So, I finally had one of those e-gels I bought a few weeks ago. I had read that if you start flat lining after a tough ride, you should have e-gels handy… so I bought some… so I could have one… if I needed it… to have…
Today, I made it home in some pretty icky heat in 52 minutes – and, no, I don’t know how fast that is – and, as I got off my bike, I could feel my body communicating this message: You vile piece of shit! What are you doing?! I wouldn’t even poop you right now, you piece of shit! And I’ve pooped some poop in my day, let me tell you! You remember all that Taco Bell? Huh? And the hot sauce? Huh? Remember? When it almost hurt, it felt so good to finally poop it – well, that’s nothing compared to you! You’re some vile, piece of shit poop!
Basically, I felt spent.
Why not have one of those e-gels, I thought!
So, I popped out a tangerine e-gel, tore it open and… wait, gotta get some water – they say you should take it with some water – okay, half a glass should be fine and… I upended the packet and squeezed some e-gel-ly goodness down my gullet.
… this is what it feels like…
Imagine… if you will…
Remember those movies about tentacled aliens? Imagine one of those tentacles going in your mouth… could be Japanese porn cartoons, I dunno. First thought: Holy shit! What the hell is this in my mouth! Next: Just bite down on it, try and break it up! Breath through your nose! Keep chewing, even though it tastes like you just put down a whole tube of grout in your mouth – what are you? Out of your mind? You can’t chew this! It’s has no texture! It just grips the sides of your mouth!
Where’s the water?! That’s what you need! Water! But how are you going to drink with – it doesn’t matter! Just pour it down your throat! Anything to end this… ewwwww, it’s ickier than anything you could ever imagine! It doesn’t taste like tangerines at all! It taste like tangerine diarrhea… if tangerines could poop, is what I’m saying…
So, you drink the water – but you only have half a glass and it barely washes any of the glop – and that’s what it is, too! It’s glop! It’s some kind of disgusting, slimy thing that kids think is funny because it reminds them of bodily fluids only IT’S IN YOUR MOUTH!
More water! More water! Come on! Drink, damn you! Drink like your life depended on drowning in it – which would, of course, probably kill you so there’s not much argument there – good thing Vicky’s not here, she’d probably point that out, too… best not to tell her. Anyway, think of the fun you’ll have when you slip her some of this shit! Yes! Just wait! We’ll get her out on a hot, sunny day and say, “Are you tired, dear? Getting run down? Here. You can try my packet of –” But she’ll never fall for that! Not if she sees you dying here from this yucky, yucky – eeewww, it’s like eating fresh snot – a collection of snot, given door to door by a bunch of absolutely confused elderly men.
But you choke down the water – glass after glass, pint after pint – you choke it down, you dilute the revitalizing product so reminiscent of your last bad cold and the contents within those Kleenex…
And you realize…
To your horror…
Utter and absolute…
Because you’re too cheap just to throw things away…
That you only took one mouthful… and there’s a whole lot left…
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Rough weekend…
It’s at times like these, when I feel I have nothing to say, when it’s probably best just to talk. After all, the reason I’ve been quiet is mostly because things just aren’t great. (I know it seems I’ve posted pretty regularly but I’ve been relying on stories from last weekend.) I prefer to post entries about how I won the lotto, got published, and had stellar sex with a team of college cheerleaders… but that just never seems to happen…
I didn’t sleep much this weekend. Between the sleepwalking and the just plain being drunk (more on that later), I only averaged a few hours each night. That’s put me in rather poor spirits this morning… can you tell? Vicky and I spent most of our Saturday evening at each other’s throats but finally settled in for a late supper and a wonderful Columbia Crest ’06 Shiraz… followed by another bottle of “I was too drunk to remember, really” – I think it was Boarding Pass Shiraz. Yeah, I got a little schnokered but I needed it.
Saturday was supposed to be about my folks. You see, my mom recently got out of the hospital. She wouldn’t tell me why – “woman’s surgery” was all she’d say – but I knew she was recuperating and could use a visit. So, the plan was to see her and call my dad. As some of you may know, my dad’s been ill for… well, a long time.
After seeing my dad last weekend – though he wasn’t really there – he’d really been on my mind. So, I was looking forward to the conversation. It would go something like this. Ken: I’d like to interview you so I can integrate your life story into a book I’m writing on Free Will. Dad: Sounds like crap. I’ll do it. Ken: You won’t regret it, even if I do.
In reality, it went something like this. Ken: Hi Dad. Dad: Hi Son. I heard the new job isn’t that great. Ken: No, sadly. Not really. Dad: I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped blrblrblrblrblrblr….
And then, he was off and Blanche was back on. Simply put, he was too weak. Just too weak to talk.
But if he was too weak to ask about interviewing, so I could write his life story… it was clear he’d be too weak to actually interview. This fact didn’t even occur to me until several hours later, after I’d spent the morning removing the foot from my chest. Hearing my dad so weak, so frail, left it impossible to avoid the reality of the situation. Especially after Blanche told me he’d had worse days. If this was one of his better days…
Listen, I know there’s nothing unique here. Part of being alive includes losing your parents. Parents die. Children die. We all die. But another part of being alive sometimes involves knowing that however horrible they’ve been, you love them. I hate to see my father suffer like this. I hate to see him go so slowly. The pain he experiences dilutes into those who love him and it just hurts to know how much he’s hurting.
Then, I visited my mom. Her “woman’s surgery” has her in some pain, but she left the hospital early, rather than take money from Vicky and I to pay for her to stay longer. Vicky’s a little burned by that and, honestly, my mom was being prideful and stubborn. The joke was kind of on her, though, when I went to visit, because her husband insisted on talking about how they cut her open “from rectum to vagina”. His constant repetition of “rectum to vagina” “rectum to vagina” probably had my mom wishing she hadn’t told him, either.
Later, when she mentioned that her DVD/VCR play had broken, Vicky and I went out and bought them a new one. It’s not the same as a day in the hospital but, as I told Vicky, if I can make things a little more comfortable for one of my parents, I’ll do it. Anyway, it was fun watching my mom and her husband try to figure out what they’d done to deserve the gift. I didn’t buy me any extra sleep, but Vicky and I got a good laugh out of it.
I didn’t sleep much this weekend. Between the sleepwalking and the just plain being drunk (more on that later), I only averaged a few hours each night. That’s put me in rather poor spirits this morning… can you tell? Vicky and I spent most of our Saturday evening at each other’s throats but finally settled in for a late supper and a wonderful Columbia Crest ’06 Shiraz… followed by another bottle of “I was too drunk to remember, really” – I think it was Boarding Pass Shiraz. Yeah, I got a little schnokered but I needed it.
Saturday was supposed to be about my folks. You see, my mom recently got out of the hospital. She wouldn’t tell me why – “woman’s surgery” was all she’d say – but I knew she was recuperating and could use a visit. So, the plan was to see her and call my dad. As some of you may know, my dad’s been ill for… well, a long time.
After seeing my dad last weekend – though he wasn’t really there – he’d really been on my mind. So, I was looking forward to the conversation. It would go something like this. Ken: I’d like to interview you so I can integrate your life story into a book I’m writing on Free Will. Dad: Sounds like crap. I’ll do it. Ken: You won’t regret it, even if I do.
In reality, it went something like this. Ken: Hi Dad. Dad: Hi Son. I heard the new job isn’t that great. Ken: No, sadly. Not really. Dad: I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped blrblrblrblrblrblr….
And then, he was off and Blanche was back on. Simply put, he was too weak. Just too weak to talk.
But if he was too weak to ask about interviewing, so I could write his life story… it was clear he’d be too weak to actually interview. This fact didn’t even occur to me until several hours later, after I’d spent the morning removing the foot from my chest. Hearing my dad so weak, so frail, left it impossible to avoid the reality of the situation. Especially after Blanche told me he’d had worse days. If this was one of his better days…
Listen, I know there’s nothing unique here. Part of being alive includes losing your parents. Parents die. Children die. We all die. But another part of being alive sometimes involves knowing that however horrible they’ve been, you love them. I hate to see my father suffer like this. I hate to see him go so slowly. The pain he experiences dilutes into those who love him and it just hurts to know how much he’s hurting.
Then, I visited my mom. Her “woman’s surgery” has her in some pain, but she left the hospital early, rather than take money from Vicky and I to pay for her to stay longer. Vicky’s a little burned by that and, honestly, my mom was being prideful and stubborn. The joke was kind of on her, though, when I went to visit, because her husband insisted on talking about how they cut her open “from rectum to vagina”. His constant repetition of “rectum to vagina” “rectum to vagina” probably had my mom wishing she hadn’t told him, either.
Later, when she mentioned that her DVD/VCR play had broken, Vicky and I went out and bought them a new one. It’s not the same as a day in the hospital but, as I told Vicky, if I can make things a little more comfortable for one of my parents, I’ll do it. Anyway, it was fun watching my mom and her husband try to figure out what they’d done to deserve the gift. I didn’t buy me any extra sleep, but Vicky and I got a good laugh out of it.
Friday, July 11, 2008
In the Wilds of Cambria… ish…
Odd enough, I still haven’t written about our trip to Cambria. Hey, I’ve been busy… catching up with my video game playing…
But I know what you’re dying to read about: adventure, intrigue, sex… eh… cows… uh… disease… er… slushies…
Last Saturday was our wine day. Vicky whined when it was time to get up. I whined when I had to stop playing video games. And then, we were on our way to wineries.
Our first stop was Scheid. Scheid was once home to the finest merlot anywhere. I know – I know! Sounds like a contradiction! But a few years back, they made a merlot that made your toes curl. I mean curl, baby!
But not this year. We were 90 minutes north of the 46 and we’d gone all that way for my merlot… and I didn’t buy any. But Vicky took it in stride. She had to. I’d just bought her new shoes. Anyway, our next stop was San Marcos – the winery, not the city – home of the best Late Harvest Zin, um, that day. Their Syrah wasn’t bad, either. Neither was their Cab… Oh jeez. After we were ready to buy six bottles we succumbed completely and joined their wine club. Six bottles three times per year – in for a penny, in for a couple of hundred dollars. Yikes.
Our original plan was to drive the 101 through Paso Robles, hitting winery after winery all day long but we eventually spent so much time at San Marcos – the sommelier giving us pour after pour (this was AFTER we’d joined, mind you), Vicky out there taking pictures of peacocks… plenty of pictures of peacocks… plenty of pretty pictures of peacocks posing and preening prettily… until I was feeling nicely buzzed, thank you – we decided to cut our losses, gains, whatever, and head back “home”.
We’d seen a place on the 46 that sold apple slushies and made a point to stop on the way back. It was just a little farm and store, looking like it wanted nothing more than to grow up into a northern version of Tom’s Farm. But that would probably take a while. In the meantime, we pulled up, ready for slushies.
As we pulled up, we saw a sign that read (something like) “Due to tobacco mosaic, no smoking allowed.” Tobacco mosaic? I’d never heard of it. Vicky got the apple. I got the pomegranate. (Because, seriously, how could you NOT?) Fucking delish! Nothing but frozen fruit all slushed up… mmmmm… and on a day that hot, it was perfect. (We still hadn’t topped the ridge that sequestered cool, moist Cambria in its little valley of perfection.) Then, we asked about the tobacco mosaic.
Turns out, it’s a disease tobacco carries that kills all kinds of good, tasty plants – including tomatoes, my fave! When you leave your butts all over the place, the remaining tobacco kills those good, tasty plants. Well, there you go. As if I needed it, there was another reason to not smoke. (Seriously, I didn’t need it – I just ended up feeling guilty.)
The day had been long and hot and I was more than relaxed from the wine but Vicky had a surprise in store for me. As we headed down the 46, she suddenly slowed. “Let’s go down Santa Rosa Creek Road,” she said. I was agreeable enough but surprised when she turned at that moment. One of the things I’ve always like about Vicky was her willingness, nay enthusiasm, for getting lost. I have always loved getting intentionally lost – probably a remnant from when my mom used to take the family on long drives and get lost… even if that wasn’t intentional – so to be with someone who also enjoys it is a lot of fun.
About an hour later, I got the feeling it wasn’t so much fun. But here’s what we knew. We knew that Santa Rosa Creek Road emptied out near Cambria. We knew that cell phone reception was nil. We also knew that the road was not in a state you would call “in repair”. So, we started joking about breaking down out there, finding lodging at some farm, and having to sleep in the basement with the (in-bred) Cyclops child. After a while had passed, and Vicky’s face and turned from enjoying to enraging, I placated her as best I could. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find the end of the road – I mean where it ends in Cambria – soon enough. I’m not even that hungry even if it is way past dinnertime. We’ll just stop on the way home, instead of heading home first and changing into clean clothes and going to a nice place. I just want food.” I don’t know if it worked.
But soon we saw familiar sights and came upon Cambria. We went to Lynn’s, had great steaks, and I had pie for dessert. Ah pie. I could spend a whole entry telling you about their pie… but I won’t.
But I know what you’re dying to read about: adventure, intrigue, sex… eh… cows… uh… disease… er… slushies…
Last Saturday was our wine day. Vicky whined when it was time to get up. I whined when I had to stop playing video games. And then, we were on our way to wineries.
Our first stop was Scheid. Scheid was once home to the finest merlot anywhere. I know – I know! Sounds like a contradiction! But a few years back, they made a merlot that made your toes curl. I mean curl, baby!
But not this year. We were 90 minutes north of the 46 and we’d gone all that way for my merlot… and I didn’t buy any. But Vicky took it in stride. She had to. I’d just bought her new shoes. Anyway, our next stop was San Marcos – the winery, not the city – home of the best Late Harvest Zin, um, that day. Their Syrah wasn’t bad, either. Neither was their Cab… Oh jeez. After we were ready to buy six bottles we succumbed completely and joined their wine club. Six bottles three times per year – in for a penny, in for a couple of hundred dollars. Yikes.
Our original plan was to drive the 101 through Paso Robles, hitting winery after winery all day long but we eventually spent so much time at San Marcos – the sommelier giving us pour after pour (this was AFTER we’d joined, mind you), Vicky out there taking pictures of peacocks… plenty of pictures of peacocks… plenty of pretty pictures of peacocks posing and preening prettily… until I was feeling nicely buzzed, thank you – we decided to cut our losses, gains, whatever, and head back “home”.
We’d seen a place on the 46 that sold apple slushies and made a point to stop on the way back. It was just a little farm and store, looking like it wanted nothing more than to grow up into a northern version of Tom’s Farm. But that would probably take a while. In the meantime, we pulled up, ready for slushies.
As we pulled up, we saw a sign that read (something like) “Due to tobacco mosaic, no smoking allowed.” Tobacco mosaic? I’d never heard of it. Vicky got the apple. I got the pomegranate. (Because, seriously, how could you NOT?) Fucking delish! Nothing but frozen fruit all slushed up… mmmmm… and on a day that hot, it was perfect. (We still hadn’t topped the ridge that sequestered cool, moist Cambria in its little valley of perfection.) Then, we asked about the tobacco mosaic.
Turns out, it’s a disease tobacco carries that kills all kinds of good, tasty plants – including tomatoes, my fave! When you leave your butts all over the place, the remaining tobacco kills those good, tasty plants. Well, there you go. As if I needed it, there was another reason to not smoke. (Seriously, I didn’t need it – I just ended up feeling guilty.)
The day had been long and hot and I was more than relaxed from the wine but Vicky had a surprise in store for me. As we headed down the 46, she suddenly slowed. “Let’s go down Santa Rosa Creek Road,” she said. I was agreeable enough but surprised when she turned at that moment. One of the things I’ve always like about Vicky was her willingness, nay enthusiasm, for getting lost. I have always loved getting intentionally lost – probably a remnant from when my mom used to take the family on long drives and get lost… even if that wasn’t intentional – so to be with someone who also enjoys it is a lot of fun.
About an hour later, I got the feeling it wasn’t so much fun. But here’s what we knew. We knew that Santa Rosa Creek Road emptied out near Cambria. We knew that cell phone reception was nil. We also knew that the road was not in a state you would call “in repair”. So, we started joking about breaking down out there, finding lodging at some farm, and having to sleep in the basement with the (in-bred) Cyclops child. After a while had passed, and Vicky’s face and turned from enjoying to enraging, I placated her as best I could. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find the end of the road – I mean where it ends in Cambria – soon enough. I’m not even that hungry even if it is way past dinnertime. We’ll just stop on the way home, instead of heading home first and changing into clean clothes and going to a nice place. I just want food.” I don’t know if it worked.
