When we took the Subway to ABC, we took the 9. Well, after the test, I made the decision that if we took the 9 to get here, then we should take the 9 back. It should circle back around, right? I guess Subway trains don't "circle" back around like I thought.
We got on the 9, and we went up Manhattan. We wanted Times Square, 42nd Street. Unfortunately, the numbers were going up. 96th, 128th, 154th, 226th...We ended up in Van Cortlandt Park. For those of you not in the know, that's in the Bronx. When we started our jaunt, the subway was packed...it was around 5:15. When we finished, we were left with two lone travelers. A middle aged woman, and a college aged guy. We asked what happened after the last stop...
"Where are youse guys headin?" asked the college guy.
"Times Square." we responded.
Gasps from the woman and chuckles from the guy followed.
"Youse guys are in the Bronx...were as far away from Times Square as you can get!"
They were both extremely nice, and proceeded to tell us to cross the platform when the subway stopped and take that 9 subway to 96th street. Then, cross the platform again, and take the 2 all the way to 42nd street.
By the time we arrived, we had been on the subway for over an hour. Considering we were only trying to get from 67th to 42nd, I would say we did not make good time.
I would have to say, however, that the subway experience wasn't all that bad. There were some interesting things that happened.
1. We had a beggar on the train. This lady had her speech down verbatim. I will paraphrase here...if you ever rode the 9, maybe you know her.
"May I have your attention. If you have an apple, an orange, a cookie, a cake, a sandwich. I do not mind if it's been squished in your bag for three days. If you have a nickel, a dime, or even a penny. A lot of people just throw pennies away, but they help me to buy my food, to buy my clothing, to buy my cosmetics..."
2. This teenaged kid, very scrawny, made his way from car to car, before ending up in the car after ours. He then proceeded to grab the hand rails and do a series of flips, and non-sexual pole dancing type moves. We could see him flipping around, and I have to say, it was quite impressive.
3. When we first entered the train, it was standing room only. I nestled in by the door, so I could watch the numbers on the walls as they screamed past. Dan was behind me, looking in the direction of the people. After about 5 stops, the people who started the ride with us were all replaced by new people who didn't know that I was with Dan. This was important for Dan's plan...to cause a scene.
At about the 6th stop, the doors opened and Dan made his move. He turned and in his loud, booming voice called out..."This is your stop" as he proceeded to push me out the subway door. Of course, I wasn't prepared to be pushed out the door, so I stumbled out, and quickly had to make my way back aboard before the subway left without me.
I quickly took a look around, to see how people reacted. All I saw were shocked looks. Looks of disgust. "Why would that guy push him off the Subway?" I looked at Dan, he looked at me, and we burst out laughing. People shook their heads in protest and dove back into their newspapers.
Once we FINALLY found Times Square, we were starving. We walked to the Olive Garden. Above the restaurant was an ENORMOUS front end of an Escalade. We quickly took a seat in the bar. $15 for lasagna?!? It's only $9.95 in Greenwood! The place was cool, though. Main level housed several tables enclosed in glass walls so you could see the action. The second level was a bar, and the third had a beautiful view of Times Square.
A couple more stores, and we were beat. We made our way back to Penn Station and waited for the bus, which we were told would pick us up where it dropped us off. Wrong! We waited for 40 minutes...no bus. Finally, Dan called and found out we needed to be across and slightly down the street. Oh well, we made the bus, got back to Newark and headed home.
All of Sunday and all of Tuesday were spent driving (24 hours in total), and in between, we sandwiched a day of NYC. The trip was short but fun. I would definitely go back...watch out Holly and Fatima, cause I'm on my way!!
Thursday, September 30, 2004
The Big Apple: Part 2: Millionaire
The instructions were simple:
1. No talking
2. 10 minutes, 30 questions
3. The questions go across the page, not down
We were told that the tests would be graded and the people who got a certain "grade" would be taken for interviews directly after the tests. Of course, they wouldn't tell us what that magic number was.
Then, it was go time. We all took the question sheets out and began feverishly filling in ScanTron boxes with our Who Wants to be a Millionaire pencils.
Unbeknown to most of us, the test was for us to be on the Celebrity Scoop version of Millionaire. I was excited, because celebrity is right up my alley!! The questions seemed simple for the most part, with a couple of thinkers thrown in.
Easy ones:
Who had "Winona Forever" tattooed on his body because of his romance with Winona Ryder?
Which former Beatle was stabbed in his home in 1999?
Which former Basketball player opened his own chain of Movie Theatres?
(Johnny Depp, George Harrison, "Magic" Johnson)
Thinkers:
1. Who was People Magazines first "Sexiest Man Alive"?
a. Mel Gibson
b. Sean Connery
c. Richard Gere
d. Harrison Ford
2. Whose ashes were sprinkled in space in 1997, after his death?
a. Yuri Gagarin
b. Timothy Leary
c. Alan Shepard
d. Elllison Onizuka
Well, I missed both of these.
1. a. Mel Gibson. (I think I answered b.)
2. b. Timothy Leary (Who knew?)
Anyway...the questions flowed and I know I got at least 22-25 correct, and after talking to a couple of people, I think my number was more like 26. 26 out of 30 ain't too bad! I asked Dan how he did, and he said he did decent, but not good enough (apparently celebrity is not his strong suit). I was confident they would call my number (#19). I even told Dan I was nervous about my impending interview.
Well, the numbers started flowing. 101, 55, 43...I was ready for them to say 19, but they never did. 12 people made it through, but Dan and I did not. We were told to have a nice day before being sent out the door. Oh well, at least I got a cool Who Wants to be a Millionaire pencil!!
up next...Did you think that I, the King of getting lost, would survive New York City without a detour of some sorts? HA!
1. No talking
2. 10 minutes, 30 questions
3. The questions go across the page, not down
We were told that the tests would be graded and the people who got a certain "grade" would be taken for interviews directly after the tests. Of course, they wouldn't tell us what that magic number was.
Then, it was go time. We all took the question sheets out and began feverishly filling in ScanTron boxes with our Who Wants to be a Millionaire pencils.
Unbeknown to most of us, the test was for us to be on the Celebrity Scoop version of Millionaire. I was excited, because celebrity is right up my alley!! The questions seemed simple for the most part, with a couple of thinkers thrown in.
Easy ones:
Who had "Winona Forever" tattooed on his body because of his romance with Winona Ryder?
Which former Beatle was stabbed in his home in 1999?
Which former Basketball player opened his own chain of Movie Theatres?
(Johnny Depp, George Harrison, "Magic" Johnson)
Thinkers:
1. Who was People Magazines first "Sexiest Man Alive"?
a. Mel Gibson
b. Sean Connery
c. Richard Gere
d. Harrison Ford
2. Whose ashes were sprinkled in space in 1997, after his death?
a. Yuri Gagarin
b. Timothy Leary
c. Alan Shepard
d. Elllison Onizuka
Well, I missed both of these.
1. a. Mel Gibson. (I think I answered b.)
2. b. Timothy Leary (Who knew?)
Anyway...the questions flowed and I know I got at least 22-25 correct, and after talking to a couple of people, I think my number was more like 26. 26 out of 30 ain't too bad! I asked Dan how he did, and he said he did decent, but not good enough (apparently celebrity is not his strong suit). I was confident they would call my number (#19). I even told Dan I was nervous about my impending interview.
Well, the numbers started flowing. 101, 55, 43...I was ready for them to say 19, but they never did. 12 people made it through, but Dan and I did not. We were told to have a nice day before being sent out the door. Oh well, at least I got a cool Who Wants to be a Millionaire pencil!!
up next...Did you think that I, the King of getting lost, would survive New York City without a detour of some sorts? HA!
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
The Big Apple: Part 1
Hello all. Did you miss me? Of course you did. I am so sorry for not posting in awhile, but I have been away.
Sunday, I went with Dan (a buddy of mine) to New York City. Yes, the Big Apple. Some of you who know me are probably thinking one of two things.
1. I thought you were afraid of big cities, and being around lots of people.
2. Why would you go to NYC with "Dan" and not with Becky when she went a last year?
Well, to answer both of the questions, it's because Dan is a BIG guy (like 6'6"...300-350 lbs), and how can you be scared with him around? I am very phobic of big places and hordes of people, but I went anyway.
The whole reason for the trip was for Dan to audition for Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and for me to go for support. I was holding hope that maybe once we got there, the Millionaire people would let me take the test, too. I was hoping because I know that I, being smarter than Dan, could possibly make the show...wouldn't that be sweet revenge for his beating me at Trivial Pursuit last time we played? Just kidding of course...or am I?
Anyway, to make a long story short(er), I will break down what happened.
We left Sunday morning and drove through Indiana, Ohio, the top nub of West Virginia, and 3/4 of the way through Pennsylvania, before stopping somewhere between Harrisburg and Allentown (where they're closing all the factories down..sorry, Billy Joel ROCKS!!) Monday morning we got up early and drove through New Jersey to Newark International Airport. (Because it's cheaper to park there, and we wouldn't have to drive in New York that way.)
We took a shuttle to the Airport Terminal and bought bus tickets...then we shuttled back to the car because Dan forgot his Millionaire e-mail confirmation. One more time on the shuttle, then we loaded up on the bus for the drive into NYC. We bought tickets on the bus that took us to Penn Station, because it was a block from Macy's, where a friend of Becky and mine works. I thought I would try to visit her since I was there. Of course, Macy's is gigantic, so I found a guard who told us to go up to the Employee entrance. We did, but I couldn't get a hold of her. Which was a bummer, because I haven't seen her in a long while.
We walked to Times Square, which was very cool, and took in a few stores. Then we made our way to 67th Street, which, for those of you in the know, is where ABC Studios are. We took the Subway, which was way cooler than I expected, and arrived an hour and a half early. Since there was a line already formed, we decided to wait. When the time came, my hopes were fulfilled, as I was also allowed to take the test.
First, we had to fill out a questionnaire. (You know...what would you do with a million bucks? What would you like Meredith to know about you? etc.) The ABC lady made her way down the line of people, asking who needed a questionnaire. She handed one to the first five in line, one to Dan, and then she walked right past my outstretched hand. I said, "I need one, please." twice, to no response, so I made the mistake of whistling for her.
Whistling? Oh, Tony, you didn't just whistle at that poor girl!! Without even looking at me, she said, "I'm standing right here, you don't need to whistle," with a disgusted look on her face. I apologized somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 times, and Dan even tried to joke around with her, but nothing broke the disgusted look from her face whenever she saw me. Why did I whistle?
Anyway, the 75 or so people were led around the entire block long building in a single file (I told Dan, if they offer us soap, run...I've seen Schindler's List, you know!!) We all took a seat and were given a manilla envelope, a pencil, and a ScanTron answer form. Instructions followed and then we were allowed to take the test...
stay tuned...did Dan and/or Tony pass the test? Did Tony overcome the fear of big city life? These questions and more will be answered next time!!
Sunday, I went with Dan (a buddy of mine) to New York City. Yes, the Big Apple. Some of you who know me are probably thinking one of two things.
