Sunday, October 26, 2008

Chewing the Fat...

Part of the business I'm in requires me to go to dinner with clients. Business dinners. Yum.

I've noticed a small trend. A trend that, if it takes, will make me happy. I always defer to the client for the choice of restaurants, and the last five choices they made seem to be going against convention.

Three chose steak houses. One chose a sushi joint (gag) and one picked a burger joint. OK it was an "upscale" burger joint (if there can be such a thing), but it was a burger joint nonetheless.

Can it be? After too many years of being served grass, weed-clippings and pet dander, can it possibly be that people are returning to food?

Sushi isn't food, by the way. I used to pay $3 a bucket of that stuff to take it fishing where I caught fish and took them home and cooked them, and now they want me to pay $5 a PIECE to stick it on a hook and shove it in my OWN mouth.

But I got lost there a second. As I wondered, can we possibly be back on the track where dinner in a restaurant is once again something intended to bring pleasure? Can fine dining (burger joints can be fine, too, ya know) actually be a situation where we break from the norms of our daily eating habits and actually enjoy ourselves?

I went on vacation with a friend, and she had to allow an hour per day for her "training". Which really meant about 2 and 1/2 hours as she had to dress for the gym, and then spend an hour afterward primping for the other parts of our vacation. And she wasn't really "training" for anything. She just couldn't imagine 7 whole days of just relaxing and enjoying herself.

It's the same principle, you know? How often do we really engage in "fine dining"? Would one steak per month really hurt you? Would a burger every third week put you in a coma? Come on now!

I don't think there's anything wrong with sitting down in a restaurant and letting one's hair down (or loosening the belt, so to speak)once in a while. And I'm so happy at the prospect that Good Eats might actually come back into vogue.

Think I'll call a client and go for some ribs. See ya.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

How To Not Feel Badly...

I don't know where I heard it, but someone said, "Just because there are so many people far worse off than you, doesn't mean your pain doesn't count." To me, that's such a great quote.

We've got this whole thing going on in our society these days, where someone is always telling us that we shouldn't feel badly because somewhere, someone is suffering so much more than we. And others tell us that we should spend no time dealing with the things that are bad in our lives, in essence, get over it and move on.

I will agree, 100%, that dwelling on problems isn't the most productive way to live. When it comes to things that we have no control over, it's probably best not to ponder them too long. I'll give you that. But the impression I get from some people is that they consider feeling badly, being upset over things that go wrong, is somehow selfish or greedy bahavior.

We work with superstition and beliefs, telling a bride that rain on the wedding day is "good luck", for example. There is nothing wrong with being encouraging and supportive. Nothing at all. But treating someone's feelings as if they're doing something wrong by hurting, well I don't always see that as constructive.

Yes, some people are never happy. If life isnt 100% perfect, they're miserable. That's not a realistic view of life, and that's not a healthy disposition. But sometimes, things do happen to people, things they may not be able to control, and the hurt they feel is very real. Are we doing them a service by telling them something like, "Oh you have so many things to be thankful for, get over it."?

I think it's sort of wrong to condemn someone for hurting. Bad things sometimes happen to good people. I think that feeling badly, being upset, is a natural reaction. I don't think that having most of one's ducks in a row should render one immune to pain. I believe we should be supportive of those who are dealing with crises, and not be too quick to dismiss what it is that is causing them pain and sadness just because most everything else is in order. No one should be made to feel inadequate or selfish because they succumb to bad feelings now and then.

Again, I'm not advocating the behavior of those who never seem to be happy. In truth, there are those who make a career out of being in the dumps. A pity-party regular, so to speak. But now and then I think everyone is entitled to hurt. Life isn't perfect, and we shouldn't expect it to be. But to me, it's not wrong to hurt occasionally.

What do you think?

Friday, October 24, 2008

Perchance To Dream...

I dreamt that I was using my cell phone to send a text. I was using my headset in the dream and was composing the text using my voice. I was very happy about that.