But soon we saw familiar sights and came upon Cambria. We went to Lynn’s, had great steaks, and I had pie for dessert. Ah pie. I could spend a whole entry telling you about their pie… but I won’t.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
You can take the really fat guy out of the theater but…. what was I saying?…
It seems like forever since I’ve said this but I get to say it again: I finished Act 1, Scene 1 of the new play. It’s an amazing feeling because I’ve begun to doubt if I’ll ever be back on stage in any capacity. I mean, honestly, school and work and married life – who has the time? (And then, there is the issue of my ever-increasing size. I mean, seriously, I could be in the stage adaptation of Free Willy but where would I find a tank large enough?)
So, what is this new play about, anyway? Those who saw my previous plays probably think they know what to look for: ham-handed drama, bad jokes, and uncomfortable parallels with my own life.
This play should be a little different. Oh, sure. It’s filled with bad jokes.
… and the main story is about a couple who have been trying far too long to have their first child..
… um… but I promise to try and steer far from the ham-handed drama!
In fact, one of the nice things about this show is that rather than being about the “pain of love” it’s more about the “irritation of annoyance”. I’ve decided to write about friends who annoy each other, rather than lovers who hurt each other. Maybe it’ll come across as trite but I’ve had it with the heavy stuff, at least for this show.
In Everything Changes, a lonely man watched his ghosts turn their back on him.
In Atheists, a woman cheated to keep the man she loved away from him.
In Whatever Happened to Me, a father and son fought and bickered because it was easier than telling the truth.
In my new play, one character refuses to go in for all that. Instead, he decides to go on with life as best he can and cut himself a little slack, “because that’s how we heal.” I like that sentiment. There are no miracle cures that end pain; pain is just a part of life
Mind you, I’m only 15 pages in… let’s see how the other 60 or so go…
So, what is this new play about, anyway? Those who saw my previous plays probably think they know what to look for: ham-handed drama, bad jokes, and uncomfortable parallels with my own life.
This play should be a little different. Oh, sure. It’s filled with bad jokes.
… and the main story is about a couple who have been trying far too long to have their first child..
… um… but I promise to try and steer far from the ham-handed drama!
In fact, one of the nice things about this show is that rather than being about the “pain of love” it’s more about the “irritation of annoyance”. I’ve decided to write about friends who annoy each other, rather than lovers who hurt each other. Maybe it’ll come across as trite but I’ve had it with the heavy stuff, at least for this show.
In Everything Changes, a lonely man watched his ghosts turn their back on him.
In Atheists, a woman cheated to keep the man she loved away from him.
In Whatever Happened to Me, a father and son fought and bickered because it was easier than telling the truth.
In my new play, one character refuses to go in for all that. Instead, he decides to go on with life as best he can and cut himself a little slack, “because that’s how we heal.” I like that sentiment. There are no miracle cures that end pain; pain is just a part of life
Mind you, I’m only 15 pages in… let’s see how the other 60 or so go…
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Waiter, there’s air in my wine…
And that’s a good thing!
Vicky and I reached Cambria without a bottle of wine to our name. Sad. Truly sad. We hit the wine shops downtown the very next day, though, and found some wonderful bottles to enjoy before we really started hitting the vineyards. As one sommelier poured for us, I saw him pull out an oddly shaped device, place it over the glass, and pour wine through it. It made a great, sucking/spitting sound that interested the nine year-old in me.
Turned out, it was an aerator, a Vinturi to be exact.
This thing is so cool. It pumps air into the wine, softening it up like over an hour in a decanter will do – and it does it without batteries! No power needed! It works on air pressure! I love it.
So, here’s my gift to you. If you don’t have time for a proper decanting, which describes Vicky and I 90% of the time, give yourself one of these babies… and invite me over.
Vicky and I reached Cambria without a bottle of wine to our name. Sad. Truly sad. We hit the wine shops downtown the very next day, though, and found some wonderful bottles to enjoy before we really started hitting the vineyards. As one sommelier poured for us, I saw him pull out an oddly shaped device, place it over the glass, and pour wine through it. It made a great, sucking/spitting sound that interested the nine year-old in me.
Turned out, it was an aerator, a Vinturi to be exact.
This thing is so cool. It pumps air into the wine, softening it up like over an hour in a decanter will do – and it does it without batteries! No power needed! It works on air pressure! I love it.
So, here’s my gift to you. If you don’t have time for a proper decanting, which describes Vicky and I 90% of the time, give yourself one of these babies… and invite me over.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Not just another vague Firesign Theatre reference…
After last night’s class, some may be wondering what type of dancing we’re learning. The answer to that question (as well as “Hey, what are you guys doing in my car?”) is: The Foxtrot.
Do I feel ancient, learning a dance first introduced in 1914?
Do I feel decrepit, learning a dance that made “Rock Around The Clock” by Bill Haley and His Comets the number one Foxtrot record of all time?
You bet.
Except, well… no, not really. Strangely enough there are plenty of people in the class younger than Vicky and I. (Thankfully, there are also plenty of lame people in the class, too, so I don’t look quite so stupid.)
When Vicky and I first walked in, we were at each other’s throats, as usual. One of the reasons for this is to give us something physical to do other than throwing snide remarks at each other. When we were done, we were tired but happy, sore but working as a team, which is what really made this a great idea. The way I look at it, dancing is physical therapy for the heart and it’s coming at a good time.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to practice.
(One, two, three, four…)
Do I feel ancient, learning a dance first introduced in 1914?
Do I feel decrepit, learning a dance that made “Rock Around The Clock” by Bill Haley and His Comets the number one Foxtrot record of all time?
You bet.
Except, well… no, not really. Strangely enough there are plenty of people in the class younger than Vicky and I. (Thankfully, there are also plenty of lame people in the class, too, so I don’t look quite so stupid.)
When Vicky and I first walked in, we were at each other’s throats, as usual. One of the reasons for this is to give us something physical to do other than throwing snide remarks at each other. When we were done, we were tired but happy, sore but working as a team, which is what really made this a great idea. The way I look at it, dancing is physical therapy for the heart and it’s coming at a good time.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to practice.
(One, two, three, four…)
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Dancing the night away...
Some of you may remember all the way back to 2005, when Vicky and I took a dance class to help choreograph our wedding dance. The wedding dance went superbly. It was really special and I've been bugging Vic since then to take another class with me. Why? Well, for this chorophobe, it was the first time I saw people who were worse than me! I was the better dancer... for once! It was one of those rare occasions when I knew everyone was looking at me dancing and I didn't feel completely incompetent... because there were others worse off than me!
Three years have passed and I have finally twisted Vicky's arm long enough. Starting tonight, we'll be taking beginning ballroom dance classes. Nerdy? Maybe. But I have always wanted to learn to tango and, if Vicky likes it, maybe we can move on to more advanced classes. We'll take our act on the road. We'll tour Europe! We'll dance for Queens and ...
... or maybe I'll finally know more than just the box step and the waltz...
Anyway, we'll see. Maybe I'll completely suck... and maybe there will be someone else worse than me. That's the one I'm hoping for!
Three years have passed and I have finally twisted Vicky's arm long enough. Starting tonight, we'll be taking beginning ballroom dance classes. Nerdy? Maybe. But I have always wanted to learn to tango and, if Vicky likes it, maybe we can move on to more advanced classes. We'll take our act on the road. We'll tour Europe! We'll dance for Queens and ...
... or maybe I'll finally know more than just the box step and the waltz...
Anyway, we'll see. Maybe I'll completely suck... and maybe there will be someone else worse than me. That's the one I'm hoping for!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Still don't believe in global warming - then, you're a retard...
You've probably seen the story all over the news. The north pole will be navigable - its ice melted - for the first time in human history. For thousands upon thousands of years, it's been frozen... but I'm sure the rising CO2 levels in the atmosopher, consistently climbing global temperatures, and increasing pollution have nothing to do with it. Look away, folks! Nothing to see here!
I was picking up my car from getting serviced on Saturday and some guy there started kidding Vicky about her Hybrid. He even mentioned how the north pole was going to melt. Like most Americans, he'd heard the news and chosen to make a joke about it or ignore it.
I just don't understand that attitude. Yes, Vicky drives a Hybrid. My car gets about 44 mpg and I also commute by bike. We try to steer clear of factory farmed food and avoid plastic. It's a little difficult but it's not impossible. I understand how some people might not be able to do the same.
I don't understand people that joke about it.
I was picking up my car from getting serviced on Saturday and some guy there started kidding Vicky about her Hybrid. He even mentioned how the north pole was going to melt. Like most Americans, he'd heard the news and chosen to make a joke about it or ignore it.
I just don't understand that attitude. Yes, Vicky drives a Hybrid. My car gets about 44 mpg and I also commute by bike. We try to steer clear of factory farmed food and avoid plastic. It's a little difficult but it's not impossible. I understand how some people might not be able to do the same.
I don't understand people that joke about it.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Passed 6 MONTHS without a thought…
My last cigarette was six months ago… no wait… my last cigarette was six months and several days ago! (June 25th to be exact.) I forgot all about it!
It’s become much easier for me not to smoke. In fact, the thing that reminded me I’d missed my anniversary was waiting at the car wash today, getting nauseated by the guy smoking! Times, indeed, do change!
I went out and picked myself up a pair of Armadillos for my bike as an anniversary gift… except, I did it before I realized it was my anniversary…but, hey, whatever the justification, it comes just in time!
It’s become much easier for me not to smoke. In fact, the thing that reminded me I’d missed my anniversary was waiting at the car wash today, getting nauseated by the guy smoking! Times, indeed, do change!
I went out and picked myself up a pair of Armadillos for my bike as an anniversary gift… except, I did it before I realized it was my anniversary…but, hey, whatever the justification, it comes just in time!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
I’m commuting by bike…
Yesterday, I began commuting to work by bike, which I plan to do a couple of days each week. The plan is it’ll save me gas (which means money), car repair bills (money), the chance of getting a ticket (money), and… money. Not only that but it will also help me lose a little weight, which would be nice.
But there was plenty that was not on the plan, and that’s what I wanted to talk about today.
Here’s something that wasn’t on the plan: It changes how I look at my commute. Driving feels competitive, to me, needing to beat the other guy, get into the faster lane, move ahead, etc. etc. I get so irritated when I’m in the slowest lane or when I can’t get in the faster lane. And nothing’s more frustrating than the guy who’s slowing everybody… and you can see him… just ahead… and there’s all that empty space ahead of him… But on the bike, it doesn’t feel competitive at all. In fact, I feel connected with the other bicyclists on the river trail, because they’re in the same boat. We’re sharing the trail together. Sure, I need to pass people and people pass me, but most of the time it’s not an issue. We’re not jockeying for position like in a race.
Here’s something else that wasn’t on the plan: Bicycling is so much safer! If I crash on my bike, I might get a skinned knee. I might even break a bone. But I won’t end up mangled flesh in a metal heap. If I have to perform roadside repairs, like fixing a flat, I don’t have to worry about getting run over – in fact, bicyclists will sometimes help each other out!
Here’s another thing: I’m not losing that much time. It takes me about 40 minutes to drive to work and 45 minutes to drive home. The commute by bike takes about 60 minutes to work and 55 minutes (yesterday’s time) to go home. (What can I say? I like going home.) And, since my commute is also my work out, I can skip my morning routine and get a little more sleep. I like that, too.
Finally, bicycling is just easier. I know that sounds counterintuitive but it is. Now, I grant you, I have the perfect situation. Both work and home are very close to the Santa Ana River Trail so I get to stay off of roads 96% of the time and I don’t have to go out of the way. It’s a straight shot up a well-maintained, sometimes pretty (though not often) path. I have showers at work (though keeping a fresh change of clothes is a logistical nightmare). It may not work for everyone. But, I’m telling you, if you can make it work, you should give it a try.
The more I get into riding my bike, the more it turns into an obsession for me. I’m looking into Kevlar tires, for instance, supposed to cut flats by 90%. And Vicky and I are talking about getting a bike rack for the car… so we can drive our bikes to where we want to ride them… like Cambria… maybe, eventually, I’ll talk Vicky into riding our bikes there…
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Riding my bike to the beach…
I get these ideas in my head. And I really should let them stop at ideas.
For instance, I needed to see how long it would take me to ride my bike to work. I’d like to commute a couple of days each week by bike. You know, save gas, burn calories, make the world a better place, etc. So, that was the plan for yesterday. But then, I got this idea: Since it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to actually go to work, I could keep going from there and ride all the way to the beach. Yeah, the beach. Now there’s a swell idea.
Unfortunately, I didn’t stop at the idea phase.
I woke up at 5:15am… took my bike out at 6:10am, rode it on down to the Santa Ana River Trail, watched my new cyclocomputer (fancy name for speedometer, odometer, clock, etc.) inform me that I was jugging along at a nice 15-20 miles/hour, listened to my iPod and… before I knew it, I’d made it to work. One hour. That’s how long the commute was. Not bad at all, considering that in my car it takes about half an hour. Great. So, things looked good for commuting by bike.
And, yet, I still had to keep going. I had to keep riding to get to the beach. On, I went – and, wouldn’t you know it, half an hour later I was standing on the shores of the mighty Pacific. I even took a picture to show I was there. Beautiful. Majestic.
… and hot. It was getting warmer all the time. Even then, shortly after 7:30am, the day was turning into a scorcher.
The joke was on me, of course. Turned out that yesterday was one of the hottest days we’d had in quite some time. 101˚ or so. Perfect bike riding weather. Mind you, I didn’t know that then. Here’s what I did know. I’d forgotten to pack my second bottle of water. I’d forgotten my sunscreen. I’d forgotten that I’d have to ride all the way back home.
Ugh. For such a smart guy, I can be something of an idiot sometimes.
So, I turned around and headed back. I hadn’t had breakfast, yet, so I pulled up to a Carl’s and ordered a BBQ’ed chicken sandwich (for protein, to keep my strength through the long ride back) and a Cap’n Crunch shake (for… cause I’m 9). I don’t often do the fast food thing so this was my little treat to myself. And even as I ate, I could feel the hot sun beating down.
It was already taking longer to get back then it took to get there, and I’d only made it as far as MacArthur. Some miles later, my butt started getting sore. I’m usually fairly good at distributing my weight between my hands and my butt, but as I grew more tired that went right out the window. My speed dropped to 10-15 miles/hour. I shifted into an easier gear.
There were, surprisingly, a lot of people out on the trail. Teams of bikers, the guys who truck along far faster than I can go, numbered well over two dozen. Single riders and small groups were too many to count. More and more, they passed me, and my speed kept dropping.
As I neared Anaheim Stadium, I came to a park along the trail. By this time, it was past 9am and the heat was incredible. Every bit of shade was occupied by a biker and his vehicle, panting and exhausted. I pulled my bike up to the water fountain and drank greedily of the last drops in my bottle. Then, I filled it up… with nice, warm water… ick. I was sore all over and could feel myself crashing. I’d sweat so much my entire shirt was darkened by it. But I knew I couldn’t stop – there was no shade and I wouldn’t let myself call anyone for help. I got back on my bike, focused on moving my feet, and kept going.
My speed barely hovered at 10mph and yet, as I neared my street, I came on a couple people going even slower. The sun was melting us on the hot tar. But I was soon off the trail and back on familiar streets. I pulled up to my house and checked my odometer.
I’d gone 37 miles. More than twice as long as my last ride. It was the longest bike ride of my life.
Today, my body’s feeling better while my sinuses and throat feel baked from breathing the hot, dry air. And I have a tan that starts at the end of my short shirtsleeve and ends at the top of my biking glove. And my sunglasses made my face look slightly like a raccoon.
I gotta try that again sometime!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Today's assignment...
Next time you're out to eat at any fine establishment offering drinks in small, medium, large (and possibly other) sizes, order the small.
I took myself to Panda Express for lunch today and, when asked what size soda I'd like, I looked at the range of mammoth drinks and chose the small. I was surprised to find how big a small is. I mean, my cannine, I wasn't there to fulfill every last desire for soda I could possibly have! It's just to accompany my meal, and this thing was a quart - easy!
So, from now one, I'm going to stick with the small and I'd like to encourage you to do the same. Heck, stay away from the soda completely if you can - it's fulla crap! (I had tea.)
Now, if I could just switch to small ice creams...