1. I thought you were afraid of big cities, and being around lots of people.
2. Why would you go to NYC with "Dan" and not with Becky when she went a last year?
Well, to answer both of the questions, it's because Dan is a BIG guy (like 6'6"...300-350 lbs), and how can you be scared with him around? I am very phobic of big places and hordes of people, but I went anyway.
The whole reason for the trip was for Dan to audition for Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and for me to go for support. I was holding hope that maybe once we got there, the Millionaire people would let me take the test, too. I was hoping because I know that I, being smarter than Dan, could possibly make the show...wouldn't that be sweet revenge for his beating me at Trivial Pursuit last time we played? Just kidding of course...or am I?
Anyway, to make a long story short(er), I will break down what happened.
We left Sunday morning and drove through Indiana, Ohio, the top nub of West Virginia, and 3/4 of the way through Pennsylvania, before stopping somewhere between Harrisburg and Allentown (where they're closing all the factories down..sorry, Billy Joel ROCKS!!) Monday morning we got up early and drove through New Jersey to Newark International Airport. (Because it's cheaper to park there, and we wouldn't have to drive in New York that way.)
We took a shuttle to the Airport Terminal and bought bus tickets...then we shuttled back to the car because Dan forgot his Millionaire e-mail confirmation. One more time on the shuttle, then we loaded up on the bus for the drive into NYC. We bought tickets on the bus that took us to Penn Station, because it was a block from Macy's, where a friend of Becky and mine works. I thought I would try to visit her since I was there. Of course, Macy's is gigantic, so I found a guard who told us to go up to the Employee entrance. We did, but I couldn't get a hold of her. Which was a bummer, because I haven't seen her in a long while.
We walked to Times Square, which was very cool, and took in a few stores. Then we made our way to 67th Street, which, for those of you in the know, is where ABC Studios are. We took the Subway, which was way cooler than I expected, and arrived an hour and a half early. Since there was a line already formed, we decided to wait. When the time came, my hopes were fulfilled, as I was also allowed to take the test.
First, we had to fill out a questionnaire. (You know...what would you do with a million bucks? What would you like Meredith to know about you? etc.) The ABC lady made her way down the line of people, asking who needed a questionnaire. She handed one to the first five in line, one to Dan, and then she walked right past my outstretched hand. I said, "I need one, please." twice, to no response, so I made the mistake of whistling for her.
Whistling? Oh, Tony, you didn't just whistle at that poor girl!! Without even looking at me, she said, "I'm standing right here, you don't need to whistle," with a disgusted look on her face. I apologized somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 times, and Dan even tried to joke around with her, but nothing broke the disgusted look from her face whenever she saw me. Why did I whistle?
Anyway, the 75 or so people were led around the entire block long building in a single file (I told Dan, if they offer us soap, run...I've seen Schindler's List, you know!!) We all took a seat and were given a manilla envelope, a pencil, and a ScanTron answer form. Instructions followed and then we were allowed to take the test...
stay tuned...did Dan and/or Tony pass the test? Did Tony overcome the fear of big city life? These questions and more will be answered next time!!
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Beware of Cat Scratch Fever
A plane from London to Washington was radioed and told to make an emergency stop in Maine because one of it's passenger's name showed up on the US's list of "suspected terrorists."
Who was this suspected terrorist? Usama (or Osama depending on the Web Site) Bin Laden? Ayman Al-Zawahiri? The Unibomber?
No...it was CAT STEVENS!!!
Are you kidding me? Cat Stevens, writer of many top US hits...namely "Peace Train," a terrorist? Can't be true.
Actually, according to Cat himself, it isn't true. Cat Stevens converted to Islam in 1977, and changed his name to Yusuf Islam at that time. More tragically than having the name Yusuf, was the fact that he, at that point, stopped making music. A true tragedy for the world.
Apparently, funds from a fundraiser Cat did to support "humanitarian causes" were purported to have gone to aid terroristic activities.
This is setting us up for something bad, kids. A just reason wasn't given, really, as to why you would keep this man out of the country. Because he's Muslim? Because his last name is Islam? Oh, man... Why would we want our youth to think we are lumping all Muslims together? Bin Laden, Cat Stevens...they are all Muslim, and therefore share the same beliefs. NO NO NO!!
Damn it, we as Americans need to stop this bull shit racist propaganda here, and find the real terrorists and stop them. We can't just deny access to people because of their religion, the same way we can't stop a motorist because of the color of their skin, or deny someone the right to enjoy the freedoms that makes us a democracy.
I want the US to be safe. But Cat Stevens? Come on...
Who was this suspected terrorist? Usama (or Osama depending on the Web Site) Bin Laden? Ayman Al-Zawahiri? The Unibomber?
No...it was CAT STEVENS!!!
Are you kidding me? Cat Stevens, writer of many top US hits...namely "Peace Train," a terrorist? Can't be true.
Actually, according to Cat himself, it isn't true. Cat Stevens converted to Islam in 1977, and changed his name to Yusuf Islam at that time. More tragically than having the name Yusuf, was the fact that he, at that point, stopped making music. A true tragedy for the world.
Apparently, funds from a fundraiser Cat did to support "humanitarian causes" were purported to have gone to aid terroristic activities.
This is setting us up for something bad, kids. A just reason wasn't given, really, as to why you would keep this man out of the country. Because he's Muslim? Because his last name is Islam? Oh, man... Why would we want our youth to think we are lumping all Muslims together? Bin Laden, Cat Stevens...they are all Muslim, and therefore share the same beliefs. NO NO NO!!
Damn it, we as Americans need to stop this bull shit racist propaganda here, and find the real terrorists and stop them. We can't just deny access to people because of their religion, the same way we can't stop a motorist because of the color of their skin, or deny someone the right to enjoy the freedoms that makes us a democracy.
I want the US to be safe. But Cat Stevens? Come on...
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Judaism
I was thinking today about converting to Judaism. I really like that they get two days off of work for Rosh Hashanah, and then another day for Yom Kippur.
Upon closer examination, I realized that you have to fast on Yom Kippur...yeah, I think I'll pass on the fast. Unless you can have cookies during a fast. No? Yeah, I didn't think so.
NOTE: This post has been posted strictly as a humourous anticdote with the true bottom line being that I am a growing boy who needs my food, and will not fast. It is not intended to be slight or in anyway negative towards Judaism as a Religion. That is all.
Oh, yeah, Gandhi Rules...Chairman Mao drools.
Upon closer examination, I realized that you have to fast on Yom Kippur...yeah, I think I'll pass on the fast. Unless you can have cookies during a fast. No? Yeah, I didn't think so.
NOTE: This post has been posted strictly as a humourous anticdote with the true bottom line being that I am a growing boy who needs my food, and will not fast. It is not intended to be slight or in anyway negative towards Judaism as a Religion. That is all.
Oh, yeah, Gandhi Rules...Chairman Mao drools.
Top 5 Most Ignorant Injuries
Every one gets hurt sometime. I'm not talking mentally hurt, but physically hurt. Broken bones, twisted ankles, hit in the face by a football (Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!!)...but we heal. We regain our strength, and we soldier on. Most of the time, injuries are legitimate injuries. Like the football to the face. Some injuries occur due to, what I call, ignorance. Here, for you my friends, are:
Tony's Top Five Most Ignorant Injuries
Yes, kids, it is a fact that I am prone to injuring myself in ways that just shouldn't happen. Here are some of the ways, so that you can get a good laugh at my ignorance.
5. Bruised Dreams
Injuries should never result from sleeping. However, #5 brings you a boner-fided sleep injury. I went to bed as I would any other normal night. I must have fallen asleep with my elbow bent so that my forearm was resting on my bicep. To make matters worse, I must have had that arm (my left one) under me when I fell asleep. Well, if you can't picture this, let me cut to the chase. When I woke up, my left forearm was pressed so tightly against my bicep that when I un-crushed it, my bicep screamed with pain. I tried to move my arm back and forth, to and fro...but nothing helped. My bicep was in pain for a solid week.
4. Impressing the Ladies
In volleyball, what is the one thing that a guy can do to gain honor amoung other players, and make the ladies swoon? No, being a setter isn't the answer! Of course, I am talking about crushing the ball with a massive, straight down, bounced off the backboard spike. Well, I was never a jumper, but I could, in my heyday, put the hurt on a ball...especially on a woman's net.
A men's net is 7'11 5/8". A woman's...7'4 1/8"...quite the size difference. One night, I was reffing volleyball in the Burg (Women's League) and a few of my fellow guy players were there watching their wives play. We had some time between games, so we decided to hit a few balls...impress the ladies. We took turns smokin' a few balls. Oohs and Aahs quickly filled the gym. I decided to hit one more and get the games going.
Big mistake.
I jumped and swung at the ball, and hit it ok. But on the follow through, my extended right thumb jammed so far into my thigh that if I give a thumbs up even now, my thumb makes what looks like a lower case r. The pain was so bad, that I could barely concentrate on blowing the whistle for the serve. What a mo-ron!!
3. Dumb Thumb #2
What is it about me and thumbs? I already have a disfigured right thumb, what else could happen? I found out at the beginning of summer. My left thumb was the injured this time, if you can really call it an injury.
Body Part: Left Thumb
The Problem: Hangnail
The Solution: What do most people do with hangnails? I guess you have a few options.
1. Let it grow out. Who does this? It's annoying and you have to get rid of it, STAT!
2. Take a pair of clippers, gently pulling back the hang nail, clip it at it's lowest point, thus ensuring words words words words words, whatever.
3. Grab that sucker with you teeth and rip it out.
I went with option #3. And I will never do it again!! First, I had the general hangnail pain. Ouch, it hurts...whine whine whine. Then, that moved to a more sensitive pain...when the nail got infected. Of course, I didn't know it was infected, but I kept pouring peroxide on it, before goobing on the Neosporin and adding a band-aid. Spiderman was my band aid of choice, cause he can shoot webs from his wrists, and...oh, sorry about that.
After a week of this pain, I was asked about the band aid by a co-worker. I proceeded to take the band aid off and show her the wound (cause that's what people like to see, right? A big infected thumb?) Only this time, the injury looked new to me. At the base of my thumb nail, a ball was forming. It had cracked through my nail and looked like...it was nasty, I'll leave it at that.
My first thought was that it was some gook from the Neosporin and such. So I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to scrape it off. AYE AYE YI!! That was pure pain. Ouch, it hurts thinking about it. So, to make a long story short (I know, too late) I had to go to the doctor.
She told me it was infection sprouting out. I had to take Anti-biotics. My nail is still, 3 months later, only half there, half gone. And what do I tell people when they ask what's wrong with my thumb? War wound. No, of course I bow my head and mutter...hang nail.
2. Fairy Dancer
In USA Volleyball, you have three divisions. B, which is what we play, is for the skilled players who have volleyball experience, but aren't Olympic caliber. BB, which is for the slightly more skilled players. And A which is for the College/Olympic type players. Don't get me wrong, B isn't backyard...but it's no A.
