We goin' to the 'ship!!!

Tickets finally came in the mail!

Of course, Blogger doesn't want to upload my pic of the tix right now, but that's cool. They're like 9x5 inches with desert scenes on them. We have the front row of the upper-bowl, 30-yard line. Not too bad!

Mmmm.....

"Cry on the battlefield!
Hail to the Scarlet and Grey!!!
Don't let them through that line;
We've got to win this game today!
RAH!!! FIGHT!!!
Smash through to victory,
We'll cheer thee as we go!
Our honor defend, we will fight till the end
For OhhHiiiOhhh!!!"

Happy Christmas Everyone!

>Insert Picture Of Christmas Tree Here<

:-)

Wishing you and yours the best...

Edit: When I tried posting this the first time, the new Blogger automatically assumed that I wanted Insert to be an HTML tag because it started with Less Than sign with Insert immediately following. How nice of it to edit it to just be the open Insert tag, and add the close Insert tag at the end, and delete everything else. Thanks but no thanks, Blogger. If I want to add HTML, I'll edit it myself.

The holiday not-so-funs

They finally showed up.

Neet.

Congratulations...you get to pay!

My last day in the department at work is a week from Saturday so a few of the folks from my team figured they would throw a bit of a surprise get-together for me at Applebees (sans the surprise...I found out about their plans less than 6 hours after I was originally asked to go somewhere that night). I thought that was pretty cool of them.

So tonight comes and we all meet up, but evidently they *did* keep the surprise from me - I get to pay for my dinner! Surprise!!!

I don't think they did this to spite me, and I didn't want to say anything and end up making someone feel bad. I want to think that everyone thought someone else was paying. Or maybe they just aren't used to picking up the tab for someone like that. Idunno...it was cool that they at least thought of getting together. Just awkward at the end.

Heck, maybe they expected me to buy them dinner...not sure.

Eh.

Random thoughts prior to the return to reality

- I have no desire to go back to work and am delaying it as long as possible. Which just happens to be for another 8.5 hrs. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

- The house has now been fully transformed into Christmas mode. Tomorrow the cleaning will be finished and I'll have all the gifts for my family/friends wrapped and under the tree. Tuesday my Aunt comes in, and at some point after that I'll lose my sanity. I would say that I'll let you know when that happens, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out on your own.

(Shut up. No, I haven't lost it yet.)

(Yet.)

- It used to be that hockey was the fighting sport that wasn't boxing or UFC. Now it's basketball. Dr. Naismith has got to be rolling over in his grave over these brawls.

- I hate personal fouls in football. Absolutely hate them. Generally speaking, personal fouls mean you're personally stupid and that's inexcusable (at a professional level). If I ever am a head coach of a football team, personal fouls will carry steep penalties with me.

- Think Pittsburgh got sick of playing mediocre ball? What a domination...

- Tom Brady and Rex Grossman are both playing with chips on their shoulders right now. The difference between the two is that Tom is actually good. I'm tellin' ya right now - Chicago's offense is playing far better than what they should be capable of and it's all gonna come crashing down at the wrong time. Rex really isn't that great, Thomas Jones is NOT good, and for some reason defenses are letting Berrian beat them.

- Why must Cleveland suck, and why must the Ravens (whom I hate) have so many players that I like...

- Christ fooled us all. He returned to earth in the form of LaDanian Tomlinson. If he walked on water before, now he just drives across it. Oh, and scores touchdowns at will...

K, guess that's enough for now.

Stupid rules

- You can't go "offsides" in soccer.

- "Jump Balls" aren't really jump balls in college hoops (this is ludicrous and should be changed immediately).

- Saying that whole "force is with you" thing in Star Wars CCG.

- Assorted TSA rules when traveling.

I'm sure there are others, but these are the ones that come to mind at the moment.

It's comin' down

Our back yard is all grass, save for one palm tree. It was planted in 1987 and the palm fronds still touched the ground it was so small. We watered it a few gallons at a time, twice a week, thinking it would grow up as plants do. This one didn't. Instead, it grew outward. Yup, our palm bush got fat. Eh, whuduya want for free?

Some years later, though, it finally grew upwards. A lot. Now it's about 45 feet tall and rather than it effectively being a tree, it's effectively being a barb-protected flag pole that nobody can use. We had our tree guy come out as he does each year or so to give us the estimate on trimming our evergreens out front and saw the palm standing tall in the back, sorely in need of a shave. Evidently he thought it was in need of A LOT of shaving. Like down to the ground.

The guy told dad that the trunk was no longer sturdy enough to guarantee that a strong wind wouldn't snap the tree - the tree had simply grown too tall and became a lever in the wind. Dad didn't exactly relish the thought of having a permanent palm tree in our house instead of the yard, and even less the thought of having the tree inadvertently relocated into house of one of our neighbors. So down it will come in January.

This, to me, will be a bit of sweet revenge. Back in jr. high and high school my friends and I used to play BYF - back yard football. This wasn't so much like football as you know it, but a cross between football, rugby, and smeer the queer. One team of three or four threw the ball aganst the fence at the other end where the opposing team was. That team then had to pick up the ball and run/pass it towards the other end. Multiple forward passes were permissable. Incomplete passes were deadball turnovers; lost fumbles and int's could be advanced. If you moved the ball to the opposite end and touched the fence while in posession, it was 3 points. If you tackled someone with the ball it was one point. If the ball went over the fence it was -1 point. Now, for the most part, we were shorter/smaller guys. I weighed all of 140 on a good day, and our avg. height was 5 foot 9. We really weren't cut out for h/s football, but you get us in the yard and we were superstars...fearless. I was like Troy Brown meets Devin Hester. And, as good of a combination as that might be, my friend Andy Wright was like Lawrence Taylor plus LaDanian Tomlinson...(yes, that's LT^2). Andy *should* have played football, but his folks wouldn't let him. They were too afraid he'd get hurt while playing in pads but for some reason they thought nothing of him tackling and getting hit without protective gear. Eh. In any case, I was returning the kick one evening and brushed off a pair of defenders to see nothing but the fence in front of me. This really should have been a warning sign since, in the back of my mind, I know we never play with less than three on a team. Right as I was crossing midfield - where the tree stood - Andy popped out from behind the tree and made me pay for my forgetfulness by introducing my back to the ground.

This is one of two times in my life I've been de-cleated, and the only time in my life I've ever fumbled the football. It didn't hurt (not right then, at least...the next morning I felt like death, though), but it definitely stunned me. I just laid there...couldn't hear anything, largely unaware of where I was and what happened. After a couple of minutes I was fine but that hit was the most fierce contact any of us had experienced to that point, and it ended up going down as the most vicious hit in BYF (lucky me, eh?). Had that palm tree not been there, though, I'd have seen Andy and...well, I don't know what I would have done, but I guarantee I wouldn't have just allowed myself to get destroyed like that.

So, palm tree, oh camouflager of destruction, it's time for me to return the favor you once paid me. I'm bringin' the pain in January, baby!

Serving your customers - what a good idea!

(Please read this post with the understanding that I really don't like waiting in lines in retails stores and banks)

(I can be patient, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about lines at all)

(At all)

Banking is a needs-based industry - you need us, so we exist. I, however, like to think of us as a service-based industry. All in all there is incredible product parity in the banking world. That being the case, the only qualities that can really set us apart are convenience and service. We build the convenience into our products, and we're a freakin' huge credit union from a branch/location standpoint. Not as big as others - Golden 1 and Navy Fed, for example - but still pretty damn big. So we're good there. That leaves service, and we focus on that A LOT. We're not a shining example above all, mind you, but we're pretty frackin' good and we invest thousands upon thousands of dollars (and this year, multiple millions) to serve our members as best we know how. Even with failing systems (*shudder*) we can still provide good service.

Apparently other retail chains don't hold to this standard. Lets take...oh, Wal-Mart for example. I go to the self-service checkout line because I hate waiting for a regular checkout line (self-service lines, btw, are one of God's gifts to me...I love them!) and accidently ring one of my items twice. My bad. I have to wait for assistance to have the item voided, though. Can't just be removed. I need a 'leet Wal-Mart employee to enter ye merry keye kode and "void" the item. Now, when you need assistance, a little red light shows up above you, the computer says (repeatedly, ad nauseum or until said 'leet Wal-Mart employee shows up) "Please wait for assistance," and you wait. Emphasis on the wait. The "assistance" I was waiting for, in spite of being less then 15 feet away and having a blip light up on her monitor, was too captivated by cutting out a paper snowflake to notice that I needed "assistance." So I waited for 6 minutes. I could have snapped her out of her focus, sure, but that would have defeated the purpose. Heck, in the time I waited I could have hacked ye merry keye kode myself! Come to think of it, that would have been the epitome of self-service. Eh. The point being, you receive a paycheck to pay attention and assist me, so for cryin' out loud, do it. Please.

I know, some of you are saying that going to Wal-Mart was my first mistake. I would normally agree, but we did have a branch at this one, I needed to make a withdrawal, and some of my folks requested specific gifts from there. I don't like my family very much sometimes.

Okay, the other one that got me was this sale item in a smaller retail store. I went in, picked up the item (heckuva buy), and...*sigh* got in line. Should have gone quickly. One customer at the counter, one in front of me, then me. The problem was that only one clerk was ringing people up, and as it happened, both people in front of me were info-searching rather than purchasing. Now, this is Friday, December 15th. It's a double-payday, it's the holidays, and it's the last payday prior to Christmas. With four people in the store, you'd figure one of them would notice that I've been standing in line for 15 minutes trying to buy one item and open up the 2nd register. Nope. I get to wait. Then, when I do get to the counter the shift manager says, "Oh, sorry about the wait, sir. Sometimes that happens."