I took myself to Panda Express for lunch today and, when asked what size soda I'd like, I looked at the range of mammoth drinks and chose the small. I was surprised to find how big a small is. I mean, my cannine, I wasn't there to fulfill every last desire for soda I could possibly have! It's just to accompany my meal, and this thing was a quart - easy!
So, from now one, I'm going to stick with the small and I'd like to encourage you to do the same. Heck, stay away from the soda completely if you can - it's fulla crap! (I had tea.)
Now, if I could just switch to small ice creams...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Ken gets the bird...
Believe me. Vicky has a picture. I'm not kidding.
What kind of grown man attracts the hijinks of a mascot? There he/she was, the Red Robin... Red Robin's Red Robin... walking around the restaurant for all the kids. Hey, I didn't try to attract him/her. I didn't do anything, but he/she came on over anyway.
At first, I thought the Red Robin had come to our table for Vicky's amusement. I mean, look at me. Do I look like the kind of person who attracts people, let alone birds? People usually stay away from me. My lack of charm and charisma is usually enough to make them think, "Fifty miles in the opposite direction sounds good."
I said, "Uh, oh. I think the bird's gonna land over here," or something. Sure enough he/she did. Right next to Vicky. So, I was assured this was all about my girl and I could stay out of it. I joked, "Just act like you don't see it. Maybe it will go away." And that was the wrong thing to say. Because the next thing I knew, the Red Robin was picking up my Freckled Lemonade and taking it away. Stupid bird!
When he/she began to taunt me, that's when I really didn't know what to do. I laughed uncomfortably. I joked a bit. Then, it did this hand sign... Come here.
Um... what?
Come here!
Vicky said, "Make friends!"
Ewwwww.... uhhhhh... here's the thing: I didn't know if that was a man or a woman. All I knew was that skooching over would put me directly at crotch level. Little "homophobia" thought bubbles startled to circle nearby. I didn't have much time to think, though. Vicky and the Bird were egging me on. So, Iskooched... and the Red Robin put his/her arm around me.
And then, the Bird gave me back my drink.
Vicky immediately expressed her sadness at not getting a picture.
"Too bad you didn't bring your camera," I easily quipped, relieved.
But then, she pulled out her cell phone.
I swear, the freaking bird preened! I might have squaked a bit but I skooched on back and Vicky snapped her shot.
Feeling entirely too weird at being that close to a strangers crotch - and, let's face it, the strange part was thinking it might have been a guy - I said something like, "I sure hope that was a woman."
"Of course, that was a woman. Look at her legs," Vicky answered. "Those are too thin to be a man's legs."
Good, I thought, relieved.
Then, I told Vicky that the bird had slipped her phone number into my pocket.
What kind of grown man attracts the hijinks of a mascot? There he/she was, the Red Robin... Red Robin's Red Robin... walking around the restaurant for all the kids. Hey, I didn't try to attract him/her. I didn't do anything, but he/she came on over anyway.
At first, I thought the Red Robin had come to our table for Vicky's amusement. I mean, look at me. Do I look like the kind of person who attracts people, let alone birds? People usually stay away from me. My lack of charm and charisma is usually enough to make them think, "Fifty miles in the opposite direction sounds good."
I said, "Uh, oh. I think the bird's gonna land over here," or something. Sure enough he/she did. Right next to Vicky. So, I was assured this was all about my girl and I could stay out of it. I joked, "Just act like you don't see it. Maybe it will go away." And that was the wrong thing to say. Because the next thing I knew, the Red Robin was picking up my Freckled Lemonade and taking it away. Stupid bird!
When he/she began to taunt me, that's when I really didn't know what to do. I laughed uncomfortably. I joked a bit. Then, it did this hand sign... Come here.
Um... what?
Come here!
Vicky said, "Make friends!"
Ewwwww.... uhhhhh... here's the thing: I didn't know if that was a man or a woman. All I knew was that skooching over would put me directly at crotch level. Little "homophobia" thought bubbles startled to circle nearby. I didn't have much time to think, though. Vicky and the Bird were egging me on. So, Iskooched... and the Red Robin put his/her arm around me.
And then, the Bird gave me back my drink.
Vicky immediately expressed her sadness at not getting a picture.
"Too bad you didn't bring your camera," I easily quipped, relieved.
But then, she pulled out her cell phone.
I swear, the freaking bird preened! I might have squaked a bit but I skooched on back and Vicky snapped her shot.
Feeling entirely too weird at being that close to a strangers crotch - and, let's face it, the strange part was thinking it might have been a guy - I said something like, "I sure hope that was a woman."
"Of course, that was a woman. Look at her legs," Vicky answered. "Those are too thin to be a man's legs."
Good, I thought, relieved.
Then, I told Vicky that the bird had slipped her phone number into my pocket.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Artsy outlet
As Ken said a couple of weeks ago, we went on a shopping spree and I got my new camera. I fell in love with photography several years ago when I took a Photograpy 101 class at a local college. I had my 35mm cameras, but I really wanted one of those new fancy digital SLR cameras. Well here it is (go ahead feel free to drool a little)
We took the camera out to the Fullerton Arboretum so that I could have some hands on practice time with it. You can go to our photo website and check out some of the pictures in Vicky's Artsy Photos album (http://www.onepath.myphotoalbum.com/)
I'm just getting back into this, so the pictures aren't great, but tell me what you think, I'd love to hear from all of our readers.
It is a great entry level SLR camera for under $1,000, 12.2 megapixel, live view shooting, 3-inch, 230,000-pixel LCD, ISO 100 to ISO 1,600, image stabilizer lens, up to 3.5 frames per second...I could go on and on but I'll spare you.
We took the camera out to the Fullerton Arboretum so that I could have some hands on practice time with it. You can go to our photo website and check out some of the pictures in Vicky's Artsy Photos album (http://www.onepath.myphotoalbum.com/)
I'm just getting back into this, so the pictures aren't great, but tell me what you think, I'd love to hear from all of our readers.
Driving like it's 1999
Since I got my new Hybrid Escape I've become more aware of my driving habits. My car has a readout of my ongoing average MPG, so I'm very aware when I'm driving like I have extra fuel to burn. Since I got the car at the end of 2007, my MPG has ranged from 30 to 32, which is good for my small SUV. I'll admit, I had about a month when I wasn't paying attention to this stuff and my MPG suffered, but I'm getting it back up there again. But here's the thing, I don't race away from or to stop lights, I accelerate slowly, I coast to red lights, I drive slower on the freeway...and it's working, I'm saving on the cost of gas. So what the hell is wrong with every other driver I share the road with...They drive like they have all the money in the world to burn. The price of gas is going to hit at least $5 per gallon this summer, probably even more, and yet people are still driving like it's 1999.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Gay Marriage Day!...
Okay, that's probably not what they will call it... whoever "They" are... if "They" are even gay to begin with... but I am really happy that this day has come.
Yes, I'm straight. I'm married to a woman and I like having sex with her. That doesn't change the fact that homosexuals are human beings and deserve equal rights with those of us who like sex with the opposite sex. So, I'm very glad that day has come, at least, to California.
My memory goes back many years ago to Tim and Axel and how the ex wanted to throw their wedding in our back yard. I had to be the one to point out that a real wedding was illegal. Once it's legal, she said, we would do it - but then, she and I divorced. (Note to Crazy Conservatives: this was BEFORE gay marriage was legal.) I wish Tim and Axel were still together so Vicky and I could watch them wed... but Tim's an ass and, love him as much as we do, he's living through a very difficult part of his life where nothing's going quite right and he's racing to rock bottom. There's still hope, though. We'd still like to see things work out and be there to witness them take their vows.
This, of course, brings me to our other gay friend, Jeff. You wouldn't know Jeff was gay, even if you knew his sexual history. You'd think he was Jesuit - the man's freaking celibate! But even if he's not ready to marry that doesn't change the fact that he should be entitled to every right Vicky and I enjoy. (Even if "enjoy" is sometimes too strong a word...)
What we really need, now that we've taken a step closer to equal rights for homosexuals, is a holiday. We in America are great at making a holiday for any, old reason. Look at St. Patrick's Day! Nobody knows what the hell that's far - but everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day. If they had Gay Day, where everyone's gay, I'd dress less conservatively and learn how to dance just for the occasion. I might even put "product" in my hair. What the hell? Homosexuals don't necessarily want you to "go gay" but I'm pretty sure they'd like you to be less uptight, paranoid, and fascistic.
So, Happy Gay Married Day to all those homosexuals enjoying a little more rights in California. It's a big step but just the beginning. Congratulations!
Yes, I'm straight. I'm married to a woman and I like having sex with her. That doesn't change the fact that homosexuals are human beings and deserve equal rights with those of us who like sex with the opposite sex. So, I'm very glad that day has come, at least, to California.
My memory goes back many years ago to Tim and Axel and how the ex wanted to throw their wedding in our back yard. I had to be the one to point out that a real wedding was illegal. Once it's legal, she said, we would do it - but then, she and I divorced. (Note to Crazy Conservatives: this was BEFORE gay marriage was legal.) I wish Tim and Axel were still together so Vicky and I could watch them wed... but Tim's an ass and, love him as much as we do, he's living through a very difficult part of his life where nothing's going quite right and he's racing to rock bottom. There's still hope, though. We'd still like to see things work out and be there to witness them take their vows.
This, of course, brings me to our other gay friend, Jeff. You wouldn't know Jeff was gay, even if you knew his sexual history. You'd think he was Jesuit - the man's freaking celibate! But even if he's not ready to marry that doesn't change the fact that he should be entitled to every right Vicky and I enjoy. (Even if "enjoy" is sometimes too strong a word...)
What we really need, now that we've taken a step closer to equal rights for homosexuals, is a holiday. We in America are great at making a holiday for any, old reason. Look at St. Patrick's Day! Nobody knows what the hell that's far - but everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day. If they had Gay Day, where everyone's gay, I'd dress less conservatively and learn how to dance just for the occasion. I might even put "product" in my hair. What the hell? Homosexuals don't necessarily want you to "go gay" but I'm pretty sure they'd like you to be less uptight, paranoid, and fascistic.
So, Happy Gay Married Day to all those homosexuals enjoying a little more rights in California. It's a big step but just the beginning. Congratulations!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Just a few hours home...
This is usually when I start to get that feeling that I've made a sizable mistake... right about when it's too late.
Vicky just dropped me off at work. She dropped me off... and my bike... and my gear. The idea is that I'll ride home tonight. It's about 12-14 miles home and, before you start asking what I was thinking, I thought it would be fun...
I really need to change my definition of fun.
In moment of lucidity, I think about all the things in my life I can't change. I'm stuck in a position that's pretty intolerable, I can't write here, and I'm not moved to work on my play at home. When lucidity descends, I try to change my Can't language to Can language and consider those things I can do. Taking a more active role in improving my health is something I can do and something I've been working on - if slowly - since my last cigarette nearly six months ago. Conditioning myself to be able to ride longer distances is one step in that direction.
It's just that, when I find myself in that "no going back" place, lucidity evaporates and all I'm left with is a guy who is far too old and far too fat to even think of doing this.
...
... oh well...
... see you at home.
(Posting this after I got home, I can tell you that the ride was fantastic! I finished it in 65 minutes – only one bug went down my throat (ick!) – and had a great time!)
Vicky just dropped me off at work. She dropped me off... and my bike... and my gear. The idea is that I'll ride home tonight. It's about 12-14 miles home and, before you start asking what I was thinking, I thought it would be fun...
I really need to change my definition of fun.
In moment of lucidity, I think about all the things in my life I can't change. I'm stuck in a position that's pretty intolerable, I can't write here, and I'm not moved to work on my play at home. When lucidity descends, I try to change my Can't language to Can language and consider those things I can do. Taking a more active role in improving my health is something I can do and something I've been working on - if slowly - since my last cigarette nearly six months ago. Conditioning myself to be able to ride longer distances is one step in that direction.
It's just that, when I find myself in that "no going back" place, lucidity evaporates and all I'm left with is a guy who is far too old and far too fat to even think of doing this.
...
... oh well...
... see you at home.
(Posting this after I got home, I can tell you that the ride was fantastic! I finished it in 65 minutes – only one bug went down my throat (ick!) – and had a great time!)
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Where was the carton of Camels?...
I thought I caught a glimpse of the future yesterday. I was at Costco, picking up HDMI cables - don't ask - and the couple behind me were vaguely familiar...
The old woman pushed a cart with nothing but bleach...
The old man held a bottle of Kettle One tight and close...
Ken & Vicky in 30 years???
The old woman pushed a cart with nothing but bleach...
The old man held a bottle of Kettle One tight and close...
Ken & Vicky in 30 years???
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I guess she really likes cars...
Last night, we bought Burnout: Paradise for our PS3.
We loaded it in. It went through its update routine. Then, the title screen blazed on the screen, the opening beats of Paradise City by Guns & Roses thumping to life.
Vicky lifts up her top, swings it around her head, and yells, "Whooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
... She really gets into those video games...
We loaded it in. It went through its update routine. Then, the title screen blazed on the screen, the opening beats of Paradise City by Guns & Roses thumping to life.
Vicky lifts up her top, swings it around her head, and yells, "Whooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
... She really gets into those video games...
Monday, June 09, 2008
Wii Fat...
Dear Nintendo,
I am writing about your Wii Fit Yoga position called Shoulder Stand. Here's the thing... are you crazy or something?
Your trainer says, "Lay on your back with your palms down at your side. Inhale while lifting your legs. Exhale while lifting your back." Now, at this point, the trainer is impossibly positioned upside-down, standing on her shoulders.
I tried this.
I laid down on the floor.
I inhaled while lifting my legs.
And then I found out my body does not want me lifting my back. My body does not work that way!
I have a better idea.
Lay on your back with your palms down at your side.
Stay there.
Feel the burn....
I am writing about your Wii Fit Yoga position called Shoulder Stand. Here's the thing... are you crazy or something?
Your trainer says, "Lay on your back with your palms down at your side. Inhale while lifting your legs. Exhale while lifting your back." Now, at this point, the trainer is impossibly positioned upside-down, standing on her shoulders.
I tried this.
I laid down on the floor.
I inhaled while lifting my legs.
And then I found out my body does not want me lifting my back. My body does not work that way!
I have a better idea.
Lay on your back with your palms down at your side.
Stay there.
Feel the burn....
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Ken forgets an anniversary…
So, I call to Vicky to check the blog and later say, “Well? Well?”
“Happy Anniversary,” Vicky tells me. “But it’s not until June 20th.”
… um… what?
“It was Father’s Day,” she says.
Not my dad’s birthday, as I thought?
“Nope. Father’s Day. But it was nice of you to think of me, anyway.”
Yeah… sure… and I wonder how soon it is before I start referring to her as “That strange woman who says she’s my wife…”?
“Happy Anniversary,” Vicky tells me. “But it’s not until June 20th.”
… um… what?
“It was Father’s Day,” she says.
Not my dad’s birthday, as I thought?
“Nope. Father’s Day. But it was nice of you to think of me, anyway.”
Yeah… sure… and I wonder how soon it is before I start referring to her as “That strange woman who says she’s my wife…”?
Happy June 8th!…
Last night, when we bought the camera and the PS3, I said to Vicky, “Well, happy late birthday, Vic.” And she said to me, “Well, happy early birthday, Ken.”
I told her, “This isn’t my early birthday present. It’s my June 8th present.”
Vicky gave me a blank stare.
You see, today is our 4th year anniversary. That’s right, Vic. That’s what June 8th is all about. Around this time four years ago, Vicky and I met for the first time at Dave & Busters. We didn’t go there to relive the day, as we previously had. Vicky’s been very busy and I didn’t want to crowd her schedule. But I want her to know how happy I am that we met because I am grateful to have her in my life.
Happy Anniversary, Vicky. I love you.
I told her, “This isn’t my early birthday present. It’s my June 8th present.”
Vicky gave me a blank stare.
You see, today is our 4th year anniversary. That’s right, Vic. That’s what June 8th is all about. Around this time four years ago, Vicky and I met for the first time at Dave & Busters. We didn’t go there to relive the day, as we previously had. Vicky’s been very busy and I didn’t want to crowd her schedule. But I want her to know how happy I am that we met because I am grateful to have her in my life.
Happy Anniversary, Vicky. I love you.
Happy… Birthday… Vicky…???
Believe me. We’re usually very responsible with our money. Honest.