One year, we decided we would try our hand at a BB tournament, just to see how we would fair. The problem with the USA league is that what usually happens is there aren't enough teams who sign up for A, so the true A players play BB, and the BB players...not wanting to continously get their aces kicked by the A players...play B. Well, there we were, B players playing against borderline A players.
Is everyone following this? All these letters make me feel like I am a Trig teacher or something. A=BB minus B to the square root of Pony...can you tell I never took Trig?
Anyway, we were getting our ass smoked by this team. Big time. I wasn't even trying anymore. Well, they crushed one down on us (One? ha!!) and it rolled to the back wall. Me, not caring about the game anymore, and feeling in a carefree, jaded mood, started to prance back to the ball. Prance you may ask? You know, I was kinda skip-hop-jump back there like a fat ballerina.
Well, I did one of those big spilts jumps and landed right on the side of my right ankle. Instead of rolling and lessining the blow, I came down with all my weight on my leg bone I guess. I took a step like that and caught myself with my left foot. My ankle ballooned immediately. I had twisted several ankles in my day, but never quite like this. To make matters worse, because I am a fool, I finished the match pretty much on one foot.
After the tournament, we went to eat, and one of my buddies who was perpetually trying to hook me up, brought someone for me to meet. Yeah, my ankle is damn near broken and I'm going to be charming? That didn't work out so well. I went home and layed in bed. When I woke up, I tried to stand up and collapsed in pain. I was living with my cousin, Scott, at the time, and he put me back into bed and gave me some Ibprohen...it was the first time in 10 years that I had taken any kind of pain medication.
For those of you wondering...it wasn't broken. It was close, but it wasn't broken.
1. "Would you like knee pain with that?"
A couple weeks ago, after reffing the ladies, I decided to make a run for the boarder...Taco Bell. First, let me just say, in order to get "full" from the value menu, you have to eat more than one burrito...well, I do anyway. Isn't that false advertising or something? Ok, back to the story.
I pulled into the parking lot, and reached for my wallet in my back pocket. I couldn't pull it out, so I took off my seat belt...no luck. I extended my legs full out and pressed against the floorboard with my feet in order to left my butt off the seat, so that I could reach around and extract the wallet. When I did, my left kneecap felt like it popped. What a bonehead!! Hurt driving through a drive thru!! My knee cap hurt for about 5 days. I finally allieviated the pain by jiggling my knee cap around. Sounds fun, right?
So there you have it. 5 completely moronic ways to hurt yourself. If you have a nice, dumb injury, please feel free to comment...but please don't make fun of me cause I am sensitive, and my ego bruises like a peach.
Tony's Top Five Most Ignorant Injuries
Yes, kids, it is a fact that I am prone to injuring myself in ways that just shouldn't happen. Here are some of the ways, so that you can get a good laugh at my ignorance.
5. Bruised Dreams
Injuries should never result from sleeping. However, #5 brings you a boner-fided sleep injury. I went to bed as I would any other normal night. I must have fallen asleep with my elbow bent so that my forearm was resting on my bicep. To make matters worse, I must have had that arm (my left one) under me when I fell asleep. Well, if you can't picture this, let me cut to the chase. When I woke up, my left forearm was pressed so tightly against my bicep that when I un-crushed it, my bicep screamed with pain. I tried to move my arm back and forth, to and fro...but nothing helped. My bicep was in pain for a solid week.
4. Impressing the Ladies
In volleyball, what is the one thing that a guy can do to gain honor amoung other players, and make the ladies swoon? No, being a setter isn't the answer! Of course, I am talking about crushing the ball with a massive, straight down, bounced off the backboard spike. Well, I was never a jumper, but I could, in my heyday, put the hurt on a ball...especially on a woman's net.
A men's net is 7'11 5/8". A woman's...7'4 1/8"...quite the size difference. One night, I was reffing volleyball in the Burg (Women's League) and a few of my fellow guy players were there watching their wives play. We had some time between games, so we decided to hit a few balls...impress the ladies. We took turns smokin' a few balls. Oohs and Aahs quickly filled the gym. I decided to hit one more and get the games going.
Big mistake.
I jumped and swung at the ball, and hit it ok. But on the follow through, my extended right thumb jammed so far into my thigh that if I give a thumbs up even now, my thumb makes what looks like a lower case r. The pain was so bad, that I could barely concentrate on blowing the whistle for the serve. What a mo-ron!!
3. Dumb Thumb #2
What is it about me and thumbs? I already have a disfigured right thumb, what else could happen? I found out at the beginning of summer. My left thumb was the injured this time, if you can really call it an injury.
Body Part: Left Thumb
The Problem: Hangnail
The Solution: What do most people do with hangnails? I guess you have a few options.
1. Let it grow out. Who does this? It's annoying and you have to get rid of it, STAT!
2. Take a pair of clippers, gently pulling back the hang nail, clip it at it's lowest point, thus ensuring words words words words words, whatever.
3. Grab that sucker with you teeth and rip it out.
I went with option #3. And I will never do it again!! First, I had the general hangnail pain. Ouch, it hurts...whine whine whine. Then, that moved to a more sensitive pain...when the nail got infected. Of course, I didn't know it was infected, but I kept pouring peroxide on it, before goobing on the Neosporin and adding a band-aid. Spiderman was my band aid of choice, cause he can shoot webs from his wrists, and...oh, sorry about that.
After a week of this pain, I was asked about the band aid by a co-worker. I proceeded to take the band aid off and show her the wound (cause that's what people like to see, right? A big infected thumb?) Only this time, the injury looked new to me. At the base of my thumb nail, a ball was forming. It had cracked through my nail and looked like...it was nasty, I'll leave it at that.
My first thought was that it was some gook from the Neosporin and such. So I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to scrape it off. AYE AYE YI!! That was pure pain. Ouch, it hurts thinking about it. So, to make a long story short (I know, too late) I had to go to the doctor.
She told me it was infection sprouting out. I had to take Anti-biotics. My nail is still, 3 months later, only half there, half gone. And what do I tell people when they ask what's wrong with my thumb? War wound. No, of course I bow my head and mutter...hang nail.
2. Fairy Dancer
In USA Volleyball, you have three divisions. B, which is what we play, is for the skilled players who have volleyball experience, but aren't Olympic caliber. BB, which is for the slightly more skilled players. And A which is for the College/Olympic type players. Don't get me wrong, B isn't backyard...but it's no A.
One year, we decided we would try our hand at a BB tournament, just to see how we would fair. The problem with the USA league is that what usually happens is there aren't enough teams who sign up for A, so the true A players play BB, and the BB players...not wanting to continously get their aces kicked by the A players...play B. Well, there we were, B players playing against borderline A players.
Is everyone following this? All these letters make me feel like I am a Trig teacher or something. A=BB minus B to the square root of Pony...can you tell I never took Trig?
Anyway, we were getting our ass smoked by this team. Big time. I wasn't even trying anymore. Well, they crushed one down on us (One? ha!!) and it rolled to the back wall. Me, not caring about the game anymore, and feeling in a carefree, jaded mood, started to prance back to the ball. Prance you may ask? You know, I was kinda skip-hop-jump back there like a fat ballerina.
Well, I did one of those big spilts jumps and landed right on the side of my right ankle. Instead of rolling and lessining the blow, I came down with all my weight on my leg bone I guess. I took a step like that and caught myself with my left foot. My ankle ballooned immediately. I had twisted several ankles in my day, but never quite like this. To make matters worse, because I am a fool, I finished the match pretty much on one foot.
After the tournament, we went to eat, and one of my buddies who was perpetually trying to hook me up, brought someone for me to meet. Yeah, my ankle is damn near broken and I'm going to be charming? That didn't work out so well. I went home and layed in bed. When I woke up, I tried to stand up and collapsed in pain. I was living with my cousin, Scott, at the time, and he put me back into bed and gave me some Ibprohen...it was the first time in 10 years that I had taken any kind of pain medication.
For those of you wondering...it wasn't broken. It was close, but it wasn't broken.
1. "Would you like knee pain with that?"
A couple weeks ago, after reffing the ladies, I decided to make a run for the boarder...Taco Bell. First, let me just say, in order to get "full" from the value menu, you have to eat more than one burrito...well, I do anyway. Isn't that false advertising or something? Ok, back to the story.
I pulled into the parking lot, and reached for my wallet in my back pocket. I couldn't pull it out, so I took off my seat belt...no luck. I extended my legs full out and pressed against the floorboard with my feet in order to left my butt off the seat, so that I could reach around and extract the wallet. When I did, my left kneecap felt like it popped. What a bonehead!! Hurt driving through a drive thru!! My knee cap hurt for about 5 days. I finally allieviated the pain by jiggling my knee cap around. Sounds fun, right?
So there you have it. 5 completely moronic ways to hurt yourself. If you have a nice, dumb injury, please feel free to comment...but please don't make fun of me cause I am sensitive, and my ego bruises like a peach.
Friday, September 17, 2004
The Politics of Voting
For Nellie.
I don't usually like to wax political on you fine folks, partly because I am so ill-read on the subject, and partly because my opinions change like the wind on some issues. But for the benefit of those of you out there who could use a good political read (ok, maybe not a good read, but nonetheless an opinion) here is my take on the what's what.
Politics never really played a part in my life. I just accepted, nay, I took for granted that everything was fine, Democracy, Senate, Congress, rah rah rah, sis boom bah. When I hit 18, immediately I felt slighted as a "voter" because, why, at age 18, can you
1. vote for who is going to run the entire country...
2. go off to war and die for said country...
3. potentially be drafted to go to a war...
BUT you have to be 21 to be considered "adult" enough to buy alcohol? I know, it is a moot issue since I'm not a drinker, but it's a principle issue.
So, on principle, I didn't vote. Then, I hit 21, and my reasoning changed for not voting. Now, I will vote when "I see a candidate that I deem worthy to vote for." You know, the JFK, FDR, Lincoln type presidents that come around infrequently at best. This excuse held up for a long time...I mean, George Bush? Who really thought Clinton was a JFK figure when he came around? W? Al Gore? Not on my watch.
It wasn't until this year that it hit me...even the "good" to "great" presidents weren't perfect. They just did a job that kept us free and happy. Think about it:
1. Thomas Jefferson - Ever hear of Sally Hemmings? She was the slave Jefferson had with whom he had an illegitimate son.
2. Abraham Lincoln - When he was 22, his business failed. When he was 23, he lost a bid for U.S. Congress. When he was 24, he failed in business again. The following year, he was elected to the state legislature. When he was 26, his sweetheart died. At age 27, he had a nervous breakdown. When he was 29, he was defeated for the post of Speaker of the House in the state legislature. When he was 31, he was defeated as Elector. When he was 34, he ran for Congress again and lost. At the age of 37, he ran for Congress yet again and finally won, but two years later he lost his re-election campaign. At the age of 46, he ran for a U.S. Senate seat and lost. The following year he ran for Vice President and lost. Finally, at the age of 51, he was elected President of the United States. Plus, there is the whole, "he was gay" rumour...not that there's anything wrong with that.