Hmmm...so that means you *did* see me there, and you're the one in charge, and you didn't do a thing. But you're sorry at the end, after you have my money, just before I leave. How 'bout this. Try being proactively sorry rather than reactively, because frankly, I don't give two hoots how sorry you are after I've made my purchase. Idiot.

If I go into a store to give them my money, I'd like them to be happy...neigh, eager to take it. As it stands, Wal-mart I already can't stand, and I'll never go into that other store again. Serve your customers, please.

I should've gone to Mexico

Today at 1:30AM my company enabled some enhanced security features on one of their core systems - a real big deal that we've been testing and prepping for months. We knew that the change was going to increase call volume no matter what, but we were doing our best to minimize or squash any possible negative impact. As I was leaving yesterday I told my boss that I'd stay up until the changes went live and then test them live on my own account to see if all went well. If it did, great! If not, I told him I'd just start my vacation one day early so if he didn't see me in the office that meant I was heading south towards the Mexican coast.

1:45 came around and everything tested fine. I went to bed w/no concerns. I woke up and checked my email at work, though, and saw errors. Lots of errors. In just the first hour. NOT an encouraging sight, and for some reason I started to hear mariachi music in the background...

I got to work and things didn't get better. In fact they got worse as the day went on, culminating in the system shutting down unexpectedly. AWESOME! The security enhancements made the system soooo secure that even WE couldn't use it! :-)

The truth of the matter is, strange as it sounds, this is actually the smoothest "upgrade" we've had to our online system since the inception of the current program. Impact truly was minimized (save for that whole "shutting down" thing) and the support staff performed admirably. But just because it went relatively smoothly doesn't make it any easier for myself or, more importantly, my staff to hear complaints all day long. I really SHOULD have gone to Mexico...would have been more fun. So, in honor of where I should have gone, I post the lyrics to a song of one of my favorite bands, The Refreshments - the musings and recollections of the lead singer, Roger Clyne, about one of his many trips to our good neighbor Mexico...

Here comes another song about Mexico
I just can't help myself
I lost my old lady
Got my lures
Got my bobbers
Now I'm gonna go
Got off in the wrong direction
Found a hooker and lost my erection
So I had to lie
In the letter to the boys back home

Now the good guys and the bad guys
Never work past noon around here
They sit side to side in cantinas
Talk to senoritas
And drink warm beer

Holidays

Here's to hoping the holidays are treating you well, and that you found someone or someones to do something holidayish with.

It's official now - I win

We were finally able to announce at work that I received the new position and will be transitioning over as of the new year, and I can honestly say that never has a move been easier and yet more draining. Two weeks deciding whether or not to post, waiting as long as possible to see what my own management chain would offer, if anything. Two weeks waiting for the opportunity to interview. Two weeks in negotiations. Then a week of waiting for undisclosable purposes.

Seven weeks, one new job. I'm glad the waiting is over.

When we made the announcements today one of my immediate reports started crying. I wanted to hug her but that might have been awkward for both of us. She'll be fine. Others were welcoming and looked forward to my arrival.

I just look forward to the opportunity of building my own department and working myself into a promotion. Hopefully I'll be able to bring over some of my better employees along the way.

The Ritz

Here are a few pics of the place. They're not the greatest, and they don't even come close to capturing how incredible the place was. Do your best to ignore the pattern of the interior decoration - it's pretty ugly - and appreciate it for what it is.

Every day when I pulled in to have my car valet parked (for free!), the cars that lined the streets were all foreign - either German, Italian, or English. The place absolutely reeked of success. The Illinois basketball team stayed there during the mini-tournament and their coaches were across the hall from us breaking down game film early in the week. Later on started a M.D.'s conference, as well as a professional printing/publisher's conference. Everyone that walked through the doors of this place was there to either showcase their success or review other's success, and the staff there made you feel like it, too. I wasn't even staying there and they never saw my ID, but somehow they figured out who I was between the time I first walked in their doors and the first time I left. After that, every time I saw their staff..."Oh, hello Mr. Goodrich. Is there anything we can get for you? Let me get that door, Mr. Goodrich. Shall we make lunch reservations for you, Mr. Goodrich?" I'M NOT EVEN A PAID GUEST!!!! That didn't matter to them, though. They made me feel like they were better for having me in their establishment, and not the other way around. There was another gal that did happen to be staying there, and there was a local TV station that wasn't available in her room. There was a particular show she was interested in seeing but couldn't find it; after she called the front desk to inquire, they brought a 30 inch flat screen on a moving platform up to her room with rabbit ears just so she could watch the show, going out of their way to make sure she felt accomodated and served.

Out-freakin'-standing. If I ever get enough money to where I can stay at Ritz's wherever I go, they've got my business.

Besides the aforementioned heavenly cookies that they serve us after lunch, everything else they served us was equally as outstanding. Berry compote. Freshly made bread. Cointreau, melon, berries, and fresh mint. Full coffee and tea service w/good silver and all sorts of flavors and whipped cream and cinnamon sticks and honey and chocolate drops and five types of sweeteners. Orange, grapefruit, cranberry, and mango juices; and guava and peach nectars. Every kind of pastry you can think of, plus fresh apple turnovers. Hot oatmeal w/all the additives on the side. Yogurt parfaits. Full bagel service. Etc, etc, etc.

By the end of the week, I started to get the feeling like if I'd have called to the front desk and requested a harem, they'd have had one sent up for me. No request was too silly, no detail was too insignificant.

It bears mentioning

A direct quote as spoken to me in front of our group today at the training conference....

"Why don't you hold your banana in one hand and your nuts in the other and see what happens?"

O_O

HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

"Don't give up...don't ever give up."

Every year ESPN helps sponsor the Jimmy V Classic, a basketball tournament in which the proceeds help fund cancer research in the name of the Jimmy V Foundation for Cancer Research, and every year they play Jimmy Valvano's speech at the 1993 Espy Awards. It's not quite Brian's Song, but it still nearly makes me cry every time I see it.

Cancer is a killer. Three of my four grandparents had it. Two of them died from it, along with my uncle on my mom's side. Cancer is a bitch. My mom had a hysterectomy for pre-cancerous cells on some girl part down there, and my dad has recurring skin cancer. Given family history and the increased processing of foods, the addition of assorted chemicals into various daily-used household products, etc...I'm likely to get cancer. I can take reasonable steps to prevent it, and goodness knows I am, but sometimes there's just too high of a genetic predisposition to prevent it. My best friend and I used to joke that we'll get it since it seemed like everything people do eventually gives them cancer. But the joke has a high element of truth in it in my case; I accepted this long ago, and am quite fine with it.

I've discussed this with a fair number of you, and those of you that I've talked to about this know that, by no means, is this a morbid statement. In fact, it's nothing more than a scientific near-guarantee...a part of life that I don't directly control. I will very, very likely have cancer before I die, so I look at the efforts and donations of myself and my family as something of an investment in my future. But I'll tell you this much, folks, if I get cancer, I won't take it laying down. To the contrary, I'll put up more of a fight than a championship fighter in the ring defending his belt. I'll not stop until my 12 rounds are finished and it's licked, and maybe we'll go three extra rounds for good measure. But, should it get a sucker punch in on me, before I go down for the final count I'll look that bitch in the eye and punch it right in the mouth.

Should cancer be my fate, I'll never give up...I won't ever give up.

Trevor, I'm sorry, but the Ritz's cookies are better

I know Hilton's are good...and they ARE good...but the cookies that the Ritz-Carlton is providing are bigger, better, and offer more variety. I've tried the white chocolate macadamia nut and the walnut chocolate chip so far. Tomorrow will be peanut butter.

Sweet googa mooga, those things are good....

I don't get it...

I'm in a corporate sales/service training certification class right now with a bunch of CEOs, decision makers, and head trainers. The idea is that after I finish this week-long process I'll be certified to take the material back to my company and teach it to more peeps...COOL! No problem, I can teach! It's at the Ritz-Carlton, too, and for those that have never been to one, they REALLY take care of you well....like OMG well! I'll post more about that later with some pictures.

Anywho, you know that all of these folks have attended all sorts of assorted seminars, meetings, and conventions in the past, and all of them have probably conducted said meetings as well. What do all these things have in common? They ask you/expect you to turn your cellphones to off or some form of silent alert during the presentations. So, knowing that everyone in the room has been in these situations before, HOW THE HECK IS IT THAT PEOPLE STILL HAVE THEIR CELL RINGERS ON???

Yes, that happened. Both days so far, and I fully expect it will happen again tomorrow, and then again on Thursday.

C'mon, folks...there's only 21 others of you in there with me! Can't we all get it right? Just once?

How do you like your Gator soup?

Well-boiled, please.

My prediction...

Ohio State 38
Florida 20

Ooohh...look at all the pretty sparks!

It's generally inadvisable to put a mug with a metal strip around it in the microwave to heat up water (unless of course you're intending to blow up the cup and/or microwave, in which case, by all means, proceed).

*oops*

I didn't know we had any mugs with metal on them. Who does that?!?! I'll tell you who...the Arizona Cardinals. Leave it to them to find a way to blow something up.

Holiday Cheer - An oxymoron?