So, here’s the thing. Vicky asked for one thing for her birthday, back on April 13. A camera. A bloody fucking expensive camera. The kind of camera where you want to yell “Bitch, I ain’t no fuckionnaire! Get your own damn camera!”… but you don’t because you realize your lack of a job means you should probably be nice to the wife who is being so supportive… or, at least, keep saying “Later. Later. Later.”
But there’s a problem with that strategy. Later often comes.
Gotta remember next time to say, “Next husband. After I die.”
But then, an odd combination of things happened. I got this crappy, poopie, shit job and thought, “Hell, if I’m making this money, I’m gonna spend it!” And then, I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a Blu-Ray player. We haven’t really bought anything new for the house since last year. It’s been a while. We deserve it. (And, anyway, I needed something to help me forget what a shithole I work in…)
It started at 3pm, when we put Suki in for grooming. We headed over to Circuit City and found out that Vicky’s camera was on sale… for $850!!!! I asked to see the Blu-Ray players and the salesman said, “If you’re wanting a Blu-Ray player, you should probably just get a PS3. That’s like having a Blu-Ray player and game machine all in one.” I thought, “Sure. Sure. Keep trying to sell.” Their Blu-Ray player was $399.
But we came to our senses and left. Anyway, their display camera was broken and, if Vicky was going to buy it, she wanted to check it out first. So, we headed across the street to La Curacao, which is a difficult store to go to with your wife because you’re surrounded by young, latina chicks with tight tops… their Blu-Ray player was $499! On to Costco, we went. They didn’t have the camera… or a Blu-Ray player… but they did have a PS3 bundle… for 499!!! Yikes!
But wait… if the PS3 bundle was $499…
After we got home with Suki, I checked the Internet(s) and… took Vicky back out to look at cameras… Another Circuit City didn’t even have a display model – but they found us one that did – in Irvine… geez, this was getting involved. But I had an ulterior motive!
In Irvine, they had a working display model as well as a young salesperson who wasn’t a dick – that’s harder to find that you might realize. So, we got the camera ($850!), a battery pack ($50!), a memory card ($20!), a bag ($43!), a 4-year protection plan (that included yearly cleaning - $220!)… and a PS3, because why not get a Blu-Ray player with a game machine included? ($399!), a remote ($25! – and how fucked up is it that you have to buy the remote???), and a game, cause, you know ($40!), and walked out spending more money that we had… oh… in a very, very long time.
So, Happy Birthday, Vicky. I was only two months late but I did it… and got a little sumthin’ sumthin’ for me.
So, here’s the thing. Vicky asked for one thing for her birthday, back on April 13. A camera. A bloody fucking expensive camera. The kind of camera where you want to yell “Bitch, I ain’t no fuckionnaire! Get your own damn camera!”… but you don’t because you realize your lack of a job means you should probably be nice to the wife who is being so supportive… or, at least, keep saying “Later. Later. Later.”
But there’s a problem with that strategy. Later often comes.
Gotta remember next time to say, “Next husband. After I die.”
But then, an odd combination of things happened. I got this crappy, poopie, shit job and thought, “Hell, if I’m making this money, I’m gonna spend it!” And then, I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a Blu-Ray player. We haven’t really bought anything new for the house since last year. It’s been a while. We deserve it. (And, anyway, I needed something to help me forget what a shithole I work in…)
It started at 3pm, when we put Suki in for grooming. We headed over to Circuit City and found out that Vicky’s camera was on sale… for $850!!!! I asked to see the Blu-Ray players and the salesman said, “If you’re wanting a Blu-Ray player, you should probably just get a PS3. That’s like having a Blu-Ray player and game machine all in one.” I thought, “Sure. Sure. Keep trying to sell.” Their Blu-Ray player was $399.
But we came to our senses and left. Anyway, their display camera was broken and, if Vicky was going to buy it, she wanted to check it out first. So, we headed across the street to La Curacao, which is a difficult store to go to with your wife because you’re surrounded by young, latina chicks with tight tops… their Blu-Ray player was $499! On to Costco, we went. They didn’t have the camera… or a Blu-Ray player… but they did have a PS3 bundle… for 499!!! Yikes!
But wait… if the PS3 bundle was $499…
After we got home with Suki, I checked the Internet(s) and… took Vicky back out to look at cameras… Another Circuit City didn’t even have a display model – but they found us one that did – in Irvine… geez, this was getting involved. But I had an ulterior motive!
In Irvine, they had a working display model as well as a young salesperson who wasn’t a dick – that’s harder to find that you might realize. So, we got the camera ($850!), a battery pack ($50!), a memory card ($20!), a bag ($43!), a 4-year protection plan (that included yearly cleaning - $220!)… and a PS3, because why not get a Blu-Ray player with a game machine included? ($399!), a remote ($25! – and how fucked up is it that you have to buy the remote???), and a game, cause, you know ($40!), and walked out spending more money that we had… oh… in a very, very long time.
So, Happy Birthday, Vicky. I was only two months late but I did it… and got a little sumthin’ sumthin’ for me.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Careful what I wish for…
After three months out of work, you can imagine how much I wanted this job. Pretty badly, I can tell you.
Then, I started. I have a two-faced boss who seems more interested in keeping me busy and keeping me there than giving me work less brain-dead or letting me leave on time to go to school in the Fall. (Yes, we discussed it in the interview – two-faced, remember?) I work in a fishbowl cubicle with no privacy and no time to relax. (This place is all about “Your job is your life.”) No bonuses, no perks, crummy benefits. (I’ve been told “This is a Chinese company, get used to it.”) And, lastly, though the job was described to me as one in which I would be performing competitive analysis and creative marketing material and creating strategies to move the products forward – it turns out that my job consists of proofing data sheets created in Taiwan and performing website maintenance, a job they could have hired anyone else to do.
Dammit.
So, what am I going to do? Well, to be honest, not a whole lot. I’m going to have to grin and bear it and keep applying for other jobs and hope for the best. If they don’t let me go to school in the fall – I’ve been threatened with disciplinary actions should I leave work at 6pm to go to school – Vicky and I have discussed this and I’ll quit. I’ll reopen my unemployment account and start looking for work again. In the meantime, I’ll do the best I can and see where that gets me.
And I’ll be none too happy about it, believe me. Though this ain’t no IMC Networks… sadly, it’s no Linksys, either.
Then, I started. I have a two-faced boss who seems more interested in keeping me busy and keeping me there than giving me work less brain-dead or letting me leave on time to go to school in the Fall. (Yes, we discussed it in the interview – two-faced, remember?) I work in a fishbowl cubicle with no privacy and no time to relax. (This place is all about “Your job is your life.”) No bonuses, no perks, crummy benefits. (I’ve been told “This is a Chinese company, get used to it.”) And, lastly, though the job was described to me as one in which I would be performing competitive analysis and creative marketing material and creating strategies to move the products forward – it turns out that my job consists of proofing data sheets created in Taiwan and performing website maintenance, a job they could have hired anyone else to do.
Dammit.
So, what am I going to do? Well, to be honest, not a whole lot. I’m going to have to grin and bear it and keep applying for other jobs and hope for the best. If they don’t let me go to school in the fall – I’ve been threatened with disciplinary actions should I leave work at 6pm to go to school – Vicky and I have discussed this and I’ll quit. I’ll reopen my unemployment account and start looking for work again. In the meantime, I’ll do the best I can and see where that gets me.
And I’ll be none too happy about it, believe me. Though this ain’t no IMC Networks… sadly, it’s no Linksys, either.
Friday, May 30, 2008
With grades like this, Vicky’s going to expect me to keep going…
Optimally, I would like to not have to go to school, not have to go to work, and only be expected to sit around, play video games, and eat junk food.
… but life is cruel.
Not only did I get a new job but also my Spring 2008 grades have been made official. I didn’t mention my grade (singular – one class) for last semester because, well, it could have been a fluke. (Still could be, in fact.) But then, I received my most recent results and here’s how they add up:
Fall 2007: A
Spring 2008: A, B
Am I proud of myself? Sure… I guess… But at this rate, I’ll be going to decades to come. I’m a Junior now… Senior year seems so far away! … oh well.
The toughest part is that now I have to call my dad and ask if he’ll give me $10 for every A…
… but life is cruel.
Not only did I get a new job but also my Spring 2008 grades have been made official. I didn’t mention my grade (singular – one class) for last semester because, well, it could have been a fluke. (Still could be, in fact.) But then, I received my most recent results and here’s how they add up:
Fall 2007: A
Spring 2008: A, B
Am I proud of myself? Sure… I guess… But at this rate, I’ll be going to decades to come. I’m a Junior now… Senior year seems so far away! … oh well.
The toughest part is that now I have to call my dad and ask if he’ll give me $10 for every A…
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Hitting the spot…
Sunday, Vicky and I decided to get our bikes out and actually… what does one do with these things again?…
See, we had been using the bikes as dust collectors/art installations in our garage for some time but we figured using them for the reason we bought them – you know, to actually ride them – might be nice to try, too.
So, on Monday, Vicky and I actually rode down the Santa Ana River for five miles (well, five miles round trip). Vicky did really well and, with the exception of those jerks who think the trail is their personal gym and how dare we share it with them, it was really nice. This got me thinking that, being out of work and all, it would be pretty cool to go for ten miles – even more! That’s the thing with me lately; I’m loving anything free! And I’m lusting after anything that burns fat!
Not that I’m not also a huge pig. After our ride, Vicky and I were both famished, dying for something good to eat. I thought about Mutt Lynch’s, this great burger joint by Newport Pier. Driving down there, we both realized what a dope I was – hello! Memorial Day! Newport Pier! Hello!
So, instead, we started heading south on PCH, when we realized that a Cheesecake Factory was coming up soon, at Fashion Island. We pulled over, went on up… and waited… and waited… shit, Cheesecake’s always so busy! But that’s okay. I can be patient. Because it’s also damned good!
When we got our table, I was so famished – and, by that time, the craving for a big, fat, greasy, sloppy cheeseburger was so strong – I was ready to order a burger with the sliders as an appetizer. Instead, Vicky and I split a salad and we both ordered our burgers. Vicky ordered with burger on a baguette ordeal but I went with something called the Tons of Fun Burger. It was the same price as their regular burger so I figured it couldn’t be that much fun or that much of a ton.
Then, they brought it out.
And this is why I’m calling this “Hitting the Spot”. This thing was amazing. Big. Greasy. Sloppy. It was the size of my head! I picked it up, looking like Guy on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, like an ad for a big, greasy burger, and committed myself to eating it all, fitting the whole mother in my mouth, without losing it to gravity, entropy, and grease. My god. It was amazing. Hot and messy. It transcended eating; I was in bliss.
Just one table over, our waitress had to deal with this problem customer who wasn’t satisfied with anything. I hate those people, the ones who go to restaurants simply to complain and work the manager for a free meal. So, after I was through with my burger – and, I’m telling you, that last bite, with hardly any dripped onto my plate and none dripped anywhere else, was a grateful surrendering into what I knew was the loss of any benefit our bike ride earlier provided – I made sure to express my pleasure to our waitress. I don’t often tell anyone about how good a meal I had, as Vicky knows my life is far too often mostly about regret and the anticipation of regret, but that was the first time in a long time I could remember having a very distinct craving satisfied so completely.
Later today, when the sun comes up, I’m going to take that ten-mile ride. I doubt I’ll have a burger after – the odds just aren’t with me.
See, we had been using the bikes as dust collectors/art installations in our garage for some time but we figured using them for the reason we bought them – you know, to actually ride them – might be nice to try, too.
So, on Monday, Vicky and I actually rode down the Santa Ana River for five miles (well, five miles round trip). Vicky did really well and, with the exception of those jerks who think the trail is their personal gym and how dare we share it with them, it was really nice. This got me thinking that, being out of work and all, it would be pretty cool to go for ten miles – even more! That’s the thing with me lately; I’m loving anything free! And I’m lusting after anything that burns fat!
Not that I’m not also a huge pig. After our ride, Vicky and I were both famished, dying for something good to eat. I thought about Mutt Lynch’s, this great burger joint by Newport Pier. Driving down there, we both realized what a dope I was – hello! Memorial Day! Newport Pier! Hello!
So, instead, we started heading south on PCH, when we realized that a Cheesecake Factory was coming up soon, at Fashion Island. We pulled over, went on up… and waited… and waited… shit, Cheesecake’s always so busy! But that’s okay. I can be patient. Because it’s also damned good!
When we got our table, I was so famished – and, by that time, the craving for a big, fat, greasy, sloppy cheeseburger was so strong – I was ready to order a burger with the sliders as an appetizer. Instead, Vicky and I split a salad and we both ordered our burgers. Vicky ordered with burger on a baguette ordeal but I went with something called the Tons of Fun Burger. It was the same price as their regular burger so I figured it couldn’t be that much fun or that much of a ton.
Then, they brought it out.
And this is why I’m calling this “Hitting the Spot”. This thing was amazing. Big. Greasy. Sloppy. It was the size of my head! I picked it up, looking like Guy on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, like an ad for a big, greasy burger, and committed myself to eating it all, fitting the whole mother in my mouth, without losing it to gravity, entropy, and grease. My god. It was amazing. Hot and messy. It transcended eating; I was in bliss.
Just one table over, our waitress had to deal with this problem customer who wasn’t satisfied with anything. I hate those people, the ones who go to restaurants simply to complain and work the manager for a free meal. So, after I was through with my burger – and, I’m telling you, that last bite, with hardly any dripped onto my plate and none dripped anywhere else, was a grateful surrendering into what I knew was the loss of any benefit our bike ride earlier provided – I made sure to express my pleasure to our waitress. I don’t often tell anyone about how good a meal I had, as Vicky knows my life is far too often mostly about regret and the anticipation of regret, but that was the first time in a long time I could remember having a very distinct craving satisfied so completely.
Later today, when the sun comes up, I’m going to take that ten-mile ride. I doubt I’ll have a burger after – the odds just aren’t with me.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
We Fit?… hardly…
Let me just start by saying, that thing will kick your ass in ways you can’t even begin to imagine!
I went down to Costco this morning to buy my Wii Fit – only to find that the truck was late… dammit… so I went home. I had a great phone interview with D-Link. Maybe things will work out there. They should, considering my 6+ years in networking. Anyway, we’ll see.
After, I gave Costco a call and – they had it! The Wii Fits (Feet?) Came In!
Of course, I dashed on down there, and bought it. (My $73 Costco rebate took care of most of the $79.99 charge.)
Setting it up was kind of a bitch, mostly because their documentation is WRONG! The book says to sync the Board before starting the game – little did I know that the game walks you through the syncing process… stupid book…
Once I got it up and running, though, I was amazed.
First, let’s get this out of the way. Am I OBESE? You bet! But the funny thing was that it set my Wii Age (which I’m guessing is your physical age determined by the Board) at 42, which for those counting is my chronological age, too. So, maybe there’s some consolation… perhaps.
The thing is a TON of fun. Once I got started, I tried some Yoga, some Strength Training, some Aerobics, and Some Balance Exercises - a little of everything. After 10 minutes, I was sweating! I defy anyone to do the Hoola Hoop exercise without sweating and/or laughing! It’s a blast!
But here’s a tip – wash your feet first! They suggest you use it with bare feet and mine, after walking around the house for a while, left some marks on the Board. Now, Vicky’s never going to use it unless I clean the thing.
But first, some more Yoga!
I went down to Costco this morning to buy my Wii Fit – only to find that the truck was late… dammit… so I went home. I had a great phone interview with D-Link. Maybe things will work out there. They should, considering my 6+ years in networking. Anyway, we’ll see.
After, I gave Costco a call and – they had it! The Wii Fits (Feet?) Came In!
Of course, I dashed on down there, and bought it. (My $73 Costco rebate took care of most of the $79.99 charge.)
Setting it up was kind of a bitch, mostly because their documentation is WRONG! The book says to sync the Board before starting the game – little did I know that the game walks you through the syncing process… stupid book…
Once I got it up and running, though, I was amazed.
First, let’s get this out of the way. Am I OBESE? You bet! But the funny thing was that it set my Wii Age (which I’m guessing is your physical age determined by the Board) at 42, which for those counting is my chronological age, too. So, maybe there’s some consolation… perhaps.
The thing is a TON of fun. Once I got started, I tried some Yoga, some Strength Training, some Aerobics, and Some Balance Exercises - a little of everything. After 10 minutes, I was sweating! I defy anyone to do the Hoola Hoop exercise without sweating and/or laughing! It’s a blast!