3. FDR - 1933-1945...that's 12 years, people...a little longer than the 8 you are Consitutionally bound to serve. He was still damn good, but a close acquantance once said "If [President Roosevelt] became convinced tomorrow that coming out for cannibalism would get him the votes he so sorely needs, he would begin fattening a missionary in the White backyard come Wednesday."
4. JFK - "Happy Birthday, Mr President..." Hello, he was banging Marilyn Monroe and was married to Jackie O.
Reagan may or may not have had Alzeimer's in the White House, Nixon = Watergate, Clinton and the cigar on Monica Lewinski, I could go on, but the point is this:
Even the Presidents held in the highest reguards had faults.
So, maybe I'll vote this year. Who is a better candidate? Bush? Kerry? Maybe Charles Jay from Indiana on the Personal Choice Party...he does have a Porn star as his running mate (no joke).
Maybe Leonard Peltier from Kansas on the Peace and Freedom Party. What? He's not really from Kansas? He's just serving time there for a double murder of FBI agents? And he's running for President?!? Doesn't matter anyway, he's only on the Californian ballot.
Double Murder though...wow.
I'm not going to officially take a side at this point. I do know the following:
1. I don't care if Kerry served in Vietnam, or served fries at Viet Cong's Burger Shak.
2. I don't care if Bush dodged the draft, if he served, if the papers were forged, or if he was honorably discharged or not.
3. I don't care if Bush sat in that schoolhouse on 9/11 reading the book to kids for another 7 minutes or 70 minutes (I do care that he, intentionally or not, had the presence of mind to not spook the children.)
I heard an interesting theory (sorry Nellie) from Rush Limbaugh and it potentially makes sense. The Democrats are using Kerry to intentionally lose to Bush so that Bush can go for his 4 more years, and then the Democrats can run Hillary Rodham Clinton in '08.
Crazy? Not really. Hillary really wants to run, but it would be silly for her to run against Bush because even if Bush's supporters are 50/50 on Bush, it's possible that of the 50 percent that hate Bush, maybe 25 percent hate Hillary even more, and those votes would go to Bush or, gasp, Nader (could you imagine the Clinton household's humiliation to get beat in the election by Bush AND Nader?)
The Democrates throwing Kerry as a pawn makes sense for two reasons. One, the party loved Bill, loved his term, and would love to have another Clinton in the White House. Two, Hillary would rather run against a Rebuplican candidate who isn't already established in some voters as Dubya is. Some people love him, some hate him...but everybody knows him, and knows how he is now...that could sway people away from Hillary.
If Kerry looses, then Hillary campaigns fresh. If the Democrates had a candidate who would win (maybe Kerry will), then Hillary has a snowballs chance of being the Democratic nominee in '08. So, the Democrats use Kerry, and his campain which seems to be 'I am just like Bush, but I have a brain..." so that the people will just go with Bush. They also use the next potential big Democratic person, Edwards, sparingly, as the VP nominee, so that Hillary doesn't have to compete with him in '08.
Maybe that's crazy...but it makes sense to me. Will America vote for Hillary in '08? Maybe. Maybe not.
I would like to see a woman in the White House...or an African American. I would like to see how they would change things. It would be refreshing. Hillary? Maybe not so much.
I have the voter registration here in front of me, but I still don't know if I'm going to fill it out. I should. I think the President should make voting manditory. That way I would have to quit procrastinating and vote.
Maybe I'll just go Nader.
I don't usually like to wax political on you fine folks, partly because I am so ill-read on the subject, and partly because my opinions change like the wind on some issues. But for the benefit of those of you out there who could use a good political read (ok, maybe not a good read, but nonetheless an opinion) here is my take on the what's what.
Politics never really played a part in my life. I just accepted, nay, I took for granted that everything was fine, Democracy, Senate, Congress, rah rah rah, sis boom bah. When I hit 18, immediately I felt slighted as a "voter" because, why, at age 18, can you
1. vote for who is going to run the entire country...
2. go off to war and die for said country...
3. potentially be drafted to go to a war...
BUT you have to be 21 to be considered "adult" enough to buy alcohol? I know, it is a moot issue since I'm not a drinker, but it's a principle issue.
So, on principle, I didn't vote. Then, I hit 21, and my reasoning changed for not voting. Now, I will vote when "I see a candidate that I deem worthy to vote for." You know, the JFK, FDR, Lincoln type presidents that come around infrequently at best. This excuse held up for a long time...I mean, George Bush? Who really thought Clinton was a JFK figure when he came around? W? Al Gore? Not on my watch.
It wasn't until this year that it hit me...even the "good" to "great" presidents weren't perfect. They just did a job that kept us free and happy. Think about it:
1. Thomas Jefferson - Ever hear of Sally Hemmings? She was the slave Jefferson had with whom he had an illegitimate son.
2. Abraham Lincoln - When he was 22, his business failed. When he was 23, he lost a bid for U.S. Congress. When he was 24, he failed in business again. The following year, he was elected to the state legislature. When he was 26, his sweetheart died. At age 27, he had a nervous breakdown. When he was 29, he was defeated for the post of Speaker of the House in the state legislature. When he was 31, he was defeated as Elector. When he was 34, he ran for Congress again and lost. At the age of 37, he ran for Congress yet again and finally won, but two years later he lost his re-election campaign. At the age of 46, he ran for a U.S. Senate seat and lost. The following year he ran for Vice President and lost. Finally, at the age of 51, he was elected President of the United States. Plus, there is the whole, "he was gay" rumour...not that there's anything wrong with that.
3. FDR - 1933-1945...that's 12 years, people...a little longer than the 8 you are Consitutionally bound to serve. He was still damn good, but a close acquantance once said "If [President Roosevelt] became convinced tomorrow that coming out for cannibalism would get him the votes he so sorely needs, he would begin fattening a missionary in the White backyard come Wednesday."
4. JFK - "Happy Birthday, Mr President..." Hello, he was banging Marilyn Monroe and was married to Jackie O.
Reagan may or may not have had Alzeimer's in the White House, Nixon = Watergate, Clinton and the cigar on Monica Lewinski, I could go on, but the point is this:
Even the Presidents held in the highest reguards had faults.
So, maybe I'll vote this year. Who is a better candidate? Bush? Kerry? Maybe Charles Jay from Indiana on the Personal Choice Party...he does have a Porn star as his running mate (no joke).
Maybe Leonard Peltier from Kansas on the Peace and Freedom Party. What? He's not really from Kansas? He's just serving time there for a double murder of FBI agents? And he's running for President?!? Doesn't matter anyway, he's only on the Californian ballot.
Double Murder though...wow.
I'm not going to officially take a side at this point. I do know the following:
1. I don't care if Kerry served in Vietnam, or served fries at Viet Cong's Burger Shak.
2. I don't care if Bush dodged the draft, if he served, if the papers were forged, or if he was honorably discharged or not.
3. I don't care if Bush sat in that schoolhouse on 9/11 reading the book to kids for another 7 minutes or 70 minutes (I do care that he, intentionally or not, had the presence of mind to not spook the children.)
I heard an interesting theory (sorry Nellie) from Rush Limbaugh and it potentially makes sense. The Democrats are using Kerry to intentionally lose to Bush so that Bush can go for his 4 more years, and then the Democrats can run Hillary Rodham Clinton in '08.
Crazy? Not really. Hillary really wants to run, but it would be silly for her to run against Bush because even if Bush's supporters are 50/50 on Bush, it's possible that of the 50 percent that hate Bush, maybe 25 percent hate Hillary even more, and those votes would go to Bush or, gasp, Nader (could you imagine the Clinton household's humiliation to get beat in the election by Bush AND Nader?)
The Democrates throwing Kerry as a pawn makes sense for two reasons. One, the party loved Bill, loved his term, and would love to have another Clinton in the White House. Two, Hillary would rather run against a Rebuplican candidate who isn't already established in some voters as Dubya is. Some people love him, some hate him...but everybody knows him, and knows how he is now...that could sway people away from Hillary.
If Kerry looses, then Hillary campaigns fresh. If the Democrates had a candidate who would win (maybe Kerry will), then Hillary has a snowballs chance of being the Democratic nominee in '08. So, the Democrats use Kerry, and his campain which seems to be 'I am just like Bush, but I have a brain..." so that the people will just go with Bush. They also use the next potential big Democratic person, Edwards, sparingly, as the VP nominee, so that Hillary doesn't have to compete with him in '08.
Maybe that's crazy...but it makes sense to me. Will America vote for Hillary in '08? Maybe. Maybe not.
I would like to see a woman in the White House...or an African American. I would like to see how they would change things. It would be refreshing. Hillary? Maybe not so much.
I have the voter registration here in front of me, but I still don't know if I'm going to fill it out. I should. I think the President should make voting manditory. That way I would have to quit procrastinating and vote.
Maybe I'll just go Nader.
A Pea-nutty Post
If you know me, then you know I have a lot of food related preferences...I don't really want to say fetishes, because that sounds so dirty. I am very particular with the way I eat things. For example, I porportion my food. At the end of the meal, I will have one bite of fries, one bite of burger...one bite steak to one bite potato...etc. I will lay out the intricate pattern of my madness at another time, the point is, I am weird.
One thing that a lot of people may find strange is I don't like corn (and, yes, I live in Indiana...corn country) and I absolutely HATE peanut butter. However, I do like Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. A hypocrite, you may ask? Everytime I enjoy a peanut butter cup, I get the ribbing from people about eating peanut butter...but is Reeses peanut butter really peanut butter? I am not so sure.
Ok, it looks like peanut butter...but crack open a Reeses and smell it, then smell some creamy Jif or Peter Pan. Doesn't smell the same to me. Look at the consistency. Definately not the same. Maybe that's it...maybe it's the creamy stick-to-your-mouthedness that I so detest. Where as Reeses is slightly hardened.
How is that even possible? And is Reeses peanut butter really different than regular? I checked the Hershey's website and they are tight lipped on the secret. I asked Jeeves and he only took me to sites about Reeses cups...he, however, would not tell me the secret of the Reeses cup. Where else could I turn? Where else!! Former Double Dare host Marc Summers and his new series, Unwrapped on the Food Network.
So, I click over to Unwrapped and quickly found the secret.
Yes, Reeses does really have peanut butter inside... BUT they mix it with salt and powdered sugar. Then they refrigerate or something, my ADD (ok, my laziness) kicked in and I got tired of reading.
What does this prove? That I am right and wrong. A peanut butter sandwich is repulsing because of the creaminess. A peanut butter cup is good because of the harder consistency and the dulling down of the peanut butter taste with powdered sugar.
I am convinced now that, in fact, they are two different food stuffs, and I can hold my head high that I do not like peanut butter, do like Reeses and I am not a hypocrite because of the distinction.
(all you naysayers out there saying nay should think about this...some people like the color red and the color blue, but not purple...well combine red and blue and you get purple. Same principle here. Peanut butter = yuck...PB with powdered sugar = yum. Reese is the purple of peanut butter!!
