people--preferably the ginormous mountain of a man at the table across the aisle (with the fine little blondie). my wishes were not granted and johnny began to talk.
it is a widely known fact (i use the terms "widely" and "known" very liberally) that the usual suspects is one of my all time favorite films. and why not? what, with its twisty plot lines, amaaaaaazing acting (thank god for kevin spacey) and the dreamboat that is gabriel byrne, how could anyone not love this movie? anyway, it's one thing to love a movie. it's completely another to meet a character--especially one as, um, "odd" as benicio del toro's fred fenster. johnny, i'm convinced, was fenster.
after reminding us (literally) 32 times that he's 44 years old, and complimenting me for being "good people" (maybe it was paulie's cousin?), things turned a bit more, how shall i say, scary. looking straight at greg, johnny asked repeatedly, "if you killed a man, could ya sleep at night? could ya sleep? could ya sleep?" with johnny mere inches from his face, greg let out a wimpering "uhhhh, no. i don't think so." johnny continued to profess that if the money is right, he'd kill. but only for his brother. and only, gulp, for me. i thought surely he was joking. but after comparing me to john belushi (seriously, i couldn't even make that up), his attention turned back to killing people without remorse. i think i may have even heard him use the term "shank."
at any rate, i was at this point scared shitless. now, back in college i used to be a pretty good drinker. so when greg gave me the "chug whatever's left so we have an excuse to get you out from the booth and leave" look, i harkened back to my swilling days. we downed a full pitcher in mere seconds, told johnny guido we needed another drink from the bar, and sprinted out the front door and into oncoming traffic. it was the safest i'd felt all night. fugetaboudit.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Bill me later
once in a great moon, some of the more fortunate people in the world get to come face to face with their idol, their hero, their mouthpiece, so to speak(ha! funny pun). i'm not one of those fortunate few, but tonight i did get to watch my idol from a distance.
since his comedy central days with PI, i've admired bill maher from a distance. a long distance, and with a television firmly planted between us. tonight was different. bill graced our fair city of denver with his presence at the paramount theater.
chad and i bought our tickets nearly 2 months ago in anticipation of this glorious night. we stopped at the espn zone for a quick bite and to take in the day's sports highlights. then it was down the 16th street mall we went to see billy boy.
we had some witty banter with others going to the show, namely an older couple who managed to make mention that they don't get enough, um, "lovin" (trust me, you had to be there). we entered the building and took our seats. well, i took my seat. chad had to wedge himself in his, since i strategically positioned myself two chairs from the albatross seated in the adjacent seat. uncomfortable as chad was, the show finally began....20 minutes late. typically los angelan.
the "real time with bill maher" intro music blared and bill came out to a roar, a standing ovation in some parts of the venue. chad could not stand, as the friction between his body and the rolls of lard seeping into his seat from the mammoth next to him was far too great for one man to bear.
bill started into his routine, much to my delight--delight that turned a bit toward disappoinment about 20 minutes into his 1:15 routine. you see, the reason i love bill is because he expresses nearly my every thought and opinion on politics, religion, sex, scandal, and other topics covered by media outlets such as fox "news," msnbc, and your local newscasts. naturally, i expected this to be the crux of his show. what we could not have anticipated, though, was actually seeing this routine before it was even performed.
there is a saying that good artists borrow and great artists steal. bill is a thief. he stole, nearly verbatim, many of the jokes and one liners used on his HBO series. and thus, my dissatisfaction. the point of live entertainment is to be entertained with fresh perspectives told in a joking manner and with a recognition of the performer's surroundings, not to be able to recite the performer's set for him. lewis black and dave chappelle each tailored their respective sets to the denver crowd, often cracking wise about the mentality of the city or blasting its politicians (or commending them...like for the whole marijuana legalization thing). bill didn't do this. in fact, up until the 30th minute of his set, i wasn't certain he knew where he was. then he dropped the name denver and i knew he was among us.
still, there were many laughs, mostly on jokes or rants i'd not yet heard. but the overall impression i got is that bill didn't or doesn't care enough about his stand-up routine to refresh it or talk to the inhabitants of the city he's in. make no mistake, i enjoyed myself. there are few better ways, in my opinion, to spend a sunday evening than listening to my mouthpiece rant and rave and preach on about the issues of the day. laughter is good for the soul. sadly, my greatest laugh came when the monstrous, sweaty beast sitting next to chad stood up after the finale and chad rejoiced at the ability to once again move his extremities.
so, bill, i know you make fun of people with blogs, claiming they're egocentric (we are), but if you're reading this, next time you come to denver or i go to see you perform, can you make me laugh with stuff i haven't heard? i really hate paying $45 to be entertained by the hippo sitting next to my friend, wedging him into a cramped seat with her rolls of fat. gross.
since his comedy central days with PI, i've admired bill maher from a distance. a long distance, and with a television firmly planted between us. tonight was different. bill graced our fair city of denver with his presence at the paramount theater.