But here’s a tip – wash your feet first! They suggest you use it with bare feet and mine, after walking around the house for a while, left some marks on the Board. Now, Vicky’s never going to use it unless I clean the thing.
But first, some more Yoga!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I see a haircut in my future...
"You look like David Cassidy!" Vicky told me, and I think it was her enthusiasm that made it even worse.
It wasn't the first time I'd started to grow my hair long and ended up hearing that.
A fat David Cassidy... yep, even losing weight won't help that. Short hair, here I come!
It wasn't the first time I'd started to grow my hair long and ended up hearing that.
A fat David Cassidy... yep, even losing weight won't help that. Short hair, here I come!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Want it. Want it. Want it....
Wii Fit comes out today... not for me, mind you. I'm waiting for the release at Costco. Being out of work, I have to rely on more creative methods of buying, such as using the rebate check we got from Costco! But Costco won't have Wii Fit for another week or so... sob!
In the meantime, for all those who purchase Wii Fit, please know I am intensely jealous. You get to jump around in your house like idiots, losing weight the Nintendo weigh... yes, it's silly and goofy and nerdy. Hello. My name's Ken.
In the meantime, for all those who purchase Wii Fit, please know I am intensely jealous. You get to jump around in your house like idiots, losing weight the Nintendo weigh... yes, it's silly and goofy and nerdy. Hello. My name's Ken.
My gay marriage question for Christian whackadoddles…
Now that gay marriage has been made legal in California (and, by the way, even if it is overturned: HA HA) and you Christian nutbars are getting your crosses up your asses (which would seem to make this ironic), I have a question.
I know that in your minds Jesus was all about denying basic, human rights to people, but it still bears asking. How many gay marriages have to occur before all the straight people who are married start fucking animals or puking frogs or turn into primordial slime or whatever it is you people think will happen? How many? Five gay marriages? Fifty? I mean, now that you can’t stop it from happening completely, where are you setting the imaginarily fucked-up bar to complete Armageddon, you intolerant, close-minded, sick mother fuckers?
I know that in your minds Jesus was all about denying basic, human rights to people, but it still bears asking. How many gay marriages have to occur before all the straight people who are married start fucking animals or puking frogs or turn into primordial slime or whatever it is you people think will happen? How many? Five gay marriages? Fifty? I mean, now that you can’t stop it from happening completely, where are you setting the imaginarily fucked-up bar to complete Armageddon, you intolerant, close-minded, sick mother fuckers?
Sunday, May 18, 2008
So, I went to the gym this morning...
But I took Vicky's car. After all, I wasn't going to let some crazed insomniac behind the wheel of my car!
Lots of time to think…
It’s just after 2:30 am and I’m wide awake. God, how I hate insomnia. I’m not even sleepy. Tired? Sure. I didn’t sleep but a couple of hours yesterday morning. But nothing’s telling me to close my eyes. Instead, I keep thinking.
And I can’t stop.
I’ve got a couple of things on my mind this morning so I’m also posting another thought over on My Side. (Hey, I’ve got the time, you know?) Both come down to the choices we make and the effects they have.
I feel compelled to apologize to Vicky for being out of work. She reminds me that it’s not my fault and that’s true; Allied Schools laid a bunch of people off in a massive reorg. But that’s not why I’m apologizing.
I can’t help but think about my choices in the past few years. I worked at Linksys for about five and a half years and left because the people were not very nice and I couldn’t get any kind of career growth no matter what I did. I was offered and accepted a job at a place called IMC, not realizing that things would be 2000% worse there and that I’d be fired (spontaneously, injudiciously, and inexplicably) one month after getting a sizable raise. It took six months to find my job at Allied Schools and I really liked it. I felt as though I was doing something worthwhile. I felt fulfilled. It was nice.
Now, of course, I’m toast. I know that being unemployed is not entirely my fault but I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had I stayed at Linksys. I might be unhappy – but I’d be unhappily employed!
Dammit.
And I can’t stop.
I’ve got a couple of things on my mind this morning so I’m also posting another thought over on My Side. (Hey, I’ve got the time, you know?) Both come down to the choices we make and the effects they have.
I feel compelled to apologize to Vicky for being out of work. She reminds me that it’s not my fault and that’s true; Allied Schools laid a bunch of people off in a massive reorg. But that’s not why I’m apologizing.
I can’t help but think about my choices in the past few years. I worked at Linksys for about five and a half years and left because the people were not very nice and I couldn’t get any kind of career growth no matter what I did. I was offered and accepted a job at a place called IMC, not realizing that things would be 2000% worse there and that I’d be fired (spontaneously, injudiciously, and inexplicably) one month after getting a sizable raise. It took six months to find my job at Allied Schools and I really liked it. I felt as though I was doing something worthwhile. I felt fulfilled. It was nice.
Now, of course, I’m toast. I know that being unemployed is not entirely my fault but I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had I stayed at Linksys. I might be unhappy – but I’d be unhappily employed!
Dammit.
Friday, May 16, 2008
I’ll have a big shit sandwich with gravy… made of shit…
So, I didn’t get the job.
To make it worse, I was told what a great candidate I was and how I was such a close second choice and how they wish they had two positions and how – will you shut the hell up already?! Seriously, the job market is as empty as… well, my ability to write similes at the moment; I need a job! It’s like those rejection letters I get that read, “Loved your book. Thought it was amazing! Sorry, we can’t take another client.”
With school out, I thought I’d get back to some writing but I forgot how difficult it is to write in this situation. You’re too filled with dread to think of anything clever. Whenever I get close to being relaxed or enjoying myself, I become filled with guilt (don’t ask me why, the layoff was the result of the housing market, not me) and feel like I’m not doing enough, so I look through job sites that I already scoped several times that day… dammit.
… sigh.
Nothing else to say, really. This is just fucking sad.
To make it worse, I was told what a great candidate I was and how I was such a close second choice and how they wish they had two positions and how – will you shut the hell up already?! Seriously, the job market is as empty as… well, my ability to write similes at the moment; I need a job! It’s like those rejection letters I get that read, “Loved your book. Thought it was amazing! Sorry, we can’t take another client.”
With school out, I thought I’d get back to some writing but I forgot how difficult it is to write in this situation. You’re too filled with dread to think of anything clever. Whenever I get close to being relaxed or enjoying myself, I become filled with guilt (don’t ask me why, the layoff was the result of the housing market, not me) and feel like I’m not doing enough, so I look through job sites that I already scoped several times that day… dammit.
… sigh.
Nothing else to say, really. This is just fucking sad.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The magic of the morning smoke…
Back when I drank with more regularity than I do now (or have for some time) and when I used to smoke, nothing met me with more enjoyment and dread than the morning smoke. Both, you ask? Yes, both. Because after you wake up with a hangover, the last thing you want to do is put more toxins in your body… but as a smoker, well, you really want to put more toxins in your body.
I was reminded of this today. Vicky and I were both dying in bed and Suki was dying on the floor, because she desperately had to go outside. I normally take her out around 8am but it was approaching 9:30. So, she was whining, scratching, doing anything to get our attention. Finally, I got up – because Vicky was feeling as bad as me and hers was not self-inflicted. How bad was I? Bad enough to remind me that getting that drunk is just plain stupid. It felt good in a “will someone please kill me” kind of way.
Downstairs, Suki and I went, and then outside. Walking actually helped me a little bit and I was starting to enjoy the morning – in so much as you can enjoy a morning while dragging your stomach five yards behind you – when around the corner came a smoker. This guy was making enormously puffy clouds behind him, smoking with the fervor of, say, a smoker who hadn’t had one all night because he was asleep. And I walked right into a cloud.
To say that I immediately wanted to through up would be an understatement.
To say that I was intensely jealous would be confusing to you non-smokers.
But the thing is, I was also relieved that the cigarette (and smoker attached) was gone and I could return to inhaling fresh air again… or what passes for it in southern California.
I was reminded of this today. Vicky and I were both dying in bed and Suki was dying on the floor, because she desperately had to go outside. I normally take her out around 8am but it was approaching 9:30. So, she was whining, scratching, doing anything to get our attention. Finally, I got up – because Vicky was feeling as bad as me and hers was not self-inflicted. How bad was I? Bad enough to remind me that getting that drunk is just plain stupid. It felt good in a “will someone please kill me” kind of way.
Downstairs, Suki and I went, and then outside. Walking actually helped me a little bit and I was starting to enjoy the morning – in so much as you can enjoy a morning while dragging your stomach five yards behind you – when around the corner came a smoker. This guy was making enormously puffy clouds behind him, smoking with the fervor of, say, a smoker who hadn’t had one all night because he was asleep. And I walked right into a cloud.
To say that I immediately wanted to through up would be an understatement.
To say that I was intensely jealous would be confusing to you non-smokers.
But the thing is, I was also relieved that the cigarette (and smoker attached) was gone and I could return to inhaling fresh air again… or what passes for it in southern California.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Retard Economics...
I just have to throw this out there. Why is it that as gas prices go higher and higher there are more and more of those massive, "2nd home" SUVs parked in my neighborhood?
Thursday, May 08, 2008
That's some serious chili...
So... what's it mean when you go to the gym and your sweat smells... well... just like chili?
I gotta make me some more of that!
By the way, the recipe I posted may turn out a bit thick. It did with us. Next time I make it, I'll probably cut a pound of ground beef. Just a thought.
I gotta make me some more of that!
By the way, the recipe I posted may turn out a bit thick. It did with us. Next time I make it, I'll probably cut a pound of ground beef. Just a thought.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Five minutes you should watch...
Obama is addressing people's concerns and giving them hope without pandering or dishonesty, which so far have been the tools his opponents have tried to use against him.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Chili Aftermath...
Oh my! Huge thanks to the folks at I'm Just Saying (see link to the right) for posting this. I've watched it three times and I'm just dying. It reminds me of what happened after the chili. (See recipe below!)
Monday, May 05, 2008
Boj… Boj… Boj… something’s amiss…
I haven’t mentioned the job search in a while… mostly because the job search sucks a large ass… a large “post chili” ass, if you get my meaning…
In the last couple of weeks, the well has dried up and the jobs I keeping finding are ones I’ve already applied for. As you can probably imagine, that has me a little… nervous…
There is news to report. For the past couple of weeks, I have been working as a contract employee for a small web design company, writing web copy. This might sound good, until you hear how hesitant this guy is to actually PAY you for your work. Paychecks are late and the Internet(s) are littered with complaints from other people who never got paid. So, I’m wrapping that up and hoping I get all my money… ugh…
Last week, I had a really good interview with Epicor, a business software company. I’d be going back to tech writing but, with the way this economy is spastic like a 95 year old orgasming, I’ll take it. I say the interview was good but it wasn’t without its bumps. The woman I was interviewing with seemed to think it was her job to discourage me as best she could, I suppose to make sure I wanted it enough. She kept saying “You don’t want this. You don’t want this.” And I had to enthusiastically respond, “Yes, I do want it! I want it like a blowjob after a long bike ride!”… with the… you know… bicycle references. And I’ll stop at two sex references…
Things just aren’t looking great. And, as you can imagine, this puts Vicky in the uncomfortable position of having to say, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine… ONCE YOU FIND A JOB YOU… I mean, we’ll be fine…”
Two months into unemployment, and I can’t help remember that the last time went right down to the wire. Good times!
In the last couple of weeks, the well has dried up and the jobs I keeping finding are ones I’ve already applied for. As you can probably imagine, that has me a little… nervous…
There is news to report. For the past couple of weeks, I have been working as a contract employee for a small web design company, writing web copy. This might sound good, until you hear how hesitant this guy is to actually PAY you for your work. Paychecks are late and the Internet(s) are littered with complaints from other people who never got paid. So, I’m wrapping that up and hoping I get all my money… ugh…
Last week, I had a really good interview with Epicor, a business software company. I’d be going back to tech writing but, with the way this economy is spastic like a 95 year old orgasming, I’ll take it. I say the interview was good but it wasn’t without its bumps. The woman I was interviewing with seemed to think it was her job to discourage me as best she could, I suppose to make sure I wanted it enough. She kept saying “You don’t want this. You don’t want this.” And I had to enthusiastically respond, “Yes, I do want it! I want it like a blowjob after a long bike ride!”… with the… you know… bicycle references. And I’ll stop at two sex references…
Things just aren’t looking great. And, as you can imagine, this puts Vicky in the uncomfortable position of having to say, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine… ONCE YOU FIND A JOB YOU… I mean, we’ll be fine…”
Two months into unemployment, and I can’t help remember that the last time went right down to the wire. Good times!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
It's Chili in here!...
This is what happens when you think you've lost your chili recipe and hanker for something more substantial than the stuff from a can. Enjoy!
Ken’s Chili
Cooking time: 5-6 hours
Serves: So many you should probably half this thing!
2/3 lb. Red beans
2/3 lb black beans
1 lb bacon
1 lb chorizo
1 lb andouille sausage
2 lbs ground beef
3 lbs onion
2 bell peppers
2 poblano peppers
4 jalapeno peppers
4-6 cloves of garlic
12 oz “Homemade Chili sauce” or substitute (eg. Ketchup)
3 15oz cans of tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
1 cup of sun dried tomatoes
1 cup water/chicken broth
1 tablespoon black pepper
3 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon cumin
3 tablespoons “essence” (You have the recipe, right?)
as many hits of Tabasco as you need
This recipe was cobbled together as I lost my old recipe many years ago. (Many, many years ago.) And I can't remember what I did with my new recipe. (I’m old.)
Start the night before by soaking your beans. Some people say you don’t have to but what’s the deal? It takes five minutes. Just put them in a bowl full of water and put it somewhere safe from pets, bugs, and alien creatures.
Cooking day begins with bacon – and what better way to begin the day? Cook it up, drain it, and let it cool. Also, grill your peppers – your bells, your poblanos, and your jalapenos. Once they’re cool, peel and seed them and clean them up. Put them aside with your bacon. You’ll have fun with those later.
Begin making the chili by browning your ground beef and andouille sausage. Drain off the fat and put aside. Then, brown the chorizo. I can never really get chorizo to brown but do your best. You’ll want to do this in a really, really large pot – you’re going to be making a lot of chili here. When browning your meat, it’s a good time to add some of that essence. Once that’s browned, add the onions. Take your time on a low, even heat to wilt down your onions. Once that’s done, add your beef and andouille sausage to the pot.
At this point, you’ll have big pot of seasoned meat and onions. You could start making meat burritos but let’s continue making chili. Add your canned tomatoes – I like to take a hand mixer to puree the suckers a bit – along with your tomato paste. If you can get ahold of one of those little jars of “Homemade Chili Sauce” that comes in a little 12 ounce jar, good for you! Empty that into the chili. If you can’t, ketchup is one substitute… but it doesn’t come close. Also add your chicken broth now (or water if you don’t have broth).
Things are getting a bit soupy so add your beans - making sure to toss your reserve “bean water” first. Also, toss in your garlic. I like lots of garlic so I probably exceeded the six cloves. That’s just me.
Now, pull out your bacon (watch it!), peppers, and sun dried tomatoes. With your favorite cooking sheers, you can just clip these up into little pieces over the pot! Finish off with the black pepper (I like to use a coarse ground for long simmers), red pepper flakes, chili powder, cumin, and whatever essence you have left. This is going to make things a bit spicy so you might want to add half now and half later. Me? I put in WAY MORE!
Bring this to a good boil, then let it simmer. You’ll want to cook this for at least 5 hours, more if you can arrange it. Give the beans time to cook. Also the longer you let something like this cook, the better it gets.
Serve with cheddar cheese, sour cream, chips, whatever, and eat!
Ken’s Chili
Cooking time: 5-6 hours
Serves: So many you should probably half this thing!
2/3 lb. Red beans
2/3 lb black beans
1 lb bacon
1 lb chorizo
1 lb andouille sausage
2 lbs ground beef
3 lbs onion
2 bell peppers
2 poblano peppers
4 jalapeno peppers
4-6 cloves of garlic
12 oz “Homemade Chili sauce” or substitute (eg. Ketchup)
3 15oz cans of tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
1 cup of sun dried tomatoes
1 cup water/chicken broth
1 tablespoon black pepper
3 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon cumin
3 tablespoons “essence” (You have the recipe, right?)
as many hits of Tabasco as you need
This recipe was cobbled together as I lost my old recipe many years ago. (Many, many years ago.) And I can't remember what I did with my new recipe. (I’m old.)