One thing that a lot of people may find strange is I don't like corn (and, yes, I live in Indiana...corn country) and I absolutely HATE peanut butter. However, I do like Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. A hypocrite, you may ask? Everytime I enjoy a peanut butter cup, I get the ribbing from people about eating peanut butter...but is Reeses peanut butter really peanut butter? I am not so sure.
Ok, it looks like peanut butter...but crack open a Reeses and smell it, then smell some creamy Jif or Peter Pan. Doesn't smell the same to me. Look at the consistency. Definately not the same. Maybe that's it...maybe it's the creamy stick-to-your-mouthedness that I so detest. Where as Reeses is slightly hardened.
How is that even possible? And is Reeses peanut butter really different than regular? I checked the Hershey's website and they are tight lipped on the secret. I asked Jeeves and he only took me to sites about Reeses cups...he, however, would not tell me the secret of the Reeses cup. Where else could I turn? Where else!! Former Double Dare host Marc Summers and his new series, Unwrapped on the Food Network.
So, I click over to Unwrapped and quickly found the secret.
Yes, Reeses does really have peanut butter inside... BUT they mix it with salt and powdered sugar. Then they refrigerate or something, my ADD (ok, my laziness) kicked in and I got tired of reading.
What does this prove? That I am right and wrong. A peanut butter sandwich is repulsing because of the creaminess. A peanut butter cup is good because of the harder consistency and the dulling down of the peanut butter taste with powdered sugar.
I am convinced now that, in fact, they are two different food stuffs, and I can hold my head high that I do not like peanut butter, do like Reeses and I am not a hypocrite because of the distinction.
(all you naysayers out there saying nay should think about this...some people like the color red and the color blue, but not purple...well combine red and blue and you get purple. Same principle here. Peanut butter = yuck...PB with powdered sugar = yum. Reese is the purple of peanut butter!!
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Angry Rant #4
I have been recently tuning in to quite a lot of talk radio. The local talk radio brings my two programs: Rush Limbaugh and Dr. Laura Schlessinger.
I have been enjoying both, not because I agree with them, but just because of their point of view. HOWEVER...yesterday on Dr Laura's program, she began soapboxing on the topic of child neglect...but first, some background.
Dr Laura is a psychologist, psychiatrist, psychoanyalist, or psycho - something, I'm not whole heartedly sure which. One of her biggest stances comes in child advocacy...helping abused children, or children in general. She delivers a no-nonsense, unforgiving, no holds barred response to callers on more than just child related topics, too. But overall, she is presice, to the point, and very non-wavering. It seems to me, she has her mind made up on the topics, and her opinion is repeated to all subsequent callers on said topics.
Here we go...yesterday, an article was brought up about child neglect dealing with, of all things, Day Care systems. In the article, the author spoke on how to brace yourself and overcome the seperation anxiety for both the parent and the child who is going into a day care situation.
Dr Laura attacked, saying that any parent who would leave their child at a Day Care, a Nanny, a Baby-Sitter, etc was...
1. Neglectful of their children
2. Conceited
3. Selfish
Basically, she said that any parent who would leave their children in anyone else's care other than the mother or the father wasn't fit to be a parent. They also, she claimed, shouldn't have a child because obviously if they can't make the time to be with their children, to raise their children, and to nuture their children, then they probably...nay they DEFINATLY are unfit.
What kind of BS is this? Should kids have a stay at home parent? Probably. Does it make a parent unfit if they have no choice but to work and make a living for those children? Absolutely NOT! I have no children, but I know enough people who do. I also know that in the current economy it is hard to live on one income.
What her statements say to me are one of the following:
1. Women should stay home and raise their families, they shouldn't work, they shouldn't strive to make a living for their families, they should stay home, period. (I say women, because she said it was important for the "mother-child bond"...maybe father-child bond is less important, I don't know.)
This is a huge blow to any kind of Women's Liberation. It's no wonder women are fighting for equal work-equal pay!! It's because of people like Dr Laura who want women to be workers or mothers, but never both!
2. Men should work harder to educate themselves, find a high paying job, and support the family...because there will be one income.
3. If, God forbid, an accident occurs, forget working...the man should now get two jobs, three if necessary so their will be no Day Care. (no, Dr Laura does not support abortion, she doesn't support single parenting, she doesn't support re-marrying if you have children, and she doesn't support...no lie...sex. She thinks abstinence is the way to go, unless, apparently, you can support your child on one income.)
People make mistakes in life. Everyone does. Sometimes a child is born to a good relationship, and that relationship grows sour...thus leaving the single parent to work.
Sometimes, two loving parents cannot survive on one paycheck alone...no matter how much you cut back.
Sometimes, all the education in the world isn't enough to find, land, or keep an income worthy of one paycheck.
All reasons Day Care is NOT child neglect, but rather the reality for some people. We aren't all rich, we aren't all Harvard educated...but that doesn't make us neglectful.
I have been enjoying both, not because I agree with them, but just because of their point of view. HOWEVER...yesterday on Dr Laura's program, she began soapboxing on the topic of child neglect...but first, some background.
Dr Laura is a psychologist, psychiatrist, psychoanyalist, or psycho - something, I'm not whole heartedly sure which. One of her biggest stances comes in child advocacy...helping abused children, or children in general. She delivers a no-nonsense, unforgiving, no holds barred response to callers on more than just child related topics, too. But overall, she is presice, to the point, and very non-wavering. It seems to me, she has her mind made up on the topics, and her opinion is repeated to all subsequent callers on said topics.
Here we go...yesterday, an article was brought up about child neglect dealing with, of all things, Day Care systems. In the article, the author spoke on how to brace yourself and overcome the seperation anxiety for both the parent and the child who is going into a day care situation.
Dr Laura attacked, saying that any parent who would leave their child at a Day Care, a Nanny, a Baby-Sitter, etc was...
1. Neglectful of their children
2. Conceited
3. Selfish
Basically, she said that any parent who would leave their children in anyone else's care other than the mother or the father wasn't fit to be a parent. They also, she claimed, shouldn't have a child because obviously if they can't make the time to be with their children, to raise their children, and to nuture their children, then they probably...nay they DEFINATLY are unfit.
What kind of BS is this? Should kids have a stay at home parent? Probably. Does it make a parent unfit if they have no choice but to work and make a living for those children? Absolutely NOT! I have no children, but I know enough people who do. I also know that in the current economy it is hard to live on one income.
What her statements say to me are one of the following:
1. Women should stay home and raise their families, they shouldn't work, they shouldn't strive to make a living for their families, they should stay home, period. (I say women, because she said it was important for the "mother-child bond"...maybe father-child bond is less important, I don't know.)
This is a huge blow to any kind of Women's Liberation. It's no wonder women are fighting for equal work-equal pay!! It's because of people like Dr Laura who want women to be workers or mothers, but never both!
2. Men should work harder to educate themselves, find a high paying job, and support the family...because there will be one income.
3. If, God forbid, an accident occurs, forget working...the man should now get two jobs, three if necessary so their will be no Day Care. (no, Dr Laura does not support abortion, she doesn't support single parenting, she doesn't support re-marrying if you have children, and she doesn't support...no lie...sex. She thinks abstinence is the way to go, unless, apparently, you can support your child on one income.)
People make mistakes in life. Everyone does. Sometimes a child is born to a good relationship, and that relationship grows sour...thus leaving the single parent to work.
Sometimes, two loving parents cannot survive on one paycheck alone...no matter how much you cut back.
Sometimes, all the education in the world isn't enough to find, land, or keep an income worthy of one paycheck.
All reasons Day Care is NOT child neglect, but rather the reality for some people. We aren't all rich, we aren't all Harvard educated...but that doesn't make us neglectful.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Reffing the Ladies
There are more than a few thankless jobs out there...garbage man, horse poop shoveler, fast food cook, and sports official. I have been lucky enough to not have been any of the above, except for the sports official. It truly is a thankless job. You blow the whistle, make the calls, change the score...nobody ever says, "Great call, blue!! You really saw that play!"
Don't get me wrong, I would rather blow a whistle than scoop poop any day of the week.
I began my annual Women's Volleyball league officiating in the Burg last Monday. Fun stuff. I'm not complaining, because I love having the paycheck when it's all over to go Christmas shopping with, but let me tell you...it's not as easy as it looks.
To most, officiating looks like a dork on a ladder, blowing his whistle merrily. That's also what I look like. It's better when nobody sees you, however. That means you are doing a good job. When people start giving you the evil eye...you know you're in for a long day.
The worst officiating gig that I ever had was at a tournament in Milan.
The day had been going rather well...that is, nothing out of the norm. I was officiating a group of 12-13 year old girls, and soon found that blowing the whistle for serve, and blowing the whistle when that serve went into the net were about the only calls I had to make. Easy money...or so I thought. One of the last matches of the day pitted two really good teams in a very crutial match. I had to make sure things went smoothly, or I knew trouble would follow.
The first game (of three) went rather smoothly, as did the second. Then, the third game came and all hell broke loose. Up to that point, I had adopted the "call only the obvious" plays mentality. Well, there is one problem with that mentality. If you get in the zone of not making calls, you get slow on the whistle...and make either late calls or you miss the call all together.
Which is worse? I'm not really sure, but I do know this...I did both. First, a spike dribbled down the front of the opposing team's middle blocker. She obviously scooped the ball up to her teammate, who then set a hitter before I unswallowed my whistle to call the first girl for a lift.
First mistake.
The crowd booed. The coaches screamed. The girls...well, they didn't say much. 12 year old girls usually leave you alone when you're reffing, it's the coaches and the parents that blow you shit. I shook it off and started to concentrate even more. A couple of plays later, the ball floated towards the end line on the serve. I was 90% sure the ball was out, but I looked to my line judge to see for sure. Of course, 12 year old Suzy down on the line was twirling her gum, or doing a cartwheel or whatever 12 year olds do. When she realized I was looking at her to make the call, she called in. Of course, I knew it wasn't in, so I called out, thus overruling poor Suzy.
The crowd exploded. "She called it in, you moron!!" "I can't believe this!!" And similar taunts came from the crowd. The coach looked up at me and pointed to the line judge. I looked back and motioned "out". The coah rolled her eyes and made back to the bench. Now, the mob is stirring. Don't mess up anymore, Tony, or you're dead.
Death came soon. The game was close. Real close. Thisclose. That's when the game is the worst. Both teams needed to win. The game was nearing it's conclusion, and, as a ref, you try not to make any petty calls that will lose the game for one team. Calls like foot faults, or rotation violations.
The ball was served. The pass came up. The setter made a break for the ball, and it happened. When the setter put her hands on the ball, it caught only her fingers and came spinning backwards from her hands, spinning right-round baby, right-round, like a record, baby! What do I do? I only have a split second to make the call.
1. Blow the whistle and call a lift.
2. Blow the whistle and call a double contact.
3. Don't blow the whistle.
Well, in my split second, I decided to swallow the whistle and let the play continue. The setter was shocked, her hitter was shocked, the other team was shocked...ok, you know where this is going, everybody was shocked. The hitter made a smack at the ball, and it crossed the net and fell for a point because everybody pretty muched stopped playing, waiting for the whistle.