Generally speaking, I find Holiday Cheer to be a contradiction in terms - an oxymoron of sorts. I don't like the holidays. I don't like putting up Christmas decorations or Christmas lights. I get annoyed by holiday shoppers and disgusted by excessive holiday glee. I get fed up with 80+ degree holiday temperatures. The increasing commercialism surrounding the season doesn't make things any better, either. It's all just icky.

Of the 26 holiday seasons I can recall, 3 of them have been truly enjoyable. Of those three, one was because it snowed (the only Christmas I remember from Ohio), and the other two were because one of the people I was with enjoyed Christmas so much that it was contagious...you couldn't help but love the season. The other 23 holiday seasons in my living member have simply been tolerated.

Now flip the script.

This year I've found myself seeking Christmas movies and Christmas drinks and Christmas lights and Christmas trees. Looking to start holiday traditions. Playing holiday music all day long. One of my loved ones accused me of being severely ill today. I don't know why I'm like this all the sudden this year. Nothing is different to speak of, but for some reason I've got...ick...holiday cheer! *shudders*

Holiday cheer reminds me of morning chipper, and I don't do morning chipper. Heck, I barely even do morning tolerable! The fact that I'm actually exhibiting said cheer is dangerous enough as it is, and the results could end up being cataclysmic.

Brief Update

They made an offer, I countered, and now I'm waiting for their response. I hope to hear something tomorrow.

I told my boss, however, that I would be leaving the department soon. His response was priceless (and yes, this is a direct quote):

"I hate you."

Outstanding! I was so proud of that response that I typed it up, printed it, and taped it to my monitor.

AHHH HORSE MANURE!

My hit counter disappeared. I went to the statistics site and this is the message that awaited me...

*sigh*

***

Our apologies

If you are viewing this page now, we regret to inform you that the hit counter and statistical data for your account here have been lost. To continue using our service, you'll need to (1.) re-register/create a new account (below), and (2.) re-install the NEW counter code provided onto your site page(s).

Last week, PrecisionCounter experienced a major failure of the database which stores our account and statistical data. Basically, everything that could go wrong - did. We had originally designed our systems so that if our primary database were to ever fail (which it never has before) we would be able to restore service from a backup database within a few minutes. However, something also failed with the backup routines, and we discovered the backup data was corrupted and unrecoverable.

In the past year, PrecisionCounter has become a top provider of FREE traffic counters and site statistics - thanks completely to you, our customers. We'd also like to thank you in advance, for taking a few moments to create your replacement account and re-installing the new counter code on your page(s) so we may continue to serve you!

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***

Whaddaya want for free (answer: everything)?

My lowly little site had received 520 hits before I saw this message. I guess I start from zero again. Zero just isn't as sexy as 520 (not that 520 is all that sexy, but I'll take all the sexy I can get).

So for those of you that have visited before, thanks for your support and your continued readership. Looking forward to rebuilding...

EDIT: Suh-weet! Looks like I can at least choose my starting point!!!! Hail the resurrection of sexy!!!!

Bookstores - A Blogpost

I was at one of my two favorite bookstores last night - this one is a two-story Borders w/couches and chairs and all sorts of stuff on everything and you can have a coffee and sit up on the top floor and people watch - and was walking through the fiction section looking and hundreds and thousands of books I'll never read. These days you can find some rather interesting things on the covers of books. A couple of the more notables are a daisy of naked humans, butts up, in the middle of a field, as well as an extreme close-up of this girl's pink bra where the cups connect in the middle (is there a name for that?). And yes, this was the normal fiction section...not erotica or anything like that. In any case, besides...well, interesting photos, I noticed that many of the novels identified themselves by putting "A Novel" somewhere on the front cover.

This perplexes me. When you look at various classic literature, both ancient and more recent, the individual works don't identify their respective genres on the covers. Rather, they assume the reader is intelligent enough to figure it out on their own. Why is it, then, that authors/publishers/whoever feel the need to set apart their novels? Are readers dumber now (they probably are in some ways, but it's more of a rhetorical question)? Are the lines between poetry, reference text, and novels blurring?

Meh, whatever. If I get something published I guess I can do whatever I want with it. Until then, I'll assume you know what the heck you're reading (save for this post).

And for what it's worth, strange book covers aside, last night was probably the most enjoyable visit to a bookstore I've ever had.

Experimenting

I "upgraded" to the new Blogger Beta and will be trying out a few things over the next couple of days so you're likely to see some random changes for a while as I try things out.

So far all the added functionality is beneficial and the various new editing UI's are intuitive and easy to access/use. If anything sucks I'll be sure to let you all know so that you can shun the furmious bandersnatch as long as possible.

Crushes

I've had a crush on Drew Barrymore since I was four years old. ET. "Mom, who's that? She's cuuuuute!"

Yup, nothin' like seein' a cutie with an alien to make you fall in love. Heh...

Anywho, I've crushed on her from that moment. Yeah, she's had her skankier moments, but she grew up and calmed down, and now she's just cute with a side of weird. I realized today, though, that I have a second starlet crush, and have since at least 1995 - Alicia Silverstone. I don't remember exactly when this one developed, but I do remember her in Clueless. She's not the most talented actress, but she IS cuuuuute!

If most any star - sports, stage, or screen - were to suddenly appear in front of me, it'd be cool but I could at least keep my composure. If either of those two gals suddenly appeared in front of me, I'd be four years old again, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open, and without a recognizable vocabulary.

My computer is sad :-(

My MS Office files are corrupted and I can't find the disk that has the data files necessary to restore them. Most of the programs are still useable to some degree, but Outlook is shot. I'm going to be saving as much information as I can before I wipe it from the system but I may lose a few email addresses and such along the way. I'm downloading Open Office in the meantime and will be looking for a free version of Office XP or, preferably, 2003.

(If any of you have versions of this software that you'd be willing to donate, lemme know please!)

Of course, this may be an early indication of a hard drive on the outs as well...

*hurries to back up downloaded files before she blows*

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Just wanted to wish you and yours a fantastic holiday! Some of us have found recent success and happiness. Others of us have fallen upon harder times. Where ever you might fall in that spectrum, be sure to take a moment and think about what you have to be thankful for...chances are you can find something.

Take care, all, and enjoy...

And now we wait...

- Show that I'm qualified for the position...check.

- Negotiate for a company laptop...check.

- Negotiate for a raise to be offered...check.

- Negotiate for a qualifying raise to be offered...hurry up and wait.

Now it's time for the various VPs associated w/the hiring process to cloister themselves away and come up with a number for me, but I've been given no ETA so it really is just hurry up and wait.

We'll see what happens...this is by no means a done deal.

"Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man"

Rockers in shades and funny beards may have said it a good number of years ago, but it's still just as true now.

I looked damn good in my interview suit today!

The calm before the storm

Two hours until go time.

I'm not nervous about the interview, although I did find out yesterday as I was walking out of the office that the responsible VP has requested to conduct the interview. So now instead of a peer and a direct supervisor conducting the interview, it's the direct supervisor and a 5-level skip above me conducting the interview. This is a good change - she's hired me before and I've worked for her for years in the past - but it does kinda make my resume look rather unnecessary considering she was there for the majority of it. Just an odd feeling to have her looking at a list of accomplishments and qualifications I know she's already familiar with.

As an added bonus, I'm getting a brief massage about 15 minutes prior to the interview - good times!

What a weekend...

It started with a terrible first half of a work day on Friday, followed by me yelling at someone I love, then just feeling like dung the second half of the workday.

I got home and a buddy of mine canceled plans.

Shortly after that, I find out that a woman I used to love recently was left by the same guy that was the catalyst of the end of my relationship with her in the first place. I went completely numb. I knew he would hurt her at some point so as she tells me what happened, it's like I'm seeing the end of a movie I've already seen. There's not even feelings of "I told you so," or "I knew it!" It was more like reading lines in a history book and you've already taken the class. She speaks as though maybe she wants to make amends for past mistakes - not get back together, just make amends - so I agree to meet her for coffee. This would mark the first time I've really seen her since the split. It will likely end up being the last time I ever see her in any meaningful capacity again.

After only a couple hours sleep I'm up and off to a volunteer "Mutt Strut" for a local canine rescue shelter through work. Evidently a group of my coworkers got together for what seemed to have been a rather...well, drunken time the night before and they weren't feeling so hot. I laughed. From there, it was straight back home for The Game.

Before the game started, tho, I find out someone I love was having a much rough weekend. I was happy to listen; fortunately everything will be okay.

The game started and my heart was beating at 170 and I was sitting the entire time, unless I was at the refrigerator or the grill. Part of this was because my heart sucks. Part of it was because the game was entirely too close for comfort. Good guys win, goin' to the ship. Now it's hurry up and wait to see if we get drawn for tix.

After the game, go to watch the fights last night and have my fill of beer and wings (NOT homemade wings, thank you). Silvia won in an exhausting 5-rounder that I'm sure Munson would have nearly won (if not won) if he could have even 4 more inches of height. Hughes lost to a very quick, very game St. Pierre. Can't wait for the rematch.

This morning/afternoon marked coffee with the woman I used to love. So strange. I thought I'd come away hurt, but I wasn't. There was nothing. It was like we just recently met and we were having lunch to chat. No hint of the past relationship was evident in her, and goodness knows I felt nothing. Barely a memory came to mind. On one level, it's mildly disappointing to think that the relationship wasn't strong enough to feel anything about just a few years after it ended...it's now barely more more than a casual acquaintance, but mostly it's just nice to see the proof of what I already knew - the healing is done; I've moved on.