chad and i bought our tickets nearly 2 months ago in anticipation of this glorious night. we stopped at the espn zone for a quick bite and to take in the day's sports highlights. then it was down the 16th street mall we went to see billy boy.
we had some witty banter with others going to the show, namely an older couple who managed to make mention that they don't get enough, um, "lovin" (trust me, you had to be there). we entered the building and took our seats. well, i took my seat. chad had to wedge himself in his, since i strategically positioned myself two chairs from the albatross seated in the adjacent seat. uncomfortable as chad was, the show finally began....20 minutes late. typically los angelan.
the "real time with bill maher" intro music blared and bill came out to a roar, a standing ovation in some parts of the venue. chad could not stand, as the friction between his body and the rolls of lard seeping into his seat from the mammoth next to him was far too great for one man to bear.
bill started into his routine, much to my delight--delight that turned a bit toward disappoinment about 20 minutes into his 1:15 routine. you see, the reason i love bill is because he expresses nearly my every thought and opinion on politics, religion, sex, scandal, and other topics covered by media outlets such as fox "news," msnbc, and your local newscasts. naturally, i expected this to be the crux of his show. what we could not have anticipated, though, was actually seeing this routine before it was even performed.
there is a saying that good artists borrow and great artists steal. bill is a thief. he stole, nearly verbatim, many of the jokes and one liners used on his HBO series. and thus, my dissatisfaction. the point of live entertainment is to be entertained with fresh perspectives told in a joking manner and with a recognition of the performer's surroundings, not to be able to recite the performer's set for him. lewis black and dave chappelle each tailored their respective sets to the denver crowd, often cracking wise about the mentality of the city or blasting its politicians (or commending them...like for the whole marijuana legalization thing). bill didn't do this. in fact, up until the 30th minute of his set, i wasn't certain he knew where he was. then he dropped the name denver and i knew he was among us.
still, there were many laughs, mostly on jokes or rants i'd not yet heard. but the overall impression i got is that bill didn't or doesn't care enough about his stand-up routine to refresh it or talk to the inhabitants of the city he's in. make no mistake, i enjoyed myself. there are few better ways, in my opinion, to spend a sunday evening than listening to my mouthpiece rant and rave and preach on about the issues of the day. laughter is good for the soul. sadly, my greatest laugh came when the monstrous, sweaty beast sitting next to chad stood up after the finale and chad rejoiced at the ability to once again move his extremities.
so, bill, i know you make fun of people with blogs, claiming they're egocentric (we are), but if you're reading this, next time you come to denver or i go to see you perform, can you make me laugh with stuff i haven't heard? i really hate paying $45 to be entertained by the hippo sitting next to my friend, wedging him into a cramped seat with her rolls of fat. gross.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
1-800-DIPSHIT
in the weeks following my last visit, i grew tired of waiting for the doctors (primary doctor and 2nd opinion guy) to get their collective shit together and make a decision on what i'm supposed to do with myself. so, i made the decision for them and hopped back on my bike.
the last time i rode any significant mileage was back in october, just before it got cold, after i came down with a 3 week cold, and 2.5 months before my, er, heart issue. it's been a while. last week i set out on the cherry creek trail intent on riding about 5 miles to see how i felt. 5 miles turned to 15, which turned to 17 by this past weekend.
after an off-day, i saddled up again today and set out for my above-leisurely-paced-and-below-frenetic-sprint ride. everything was going smoothly on the way out. i rode with some nice people, including a few female riders who i wouldn't mind becoming very friendly with. that point aside, the return trip was an adventure...as adventurous as a road bike ride can be.
it's not uncommon for people to not pay attention when they're on a leisurely stroll on a path. it's also not strange to see both cyclists and drivers not on high alert and not sharing the road. what is strange, however, is when all the crazies and idiots come out at once when there isn't even a full moon.
on my way back, i noticed for the first time the amount of bums living under the bridges along the bike path. i only noticed this time because, to my surprise, i had to make a concerted effort to avoid the trash they'd strewn about on my way. some would ask for change as i whizzed by at 20 mph, others would just yell at me inaudibly. pedestrians today were especially ornery, not willing to move out of the middle of the 8 feet wide path till the last second and walking 4 across. with only 4 miles left to home, the military obstacle course began.
riding along on the path, next to one of the busiest streets in the city, i encountered a middle-aged lady wearing a fedora who was waiting for the bus. she saw me coming from at least 100 yards away. rather than pick a side and move, she squared her shoulders to me as if she were going to tackle me football style. i slowed as i approached her and she began the dance you do when you and another person can't decide which direction each should go (remember kids, it's the same rules as there are on the road--oncoming traffic to the left). i slowed to a crawl, nearly falling off my bike--not something i'd recommend if you're clipped into your pedals. she and i exchanged some words, and a very large, intimidating man passing at nearly the same time and wearing a 10 gallon hat chimed in. needless to say, my words were much more carefully chosen than his.