The crowd was livid!! So was the coach. The eye rolling coach. She came to me and started screaming at me.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!" I motioned for her to get back.
"SHE BUTCHERED THAT BALL, COME ON!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE NOT GONNA CALL THAT." Again, I took the high road.
"JESUS, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS." I ignored her, and she went away. Over the next two plays, her team lost. I stepped down off the ladder, and expected the worst as the Rolly-eyed coach made towards me.
"I'm sorry for that," she began. "It's not your fault, my girls shouldn't have stopped playing. I'm sorry."
I accepted the apology and felt like it was all over. Then, along comes a parent. I know what you're thinking...a parent of the losing team. You would be wrong. It was a mom off of the WINNING team. Again, you're probably thinking...she's going to defend you. Wrong again (man, you really aren't very good at this, are you?!?)
She comes up and starts yelling at me because I didn't stop the coach from yelling at me when I was on the ladder!! Can you believe this? Getting yelled at, for getting yelled at. I tried to be polite, but she kept yelling at me. Finally, I had enough.
"Look, I get up there and do the best I can, I didn't need her yelling at me, and I sure don't need you yelling at me."
Yelled at for getting yelled at. It just doesn't get any worse than that. Parents and other crowd members taunted me the rest of the tournament. I even had to get a couple of rowdy kids removed from the gym...that didn't help the reputation any, let me tell you. In the end, I jumped off the stand, collected my pay, and made for the door. It was the last Milan tourney I ever reffed.
I think I'll stick to Women's League in the 'Burg...evil eyes trump screaming moms any day!!
Don't get me wrong, I would rather blow a whistle than scoop poop any day of the week.
I began my annual Women's Volleyball league officiating in the Burg last Monday. Fun stuff. I'm not complaining, because I love having the paycheck when it's all over to go Christmas shopping with, but let me tell you...it's not as easy as it looks.
To most, officiating looks like a dork on a ladder, blowing his whistle merrily. That's also what I look like. It's better when nobody sees you, however. That means you are doing a good job. When people start giving you the evil eye...you know you're in for a long day.
The worst officiating gig that I ever had was at a tournament in Milan.
The day had been going rather well...that is, nothing out of the norm. I was officiating a group of 12-13 year old girls, and soon found that blowing the whistle for serve, and blowing the whistle when that serve went into the net were about the only calls I had to make. Easy money...or so I thought. One of the last matches of the day pitted two really good teams in a very crutial match. I had to make sure things went smoothly, or I knew trouble would follow.
The first game (of three) went rather smoothly, as did the second. Then, the third game came and all hell broke loose. Up to that point, I had adopted the "call only the obvious" plays mentality. Well, there is one problem with that mentality. If you get in the zone of not making calls, you get slow on the whistle...and make either late calls or you miss the call all together.
Which is worse? I'm not really sure, but I do know this...I did both. First, a spike dribbled down the front of the opposing team's middle blocker. She obviously scooped the ball up to her teammate, who then set a hitter before I unswallowed my whistle to call the first girl for a lift.
First mistake.
The crowd booed. The coaches screamed. The girls...well, they didn't say much. 12 year old girls usually leave you alone when you're reffing, it's the coaches and the parents that blow you shit. I shook it off and started to concentrate even more. A couple of plays later, the ball floated towards the end line on the serve. I was 90% sure the ball was out, but I looked to my line judge to see for sure. Of course, 12 year old Suzy down on the line was twirling her gum, or doing a cartwheel or whatever 12 year olds do. When she realized I was looking at her to make the call, she called in. Of course, I knew it wasn't in, so I called out, thus overruling poor Suzy.
The crowd exploded. "She called it in, you moron!!" "I can't believe this!!" And similar taunts came from the crowd. The coach looked up at me and pointed to the line judge. I looked back and motioned "out". The coah rolled her eyes and made back to the bench. Now, the mob is stirring. Don't mess up anymore, Tony, or you're dead.
Death came soon. The game was close. Real close. Thisclose. That's when the game is the worst. Both teams needed to win. The game was nearing it's conclusion, and, as a ref, you try not to make any petty calls that will lose the game for one team. Calls like foot faults, or rotation violations.
The ball was served. The pass came up. The setter made a break for the ball, and it happened. When the setter put her hands on the ball, it caught only her fingers and came spinning backwards from her hands, spinning right-round baby, right-round, like a record, baby! What do I do? I only have a split second to make the call.
1. Blow the whistle and call a lift.
2. Blow the whistle and call a double contact.
3. Don't blow the whistle.
Well, in my split second, I decided to swallow the whistle and let the play continue. The setter was shocked, her hitter was shocked, the other team was shocked...ok, you know where this is going, everybody was shocked. The hitter made a smack at the ball, and it crossed the net and fell for a point because everybody pretty muched stopped playing, waiting for the whistle.
The crowd was livid!! So was the coach. The eye rolling coach. She came to me and started screaming at me.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!" I motioned for her to get back.
"SHE BUTCHERED THAT BALL, COME ON!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE NOT GONNA CALL THAT." Again, I took the high road.
"JESUS, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS." I ignored her, and she went away. Over the next two plays, her team lost. I stepped down off the ladder, and expected the worst as the Rolly-eyed coach made towards me.
"I'm sorry for that," she began. "It's not your fault, my girls shouldn't have stopped playing. I'm sorry."
I accepted the apology and felt like it was all over. Then, along comes a parent. I know what you're thinking...a parent of the losing team. You would be wrong. It was a mom off of the WINNING team. Again, you're probably thinking...she's going to defend you. Wrong again (man, you really aren't very good at this, are you?!?)
She comes up and starts yelling at me because I didn't stop the coach from yelling at me when I was on the ladder!! Can you believe this? Getting yelled at, for getting yelled at. I tried to be polite, but she kept yelling at me. Finally, I had enough.
"Look, I get up there and do the best I can, I didn't need her yelling at me, and I sure don't need you yelling at me."
Yelled at for getting yelled at. It just doesn't get any worse than that. Parents and other crowd members taunted me the rest of the tournament. I even had to get a couple of rowdy kids removed from the gym...that didn't help the reputation any, let me tell you. In the end, I jumped off the stand, collected my pay, and made for the door. It was the last Milan tourney I ever reffed.
I think I'll stick to Women's League in the 'Burg...evil eyes trump screaming moms any day!!
Thursday, September 09, 2004
In Pursuit of Trivia
I don't like to lose. Who does, really? But you know what I hate losing at? Trivial Pursuit. I hate losing at Trivial Pursuit...I loathe it...I abhor it...I detest it...I, well, a lot of other words that stand for hate, it.
Saturday, I took a slice of Humble Pie by losing a game of Trivial Pursuit to my biggest Trivia adversary, Dan. Dan was once my boss at IKON, and now is just a good friend whom Becky and I like hanging out with. He and his wife Tish frequent our house, and us theirs. We began a Trivial Pursuit rivalry that had me and Becky ahead 3 games to 1...that was going into Saturday.
The Place: Dan and Tish's house
The Time: Late
The Music: Hair Bands (on Sirrus, Satellite Radio)
The Game: Trivial Pursuit - 20th Anniversary Edition
Dan and Tish struck first, gaining the easy Pink widget (Entertainment). We followed with an Orange (Sports, Games). But then, they took off. Before we knew it, we were down 5 to 2...with their fifth slice being the games turning point piece.
The catergory was the Blue widget...which is a People and Places catergory. It usually involves Third world countries or political figures, and is typically the hardest catergory for the four of us, and this question was no different.
The Question:
What state do Senators Larry Craig and Mike Crapo hail from?
We all got a good laugh because of the name Crapo, then Dan and Tish got down to business, trying to whittle down the 50 states to make an educated guess. Hawaii was out, Indiana was out...ok, 48 left. Then Tish, who hadn't answered a question all game, makes a plea for one state:
IDAHO.
Why, you may ask, would she choose Idaho? Maybe she had remembered a story about Senator Craig? Maybe she had family in Idaho, and knew their senators? Maybe she's up on her politics? No...none of those. The reason, she explained...
"Idaho and Crapo rhyme, so let's go with Idaho."
Dan, not having a better guess, agreed. Becky had the card, and while she flipped it over, my laughter grew. Idaho, whatever!!
My laughter soon stopped, however, when she nodded that they were correct. I kicked the chair, stomped around the room, cursed a bit...almost cried at one point, almost left at one point, before I finally calmed down, swallowed a few "In your face"(s) from Dan, and slunk in my chair, and continued the game.
I was pretty much defeated at that point. Becky and I showed true heart by getting all 6 of our widgets and making a charge for the finish line. But in the end, Dan answered a Yakoff Smirnoff question, and the game was over.
I'm glad Dan was a gracious winner and didn't rub it in my face too much...wait a minute, yeah he did!! Here's the e-mail he sent me:
What's that I smell?
A little humble pie?
Or maybe it's widget pie.
Oh it is all the same, either way it smells like .....VICTORY! All this talk of pie is making me hungry...perhaps I will have a baked potato for lunch............You know the kind.....
from Idaho!!
Tony, I wrote you a little poem, I call it "Ode to whoopin yo' funky ass at Trivial Pursuit sucka" Like ta hear it, here it goes:
Tony went down to my house
He was lookin for a soul to steal
He was in a bind, and way behind,
And he was willin to make a deal.
Tony jumped up on a hickory stump,and said,
"Dan let me tell you what"
I bet'chu didn't know it But I'z a trivial playa too,
And I bet'cher soul against this widget of gold
Says I'm better than you.
Dan Says, "My name's BIGSEXXXAYSTADDADDYMOFO,
and it may not be cool,
but I'll take yer bet, yer gonna regret
cause' at Trivial Pursuit I rule.
"When we were finished Tony knew that he'd been beat,
And he laid that golden widget
on the ground by Dan's big feet.
Dan said, "Come on back,
if you ever wanna try again,
I done told you once,you big poop face,
I'z the best there'd ever been."
Oh, It's on like Donkey Kong now, kids!! He called down the thunder and now he's got it!! I will not lose again, mark my words!!
Saturday, I took a slice of Humble Pie by losing a game of Trivial Pursuit to my biggest Trivia adversary, Dan. Dan was once my boss at IKON, and now is just a good friend whom Becky and I like hanging out with. He and his wife Tish frequent our house, and us theirs. We began a Trivial Pursuit rivalry that had me and Becky ahead 3 games to 1...that was going into Saturday.
The Place: Dan and Tish's house
The Time: Late
The Music: Hair Bands (on Sirrus, Satellite Radio)
The Game: Trivial Pursuit - 20th Anniversary Edition
Dan and Tish struck first, gaining the easy Pink widget (Entertainment). We followed with an Orange (Sports, Games). But then, they took off. Before we knew it, we were down 5 to 2...with their fifth slice being the games turning point piece.
The catergory was the Blue widget...which is a People and Places catergory. It usually involves Third world countries or political figures, and is typically the hardest catergory for the four of us, and this question was no different.