Get home from lunch, watch football, etc, etc.

Strange weekend. I don't want to go to work tomorrow.

Meh.

And this isn't even close to overboard!

You all know that I'm an Ohio State fan, raised by Ohio State fans, all born in Ohio, and some of which attended the great educational institution and played in The Best Damn Band In The Land. Unless you've been to Columbus, though, you don't understand what it is to be an Ohio State fan, and you likely have no real concept of the fanatacism that surrounds college football. The following pictures should give you some idea of what it's like. Bear in mind that this is quite mild compared to some Columbus displays. Not pictured is the OSU flag we had on display in the front yard.

For the pics, please click here.

Hail to the Victors!

They made it more exciting than I wanted it to be, but "The" Ohio State University beat that school up north, and Tressel beat Carr yet again. A score of 42-39 never sounded so sweet...

If you're playing for that school up north, and you're wearing #22, and you're seeing this, you're probably going to be seeing the rest of the game from the sidelines. Whoops! ;-)

The one thing I can't stand about the game is the comments of Mike Hart. As taken from a transcript of the post game press conference...

REPORTER: Why were you able to have some questions running the ball compared to last couple games?

MIKE HART: Because, you know, their defense wasn't -- their defense played good, but they're not as good as people thought, I guess I could say. We knew we were going to be able to run the ball, but we didn't put enough points on the board. There's nothing special about that defense.

Nothing special. Not as good as people thought. Well, Mike Hart, you might recall that 9 of the cats you saw trying to tackle you this year were different than last year. And yet they still were able to beat...well, everyone they played. People thought the defense would give up big points and would likely lose at least one game early in the season. And consider this - they did what nobody else was able to do to your school this year - BEAT YOU! If that ain't special, I don't know what is. Ass.

Now it's hurry up and wait to see if we're drawn for tickets to the BCS championship game. Hope it works out!!!

What the heck?

Three sets of plans canceled within two weeks spanning multiple people...what gives? Do I have leprosy or something?

*frustrated*

The national holiday approaches

I'm considering doing what would be a first for me - a live blog event. As most of you are aware, this Saturday my beloved "The" Ohio State University Buckeyes take on that other school for the right to play in the national championship. I still think that other school wins the game this year - their defense is pretty dag'gone good - but I'll still watch. Mom's turning the house into an Ohio State shrine. I'll be sure to post some pics in a few days.

In any case, if I do it, you'll get a live update on my insanity as the refs blow calls and people make idiots of themselves. If I do this, though, I warn you now - ethics, reason, and character are going to go out the window. There's likely to be swearing and cursing and general filth. This can't be helped, nor can it be held against me.

Remember that. Nothing held against me. Diplomatic immunity 'n stuff.

Why I love In N Out Burger

I went to In N Out Burger for lunch for the second time this week (yes, Greg, you can drool...or hate me, whichever you prefer). Some people think that's stupid. If you don't like the food, fine. I can accept that you're an alien. But if you do like the food and you're going to buy fast food, why WOULDN'T you go multiple times in a week? I got to thinking why I like them so much...here's what I come up with.

5. Cool cars. Corvettes and Cobras. Raw American musclecar power.

5A. Their secret menu. Being able to order something animal style or ask for a 4x4 and know what that means makes me feel like a secret agent...the 007 of the lunch world. Knowing secrets is good!

4. Cleanliness. I have yet to go into In N Out where there wasn't at least one person cleaning something. Now, granted, if you go in the middle of the lunch rush you're gonna find some dirty tables...they work quickly, but not at light speed. Still, they run a pretty tight ship there.

3. Value and price. Put their meals up against the meals at any other fast food burger joint and they're highly competitive. You get plenty of food and it's made to order.

T-1. Service. The employees get paid quite well, and for that wage they expect the best service fast food has to offer. The employees deliver. They don't have customers - they have guests, and they greet every guest that walks in the door. If you ask them how they're doing, they'll tell you and thank you for asking. They say please and thank you for everything. They work their tails off to make things right for you. And, most importantly, they never....EVER....get my order wrong. Ever.

T-1. Quality. Fresh food, never frozen. You can watch them make their fries from real potatoes. The slice the tomatoes and lettuce right in front of you. It's real beef pattied right in front of you. Fries made to order - even a little well done if you want that. Shakes that are the yum. They make four things - hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes (Coke makes the soda ;-) ). Simple yet delightfully tasty.

Top to bottom, they've got the right idea. I like their work ethic, and I like their food. They've earned a lifelong supporter!

Just one quick blog post...

It absolutely drives me crazy. At first I thought it was just a couple of people at my work. Then I started noticing it from a LOT of people at work. And now I just hear it all over.

"Just one quick question..."

Really? Is it really a quick question? Is it just one? And is it quick because the question itself is quick (although the answer may be ridiculously involved)? Or maybe it's quick relative to the time it takes Neptune to revolve around the sun?

You know what would make the questioning experience even quicker???? If you didn't preface it with "Just one quick question," or any variation thereof!!!

And please....PLEASE....if you insist on saying that, please don't have the nerve to follow it up with some stupid, unnecessary background information. Just ask the damn question so I can answer somebody else's quick inquiry.

In my area at work, seconds count. The funny thing is that the representatives are the ones that should be counting the seconds the most (considering there's financial gain to do so, not to mention higher end-user satisfaction), and yet they're the biggest offenders.

Heh. Irony.

Sorry. I just heard it said one too many times today.

/end rant

It's all that's there...

So much happened tonight, but as I sit down to write, all that keeps coming out is this...

I'm really cold, and I don't want to go to bed.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

-Shakespeare (Macbeth 5.1.50)

Maybe I'll Read It

The book I mention below really has me intrigued, and it's not too big to be intimidating to read. If that goes down then for the first time in....wow, maybe ten years or so?...I will have read a novel for enjoyment.

An English teacher that doesn't really enjoy reading books. Who does that?

(And I'm still cringing at my "today is still today" bit. Friends don't let friends blog tired.)

For One More Day

I went to Starbucks today for the first time in a while and realized how much I miss just sitting there with good company sippin' on a coffee and talking and laughing. Coffee is gooooooood...

Got the coffee today. They were fresh out of company tho.

In any case while I was waiting in line for my drink I saw they were selling Mitch Albom's novel For One More Day. I had no idea who the author was (although a little mild research reveals I've at least heard of his best sellers, and that whole "best seller" part indicates, if nothing else, he has an audience of best buyers so he must be serviceable, unlike Trevor's runningback corps ;-) ) or what the book was about, but the title got me thinking - if I could have just one more day with someone I'd lost, who would it be? And would I actually want to do it?

I've lost a lot of family and by a lot I mean nearly all of them but , but I moved away from "home" when I was four years old, so I really wasn't close with any of them to speak of. I've had a lot of broken friendships/relationships, and while there's a few of them I would like to have one more day with, for the purposes of my discussion here I'll limit the prospect pool to the deceased.

That leaves two options that come to mind. The obvious choice would be Stuart, my dear friend who was killed in a drunk driving accident on the way home from a California vacation on Memorial Day weekend. I'd love to have him back, but I don't need to. I made my peace w/that one long ago. The one I don't understand and I'd be curious to chill with for one more day would be James, another elementary and high school friend who took his own life. He was pleasant, relational, had an incredible gaming mind, and simply brilliant in his own way. His death was an absolute shock as we all found out on Christmas a few years ago.

The real question, though, is would I really want to do this?

Nope, not a chance. Let the dead be dead. That's easy for me to say since I've never lost a parent, I don't really have any siblings to lose, and I have no wife or children. I think that if I'd lost any of those, it's entirely possible such a decision would be dramatically more difficult. Nonetheless, it seems that exchanging that one day's experiences for what's likely to be many days or weeks of additional grieving is a bad trade-off. Generally speaking, I don't see any sense in reopening those old wounds.

What did I just do?

I "emailed" my sister. Found her on MySpace (which I still can't stand, by the way, regardless of what happens with sis). Tomorrow - which is technically today, although I don't believe that tomorrow comes until you wake up, and given my extremely recent inability to get to a state which I can wake up from, it means today is still today by my definition - is her birthday. She'll be 27.

I didn't know what to say to someone I haven't spoken to in over a year (maybe it's over two years now?) and haven't seen in almost 5 years, so I simply offered a Happy Birthday and told her I missed her. I don't know if I'll hear back from her. Part of me wants to. Part of me is terrified to. So now I guess I'm just waiting on the whims and caprices of the birthday girl.

OMW, did I seriously just say "today is still today"? By my definition? I must be retarded. Or a genius. Possibly both, but I doubt it.

Alright ima stop now.

Torture

For someone that hates the process of going to bed and falling asleep - not being able to get to sleep.

Anyone tried the new beta Blogger?

If so, lemme know how it works for you? What's new that you actually use? Anything work particularly well? Particularly poorly?

That'd be cool

I think it would be really cool if one of my stories actually came true...

(And lest life play a cruel joke on me, I think I'll clarify that the story doesn't come true unless I'm the lead male role. I'm not gonna have some random Joe receive the benefit of my stories....)

I can't stand MySpace

Broken or errors out half the time.

Too damn much advertising (TruE dat...).

Webcam shows I don't wanna see which spawn emails I don't want to get.

Awkward editing interfaces.

Top 8's and all the arguments that start because of them.

"Friends."

The MySpace network is a freakin' goldmine and the originators are have made a truckload of cash. Bravo! Now please leave.