anyway, i avoided a vehicular homicide charge, crediting my manners and vigilance. my luck would continue....but barely. continuing along the same busy stretch, i caught up to a group of nice riders with whom i'd had a pleasant conversation earlier. in the distance i could vaguely make out the figures of a mom riding with her 2 kids trailing. the masses of humanity were rapidly approaching a very narrow stretch and would meet in front of the country club.
i put my head down for a moment to really dig in, since i was pedaling uphill, and just as i was about to look up--BAM! mom, kids, and big group of cyclists right in front of me are all on the ground. a cell phone came flying at me and hit my handlebars. i stopped, completely astonished at the situation. i got off my bike walked over to see if everyone was okay, and brought the phone along with me. i asked aloud whose phone it was and then i heard a voice coming from the receiver. the mother reached out her hand and told me it was hers. i handed it over to her and she put it up to ear to tell her husband she was okay. unfuckingbelievable! this mother of the year was talking on her cell phone while riding a bike with her 2 kids behind her along one of the busiest streets in the city!
the carelessness and stupidity of some people is mindboggling and flabbergasting at the same time. much like the DUI hotline, i think the cycling community should come up with one of its own to report people who are potentially putting me in grave danger. if you see someone in your community acting irresponsibly while operating a human-powered vehicle (bikes are considered vehicles in colorado), call 1-800-DIPSHIT to report them. just make sure you get off your bike first.
the last time i rode any significant mileage was back in october, just before it got cold, after i came down with a 3 week cold, and 2.5 months before my, er, heart issue. it's been a while. last week i set out on the cherry creek trail intent on riding about 5 miles to see how i felt. 5 miles turned to 15, which turned to 17 by this past weekend.
after an off-day, i saddled up again today and set out for my above-leisurely-paced-and-below-frenetic-sprint ride. everything was going smoothly on the way out. i rode with some nice people, including a few female riders who i wouldn't mind becoming very friendly with. that point aside, the return trip was an adventure...as adventurous as a road bike ride can be.
it's not uncommon for people to not pay attention when they're on a leisurely stroll on a path. it's also not strange to see both cyclists and drivers not on high alert and not sharing the road. what is strange, however, is when all the crazies and idiots come out at once when there isn't even a full moon.
on my way back, i noticed for the first time the amount of bums living under the bridges along the bike path. i only noticed this time because, to my surprise, i had to make a concerted effort to avoid the trash they'd strewn about on my way. some would ask for change as i whizzed by at 20 mph, others would just yell at me inaudibly. pedestrians today were especially ornery, not willing to move out of the middle of the 8 feet wide path till the last second and walking 4 across. with only 4 miles left to home, the military obstacle course began.
riding along on the path, next to one of the busiest streets in the city, i encountered a middle-aged lady wearing a fedora who was waiting for the bus. she saw me coming from at least 100 yards away. rather than pick a side and move, she squared her shoulders to me as if she were going to tackle me football style. i slowed as i approached her and she began the dance you do when you and another person can't decide which direction each should go (remember kids, it's the same rules as there are on the road--oncoming traffic to the left). i slowed to a crawl, nearly falling off my bike--not something i'd recommend if you're clipped into your pedals. she and i exchanged some words, and a very large, intimidating man passing at nearly the same time and wearing a 10 gallon hat chimed in. needless to say, my words were much more carefully chosen than his.
anyway, i avoided a vehicular homicide charge, crediting my manners and vigilance. my luck would continue....but barely. continuing along the same busy stretch, i caught up to a group of nice riders with whom i'd had a pleasant conversation earlier. in the distance i could vaguely make out the figures of a mom riding with her 2 kids trailing. the masses of humanity were rapidly approaching a very narrow stretch and would meet in front of the country club.
i put my head down for a moment to really dig in, since i was pedaling uphill, and just as i was about to look up--BAM! mom, kids, and big group of cyclists right in front of me are all on the ground. a cell phone came flying at me and hit my handlebars. i stopped, completely astonished at the situation. i got off my bike walked over to see if everyone was okay, and brought the phone along with me. i asked aloud whose phone it was and then i heard a voice coming from the receiver. the mother reached out her hand and told me it was hers. i handed it over to her and she put it up to ear to tell her husband she was okay. unfuckingbelievable! this mother of the year was talking on her cell phone while riding a bike with her 2 kids behind her along one of the busiest streets in the city!
the carelessness and stupidity of some people is mindboggling and flabbergasting at the same time. much like the DUI hotline, i think the cycling community should come up with one of its own to report people who are potentially putting me in grave danger. if you see someone in your community acting irresponsibly while operating a human-powered vehicle (bikes are considered vehicles in colorado), call 1-800-DIPSHIT to report them. just make sure you get off your bike first.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Stick a Fork In Him, He's Dead
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
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
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
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