Start the night before by soaking your beans. Some people say you don’t have to but what’s the deal? It takes five minutes. Just put them in a bowl full of water and put it somewhere safe from pets, bugs, and alien creatures.
Cooking day begins with bacon – and what better way to begin the day? Cook it up, drain it, and let it cool. Also, grill your peppers – your bells, your poblanos, and your jalapenos. Once they’re cool, peel and seed them and clean them up. Put them aside with your bacon. You’ll have fun with those later.
Begin making the chili by browning your ground beef and andouille sausage. Drain off the fat and put aside. Then, brown the chorizo. I can never really get chorizo to brown but do your best. You’ll want to do this in a really, really large pot – you’re going to be making a lot of chili here. When browning your meat, it’s a good time to add some of that essence. Once that’s browned, add the onions. Take your time on a low, even heat to wilt down your onions. Once that’s done, add your beef and andouille sausage to the pot.
At this point, you’ll have big pot of seasoned meat and onions. You could start making meat burritos but let’s continue making chili. Add your canned tomatoes – I like to take a hand mixer to puree the suckers a bit – along with your tomato paste. If you can get ahold of one of those little jars of “Homemade Chili Sauce” that comes in a little 12 ounce jar, good for you! Empty that into the chili. If you can’t, ketchup is one substitute… but it doesn’t come close. Also add your chicken broth now (or water if you don’t have broth).
Things are getting a bit soupy so add your beans - making sure to toss your reserve “bean water” first. Also, toss in your garlic. I like lots of garlic so I probably exceeded the six cloves. That’s just me.
Now, pull out your bacon (watch it!), peppers, and sun dried tomatoes. With your favorite cooking sheers, you can just clip these up into little pieces over the pot! Finish off with the black pepper (I like to use a coarse ground for long simmers), red pepper flakes, chili powder, cumin, and whatever essence you have left. This is going to make things a bit spicy so you might want to add half now and half later. Me? I put in WAY MORE!
Bring this to a good boil, then let it simmer. You’ll want to cook this for at least 5 hours, more if you can arrange it. Give the beans time to cook. Also the longer you let something like this cook, the better it gets.
Serve with cheddar cheese, sour cream, chips, whatever, and eat!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
... and Ted and Alice...
Sometimes I hear some movie news I just can't keep to myself.
This movie may not have the best trailer ever - but what can you do? It's an indie flick. - but I loved the name the way love a fine wine you just drank 5 bottles of:
Bonnie & Clyde vs. Dracula!
This movie may not have the best trailer ever - but what can you do? It's an indie flick. - but I loved the name the way love a fine wine you just drank 5 bottles of:
Bonnie & Clyde vs. Dracula!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Cigarettes and Tacos…
Just a quick programming note: Today I hit 4 months without a cigarette. That’s 1/3 of a year! Pretty cool.
Anybody got a smoke?
Tonight, Vicky and I tried out a new, local, Mexican restaurant. Vicky’s had a very stressful week so I’ve been trying to cut her a little slack. She asked the waiter, pointing to our empty bowl of chips, “Could we get some more tacos? Um, I mean – tacos? Um, what are these things again?”
I couldn’t answer. I was on the floor laughing.
Anybody got a smoke?
Tonight, Vicky and I tried out a new, local, Mexican restaurant. Vicky’s had a very stressful week so I’ve been trying to cut her a little slack. She asked the waiter, pointing to our empty bowl of chips, “Could we get some more tacos? Um, I mean – tacos? Um, what are these things again?”
I couldn’t answer. I was on the floor laughing.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
What the hell am I doing?…
I’m really disappointed by my career today… mostly because I don’t seem to have one.
I started a contract job yesterday, working for a guy who is trying to put together a web marketing company. He made it sound like I would be doing marketing work – putting together packages with web sites, partnerships, collateral, and the like – but it turns out I’m writing for him. To my amazement and sadness, I have discovered something awful – I hate writing.
Let me go back to the beginning.
I worked at Linksys for half a decade – okay, suffered at Linksys is more like it but I had half a decade under my belt. Then, IMC came along and said, “We can pay you more and give you more room for growth.” Okay, I said, and I took the job. Within 9 months, I was out. I was unemployed for six months. Then, Allied Schools, my previous employer, hired me on as an Assistant Marketing Manager, where I put together websites, created partnerships, managed several brands, created new collateral, and it turned out I really, really liked it. I enjoyed my job.
Then, they laid me off.
Fuck.
So, now, here I am working temp for this new guy. I started at $25/hour but then he went down to $20. Today I find out that they have a history of not paying their employees. The writing I’ve done is being changed to fit the owner, the guy who actually said to me today, “I can’t write worth a damn but can’t we just list the SEO words on the page? People don’t have to read it.” And then, I remembered why I hate writing – because those who can’t understand the least why they shouldn’t.
I know I’m at the whim of a cruel economy… but damn it sucks…
Monday, April 21, 2008
I'm gonna eat some worms... or visa versa...
You’re wondering what a middle-aged philosopher does when he’s mind-breaking treatise on success fails to find a market, aren’t you? Hey, it’s not like I didn’t see that coming. Like I told Vicky at the time, I can either write the book that changes the world and no one will buy or I can write a really marketable horror novel. Vicky told me to write Climbing Maya, which I did.
Wormfood came after.
This week, I started sending out Wormfood. It’s quick. It’s easy. It’s got everything from blood and gore to fucking and sucking, from children in peril and tough ex-cops to love on the rocks and young people finding love – like I said, everything.
The bitch is finding someone to read it.
So, here’s a bite of the letter that’s going out to spread the word. Let’s hope it catches some eyes:
Wormfood is a George Romero zombie flick on steroids. It’s the book Night of the Living Dead dreamed of being. When a worm infestation turns everyone on an island resort into feral, sex-crazed animals that feast on human flesh, how can a family escape from becoming Wormfood?
Wormfood is 77,000 words in length, packed with sex and gore and twists that leave you unable to put it down. It is the ultimate book of the dead for the adult horror market.
Wormfood came after.
This week, I started sending out Wormfood. It’s quick. It’s easy. It’s got everything from blood and gore to fucking and sucking, from children in peril and tough ex-cops to love on the rocks and young people finding love – like I said, everything.
The bitch is finding someone to read it.
So, here’s a bite of the letter that’s going out to spread the word. Let’s hope it catches some eyes:
Wormfood is a George Romero zombie flick on steroids. It’s the book Night of the Living Dead dreamed of being. When a worm infestation turns everyone on an island resort into feral, sex-crazed animals that feast on human flesh, how can a family escape from becoming Wormfood?
Wormfood is 77,000 words in length, packed with sex and gore and twists that leave you unable to put it down. It is the ultimate book of the dead for the adult horror market.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
"Crotch Itch, the Movie"... the movie...
Apparently, there's a movie coming out called "Blindness", wherein 90% of humanity goes blind.
... which apparently really fucks with Julianne Moore...
... why isn't clear. I'm probably not seeing something. WAIT!
Seriously, if they want someone to just phone it in, I'd be happy to. Honestly. You want Lowest Common Denominator...? And this isn't even Lowest Common Denominator! I mean, what person says to himself, "I want to watch a bunch of blind people!"
... but I guess it helps explain why I'm not published, huh?
... which apparently really fucks with Julianne Moore...
... why isn't clear. I'm probably not seeing something. WAIT!
Seriously, if they want someone to just phone it in, I'd be happy to. Honestly. You want Lowest Common Denominator...? And this isn't even Lowest Common Denominator! I mean, what person says to himself, "I want to watch a bunch of blind people!"
... but I guess it helps explain why I'm not published, huh?
Outside… without my keys…
So, I was washing my car today… normally, I’m not totally anal retentive about my car. But, I figure when the bird shit accumulates to the point where people may think the design is intentional, it’s time to wash!
So, I went out today and began washing. Washing. Washing. I only used a little water, trying not to be an eco-idiot. When the car was ready to towel it off, I put down my rag and turned to go inside and get the towel.
Only one problem, though.
The door was locked.
Uh oh.
I didn’t even have to check to know: no keys.
I checked anyway.
Nope.
Shit.
As it happened, I did have my phone with me – both my cell and my cordless, home phone. I had brought them just in case I received a call about a job.
… I didn’t. Goddammit…
So, I called Vicky. Fortunately, Vicky works relatively close and she was willing to come home and let me in… if just barely…
Which gave me 20 minutes to… do… nothing.
Next time you really want to torture yourself. Stand outside for 20 minutes. You can’t go for a walk – at least, I couldn’t because I didn’t want to miss any calls I might have received about jobs… which never came. Goddammit…
You see, I tend to fill my day with distractions, keep myself busy, because the last thing I want to think about is out I’m unemployed, with no education, and how I’ve amounted to – if not nothing – at least the smallest calculable sum imaginable… that’s the last thing I want to think about…
… and so, that’s what I spent my time thinking about.
I’ve decided I’m never washing my car again. If anyone asks, I’ll call the pattern “Dalmation”.
So, I went out today and began washing. Washing. Washing. I only used a little water, trying not to be an eco-idiot. When the car was ready to towel it off, I put down my rag and turned to go inside and get the towel.
Only one problem, though.
The door was locked.
Uh oh.
I didn’t even have to check to know: no keys.
I checked anyway.
Nope.
Shit.
As it happened, I did have my phone with me – both my cell and my cordless, home phone. I had brought them just in case I received a call about a job.
… I didn’t. Goddammit…
So, I called Vicky. Fortunately, Vicky works relatively close and she was willing to come home and let me in… if just barely…
Which gave me 20 minutes to… do… nothing.
Next time you really want to torture yourself. Stand outside for 20 minutes. You can’t go for a walk – at least, I couldn’t because I didn’t want to miss any calls I might have received about jobs… which never came. Goddammit…
You see, I tend to fill my day with distractions, keep myself busy, because the last thing I want to think about is out I’m unemployed, with no education, and how I’ve amounted to – if not nothing – at least the smallest calculable sum imaginable… that’s the last thing I want to think about…
… and so, that’s what I spent my time thinking about.
I’ve decided I’m never washing my car again. If anyone asks, I’ll call the pattern “Dalmation”.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Where we’ve been…
I’m going to be completely honest with you. Being out of work is killing my motivation to “blog”. So, my apologies if my silence is inconvenient.
That said, I’ve been dying to tell you about our weekend. Vicky and I drove up to Cambria this past weekend and, not just because we stayed in a beautiful Victorian home near the beach, it quickly became one of my favorite places. We had a fire every night in a big fireplace – sure, it was gas but hey – we hiked in the beautiful (if FUCKING COLD) Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, and we hit the neatest, little downtown I’ve had the fortune of enjoying in some time.
It’s our day walking around downtown that I’d like to tell you about today. It was a hoot. Not only was the weather exceptional – a bit cool but sunny and surrounded by greenery – we found two shops that just killed me.
The first shop will remain nameless to protect my favorite towny of the day. She ran a little furniture store with some absolutely gorgeous furniture. As Vicky and I looked, she came up next to me to let Vicky know, “I absolutely LOVE your hair!” Of course, this got Vicky talking. Vicky’s new neapolitan (meant for the ice cream not Naples) hair is something she and everyone around her has enjoyed – and she loves talking about it! I didn’t quite listen because something had caught my nose. I leaned a bit towards the shopkeep and sniffed… marijuana! She was stoned! I loved it! No wonder she was so friendly and happy; nobody gets that from selling furniture!
I always root for the rebels and find it interesting how pot often brings out our best qualities, while we are propagandized into believing it comes from Satan’s garden. Good for you, shopkeep!
My other favorite shop does not have a website I can find, which is too bad. I would love to turn you all onto it. It’s called Dirty Laundry, and it is in Cambria, right on Main Street. It sells the coolest, funniest nick-nacks anywhere. The guy who ran the store was very nice to us. And we bought a couple of things… of course. My favorite was the Shish-Kabob Ice Cubes. They come out of your freezer as little shish-kabobs and you stir your drink with them – too cool! I told Vicky that if I were employed, I would have bought a whole lot more!
So, we were very pleased and had a very good time.
On the way back, we hit Highway 46, just about the prettiest stretch of road I’ve seen in a while. I hope we can go back again very soon… and let’s hope I’m employed when we do!
That said, I’ve been dying to tell you about our weekend. Vicky and I drove up to Cambria this past weekend and, not just because we stayed in a beautiful Victorian home near the beach, it quickly became one of my favorite places. We had a fire every night in a big fireplace – sure, it was gas but hey – we hiked in the beautiful (if FUCKING COLD) Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, and we hit the neatest, little downtown I’ve had the fortune of enjoying in some time.
It’s our day walking around downtown that I’d like to tell you about today. It was a hoot. Not only was the weather exceptional – a bit cool but sunny and surrounded by greenery – we found two shops that just killed me.
The first shop will remain nameless to protect my favorite towny of the day. She ran a little furniture store with some absolutely gorgeous furniture. As Vicky and I looked, she came up next to me to let Vicky know, “I absolutely LOVE your hair!” Of course, this got Vicky talking. Vicky’s new neapolitan (meant for the ice cream not Naples) hair is something she and everyone around her has enjoyed – and she loves talking about it! I didn’t quite listen because something had caught my nose. I leaned a bit towards the shopkeep and sniffed… marijuana! She was stoned! I loved it! No wonder she was so friendly and happy; nobody gets that from selling furniture!
I always root for the rebels and find it interesting how pot often brings out our best qualities, while we are propagandized into believing it comes from Satan’s garden. Good for you, shopkeep!
My other favorite shop does not have a website I can find, which is too bad. I would love to turn you all onto it. It’s called Dirty Laundry, and it is in Cambria, right on Main Street. It sells the coolest, funniest nick-nacks anywhere. The guy who ran the store was very nice to us. And we bought a couple of things… of course. My favorite was the Shish-Kabob Ice Cubes. They come out of your freezer as little shish-kabobs and you stir your drink with them – too cool! I told Vicky that if I were employed, I would have bought a whole lot more!
So, we were very pleased and had a very good time.
On the way back, we hit Highway 46, just about the prettiest stretch of road I’ve seen in a while. I hope we can go back again very soon… and let’s hope I’m employed when we do!
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Wait until the ride has come to a complete stop…
Right about now, that’s what my life is feeling like. I haven’t written anything on the blog in a while because… well… there’s just nothing to write! But I figured I should write something, so…
How have I been spending my time? Keith figured I was playing lots of WoW. I wish he was right. (Though, in truth, I’ve played a little…) From the start, I have made it my goal to apply to 10 jobs and send out 10 book submissions each week. That alone keeps me pretty busy. In addition, we’re in mid-term season and I’m working on a take-home test, writing about Plato’s Republic. Jealous, yet?
Once I get mid-terms out of the way, it’s back to the writing. I’m planning on getting Grand Canyon on Kindle and then starting work on submissions for Wormfood. Both will take some work. Only then will I be able to get back to the new play, which I haven’t touched in a couple of weeks.
I guess you can say I’ve been keeping busy.
I had a painful job interview the other day. It was for a tech writer, something I used to do. Well, I was in for a double dose of reality/pain/whatever at this one. Seems I’m not really a writer any more because I was a manager and I betrayed some sacred trust by not sticking to technical writing. I don’t know the right software anymore. I’m too out of practice to be any good. And I haven’t even been following trends in the career… ugh. For an hour, my mind was split between “How do I get these people to like me?” and “Dude, there’s more to life than tech writing. Seriously!”
The thing is, I am not one to think of my career as my life. Never have been. And when it comes to something as boring as tech writing, well, I try to forget I ever did it! Being a marketing manager was far more cool… and far less remotely possible I’ll find a job doing it again. The problem is there are a lot of low level jobs out there but the higher level ones are few and far between.
It sucks.
So, things ain’t great at Casa La Salle. And just because we’ve weathered this storm once before doesn’t make it a picnic this time.
How have I been spending my time? Keith figured I was playing lots of WoW. I wish he was right. (Though, in truth, I’ve played a little…) From the start, I have made it my goal to apply to 10 jobs and send out 10 book submissions each week. That alone keeps me pretty busy. In addition, we’re in mid-term season and I’m working on a take-home test, writing about Plato’s Republic. Jealous, yet?