Woahhhh... talk about unexpected!

The following IP showed up suddenly in my visitors list....

gateway.decipher.com

I'm baby retarded

This is largely intentional, mind you, but it's true. When it comes to the birthing process I know to create babies and prevent them, and that's roughly it. Make a baby, 9 months-later the catcher gets down below the equator with the mit, pushy pushy, and poof! Baby!

Yes, I know it's not like that for real. But in my mind it is.

I've never witnessed it nor have I seen a birthing video, and no, I'm not missing anything. I don't care what you say. I don't need to see it, hear it, smell it...nope, no sir. If I ever become a father I'll totally become like Mister Baby Know-It-All, but for me to get from ignorance to bliss it will take the love of a good woman and a child of my own. Nothing less will accomplish such an otherwise impossibily difficult feat.

This was confirmed when I saw video of a pregnant woman's naked stomach on the TV. I gasped and pointed. Totally freaked out. Then I left the room.

The experience reminded me of a time when a girl I used to care about very much went into early labor. She hopped in the car w/her mom, her bf, and myself and we flew to the hospital. I guess she had a contraction or something (or maybe she was just scared) because it was way after hours but one loud scream-n-shout later, that door magically buzzed open and up the elevators we went.

As they wheeled her to whatever room she was going to we passed by a birthing room - empty, of course. I saw a birthing...chair? Table? Aparatus? Idunno what it's really called, but it resembled a medieval torture device. Stopped me dead in my tracks on sight. I stood there in terror, jaw dropped, stupified and bewildered that life could actually come out of a contraption like that, gripped with confusion to the point that I couldn't bring myself to look away - so much so that her mom had to come and find me after she realized I wasn't with them in the room. Then after she finally brought me into the room where her daughter was I saw these little black paddles on her stomach and I freaked out because there were beeps and jellies and buzzers and wires all over the place and I wanted the baby to be okay and her stomach was big and I'd never seen any of this crap before (nor have I since, thankfully).

Her mom turns to me and says, "It's okay, Scott. The baby's just stressed?"

"How the heck can a baby be stressed when it hasn't even been born yet??? Is it hearing her parents' discussions about bills and stuff?"

"No, stressed physically."

And no, I'm not making this up. That all really happened, and I'm still totally weirded out by baby stuff to this day. A couple years ago someone at work explained to me what an episiotomy was...I damn near fainted.

Baby stuff is just icky. Until, of course, it's my baby with my lady :-)

Sorry all...it's just work

I've been totally neglecting my blogging for some time now as work has been sapping the energy out of me, and by the time I get home I largely just haven't given too hoots about much of anything.

Totally blah to the max!

Okay, so now that the 80's time warp has passed (what the heck didI just say???), here's a synopsis of the past couple of weeks:

I cancelled my vacation so I could manage my team through the four halves of two seperate projects we were piloting at the same time. What ended up happening, though, is only one of the four halves was actually implimented while the two project managers went on vacation.

The Auditing dep't. started our sales incentive audit, and boy howdy did we bomb it....baaaaaadly. Oh, so badly. I did receive a commendation from the VP of Auditing, though, for being the only guy there that could actually help with issues. And all of my incentive payouts were accurate.

Through an unusual series of circumstances I became the most senior supervisor in the department.

Each supervisor has a lead representative to help them manage their team and develop them into leaders and future management. My lead was recently promoted to supervisor and is now my peer. Not only that, she was the unanimous favorite, and simply blew the other candidates away.

Our workforce supervisor's been out of the office for various reasons, and I happen to know how to interact w/the workforce system and data. I stepped in to save the day.

Noticing a pattern here?

So I've decided I'm going to get a raise to the tune of 20-25%. That's quite a bit, yes, but I'm no longer your average bear, I've proven myself head and shoulders above the rest of my peers, all of my peers have been in position (and largely in company) less than seven months, the state unemployment rate remains near to 3% yet we continue to be in the top three contact center markets in the nation. All of that works to my favor. I've informed my boss of this so he's well aware, and I've actually got another vice-president angleing to steal me away from him and essentially build a second contact center in the credit union - it would be mad hours like now, but the pay would definitely be there, and probably months sooner than what can be arranged where I'm currently at. So while the decision of stay vs. go isn't yet made, the decision of make more vs. not is definitely made - they only part about that in the air is will I start making that in one month or four.

So sorry about my lack of attention. It's just work. Back to my regularly scheduled blogging.

Who's the boss? I'm the boss!

Man, that just sounds weird.

Boss.

Me? Are you kidding me? A boss? I'm the idiot with a Nerf dart gun in his desk, a beach scene with real sand and sand castle on top, and little Marine Corps men all around. I'm not a boss. My title doesn't say Manager. Not yet, at least.

But my team didn't get that memo and decided to play a bit of a practical joke on me for Boss's day. While I was in a meeting they moved my desk. Completely. Everything on it, they moved to an empty sup's desk. It was a pretty good stunt, and I was honored that they would appreciate me enough to do something like that.

But me? A boss? They pay me a compliment by saying as much and acting like I'm their boss, but it just feels weird. It would be kinda like saying I was the boss as a teacher - sure, I run the class as I see fit, but the boss is the principal.

Just the same, I was thankful. I'm thankful my team, even though they call me boss, still knows me well enough and felt comfortable enough to play a joke on me as my gift and know it would be appreciated.

Snatching Defeat from the claws of Victory

Up 23-3 through three quarters.

Your defense creates 6 turnovers.

Their offense doesn't score a touchdown.

Last year's Mr. Money placekicker with a chance to win the game.

And yet they still find a way to lose, 24-23. It's the worse regular season collapse ever from one of the most, if not the most pathetic franchise in the NFL over their entire existance.

These Cardinals find ways to snatch defeat from the claws of victory. They *should* be 4-2. Instead they're shitty.

Lyrics, I have none

I've always wanted to be a songwriter or lyricist. I've tried on many occasions, a few even being serious attempts...all have been dismal failures. I've written poetry before but I can't force it or write anything of significant quality upon command - it's something that just happens when it happens. And when I *do* write poetry, it's not lyrical at all. Much of it is reminiscent of e e cummings work, which really doesn't lend itself to any lyrical style I'm familiar with or that's easy on the ears.

It's not so much the rock star image that appeals to me, or the free women and beer (although that's not *all* bad), but the communicative aspect - ideas and concepts just sound great via song and lyric rather than prose. It has such a powerful impact on how we view things. Think it's not true? Tell that to John L. Williams when he cashes his royalty checks and commission checks. Not sure who he is? I guarantee you've heard his stuff. Ever watched the Olympics? That's his theme song. How 'bout Star Wars? ET? Raiders of the Lost Arc? Superman? Yup. All him. Try watching any of those movies w/no background music or score and see how different of an experience it is. I'd be willing to wager that heart rate and blood pressure are statistically different with and without the music. And that's just MUSIC...not even words!

Then there's the actual lyricists, the ones that put into words so many ideas that I think of but only know how to write in paragraph form. They convey them (what seems like) effortlessly while strumming a guitar and make people so clearly understand what was going on in their head and heart. I'd love to be able to write a girl a song someday just for her, but that's just not one of my gifts or talents. I'd love to be able to tell my boss "Take this job and shove it..." with a country twang, but, simple as that lyric is, when it comes to songs, I can't come up with anything that sounds even half-way descent to me. Music just seems to move so many people (iPod, anyone?), but I can only reproduce it, not create it.

So until such a time as a lightning strike awakens the lyrically dormant portion of my brain, I guess I'll just stick to karaoke and sloppily playing chords on my guitar that someone else wrote. I may not be able to think of anything original but at least I can carry somebody else's tune.

Good for a laugh

One of my favorite clips EVAR!

The reality of postponement

During dinner today my aunt was all excited and broke out a bag from her suitcase full of lots of clunky stuff and sported a smile ear-to-ear.

"It's Christmas early!"

Oh, joy. Gifts good. Christmas...not so much.

Among other gifts, she gives each of us a Christmas cd to listen to on the way to Oceanside next week. The problem with that is I'm not going to Oceanside any more. We originally rented the condo during a week that was particularly free of scheduling conflicts at work. No matter what I wasn't going to get to take a whole week, but four days was definitely doable.

Then the changes at work came, and both pilots of two new technologies being implimented at work were moved to Oceanside week. I'm on the project team for both technologies, and the team I manage at work is part of the pilot team for each project. Translated - no vacation for me. No good leader ditches his team during a week like that.

Although I knew that the vacation was now out of the picture, the reality of it didn't truly hit me until I saw my aunt and my folks all happy and giddy and smiling about the trip. So now I have a week to listen to an Irish Christmas CD and contemplate where I'd like to go for my next vacation attempt (and when) while my family enjoys a beachfront condo in SoCal (and I potentially duck-and-cover at work if something goes wrong with the new toys).

So no, Brooke, I don't have your birthday off :-(

Anybody got any vacation ideas for kinda cheap?

Words of wisdom from my aunt

Me: "Woah, how'd he get there?"

My Aunt: "Probably by stupidity. Sometimes it can get you where nothing else can."

So true. Sooooo true.

What do you mean you're "out?"

I was up early this morning to finish working on the lawn and went to Dunkin Donuts afterwards. All the Krispy Kreme franchises out here went bankrupt so options are limited. Anywho, I drive up to the little microphone...

"I'd like 4 glazed and 2 cinnamon apple-filled, please"

(No these are not all for me...dad likes donuts, too.)