The Question:
What state do Senators Larry Craig and Mike Crapo hail from?
We all got a good laugh because of the name Crapo, then Dan and Tish got down to business, trying to whittle down the 50 states to make an educated guess. Hawaii was out, Indiana was out...ok, 48 left. Then Tish, who hadn't answered a question all game, makes a plea for one state:
IDAHO.
Why, you may ask, would she choose Idaho? Maybe she had remembered a story about Senator Craig? Maybe she had family in Idaho, and knew their senators? Maybe she's up on her politics? No...none of those. The reason, she explained...
"Idaho and Crapo rhyme, so let's go with Idaho."
Dan, not having a better guess, agreed. Becky had the card, and while she flipped it over, my laughter grew. Idaho, whatever!!
My laughter soon stopped, however, when she nodded that they were correct. I kicked the chair, stomped around the room, cursed a bit...almost cried at one point, almost left at one point, before I finally calmed down, swallowed a few "In your face"(s) from Dan, and slunk in my chair, and continued the game.
I was pretty much defeated at that point. Becky and I showed true heart by getting all 6 of our widgets and making a charge for the finish line. But in the end, Dan answered a Yakoff Smirnoff question, and the game was over.
I'm glad Dan was a gracious winner and didn't rub it in my face too much...wait a minute, yeah he did!! Here's the e-mail he sent me:
What's that I smell?
A little humble pie?
Or maybe it's widget pie.
Oh it is all the same, either way it smells like .....VICTORY! All this talk of pie is making me hungry...perhaps I will have a baked potato for lunch............You know the kind.....
from Idaho!!
Tony, I wrote you a little poem, I call it "Ode to whoopin yo' funky ass at Trivial Pursuit sucka" Like ta hear it, here it goes:
Tony went down to my house
He was lookin for a soul to steal
He was in a bind, and way behind,
And he was willin to make a deal.
Tony jumped up on a hickory stump,and said,
"Dan let me tell you what"
I bet'chu didn't know it But I'z a trivial playa too,
And I bet'cher soul against this widget of gold
Says I'm better than you.
Dan Says, "My name's BIGSEXXXAYSTADDADDYMOFO,
and it may not be cool,
but I'll take yer bet, yer gonna regret
cause' at Trivial Pursuit I rule.
"When we were finished Tony knew that he'd been beat,
And he laid that golden widget
on the ground by Dan's big feet.
Dan said, "Come on back,
if you ever wanna try again,
I done told you once,you big poop face,
I'z the best there'd ever been."
Oh, It's on like Donkey Kong now, kids!! He called down the thunder and now he's got it!! I will not lose again, mark my words!!
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
For Those About To ROCK
The looong weekend ended up being looonger than I wanted. No, it wasn't because I got an extra day off. It was because I had to do yard work almost all weekend. What's worse than spending your three day weekend landscaping? Not a whole lot.
Becky and I decided that we were going to re-do the fence line at our house, so we consulted the landscape expert...my mom. Her and I agreed that to put white rock down would be the best look for our dingy fence line, and we guessed about ten bags of rocks would cover it.
So, Becky and I made our way to Menards to load up some rock. We grabbed our ten bags of Marble Chip rock, a couple bags of small lava rocks for around our Weeping Cherry tree, three new walking path stones, a box of plastic trim to hold the rocks in, some plastic to help keep the weeds out (I say help because there just ain't no stoppin' those weedy bastards!!), and a few other essentials like a 13 foot wide, 3 foot deep swimming pool. (Maybe that wasn't an essential, but it sure was nice to jump in after all that yard work!!)
We loaded it all up, drug it home and started landscaping. Becky began with the Weeping Cherry tree, which turned out quite nicely...and it happened very quickly. I started the fence line.
1. Tear out old plastic.
2. Remove leftover mulch.
3. Smooth.
4. Lay new plastic.
5. Insert plastic edgers.
6. Spread rock.
I worked in small sections, so that I wouldn't have to be on my knees for too long, nor would I have to pour bag after bag of rock. That would just be silly.
I got the first section ready, and poured the rock. Wow, that bag didn't go far. Let's try another bag. Eek!! We're gonna need more rock! I continued on, just to see how far 10 bags would stretch, while Becky was working on the ladder for the new pool, which was filling with water.
Well, needless to say, 10 bags didn't stretch very far. After 8, I decided I had enough. I snuck inside, washed some dirt off, and ran through the yard, commencing with a "cannonball" into the new pool. Surprisingly enough, I made it over the 3 foot side, AND I didn't knock the whole thing over or empty it of all it's water.
Of course, the water was FREEZING as it was new water straight from the hose, and it was also later in the day.
The next day, we made trip number 2 to Menards. We guessed about 15 more bags would do it, so we bought 20, just to be safe. Well, Becky and I returned to work, and soon found 20 wasn't safe enough. We were STILL short. A quick swim, lunch, and back to Menards.
Trip number 3. 10 more bags (and a tree trimmer, to allow more sun to hit the new pool, as it was still colder than a witch's titty...how cold is that exactly? We'll save that for another post.)
Well, kids, 40 bags later...that's 1200 pounds of rocks for those of you keeping score at home...and we were STILL short. I think we need about 4 or 5 more...better get ten.
We have almost the whole thing done, and it looks fabulous!! It was well worth the trips, the sore back (I forgot to do the stretched like the Safe Lifting poster tells me to do!) and the money (thank goodness for the Menards Card!!) All in all, a job well done...stop by and see it if you're in the neighborhood!
Becky and I decided that we were going to re-do the fence line at our house, so we consulted the landscape expert...my mom. Her and I agreed that to put white rock down would be the best look for our dingy fence line, and we guessed about ten bags of rocks would cover it.
So, Becky and I made our way to Menards to load up some rock. We grabbed our ten bags of Marble Chip rock, a couple bags of small lava rocks for around our Weeping Cherry tree, three new walking path stones, a box of plastic trim to hold the rocks in, some plastic to help keep the weeds out (I say help because there just ain't no stoppin' those weedy bastards!!), and a few other essentials like a 13 foot wide, 3 foot deep swimming pool. (Maybe that wasn't an essential, but it sure was nice to jump in after all that yard work!!)
We loaded it all up, drug it home and started landscaping. Becky began with the Weeping Cherry tree, which turned out quite nicely...and it happened very quickly. I started the fence line.
1. Tear out old plastic.
2. Remove leftover mulch.
3. Smooth.
4. Lay new plastic.
5. Insert plastic edgers.
6. Spread rock.
I worked in small sections, so that I wouldn't have to be on my knees for too long, nor would I have to pour bag after bag of rock. That would just be silly.
I got the first section ready, and poured the rock. Wow, that bag didn't go far. Let's try another bag. Eek!! We're gonna need more rock! I continued on, just to see how far 10 bags would stretch, while Becky was working on the ladder for the new pool, which was filling with water.
Well, needless to say, 10 bags didn't stretch very far. After 8, I decided I had enough. I snuck inside, washed some dirt off, and ran through the yard, commencing with a "cannonball" into the new pool. Surprisingly enough, I made it over the 3 foot side, AND I didn't knock the whole thing over or empty it of all it's water.
Of course, the water was FREEZING as it was new water straight from the hose, and it was also later in the day.
The next day, we made trip number 2 to Menards. We guessed about 15 more bags would do it, so we bought 20, just to be safe. Well, Becky and I returned to work, and soon found 20 wasn't safe enough. We were STILL short. A quick swim, lunch, and back to Menards.
Trip number 3. 10 more bags (and a tree trimmer, to allow more sun to hit the new pool, as it was still colder than a witch's titty...how cold is that exactly? We'll save that for another post.)
Well, kids, 40 bags later...that's 1200 pounds of rocks for those of you keeping score at home...and we were STILL short. I think we need about 4 or 5 more...better get ten.
We have almost the whole thing done, and it looks fabulous!! It was well worth the trips, the sore back (I forgot to do the stretched like the Safe Lifting poster tells me to do!) and the money (thank goodness for the Menards Card!!) All in all, a job well done...stop by and see it if you're in the neighborhood!
Friday, September 03, 2004
Friday Update
Well, kids, we made it through another week. And this weekend is a looong weekend. It's sad that we 'can't wait' for the looong weekend, but alas, we do.
Today has been a long day. First, I had no underwear to wear to work. That just sucks. For those of you who just need to know...no, I didn't go commando, and no, I didn't re-wear. I went with a pair of good ole fashion compression shorts. They suck. They're a little too big, and not very supportive. Ok, now that everyone has THAT mental image, I'll move on.
Becky's sick. I hate summer colds. She's feeling a bit better today, and I hope this weekend we can go to a movie or two. I'll let you know.
Plus, it's very humid.
....................................
As for the workout schedule. I thought I would wait and post a weekly update, as opposed to a daily one, cause no one wants to hear a daily summation of my workout habits.
Yes, I have kept up my routine.
Everyday since I've started, I have worked out...Saturday and Sunday included. The exception has been the last two days. My right knee (the surgury knee) has been hurting, and I thought I would rest it a few days. It's probably the impending rain...at least I hope. Damn you hurricane Frances!
My workout goes as follows:
Day 1: legs
Day 2: arms (and moderate leg)
Day 3: extended eliptical training
Repeat.
Some walking thrown in to add to the overall workout.
CAUTION: Do NOT wear moccasins to walk long distances, or over rocky terrain. Blisters will result. Trust me, I know.
That's all for the Friday update. Have a great looong weekend.
Today has been a long day. First, I had no underwear to wear to work. That just sucks. For those of you who just need to know...no, I didn't go commando, and no, I didn't re-wear. I went with a pair of good ole fashion compression shorts. They suck. They're a little too big, and not very supportive. Ok, now that everyone has THAT mental image, I'll move on.
Becky's sick. I hate summer colds. She's feeling a bit better today, and I hope this weekend we can go to a movie or two. I'll let you know.
Plus, it's very humid.
....................................
As for the workout schedule. I thought I would wait and post a weekly update, as opposed to a daily one, cause no one wants to hear a daily summation of my workout habits.
Yes, I have kept up my routine.
Everyday since I've started, I have worked out...Saturday and Sunday included. The exception has been the last two days. My right knee (the surgury knee) has been hurting, and I thought I would rest it a few days. It's probably the impending rain...at least I hope. Damn you hurricane Frances!
My workout goes as follows:
Day 1: legs
Day 2: arms (and moderate leg)
Day 3: extended eliptical training
Repeat.
Some walking thrown in to add to the overall workout.
CAUTION: Do NOT wear moccasins to walk long distances, or over rocky terrain. Blisters will result. Trust me, I know.
That's all for the Friday update. Have a great looong weekend.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Monique VS The Man
If you live in Central Indiana (or South Central IN, as I do) and listen to the radio, chances are you may have come across a radio program called Monique and the Man on 97.1. If you haven't, then let me give you a brief rundown. M&The Man is a Talk Radio program where the hosts conjure up topics, and the listeners call in and agree, disagree, or tell mildly amusing stories.