Once I get mid-terms out of the way, it’s back to the writing. I’m planning on getting Grand Canyon on Kindle and then starting work on submissions for Wormfood. Both will take some work. Only then will I be able to get back to the new play, which I haven’t touched in a couple of weeks.
I guess you can say I’ve been keeping busy.
I had a painful job interview the other day. It was for a tech writer, something I used to do. Well, I was in for a double dose of reality/pain/whatever at this one. Seems I’m not really a writer any more because I was a manager and I betrayed some sacred trust by not sticking to technical writing. I don’t know the right software anymore. I’m too out of practice to be any good. And I haven’t even been following trends in the career… ugh. For an hour, my mind was split between “How do I get these people to like me?” and “Dude, there’s more to life than tech writing. Seriously!”
The thing is, I am not one to think of my career as my life. Never have been. And when it comes to something as boring as tech writing, well, I try to forget I ever did it! Being a marketing manager was far more cool… and far less remotely possible I’ll find a job doing it again. The problem is there are a lot of low level jobs out there but the higher level ones are few and far between.
It sucks.
So, things ain’t great at Casa La Salle. And just because we’ve weathered this storm once before doesn’t make it a picnic this time.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Lights Out, uh huh…
That’s right. Tonight is Earth Hour. Can you turn off your lights for just one little hour? Sure you can!
Vicky and I are doing it. After all, it’s pretty damned easy and will make a difference. Just turn off your lights (and other non-essentials) at 8pm tonight. (Okay, I’m not sure if that’s Pacific or Eastern or whatever – JUST DO IT!)
I don’t know what we’ll do but we do have a baby to work on making…
Vicky and I are doing it. After all, it’s pretty damned easy and will make a difference. Just turn off your lights (and other non-essentials) at 8pm tonight. (Okay, I’m not sure if that’s Pacific or Eastern or whatever – JUST DO IT!)
I don’t know what we’ll do but we do have a baby to work on making…
Friday, March 28, 2008
Vampire Society (on sale now)…
It was the book I never thought I’d finish. I started writing Vampire Society shortly before Rosa and I split up. It was supposed to be the book we had always talked about me writing and Rosa and I both liked what we saw…
… then, of course, we split up. And what’s the point of finishing a book, then?
I abandoned it, figuring I’d give up novels and write plays. That was true, for a while.
Until Vicky stepped into the picture. She inspired me to pick myself back up again and continue writing the book, but it wasn’t the same book it had once been. What started out as a manifesto became a book about the nature of love, which is why I ended up calling Vampire Society: A Love Story About Values.
Though my luck finding traditional publication wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, Amazon came along with their new e-reader: Kindle. If you have one (and you should, they’re really neat – he said, pluggingly), you can now purchase the novel that started me writing novels again: Vampire Society.
Vampire Society is a love story that occurs before the backdrop of a society where greed has become a virtue and where ethics have become a vice. Vampire Society is a philosophical novel with a simple message about values that is universal. It is not liberal or conservative, Democratic or Republican. It speaks to the part of us that is looking for something good in a society trying to buy their happiness. With it’s philosophy that the good is not based on selfishness, it is a rebuff of Ayn Rand in a time that needs it the most.
… then, of course, we split up. And what’s the point of finishing a book, then?
I abandoned it, figuring I’d give up novels and write plays. That was true, for a while.
Until Vicky stepped into the picture. She inspired me to pick myself back up again and continue writing the book, but it wasn’t the same book it had once been. What started out as a manifesto became a book about the nature of love, which is why I ended up calling Vampire Society: A Love Story About Values.
Though my luck finding traditional publication wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, Amazon came along with their new e-reader: Kindle. If you have one (and you should, they’re really neat – he said, pluggingly), you can now purchase the novel that started me writing novels again: Vampire Society.
Vampire Society is a love story that occurs before the backdrop of a society where greed has become a virtue and where ethics have become a vice. Vampire Society is a philosophical novel with a simple message about values that is universal. It is not liberal or conservative, Democratic or Republican. It speaks to the part of us that is looking for something good in a society trying to buy their happiness. With it’s philosophy that the good is not based on selfishness, it is a rebuff of Ayn Rand in a time that needs it the most.
Vampire Society (on sale now!) …
It was the book I never thought I’d finish. I started writing Vampire Society shortly before Rosa and I split up. It was supposed to be the book we had always talked about me writing and Rosa and I both liked what we saw…
… then, of course, we split up. And what’s the point of finishing a book, then?
I abandoned it, figuring I’d give up novels and write plays. That was true, for a while.
Until Vicky stepped into the picture. She inspired me to pick myself back up again and continue writing the book, but it wasn’t the same book it had once been. What started out as a manifesto became a book about the nature of love, which is why I ended up calling Vampire Society: A Love Story About Values.
Though my luck finding traditional publication wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, Amazon came along with their new e-reader: Kindle. If you have one (and you should, they’re really neat – he said, pluggingly), you can now purchase the novel that started me writing novels again: Vampire Society.
Vampire Society is a love story that occurs before the backdrop of a society where greed has become a virtue and where ethics have become a vice. Vampire Society is a philosophical novel with a simple message about values that is universal. It is not liberal or conservative, Democratic or Republican. It speaks to the part of us that is looking for something good in a society trying to buy their happiness. With it’s philosophy that the good is not based on selfishness, it is a rebuff of Ayn Rand in a time that needs it the most.
… then, of course, we split up. And what’s the point of finishing a book, then?
I abandoned it, figuring I’d give up novels and write plays. That was true, for a while.
Until Vicky stepped into the picture. She inspired me to pick myself back up again and continue writing the book, but it wasn’t the same book it had once been. What started out as a manifesto became a book about the nature of love, which is why I ended up calling Vampire Society: A Love Story About Values.
Though my luck finding traditional publication wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, Amazon came along with their new e-reader: Kindle. If you have one (and you should, they’re really neat – he said, pluggingly), you can now purchase the novel that started me writing novels again: Vampire Society.
Vampire Society is a love story that occurs before the backdrop of a society where greed has become a virtue and where ethics have become a vice. Vampire Society is a philosophical novel with a simple message about values that is universal. It is not liberal or conservative, Democratic or Republican. It speaks to the part of us that is looking for something good in a society trying to buy their happiness. With it’s philosophy that the good is not based on selfishness, it is a rebuff of Ayn Rand in a time that needs it the most.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Here we go again…
If there’s one thing I hate about being unemployed, it’s phone interviews with idiots. Observe, for instance, this call I received for a Technical Writer position. (The job title is key here.)
Employer. Do you have any tech writing experience?
Me. Yes, for instance…
Employer. Do you have any web coding experience?
Me. Excuse me?
Employer. Do you know HTML?
Me. Well, sadly, no. You see, my experience is in writing and...
Employer. What about web page coding?
Me. No. As I said, most of my experience is in writing.
Employer. Coding software?
Me. No.
Employer. Web design?
Me. No.
Employer. Database management?
I kind of wish I could be there when she calls for web designers and asks what their writing experience is.
But I will BET YOU I get called for an interview. The world of unemployment is just fucked up that way.
Employer. Do you have any tech writing experience?
Me. Yes, for instance…
Employer. Do you have any web coding experience?
Me. Excuse me?
Employer. Do you know HTML?
Me. Well, sadly, no. You see, my experience is in writing and...
Employer. What about web page coding?
Me. No. As I said, most of my experience is in writing.
Employer. Coding software?
Me. No.
Employer. Web design?
Me. No.
Employer. Database management?
I kind of wish I could be there when she calls for web designers and asks what their writing experience is.
But I will BET YOU I get called for an interview. The world of unemployment is just fucked up that way.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Timing is everything… except…
Gotta tell you, I hate being out of work.
The idea, just so you know, was that Vicky and I would BOTH be employed when we had our baby. We waited just the right amount of time so we would BOTH get time off to be with the baby. We wanted to make sure everything was right. We timed it just right.
And then, I was laid off.
We’ve since spent nearly every day – or, at least, I have – thinking about what to do next. We’ve discussed it a few times but it always came down to this: Vicky wants a baby. Timing is up to me.
Today, I made a decision on timing.
Fuck timing.
I’ve found the woman I want to have a child with and I can’t afford to wait much longer. So, we’re not going to stop just because of a silly, little thing like unemployment.
Now, I’m sure there are plenty of you out there who think this is a stupid decision… and you wouldn’t be far off.
But, as I said to Vicky, “The worst that could happen is we’ll lose our house and I’ve already lost one, so it’s no big deal.”
In short, you’re not dealing with a man who cares about trifles. I've tried doing everything right up until now. Let's see what happens when we add a little stupidity. (It just might work.)
The idea, just so you know, was that Vicky and I would BOTH be employed when we had our baby. We waited just the right amount of time so we would BOTH get time off to be with the baby. We wanted to make sure everything was right. We timed it just right.
And then, I was laid off.
We’ve since spent nearly every day – or, at least, I have – thinking about what to do next. We’ve discussed it a few times but it always came down to this: Vicky wants a baby. Timing is up to me.
Today, I made a decision on timing.
Fuck timing.
I’ve found the woman I want to have a child with and I can’t afford to wait much longer. So, we’re not going to stop just because of a silly, little thing like unemployment.
Now, I’m sure there are plenty of you out there who think this is a stupid decision… and you wouldn’t be far off.
But, as I said to Vicky, “The worst that could happen is we’ll lose our house and I’ve already lost one, so it’s no big deal.”
In short, you’re not dealing with a man who cares about trifles. I've tried doing everything right up until now. Let's see what happens when we add a little stupidity. (It just might work.)
Saturday, March 15, 2008
These things happen when I’m under stress…
Writing news galore.
I finished final proofs on my zombie book today. This week I’m going to get a couple synopsissies written up and ready it for submission. I don’t exactly know what it feels like to write a best-seller but this one is close. I can’t wait to start getting it out there.
Last Ditch is nearly completed, though I was cut short by getting laid off and all. I’m only about 4-5,000 words away from the end, though – and baby makes 16.
So, what to do next?
You know, the last time I was out of work I was faced with a dilemma. Do I write the book of philosophy that no one will buy or do I write the horror novel that everyone will love? It was a tough call because I really wanted to write the book of philosophy, which later became my book on success.
This time around, I want to write a book about free will. You see, I have a completely new angle on the age-old argument that, I believe, explains it all very well. Sure, no one will ever want to read it and it’ll never sell… but I’m dying to write it.
Then, there’s item number two… not a horror novel… a play.
Stephanie said the other day that at the rate I was going – getting laid off, et al – I’d never get on stage again. She may be right.
So, what if I wrote a play?
I’ve got a Word doc where I’ve been storing my jokes, gags, and one-liners as I get them. It’s 20 pages long. I’ve got plenty of material.
What would the play be about? Being married, something none of my plays ever covered. Trying to be happy. How crazy it makes you to be in love.
This time, it’s no contest. Philosophy is my meat but coming across a comedy about love… well, that’s cake all the way.
Maybe Steph might be wrong. I hope so.
I finished final proofs on my zombie book today. This week I’m going to get a couple synopsissies written up and ready it for submission. I don’t exactly know what it feels like to write a best-seller but this one is close. I can’t wait to start getting it out there.
Last Ditch is nearly completed, though I was cut short by getting laid off and all. I’m only about 4-5,000 words away from the end, though – and baby makes 16.
So, what to do next?
You know, the last time I was out of work I was faced with a dilemma. Do I write the book of philosophy that no one will buy or do I write the horror novel that everyone will love? It was a tough call because I really wanted to write the book of philosophy, which later became my book on success.
This time around, I want to write a book about free will. You see, I have a completely new angle on the age-old argument that, I believe, explains it all very well. Sure, no one will ever want to read it and it’ll never sell… but I’m dying to write it.
Then, there’s item number two… not a horror novel… a play.
Stephanie said the other day that at the rate I was going – getting laid off, et al – I’d never get on stage again. She may be right.
So, what if I wrote a play?
I’ve got a Word doc where I’ve been storing my jokes, gags, and one-liners as I get them. It’s 20 pages long. I’ve got plenty of material.
What would the play be about? Being married, something none of my plays ever covered. Trying to be happy. How crazy it makes you to be in love.
This time, it’s no contest. Philosophy is my meat but coming across a comedy about love… well, that’s cake all the way.
Maybe Steph might be wrong. I hope so.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Picking up from where?…
So, it’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep. Big surprise. I haven’t been sleeping much this week. I’ve been applying for jobs. I’ve been sending books out to agents. I’ve been unknowingly gnawing off my bottom lip until it’s cracked and hurting – but sleep isn’t quite on the menu.
I want nothing more than to buy a pack of smokes and get sloppy drunk… but I’m passing, for now.
A few days ago, I was walking Suki and thinking about how just a year ago I was in this same boat. It took six months to find a job then and I didn’t have a recession to worry about. I also didn’t have a resume split down the middle between management and writing, so it appeared as though I didn’t have enough experience for one and that I was no longer interested in the other. I thought about how unfair all of this was, how rotten things were – and then a bug flew into my mouth and down my throat. I coughed and gagged and the bug went down like nothing you want to experience.
I don’t know what the point here is, as I said it’s one in the morning, but I think this is just the start of things. For five years, I had it easier than I knew at Linksys… now things get tough.
I should probably get some sleep…
I want nothing more than to buy a pack of smokes and get sloppy drunk… but I’m passing, for now.
A few days ago, I was walking Suki and thinking about how just a year ago I was in this same boat. It took six months to find a job then and I didn’t have a recession to worry about. I also didn’t have a resume split down the middle between management and writing, so it appeared as though I didn’t have enough experience for one and that I was no longer interested in the other. I thought about how unfair all of this was, how rotten things were – and then a bug flew into my mouth and down my throat. I coughed and gagged and the bug went down like nothing you want to experience.
I don’t know what the point here is, as I said it’s one in the morning, but I think this is just the start of things. For five years, I had it easier than I knew at Linksys… now things get tough.
I should probably get some sleep…
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
What happens now?…
It’s taken a couple of days for me to get used to this idea.
I’m out of work again. Unemployed. I did nothing wrong. In fact, I was excelling at my job. Everything was going right.
I’ll leave out the whys and wherefores of the whole thing for now – long story short, a dumbass mistake led to massive cutbacks and layoffs – right now, my biggest concern is where do I go from here?
And there’s not a whole lot of places to go. Fortunately, unemployment insurance shouldn’t be an issue since I was laid off and Vicky’s run the numbers and it looks like we should be fine for now. But what do I do?
I’ve been getting this sinking suspicion that, after two jobs in two years, I might not be cut out for the 9-5. Not to mention, after two jobs in two years, I’m not looking all that desirable as an employee. It’s time to think of alternatives.
So, here’s Plan A. It’s time to start investing more time in selling my books, as much time as I spend looking for work. Putting together submissions takes a bit of time and, after two days at it, I can tell you this won’t be easy. But I better do something, this much is sure.
As I was laid off on Friday, I was told that I could be hired back if the economy turns around.
Yeah, I thought that was pretty funny, too.
I’m out of work again. Unemployed. I did nothing wrong. In fact, I was excelling at my job. Everything was going right.
I’ll leave out the whys and wherefores of the whole thing for now – long story short, a dumbass mistake led to massive cutbacks and layoffs – right now, my biggest concern is where do I go from here?
And there’s not a whole lot of places to go. Fortunately, unemployment insurance shouldn’t be an issue since I was laid off and Vicky’s run the numbers and it looks like we should be fine for now. But what do I do?
I’ve been getting this sinking suspicion that, after two jobs in two years, I might not be cut out for the 9-5. Not to mention, after two jobs in two years, I’m not looking all that desirable as an employee. It’s time to think of alternatives.
So, here’s Plan A. It’s time to start investing more time in selling my books, as much time as I spend looking for work. Putting together submissions takes a bit of time and, after two days at it, I can tell you this won’t be easy. But I better do something, this much is sure.
As I was laid off on Friday, I was told that I could be hired back if the economy turns around.
Yeah, I thought that was pretty funny, too.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Yep, you read that right...
I was laid off today. After being employed for one year, I've become a victim of the economy once again.
I'm not really happy about it, as you might guess.
I'm sure I'll have more to say later. Right now, though, I'm just devestated.
I'm not really happy about it, as you might guess.
I'm sure I'll have more to say later. Right now, though, I'm just devestated.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Bargaining against awake…
Does this happen to you?