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're out."

"Pardon me?"

"We're out of glazed and cinnamon apple-filled. Would you like us to make you some?"

"No, not really. I don't want donuts so bad that I would wait in the parking lot for 20 minutes. I would, however, like to kick you in the shins repeatedly. Please walk around to my car door."

Alright, so I didn't say that last line. But I thought it VERY loudly and angrily.

Are you kidding me? OUT of glazed??? That's like a grocery store saying they're out of milk, but they've got a cow in the back if I'd like to wait. I'm already unhappy about being up earlier than I should be only to stir up my allergies again (and keep in mind I've not yet ingested my morning caffeine)...now they go and tell me they're out?

Krispy Kreme never ran out of glazed donuts. Bastards.

Firsts

A recently-experienced "first prompted the lists, so without further ado....

Top 5 Best "Firsts"

5. First Fire Team. In the military, the next largest "unit" above an individual Marine/Soldier is a fire team - 4 people, each with a specific function, that move together and work as a whole. I was the fire team leader of the Alpha 1 (First squad, first team) team, and we were the A1 team for a reason - we kicked tail . We complimented each other's strengths and weaknesses, and if they ever needed anything from supplies to answers, I did what I could to get them. It was, by far, the most enjoyable part about being in the Corps. Ooh Rah!

4. My First Convention. The first con I volunteered at was GenCon SoCal 03, aka RelaxaCon. This is where I met the entire Decipher crew, Josh, Hayes, Justin, Vinson, Denise, Dawn, Robbie (aka RobbieRules), Frank, and a slew of other players and peeps. I know it was slower than your average con but I had a freakin' awesome time, and this set the stage for everything else to come.

3. My First Dog. Benjamin, a beige Jack Russell/poodle mix. Smart, fiesty, delightfully spiteful. Lived 17 years before he finally had to be put down. Not a fun day at all. I haven't had another dog since, but I can't wait until that does happen!

2. My First Appartment. Most people love the day the graduated or their first car. Eh. For me, the day I was finally on my own was the best day in the world. True freedom (but not from bills, of course ;-) )!

1. Marriage. I don't call it a first because so far it's the only. But yes, I appreciated everything about being married, short as it was - even the arguments!

And now the worsts....

5. First loss of a friend to death. This wasn't Stuart as many might think. Rather, it was my 4th Grade teacher, Mrs. Nash. She brought in 7th and 8th grade texts for me to work from, particularly in math, and I still consistently scored in the 80% range in tests. Then she died and all advanced work ceased. The new teacher wouldn't provide it, and the following years I was just put in the advanced classes at the same grade level. Much boredom. Had Mrs. Nash lived through that year, who knows where/how I would have finished in school. That's not to say that I turned out bad by any means - I think I just would have had a bit of a different educational experience.
4. First time my best friend dated a girl I was interested. I was in San Diego for a few days with my family to celebrate my mother's birthday. He knew I was intersted in this girl and was going to be pursuing her upon my return. Knowing my plans, he pre-empted all that and asked her out while I was away, so I return to those two "dating." Not only that, but I had to observe them with each other during a New Year's Eve/Day trip to California and Knott's Berry Farm. Not my idea of fun. He and I don't always see eye to eye and that's fine, but that move nearly ended our friendship. We chose to work through it and I'm glad we did but thems was some rough few months.

3. First time I got drunk. Oh sweet mercy, I never want to feel that again. Millenium party, 12/31/99. My friend and I were drinking at his house party, then he sat next to me and we just started going glass for glass, beer for beer. As it turns out we downed 72 ozs of beer and jungle juice in about 72 minutes. He heaved for a day and a half. I drove to work at least hung over (and possibly even still drunk tho I shudder at that thought) to check on Y2K compliance, pulling into the parking lot RIGHT BEHIND MY BOSS. Then I got to spend the next three hours staring at fluorescent lights and computer screens. Here's a snippet of a conversation with a military/co-worker buddy of mine once I arrived...

David - "You look like hell man!"

Me - "Ugh...what fixes this? Make it go away. Please. Please."

David - "Nope. Nothing makes it go away other than time and sleep. Get some water in you, man...you're gonna need it."

2. First argument with my sister. I absolutely adore my sister and loved being her big brother. I took her everywhere when she was too young too drive, kicked her ex-boyfriends' asses when they hurt her, and listened to her when she cried. We went to baseball games, and I came to her softball games to watch her catch. When ever she needed me, I was there. The day finally came when I needed her. Instead, she decided to watch a taped episode of ER. I left her apartment absolutely pissed off. As I was pulling out of the parking lot she called on my cellphone to apologize and the argument ensued. I never...NEVER argued with my sister. Ever. I had no idea how to react. I was basically useless/catatonic the next day until we finally worked it out. We've never argued like that since.

1. Divorce. It's well in the past now...there's no bitterness and I've moved on. In fact, it was probably the most amicable divorce two people could have. But that was by far the most difficult event I've had to work through. I hope not to experience it again.

The Birthday

It was very simple and rather uneventful day coupled with a simple and rather fantastic evening.

Who would have thought the best gifts I'd get are a small wooden box and some conversation about children?

Strange Weekend

So, in the course of three days...

- My team loses a fundraising penny war at work by a mere $.31 per person.
- The D-backs lose a game to a walk off grand slam in the bottom of the 9th.
- ASU gets tore up from the floor up.
- Michigan wins
- I went to the Cardinals game only to watch them hand St. Louis the game on a silver platter (evidently we wanted to lose it more).
- My garage door broke. I spent a good part of Saturday morning trying to fix it until I realized that the axle that drives the chain gear snapped. That I can't fix, and it's under warrantee anyway.
- I mowed the dirt in the back yard causing my allergies to somewhat erupt compared to their mildly irriated state from the day before.

And yet I still count it a good weekend. I enjoyed myself and relaxed, and I guess that's the best you can hope for. Any extra goodness beyond that is just bonus.

On a completely unrelated note, Chris Simms ruptured his spleen in the game sometime today, left for a while to vomit a bit, took an IV or two, then went back to finish the game before going to the hospital for a likely season-ending spleenectomy. Chris, you may have been a shoddy NFL quarterback, but coming back like that is all man. Or all stupid (which would still qualify as all man).

Now me, if I'm vomiting up parts of my organs, I'm likely to sit out the next series of downs. Or maybe pass out, depending on the organ.

Damn, I'm tired. I think I inhaled too much dirt and dust today (for real...mowing was awful) and my lungs are just irritated. Time for rest.

Bonds

Ever try to glue two perfectly smooth surfaces together? A bond will be formed by the glue, but without any crevaces or nooks to hold on to the bond is weak at best. Scrape and scuff up the surfaces before you apply the glue, however, and the bond formed is exceedingly more durable.

What a beautiful irony...because of some imperfections, rough spots, and weaknesses, bonds can be made stronger.

Roller Coasters

As the title of my blog indicates, I tend to prefer being in position to exert control over a situation. Note that I didn't say "in control" of a situation - I'm not what I would call a control freak. I do lean that way, though, and and want to be able to at least influence situations, be it directly or indirectly. That's probably why roller coasters appeal to me so much - I have to yield control to gravity and steel, trapped in a vehicle that goes from about 0-5 to about 60-85 mph in a matter of seconds. I couldn't steer that contraption or slow it down if I tried. The feeling of raw acceleration combined with the forces of gravity is a freakin' rush.

What's nearly paralyzing, though, is the slow, steep ride up the initial hill. Notch after notch, the chain drive rachets the train up the hill creating this infernal racket hearlding in your imminent desent until it pushes and pulls you to the summit, at which point you remain momentarily suspended at the apex - just long enough for you to look around, then look down and think to yourself "Oh, shit" (in a much more exlamatory fashion, of course)...

Welcome to my morning Monday, September 18th. I read in an email at work, "We have a lot to discuss." In a subsequent email it was determined we'd talk about it later that day.

Click click click click click click click up the hill we go, and so the ride begins.

Conversations that start with some form of "We have a lot to discuss," are just so rarely good or fun, and this one wasn't likely to be much different. I pretty much knew the general content of what needed dicussed, but I also knew that conversation wouldn't happen for hours. Hours of wondering, pondering, worrying, stewing, concerns brewing, practicing, rehearsing, rehashing...preparing. Hours of steep incline. Hours of being dragged up the hill. Then just a little higher, until finally we were at the apex...

Oh, shit....

And then the natural forces of the conversation finally took over. For five hours. And man, was it a ride! Dips and drops and turns and corkscrews and loops, one after another; and while the content of the conversation wasn't fun by any means, by the time the ride came to an end, I looked back on it with a smile (and a yawn because I was dog ass tired).

There are days

There are days you just don't want to go to work.

I don't want to go to work until February, although I dare say that might cause complications to my continued employment, so I go.

*sigh*

It cuts like a knife...

A significant portion of what I do at work is "coaching." I review people's performances, highlight the good, take a look at some of the weaknesses, and discuss ideas on how improvements might be made. Not only do I do this at work, but it's something I've done for a large portion of my life. I obviously did such thigns as a teacher. I helped people as an RA and as a youth leader. And when I was a coach on various volleyball teams.

I've spent a lot of my life watching others, telling them what they're doing wrong, and helping them fix it. As long as someone in this line of work does the same for themself, it's not a bad gig.

Enter the disconnect.