Sometimes The Hoob is more than I can bear, so I flip to Talk Radio (even though they play the dang song, too.) Anyway...
Earlier in the week, the topic was the Olympics. Monique began by saying there was too much negative press, and not enough stories about overcoming obstacles to reach the top. Then, the conversation went like this: (paraphrasing, of course)
Monique: And did you even watch that Women's Beach Volleyball?
Todd (aka: The Man): Yeah, I know, they wear some really tiny bikinis.
Monique: Well, not that, it's the cameramen and how all they wanted to do was zoom in on certain womanly parts...what's that all about?
Todd: Yeah, I liked that.
Monique: They showed to much volleyball...
This conversation was then followed by commercials...and The Hoob. I didn't make it past the Hoob song, I had the dial turned. I was furious.
Why was I mad? Monique, in a true hypocritical move, spoke of her dislike of the way everything was negative in the Olympics...then, she proceeded to bad mouth the cameramen of beach volleyball, the amount of coverage of the Beach Volleyball games, and the amount of coverage of the ladies.
Not being one to use a phone, except when necessary, I sent Monique an e-mail:
I can not tell you how disappointed I am in you, Monique, for your Olympics jabs on yesterday's show. First, you rant on about how everything was geared towards the negative...men's basketball, gymnastics, etc...and how much you disliked that, then you totally proved yourself a hypocrite by negatively bashing the US Women's BeachVolleyballers (more specifically the cameramen of said sport). You could have taken the high road and told of the amazing story of Misty May, two months removed from a major abdominal injury, who came in the games with partner Kerri Walsh and won an improbably Gold (the first US women's beach volleyball team to do such.) But instead you whined about how there were no feel good stories in these games...no "I lost my dad and here I am" stories. Open your eyes. Misty May lost her mom recently (coupled with the injury she busted her ass to recover from),and there was the women's track and field 200 meter silver medal winner, whose father was in the stands...the same father who has been to all her meets despite having leukemia for several years and needing dialysis every other day. I could go on, but I don't think you really care. Thanks for bringing your narrow minded views to the radio, now, if you'll excuse me, I have to change the radio dial.
Harsh? Yes. I never expected she would even read the e-mail, so I threw in the changing the radio dial stuff for an attention grabber. It worked...in a big way.
The next day, Monique began the broadcast, much to my surprise, by saying how she got lambasted by a listener for her volleyball comments. She proceeded to read my e-mail on the air, followed by this, her response:
You are right about a lot of things and your point was very well taken! Here is what you were wrong about; that I don't care. I do care deeply and I will be addressing your email and the points you brought up on the air today first thing. Why was it that I only knew these things because of you? They were not featured in highlights or recaps. Thank you for the knowledge and I am grateful for the time you did listen and cared enough to set me straight. America prevails because of you! Monique
America prevails because of me? I thought the way she said it sounded kind of sarcastic. Becky says she thought it sounded genuine, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
The show continued with some joker calling in to stroke Monique's ego, and tell her she isn't narrow-minded, and furthermore to tell the world that I was a coward for not signing my name. Monique took the high road this time, and didn't buy in to the "coward" label. For that, I was grateful. How was I suppose to know to sign it? Todd then labeled me the "Olympic Bomber" which I thought was kinda funny, considering I was DEFENDING the Olympics, not Bombing them...The Monique Bomber would be more suitable.
I was at work, in the mail van, so I couldn't call and defend myself, not that I would have anyway, but I did respond via e-mail.
To paraphrase, I told her the following:
1. I apologized for saying she was, or she had, narrow-minded views... that was an insult and I shouldn't have said it. She has opinions, I have opinions.
2. I told her I did believe her comments were hypocritical. A negative replacing a negative. At the very least, it was poor time management on her part. (she said that later in the show, they did talk about good stuff, but at the point I stopped listening, it was all bad.)
3. I told her I believe she should have researched something before she aired her personal views on it.
4. I told her I personally wish she wouldn't have spoken about any sport without giving said sport it's due, especially volleyball. It has a bad rap anyway, and fuel to that fire wasn't needed. Let's not talk about the skimpy outfits, or the extended coverage of behinds...if anything, lets give credit where credit is due. First US Women's Gold in Beach Volleyball, hello!!
5. I told her I didn't think she cared...ABOUT THE OLYMPICS...she said herself she only watched the highlights. It seems she didn't watch the events, cheer for the US participants, or even follow the games except for recaps and medal counts. That's like me saying "Archery isn't a sport" without really knowing the time and dedication it takes to be an Archerist or Archery shooter, or what it is they are called. It's not fair to glaze over something. I feel she glazed over beach volleyball, by saying nothing to the positive after having broken negatively about it.
6. I told her I sincerely appreciated her e-mail. I didn't expect the response...I didn't expect her to even read it. I now have a new respect for her and her show, because I do believe she cares about the listener.
7. I told her I also appreciated her not jumping on that caller's bandwagon when he called me a coward.
Her response:
Thank You so much for your response. I do care and I will pay closer attention to time management. In that instance, I was a hypocrite. I do care deeply and realize the power of the media and the words we use. All the best, Monique
It would be nice to have a job, or a webblog (HINT HINT) or something where you could receive constructive criticsm about yourself, in order to see what problems you may have, that you just can't see in yourself. I called Monique out, and I think she appreciated it...maybe. I would be thrilled that someone took the time to help me better myself. In the words of the band Smashmouth:
A man once asked, "could you spare some change for gas,
I need to get myself away from this place?"
I said "yep, what a concept, I could use a little fuel myself,
and we could all use a little change."
Yes, we could all use a little change.
Sometimes The Hoob is more than I can bear, so I flip to Talk Radio (even though they play the dang song, too.) Anyway...
Earlier in the week, the topic was the Olympics. Monique began by saying there was too much negative press, and not enough stories about overcoming obstacles to reach the top. Then, the conversation went like this: (paraphrasing, of course)
Monique: And did you even watch that Women's Beach Volleyball?
Todd (aka: The Man): Yeah, I know, they wear some really tiny bikinis.
Monique: Well, not that, it's the cameramen and how all they wanted to do was zoom in on certain womanly parts...what's that all about?
Todd: Yeah, I liked that.
Monique: They showed to much volleyball...
This conversation was then followed by commercials...and The Hoob. I didn't make it past the Hoob song, I had the dial turned. I was furious.
Why was I mad? Monique, in a true hypocritical move, spoke of her dislike of the way everything was negative in the Olympics...then, she proceeded to bad mouth the cameramen of beach volleyball, the amount of coverage of the Beach Volleyball games, and the amount of coverage of the ladies.
Not being one to use a phone, except when necessary, I sent Monique an e-mail:
I can not tell you how disappointed I am in you, Monique, for your Olympics jabs on yesterday's show. First, you rant on about how everything was geared towards the negative...men's basketball, gymnastics, etc...and how much you disliked that, then you totally proved yourself a hypocrite by negatively bashing the US Women's BeachVolleyballers (more specifically the cameramen of said sport). You could have taken the high road and told of the amazing story of Misty May, two months removed from a major abdominal injury, who came in the games with partner Kerri Walsh and won an improbably Gold (the first US women's beach volleyball team to do such.) But instead you whined about how there were no feel good stories in these games...no "I lost my dad and here I am" stories. Open your eyes. Misty May lost her mom recently (coupled with the injury she busted her ass to recover from),and there was the women's track and field 200 meter silver medal winner, whose father was in the stands...the same father who has been to all her meets despite having leukemia for several years and needing dialysis every other day. I could go on, but I don't think you really care. Thanks for bringing your narrow minded views to the radio, now, if you'll excuse me, I have to change the radio dial.
Harsh? Yes. I never expected she would even read the e-mail, so I threw in the changing the radio dial stuff for an attention grabber. It worked...in a big way.
The next day, Monique began the broadcast, much to my surprise, by saying how she got lambasted by a listener for her volleyball comments. She proceeded to read my e-mail on the air, followed by this, her response:
You are right about a lot of things and your point was very well taken! Here is what you were wrong about; that I don't care. I do care deeply and I will be addressing your email and the points you brought up on the air today first thing. Why was it that I only knew these things because of you? They were not featured in highlights or recaps. Thank you for the knowledge and I am grateful for the time you did listen and cared enough to set me straight. America prevails because of you! Monique
America prevails because of me? I thought the way she said it sounded kind of sarcastic. Becky says she thought it sounded genuine, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
The show continued with some joker calling in to stroke Monique's ego, and tell her she isn't narrow-minded, and furthermore to tell the world that I was a coward for not signing my name. Monique took the high road this time, and didn't buy in to the "coward" label. For that, I was grateful. How was I suppose to know to sign it? Todd then labeled me the "Olympic Bomber" which I thought was kinda funny, considering I was DEFENDING the Olympics, not Bombing them...The Monique Bomber would be more suitable.
I was at work, in the mail van, so I couldn't call and defend myself, not that I would have anyway, but I did respond via e-mail.
To paraphrase, I told her the following:
1. I apologized for saying she was, or she had, narrow-minded views... that was an insult and I shouldn't have said it. She has opinions, I have opinions.
2. I told her I did believe her comments were hypocritical. A negative replacing a negative. At the very least, it was poor time management on her part. (she said that later in the show, they did talk about good stuff, but at the point I stopped listening, it was all bad.)
3. I told her I believe she should have researched something before she aired her personal views on it.
4. I told her I personally wish she wouldn't have spoken about any sport without giving said sport it's due, especially volleyball. It has a bad rap anyway, and fuel to that fire wasn't needed. Let's not talk about the skimpy outfits, or the extended coverage of behinds...if anything, lets give credit where credit is due. First US Women's Gold in Beach Volleyball, hello!!
5. I told her I didn't think she cared...ABOUT THE OLYMPICS...she said herself she only watched the highlights. It seems she didn't watch the events, cheer for the US participants, or even follow the games except for recaps and medal counts. That's like me saying "Archery isn't a sport" without really knowing the time and dedication it takes to be an Archerist or Archery shooter, or what it is they are called. It's not fair to glaze over something. I feel she glazed over beach volleyball, by saying nothing to the positive after having broken negatively about it.
6. I told her I sincerely appreciated her e-mail. I didn't expect the response...I didn't expect her to even read it. I now have a new respect for her and her show, because I do believe she cares about the listener.
7. I told her I also appreciated her not jumping on that caller's bandwagon when he called me a coward.
Her response:
Thank You so much for your response. I do care and I will pay closer attention to time management. In that instance, I was a hypocrite. I do care deeply and realize the power of the media and the words we use. All the best, Monique
It would be nice to have a job, or a webblog (HINT HINT) or something where you could receive constructive criticsm about yourself, in order to see what problems you may have, that you just can't see in yourself. I called Monique out, and I think she appreciated it...maybe. I would be thrilled that someone took the time to help me better myself. In the words of the band Smashmouth:
A man once asked, "could you spare some change for gas,
I need to get myself away from this place?"
I said "yep, what a concept, I could use a little fuel myself,
and we could all use a little change."
Yes, we could all use a little change.
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