My alarm went off at 5:17 this morning (I hate even numbers) and I rolled over to turn it off. Before I did, however, even as I reached my hand out, I started to do the math. “Let’s see, Ken. You’re already running late. You have to take a shower, brush your teeth, iron your clothes – you have to fit breakfast in – is there any way we can extend this sleep any further?”
“Hit the snooze bar!”
“I can’t hit the snooze bar. That’s an extra ten minutes. You’ll never be able to fit a shower in or you’ll have to skip breakfast.”
So, I turn off the alarm.
I am in a position somewhere between sleeping on my side and sitting up awake. I’m still trying to decide what to do with my morning.
“You could make a sandwich. That’s portable and it’ll only take a couple of minutes to make.”
“But I can’t eat while I’m driving. I know I’m no good at that.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about how much showering you really need.”
The math grows increasingly complex until I get myself to sit up. I open my eyes. I look at my alarm clock.
I’ve spent five minutes doing math. I’m not even out of bed, yet.
Why is it you’re at your sleepiest when you have to get OUT of bed?
My alarm went off at 5:17 this morning (I hate even numbers) and I rolled over to turn it off. Before I did, however, even as I reached my hand out, I started to do the math. “Let’s see, Ken. You’re already running late. You have to take a shower, brush your teeth, iron your clothes – you have to fit breakfast in – is there any way we can extend this sleep any further?”
“Hit the snooze bar!”
“I can’t hit the snooze bar. That’s an extra ten minutes. You’ll never be able to fit a shower in or you’ll have to skip breakfast.”
So, I turn off the alarm.
I am in a position somewhere between sleeping on my side and sitting up awake. I’m still trying to decide what to do with my morning.
“You could make a sandwich. That’s portable and it’ll only take a couple of minutes to make.”
“But I can’t eat while I’m driving. I know I’m no good at that.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about how much showering you really need.”
The math grows increasingly complex until I get myself to sit up. I open my eyes. I look at my alarm clock.
I’ve spent five minutes doing math. I’m not even out of bed, yet.
Why is it you’re at your sleepiest when you have to get OUT of bed?
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
I am just so wrong…
It’s 2pm and I have an hour left of work… what to do?
I was just reading an interview with Penn (of Him and Teller) and he mentioned how most people are wrong most of the time (actually, he was a bit more forthcoming than that) and that sent little fireworks off in my head.
Here’s the thing: I just wrote a blog about what a fucking genius I am. I came out of the genius closet, so to speak. It was an uncomfortable, if exhilarating, experience…
… So, I figured, what better why to follow that up than to mention the opposite end of that spectrum.
What’s that, you ask? Well, you shouldn’t! Just look at the subject line!
The thing is, smart as I may be, I am still wrong about a great many thing. I have my weaknesses. I have my flaws. I’d go so far as to say I probably have a lot more than most of you folks. But that’s okay. That’s how it works, right? I can’t expect to be smart about a damn thing if I’m not stupid about at least ten… or twenty!
What would they be?
Well, let’s start with dancing. God, I suck!
I’m not great at making friends.
I’m fat, so keeping myself fit isn’t my strongest feature.
I never really mastered the art of small talk so don’t ask me for advice on how not to be socially awkward.
I’m not nearly as judgmental of others as I used to be and, yet, I’m still far too judgmental.
It’s a good thing I know English because language are not… good at things I am… one of them…
Don’t talk to me about sports. Seriously. Save yourself the trouble.
I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide – beyond that math is your problem.
My relationship with three-dimensional space is… somewhat lacking. (i.e. I run into things… pretty damned often… I’ll be thinking of that as I drive home today…)
Drawing, sketching, painting… NOT!
As Vicky will vouch, fashion and style are not working for me. I know three colors: Blue, black, and whatisthatcalled.
Anyway, I could go on and on but I think I’ll spare you. This little exercise, I think, is good for all of us to remember. We all have our gifts and of those we should be proud but none of us should ever forget that we are flawed; that’s what it means to be human.
It’s okay to be wrong but not so much to think that you couldn’t be.
I was just reading an interview with Penn (of Him and Teller) and he mentioned how most people are wrong most of the time (actually, he was a bit more forthcoming than that) and that sent little fireworks off in my head.
Here’s the thing: I just wrote a blog about what a fucking genius I am. I came out of the genius closet, so to speak. It was an uncomfortable, if exhilarating, experience…
… So, I figured, what better why to follow that up than to mention the opposite end of that spectrum.
What’s that, you ask? Well, you shouldn’t! Just look at the subject line!
The thing is, smart as I may be, I am still wrong about a great many thing. I have my weaknesses. I have my flaws. I’d go so far as to say I probably have a lot more than most of you folks. But that’s okay. That’s how it works, right? I can’t expect to be smart about a damn thing if I’m not stupid about at least ten… or twenty!
What would they be?
Well, let’s start with dancing. God, I suck!
I’m not great at making friends.
I’m fat, so keeping myself fit isn’t my strongest feature.
I never really mastered the art of small talk so don’t ask me for advice on how not to be socially awkward.
I’m not nearly as judgmental of others as I used to be and, yet, I’m still far too judgmental.
It’s a good thing I know English because language are not… good at things I am… one of them…
Don’t talk to me about sports. Seriously. Save yourself the trouble.
I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide – beyond that math is your problem.
My relationship with three-dimensional space is… somewhat lacking. (i.e. I run into things… pretty damned often… I’ll be thinking of that as I drive home today…)
Drawing, sketching, painting… NOT!
As Vicky will vouch, fashion and style are not working for me. I know three colors: Blue, black, and whatisthatcalled.
Anyway, I could go on and on but I think I’ll spare you. This little exercise, I think, is good for all of us to remember. We all have our gifts and of those we should be proud but none of us should ever forget that we are flawed; that’s what it means to be human.
It’s okay to be wrong but not so much to think that you couldn’t be.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Not a genius, I just play one…
As many of you know, I am majoring in philosophy at Cal State University Fullerton. It’s not the best college but I can… well, I can’t afford it… but I can not afford it better than I could not afford other colleges…
There’s a lot of hubbub going around about the annual philosophical symposium. It’s not exactly excitement about the symposium; the hubbub is about how little excitement there is. But then, how could you blame anyone for not being excited? The presentations are on personal identity and time travel, philosophical language in ancient Chinese thought, the philosophy of global warming, and the ever-popular and done to fucking death topic: Are we living in a computer simulation. BORING! I mean, let’s face it, how does this apply to anyone? Even the topical idea of global warming is made moribund by not addressing the fact of the matter head-on! And that’s the problem with philosophy in the 21st century… it’s fucking dull. It’s paste served up as an entrée. We’re surrounded by the most mind-rending problems and some asshole decides he wants to do 20 minutes on a bong-hit about The Matrix… “Dude, we’re all like machines!”
Son of a bitch.
But wait. Step back a minute.
Because this blog is being written by the guy who knows the answer to the question “What is Success?” He’s written a book about it. He’s provided an essential answer to one of the biggest questions that plagues modern man… and can’t sell it for shit. No one wants it. No one cares.
So what the fuck does Ken know?
But enough third-person… You’d think I’d learn a thing or two but you’d be horribly wrong. Last night, I was talking to Vicky about my latest topic: Free Will. Why is that still even a question? After many millennium, you’d think humanity would have that one licked, right? It seems pretty much like common sense. The common cold must be a bitch but free will is pretty much a YES or NO answer. And what do we get? MAYBE. Depending on your religious and practical beliefs, we may or may not have free will.
That’s not an answer. Do we have free will or not?
It depends.
It’s the answer a child would give. It’s been avoided and shoved in the back with the rye krisps. And yet, these are exactly the kinds of questions philosophers are supposed to be answering, lest they end up looking like a bunch of circle-jerk monkeys. “Personal identity and time travel”, my ass.
Well, here’s the thing… I know the answer.
I know, you’re thinking the same thing as when I started the book on success: “He’s loony.” I won’t discount that as a possibility. After all, other people are making money ripping off the Matrix, so what the fuck do I know? I’d like to make this my next book, as I’m nearly finished with the current one, but I’m too busy with school to do the research necessary for an entire book. So, I may need to hold on to the idea for a while… it’ll wait…
The reason I tell you all of this is to get to my topic. (I never said I wasn’t long winded.)
So, I’m lying in bed last night and I’m telling Vicky some of my ideas… and it’s giving her a headache. She says, “I’m just not smart like you are.”
Suddenly, DeAnna’s “Table for one” comment comes back. She was also one of those people who put me in a class by myself and told me that I’d always be alone. Nice.
I tend to cringe when people call me smart. I did last night, too. My defense, and I think it’s a good one, is that I’m not particularly bright; I just approach problems from a different angle than most people. The idea that I might be smarter, or just smart… I was picked on a lot as a kid because I was smarter than most kids my age and I ended up turning that around and, by high school, became funnier than most kids my age. I avoided being tarred with the epithet “smart” for many years.
Now, cringing is like an automatic response. When I cringed last night, I realized I was getting defensive, trying to brush away the label, and I found it kind of funny in a way. It was like, “Who are you calling smart?!” I’m 42 years old. I’m a philosophy major. I’ve written over a dozen books. I solved the question of success. And I know the answer to free will.
I’ll admit it: There’s a chance I’m smart.
But please, don’t hold that against me.
There’s a lot of hubbub going around about the annual philosophical symposium. It’s not exactly excitement about the symposium; the hubbub is about how little excitement there is. But then, how could you blame anyone for not being excited? The presentations are on personal identity and time travel, philosophical language in ancient Chinese thought, the philosophy of global warming, and the ever-popular and done to fucking death topic: Are we living in a computer simulation. BORING! I mean, let’s face it, how does this apply to anyone? Even the topical idea of global warming is made moribund by not addressing the fact of the matter head-on! And that’s the problem with philosophy in the 21st century… it’s fucking dull. It’s paste served up as an entrée. We’re surrounded by the most mind-rending problems and some asshole decides he wants to do 20 minutes on a bong-hit about The Matrix… “Dude, we’re all like machines!”
Son of a bitch.
But wait. Step back a minute.
Because this blog is being written by the guy who knows the answer to the question “What is Success?” He’s written a book about it. He’s provided an essential answer to one of the biggest questions that plagues modern man… and can’t sell it for shit. No one wants it. No one cares.
So what the fuck does Ken know?
But enough third-person… You’d think I’d learn a thing or two but you’d be horribly wrong. Last night, I was talking to Vicky about my latest topic: Free Will. Why is that still even a question? After many millennium, you’d think humanity would have that one licked, right? It seems pretty much like common sense. The common cold must be a bitch but free will is pretty much a YES or NO answer. And what do we get? MAYBE. Depending on your religious and practical beliefs, we may or may not have free will.
That’s not an answer. Do we have free will or not?
It depends.
It’s the answer a child would give. It’s been avoided and shoved in the back with the rye krisps. And yet, these are exactly the kinds of questions philosophers are supposed to be answering, lest they end up looking like a bunch of circle-jerk monkeys. “Personal identity and time travel”, my ass.
Well, here’s the thing… I know the answer.
I know, you’re thinking the same thing as when I started the book on success: “He’s loony.” I won’t discount that as a possibility. After all, other people are making money ripping off the Matrix, so what the fuck do I know? I’d like to make this my next book, as I’m nearly finished with the current one, but I’m too busy with school to do the research necessary for an entire book. So, I may need to hold on to the idea for a while… it’ll wait…
The reason I tell you all of this is to get to my topic. (I never said I wasn’t long winded.)
So, I’m lying in bed last night and I’m telling Vicky some of my ideas… and it’s giving her a headache. She says, “I’m just not smart like you are.”
Suddenly, DeAnna’s “Table for one” comment comes back. She was also one of those people who put me in a class by myself and told me that I’d always be alone. Nice.
I tend to cringe when people call me smart. I did last night, too. My defense, and I think it’s a good one, is that I’m not particularly bright; I just approach problems from a different angle than most people. The idea that I might be smarter, or just smart… I was picked on a lot as a kid because I was smarter than most kids my age and I ended up turning that around and, by high school, became funnier than most kids my age. I avoided being tarred with the epithet “smart” for many years.
Now, cringing is like an automatic response. When I cringed last night, I realized I was getting defensive, trying to brush away the label, and I found it kind of funny in a way. It was like, “Who are you calling smart?!” I’m 42 years old. I’m a philosophy major. I’ve written over a dozen books. I solved the question of success. And I know the answer to free will.
I’ll admit it: There’s a chance I’m smart.
But please, don’t hold that against me.
Monday, March 03, 2008
My deaf wife and what she listens to…
It may be a contradiction but you’ll just have to deal with that.
How’s this: My wife is deaf and she listens to porn on the radio. Is that better?
So, I’m getting ready for work this morning – I get up at 5-ish so I have to be very, very quiet lest I wake the wife because she’s so easily woken, don’t you know? – and Vicky’s alarm blasts on! It is loud! And my heart jumps and I’m startled and… Vicky rolls over, turns it off, and goes back to sleep. I can’t believe it. I’m wide awake. The dog is wide awake. The neighbors… I mean, the neighboring states are wide awake. Vicky goes back to sleep.
I chalk it up to a fluke. I’m almost ready to go at this point. I select my tie. I tie my shoes – and Vicky’s alarm explodes to life! The window shatters! The dog’s ears gush blood! Car alarms in Fontana go off and… Vicky rolls over, turns it off, and goes back to sleep.
This is the woman whose sleep is disturbed if I get into bed as quietly as possible after she’s gone to sleep. Can someone explain this?
All I can figure is: she’s deaf. Vicky’s deaf. She must be. After all, I’ve heard the music she listens to and – it’s not that it’s bad – the genres are so inconsistent that she can’t possibly be hearing it. She switches from metal to country to “Groovy Kind of Love” by Phil Collins. What the fuck? Then, she puts her radio on the Sirius Playboy Channel. Christy Canyon and Ginger Lynn (porn stars I… um… grew up on) are on the air, talking about sex.
Listen, folks, porn on the radio is like morse code in print. I told Vicky that it was an awful lot like listening to Edgar Bergan and Charley McCarthy’s old radio show and she replied, of course, “Who’s Edward Berlin?”
I’m old and she’s deaf.
Christy and Ginger were on the radio the other night as we drove out to dinner. They were talking about putting things – wait for it – inside a man’s penis. (As opposed to, you know, a woman’s penis.) I didn’t hear exactly what they were putting in there – M&Ms, watermelons, Toyotas – my ears just shut down all of a sudden. I think my penis told them to.
Which must mean they were talking about equally horrific things for women when Vicky went deaf…
How’s this: My wife is deaf and she listens to porn on the radio. Is that better?
So, I’m getting ready for work this morning – I get up at 5-ish so I have to be very, very quiet lest I wake the wife because she’s so easily woken, don’t you know? – and Vicky’s alarm blasts on! It is loud! And my heart jumps and I’m startled and… Vicky rolls over, turns it off, and goes back to sleep. I can’t believe it. I’m wide awake. The dog is wide awake. The neighbors… I mean, the neighboring states are wide awake. Vicky goes back to sleep.
I chalk it up to a fluke. I’m almost ready to go at this point. I select my tie. I tie my shoes – and Vicky’s alarm explodes to life! The window shatters! The dog’s ears gush blood! Car alarms in Fontana go off and… Vicky rolls over, turns it off, and goes back to sleep.
This is the woman whose sleep is disturbed if I get into bed as quietly as possible after she’s gone to sleep. Can someone explain this?
All I can figure is: she’s deaf. Vicky’s deaf. She must be. After all, I’ve heard the music she listens to and – it’s not that it’s bad – the genres are so inconsistent that she can’t possibly be hearing it. She switches from metal to country to “Groovy Kind of Love” by Phil Collins. What the fuck? Then, she puts her radio on the Sirius Playboy Channel. Christy Canyon and Ginger Lynn (porn stars I… um… grew up on) are on the air, talking about sex.
Listen, folks, porn on the radio is like morse code in print. I told Vicky that it was an awful lot like listening to Edgar Bergan and Charley McCarthy’s old radio show and she replied, of course, “Who’s Edward Berlin?”
I’m old and she’s deaf.
Christy and Ginger were on the radio the other night as we drove out to dinner. They were talking about putting things – wait for it – inside a man’s penis. (As opposed to, you know, a woman’s penis.) I didn’t hear exactly what they were putting in there – M&Ms, watermelons, Toyotas – my ears just shut down all of a sudden. I think my penis told them to.
Which must mean they were talking about equally horrific things for women when Vicky went deaf…
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