I generally monitor myself pretty damn well and am keenly aware of my status in a good many things. Sometimes, though, I'll focus on other things/people so much that I stop monitoring me. This inevitably leads to not goodness, and that's happened recently. Three times in the past three days I've been told by others whom I care about and respect that I should maybe listen to myself and follow one of the tips I give others. The first two times it was conveyed in a rather casual manner, but clearly I didn't get the point because it took a third person to throw some of my own words back in my face before it finally sunk in. Here's a general paraphrase...

"You once said I should do X, and yet you're not even doing it yourself."

It seems to me there's a word to describe that...yup, it's called HYPOCRACY.

*OUCH*

I can't hardly describe how uncomfortable and humbling it is to be faced with the reality that I've been living such hypocracy for a little while, but it's the truth and truth hurts for a reason. It cuts like a knife through all the nonsense and reveals what is. But if my friends and loved ones hadn't spoken this truth to me and I didn't see it on my own, how could I fix what needed to be fixed?

To those that tried to help me see that something was awry, you have my gratitude and sincere thanks for not being afraid to say what needed said. And to the one that didn't hesitate to use my own words to call me on the carpet, thank you the most. You may really have been mad at me, but I know you did it because you care and I appreciate it.

Hungry

Yesterday I was so frustrated with how things went during the day that I barely ate. My entire intake consisted of a cup of coffee, a twinkee, three pieces of chocolate, a coke, and some pringles.

This morning I awake along with my temporarily forgotten appetite. Grrrumble. Bring me some yummeh food now, all of you!!!

Boobgate Results

The people have spoken, and they want lap dances.


Scottsdale Proposition 401
Place new restrictions on strip clubs
100.0% of Precincts Reporting
(87 of 87 Precincts)

	Total Number of Votes		Percent
NO -		13,578	53%
YES -		12,240	47%
Total Number of Votes			25,818

The Century Mark

100 unique hits in 20 days. Woohoo!

Gatorade

How come the University of Michigan's football team doesn't drink gatorade during the games?

On September 11th and the American Flag

I was a bit busy yesterday so this post comes one day late. My fallen comrades will forgive me, I'm sure.

This is our generation's JFK. I was driving to work when I heard the news on the radio, and at first I didn't believe it. I honestly thought it was like an Orson Wells-type broadcast. Ha ha. Except it wasn't. And then I turned around and went back home to all my friends at school, joining them as their disbelief was slapped in the face with live, incontrevertable video proof of what was happening.

Jesus, what was happening?

Not long after that, everyone became a patriot. And not long after that, the American capitalistic machine geared up to feed the new addiction - flags. Everywhere...EVERYWHERE...there were American flags. At first it was a sincere display of grief, pride, honor, and identity. Then it became commercial, like Christmas in October but worse, and the symbol was largely bastardized for a time. Some of these folks might as well have printed the stars in a dollar sign and slapped me in the face with it.

I can handle someone burning the flag. While I may disagree with the display, I served my country for your right to raise it or burn it as you choose. Just don't fuck with what my flag and yours represents - freedom, not dollars.

Next time you see an American flag, just take a moment...just a moment...and apreciate the simple fact that you have the freedom and ability to stand there and support it, speak out against it, or attempt to change it as you see fit. And also apreciate the folks, past and present that have served our country to further those causes.

All in favor of lap dances, say "Aye!"

I hate politics, and party politics in particular. I didn't know I hated it until I went to Boys State and was elected Supreme Court Justice (seminars were boring as hell, but in the evening it was nothing but pizza, poker, and carousing with the college girls on NAU's campus during the summer), but I learned quickly that I hate politics. But I do strongly believe in voting, so I do.

Anywho, as some of you may know, Jenna Jameson put up a strip club in a suburb of Phoenix. The city didn't really want the business or the notoriety so they tried to ban strip clubs. That didn't go so well, so they decided that they would just ban lap dances instead. Jameson, her entourage, and the scads of lap dance fans that attend ASU said they didn't like that idea, either, and they were willing to collect signatures and take it to the polls. And that they did. Today, Scottsdale voters are determining whether or not they want lap dances to remain legal.

If you'd like to read about Prop 401, aka Boobgate, click here.

While I do hate politics, this whole vote has me thinking...

- Is it really fair, or even legal, to have Jenna Jameson's name tied to any ballot issue? There are some guys that, if they know a porn star's breasts are backing an issue, they're going to vote for it. It wouldn't matter if the issue was mandating government-assisted suicide for all firstborn males at the age of 25, they'd still vote for it. We'll call this the Jameson Bias.

- Will the Jameson Bias end up attracting more total votes than the Govenor's primary race in the same city? Or, more appropriately, will a higher percentage of registered voters turn out to vote in Scottsdale because of the Jameson Bias (both for and against the issue, as there are some voters/people that are against the bill simply because a porn star's breasts are backing the issue)?

- Many folks are suddenly in outrage over lap dances. Why now? Did you not know about lap dances before? Had you forgotten that you're against them until Jenna Jameson's arrival in your back yard stirred your memory? Did Jenna turn you down for a lap dance? Are you jealous of her breasts?

- One of the common arguments against the business I've heard is that lap dances are degrading to women. This, to me, is a little bit (maybe a lot) ignorant. My first thought is, "How do you know it's degrading to women?" The answers to that question aside, other quesitons come up. Who do you feel it's degrading and why? Is it degrading to you? My mom? Your mom? Our female governor? My multiple lady co-workers? And if it is degrading to all those folks, does your vote represent them or you?

Is it degrading because it violates your religious beliefs? Because you feel that such activities are violations against the beauty of the female body and should therefore be outlawed? Does another woman choosing (omg, does it offend you that she might actually *want* to do this?) to earn her living via moving her body make you feel like less of a person? Are you degraded because that woman is making more money with her body than you are with your mind?

If a woman moving her body next to a man is degrading, is it also degrading when a woman wants to work construction or an assembly line? Or is it only degrading if her shirt is off while she's working?

I realize that the issue is a little deeper than whether or not we have a problem with women making money by shakin' a little T&A, and I think some of the points against the lap dances are particularly valid and poingnant. But what I also think is that we have a situation where "a person is smart, but people are stupid," and on this particular issue we've got a city of idiots full of sound and fury telling their meaningless and largely ignorant tales, signifying nothing. I only hope that voters, whatever they decide, take a moment to actually ponder the issue, why they think the way they do, and make a rational, educated decision. That's all I ask. Is that too much?

When T&A are involved, you're damn right that's too much to ask. Rightly or wrongly, the Jameson Bias trumps reason any day of the week.

Rivals

Some people are rasied to root for specific teams. It's part of who they are and runs in their blood. For me, that's Ohio State and Peoria High School. No matter how thuggish the teams are, I have to root for them.

While some folks are die hard fans of teams, not nearly as many folk are lifelong enemies of their teams' rivals. But me...I am. Oohhhh, yes, I am. There are three teams that should never win a game. Nothing good comes from them, and all demons various other forms of evil eminate from them. These teams are the University of Michigan, the Baltimore Ravens (F you, Art Model! There are still people waiting to kill you back in Cleveland!), and the Cactus Cobras. Yes, that's right. I still hate my old high school's rival team. We don't even play them regularly any more because the district has intentionaly kept Cactus' population lower so that they can continue to dominate a lower division of sports rather than play with the big boys. Bitches. It wouldn't be so bad if their football coach weren't such an idiot, but he is. And this bothers me. In his 20 years of coaching, he's gone to the state championship at least 5 times, maybe more. It wasn't until last year that he finally won one. He FINALLY learned the error of his ways in 2004.

Cactus was playing Moon Valley in the finals and was romping. An absolute ass-whoopin', 35-0 at half. They then proceeded to lose 42-35. I laughed my ass off when I read the headlines. Same ol', same ol', Coach Fetkenheier. Bear in mind, this is also the same idiot that thought it was a good idea to go for it on 4th and 8 on their own 12 yard line when playing us (we sacked'em on the play, then scored on our first play after the change of possession...stick that in your eye, bitches). The next year, his team finally finished the mission and won the whole thing. Why? Because he realized that you use your best athletes on DEFENSE, not as wide receivers. The offense will get you to the big show, but the defense will win it for you. That's a twenty year lesson learned. Good job, coach!

I learned that one when I was seven.

The only reason this comes up is because I read in the paper today that Cactus was finally dethroned from the #1 ranking, getting thumped by another local school, and I could feel this sick, cheesy grin come over my face as I started to laugh. :-) I don't go to the games very often any more, but after following Peoria football for the past seventeen years, I still love seeing the old rival get it handed to them.

Don't try this at home

I'm only going to say this once. I will not repeat myself, so be sure to pay attention.



Homemade wings are bad.



To my knowledge I've tried homemade wings twice in my lifetime, neither sampling of which were made by me or my family. Both times yielded less than pleasant results. The first time I think I just wasn't used to the spices or something, but this time I know there was definitely something wrong. Both the moms and I have been ill all day. If you can imagine someone taking a large spoon, heating it until it's all red, jamming it in my chest and stirring it about...that's about what it feels like (or so I imagine).

I'm not making this mistake again. I don't care how long you say you've been making them or how good they are, you can keep your damn posion fowl to yourself.

Hats

I never used to like hats. In fact, I couldn't stand them. I'd have never made it in little league because I always would have been out of uniform. In the summer before 7th grade, however, events transpired that would change my disdain to fondness. Arena football was coming to the valley in the form of the Arizona Rattlers and I was keenly interested, so I convinced my jr. high youth group leader to get season tickets so that I could go to *one* game (riiight...). The free gift with the season tickets was a Rattlers hat and Roger gave it to me. When he took me to the game I didn't figure it would be right not to wear his gift, awkward as I thought it was, so I sucked it up and wore it. It was only for one night, right? Wellll...he told me that he thought the hat looked cool on me. So did Kelly, this cute blonde that was also in the group. That sealed the deal. Hat stayed.

From then on I've been a fan of hats, and they've been fans of me. Some of them have even become trademarks - people found me in crowds by my hats. Ranging from normal baseball caps to mombosoks to snowboarding hats to golf caps and fedoras, they've been a part of my life. One of my favorites is my old grey golf cap...I liked it so much it even went on formal dates and appeared in my senior pictures...


I continue to wear hats not just because I like them, but because my father has an ongoing bout with skin cancer. A small patch of cancer keeps popping up on his head in the same spot, and other, smaller patches appear all around his skull. The last trip to the dermatologist yielded 19 sores. The docs tell him that part of the reason is because he didn't protect his head when we first moved out here (he's completely bald on top) with sunscreen or a hat. That's not gonna happen to me (at least not for that reason).

In any case, my trademark hat right now is a black pseudo-fedora by Volcom. At work people make comments about it literally every day I wear it, ranging from, "That hat really looks classy...I wish more people would wear hats like that, " to, "You were born to wear that hat," to "MmMmMm...I love it when you wear that hat." People may not know my name, but I guarantee that if you refer to me as "the guy that wears that black hat," people will know who you're talking about.


If people identify me by my hat, that's fine. In fact, I think it's kinda neat. I just hope that I'm remembered by something other than my headwear.

Are you ready...

...for some football????

Hellz yeah!!!

...for the holidays????

Ugh, no. Not at all. But they'll be here in the blink of an eye whether I want them to or not (and I don't). If there's any ray of hope in all that, at least we're getting closer to Valentines Day now rather than farther away from it. Gotta have something to look forward to, y'know?

Ninjas!!!!!

Best Birthday Moments

My birthday's commin' up...another year older (I've been gettin' older since the day I was born, but I'll be damned if I'm gettin' old...f that). Typically my birthdays have been rather unmemorable - not necessarily bad, just nothing noteworthy. In fact, more often than not I completely forget about my birthday until suddenly there's a balloon at my desk or package at the door. "What's this for.....oh, yeah!" There have been a few good ones, though...

- 13. I actually had two parties for this one, one good surprise birthday party (they actually kept it hidden from me!) with all kinds of folks there, and one afterwards where just a few of the guys and I went to watch Peoria kick Cactus' ass 55-33 (yes, I still remember the score) then came back to my place and played our own brand of back yard football until we couldn't move any more. This was the last real hurrah that most of us remember Stuart at before his life tragically ended, and it's my understanding that this party was a topic of conversation at our ten-year reunion recently.

- 18. Friends from at least 5 high schools were present after the Peoria/Cactus game (which we won yet again) at a 5th Quarter-type party. There wasn't a hint of drunkenness, but all had a great time. Best cake fight EVER (I lost pretty bad, but who am I to say that a girl can't rub up all over me with icing in her hand?).

- 21. This had none of your drunken debauchery typical of 21st birthday celebrations. Instead, I was in Marine Corps basic training. I got a care package with twinkies from my mom and a card from my sister in the mail on my actual birthday. The odds of those arriving on that exact day together while I was out in the field are pretty not good, yet it happened. I shared the twinkies w/my platoon, of course. One of them is quoted as saying, "OMG, this is the best twinkie I've ever had!" Well, hell, it's the only thing even resembling sugary goodness you've had in about ten weeks which might have something to do with it!

- A little less than two months before 27. A bunch of friends (a couple of you were even there) of mine bought me a lot of drinks the night before GenCon started in Indianapolis. The evening started at Champions sports bar and eventually migrated over to Ram. One conversation went something like this:

Friend - Happy early birthday! Here, have a drink!

Me - What is it?

Friend - Just drink it?

Me - Ok (spoken to self: "Oh, this is gonna mess me up, isn't it?").

It didn't get better from there. The evening involved some combination of whiskeys, gins, margaritas, and beers, and ended with me not being able to feel my fingertips and dropping chips in my lap, laughing the whole time. Sonny had to be my guide back to the hotel where we were staying because I had no idea where we were other than it began with an I. I had a blast this night, and it remains the most fun I've ever had at a convention. I don't know that the same group of friends will ever be together again at the same time.

A Wickedly wonderful evening

So I finally saw Wicked ths past Saturday, and a wonderful show it was!

The evening started at House of Tricks, a nice, unassuming restaurant near the theatre. If you wanna check it out, visit www.houseoftricks.com. It came highly recommended by a couple of friends of mine and some of the entrees are rather unusual twists on old stand-bys so I figured, sure, why not. Well, I'll tell you why - the service was atrocious, the environment wasn't all that comfortable (too hot, little air movement, holes in the ceiling), and the food wasn't good enough to make up for the price of the experience. The food was definitely good, though, in spite of some of the less-than-stellar cheeses. The brie was awful, and I think one of the other ones might have been goat cheese. It was rather disgusting so I didn't care what I was eating as long as I didn't have to have another bite, but the bites I did have were still entertaining at the very least as my date helped me to laugh at my own reactions to the taste. It's rather impossible for me to take things too seriously when she's around (she know at a glance when I'm too stressed or focused and somehow gets me to smile for which I'm grateful even if I say I'm not).

After dinner it was straight to the show. The parking at ASU isn't the greatest so we had to walk a little ways to get to the theatre but once we arrived things were just dandy. All the beautiful people came out in there duds for the show and we were no different - my girlfriend looked quite wonderful in her dress, her face sparkling in the lights as we walked through the lobby, looking very much the lady, and I even shined my shoes the night before! And truly, the show didn't disappoint. Glinda gave an incredible performance, as did Madamme Morrible and The Wizard, the ensemble sounded superb, and the set looked amazing! The only real downer was Fiyero - he looked the part and could sing alright, but his acting was only so-so and his dancing was painful to watch. This is a particularly bad principle to have as a poor dancer considering his big number is entitled "Dancing Through Life," and it wasn't even an understudy! Regardless, the show was quite entertaining.

Overall it was a great night. Good food, a great show for my girlfriend's first "Broadway" experience, and amazing company.

Now the next question is can I make it to "Chicago"...

Geniuses

My boss had this quotation on his calendar the other day:

Talent is what you possess; genius is what possesses you.
-Malcolm Cowley

I pondered this for a while and came to the conclusion that I pretty much agree. Many people are intellectual or smart or intelligent because they've worked at acquiring knowledge and have applied it successfully. But geniuses...they don't work at it so much, it's just who they are. That's not to say that they don't work hard or acquire vast amounts of knowledge or lack intellectual prowess - to the contrary, many geniuses tend to display such tendencies. I simply contend that geniuses don't have to work at being a genius - it just flows from them.

I've been fortunate to have been around a pretty fair amount of folks I would consider to be geniuses. My jr. high special ed teacher was a brilliant educator and I learned every bit I could from her. I think Hayden is one. He might bitch a lot, but he bitches brilliantly. My ol' nemesis Colleen is probably one, and is growing more genius as she travels through life. My buddy James was the best game-player I ever knew and there's no doubt in my mind that if he was alive today he not only would have multiple national/world championship titles for various fantasy sports leagues and TCGs but would also have probably been hired as either a game designer or contract consultant to review new games.

I think most people are capable of moments of genius but only a few folks are blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with living a life of genius.

Boof? Really?

How can you not be a fan of a pitcher named Boof? Nope, that's not his nickname. That's his real name. Boof.

26 Boof Bonser, SP

Height/Weight: 6-4/260 Birthdate: 10/14/1981 Birthplace: St. Petersburg, FL Bats/Throws: R/R

I don't think he's foreign which makes me wonder, how does a mother come to name her son Boof? My dad wanted to name me BF (for real! Just the letters BF for my first name, not initials) so that I would be BF Goodrich. Mom about broke his fingers at the thought and that ended that.

What the hell are you lookin' at THAT for?

I was talking to someone the other day about Superman and my jaw dropped when a certain question came up. I'll paraphrase the conversaion below (names have been changed to protect the guilty):

Me - It's alright, I'm like Superman, made of steel!

Johnson - Yeah, okay.

Me - Ha ha.

Johnson - So does Superman wear a cup?

Me - Um, wut?

Johnson - Well, I mean he's got the perfect package [note - lest there be any confusion, this is refering to the way Superman's penis is shaped in his tights, not Superman's recent UPS shipment of pez dispensers].

Me - What the HELL are you looking at THAT for?

Johnson - Well, he does! It's like perfectly proportional to his body! Nobody has a penis like that without a cup.

Me - No, he doesn't wear a cup! Why the hell would he need a cup? He's made of STEEL!

Johnson - No, I'm sorry. I don't care, if he gets hit there he's gonna crumble like a bitch unless he's wearing a cup just like any other guy.

Me - Dude, no. You don't know what you're talking about. His only weakness is kryptonite, not kryptonite and his nuts.

Johnson - I'm tellin' you, it would at least hurt a little bit.

Me - Whatever. I don't wanna talk about this any more.

*sigh* Every time I think about this conversation it makes me sad. I was never really a huge fan of comic books but now I REALLY don't want to read them - I'm too afraid that I'll open one up to a page where Superman is punching some dude's lights out and instead of "POW!" it says "WANG!"