Then I woke up. Not happy. My phone doesn't do that in real life, but that wasn't the problem.

I mean, with all great stuff that there is to dream about, my brain comes up with that?

I think I need a tune-up.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

To Cap It Off...

My skeletal situation makes picking things up off the floor a little difficult. It seems that everything I want to buy in the supermarket is on the bottom shelf, and things are always dropping to the floor.

In high school I participated on the shot-put team. I wasn't very good. You have to hurl a 12-pound steel ball and try to hurl it far. I couldn't do that too well. No gold medals for me.

So how come when I drop a bottle cap on the floor, it winds up 480 miles away in Cleveland??? Or I dropped a screw to the light fixture, and I think it's still rolling, 4 years later.

Ugh.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Very Corny

Now that it's becoming more apparent that the Ethanol Mandate is probably going to go away, The Corn People are going to have to stop trying to shove their product in our tanks.

So now they're looking to start shoving it down our throats instead. How funny is this site?

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Ponderances

I do enjoy being silly. Most of the time. But sometimes I really wonder how we can keep smiling when things just seem to get tougher on us. These are some of the questions that come to mind.

I must note that I am just as guilty of the posted sins as anyone else

Sitting and looking at the whole Credit Crunch Fiasco, I can't help but think. There were a lot of people who sought to benefit from the underhanded practices that took place in the credit markets the last few years. Admittedly, there was a lot of sleight-of-hand and misrepresentations, but it just makes me remember the adage, "If something seems too good to be true..." My question is, could every single person who got into these situations, particularly in real estate have been completely unaware of the loaded guns they were picking up when they agreed to sub-prime mortgages?

I think of all the product recalls from a year ago, and how the most recent one once again involved Chinese products (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/worldnews/article-1063950/Cadbury-recall-chocolate-China-fears-contain-contaminated-milk.html). I just wonder how all the companies that repeatedly violate consumer safety practices in this country remain in business in this country. Will we really tolerate anything to save a buck?

And speaking of bucks...Alan Fishman lost WaMu. He was CEO for 18 days and stands to make over $13 million. Stan O'Neal was at the helm at Merrill Lynch when that firm went by the wayside because of bad investment decisions in the sub-prime lending fiasco. He walked away with nearly $160 million. And the guy in charge of Lehman brothers could possibly net $240 million for his troubles. Are we really going to allow these guys to profit so handsomely from their disastrous leadership? Shouldn't we be screaming to our Congressmen or other lawmakers to see what can be done? If not, why not?

And to finish spitting up here today, I just want to know if anyone can't point out the moment in time when elections became a matter of choosing who lies the least?

What's happened to us?

Monday, October 20, 2008

Things Is Fixed?

Usually Mondays aren't too great. I sometimes feel like I am the human equivalent of a Monday, you know, like no one really likes them, but they can't make them go away, so they deal with them as quickly as possible. And wait for Tuesday, of course.

So Blogger has finally surmised that I'm not a Bot (as in SPAMbot, as in Robot). I wouldn't make a very good robot. Robots don't typically fall down and break things. Or do Stupid things. And they can generally walk without a limp. And without crutches.

It's funny...while I was in Spam Purgatory, it just meant that I had to type in one of those word verifications in order to publish my entries. Not really a big deal, but I didn't like having to do that. It kinda made Blogging less fun. And being that I had no or little time to Blog, the draw just kinda wasn't too powerful.

But two things have happened this day. Blogger figured it out, and, I actually have a couple of free hours. So now maybe I can get back to doing what I do best: being annoying, like a Monday.

And now that I have been de-BOTted, I understand I can write a whole bunch of nonsense, and schedule it to publish in advance.

So, folks, I'm back.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Things I Thought I Thought About


While it's true that I have been less-than-active in the Blogger world, that doesn't mean the brain hasn't been working overtime.

I think I might give up my current career. Yeah. And become a burglar.

Why, you might be thinking?

My current career has me on the road for many, many hours. Something has changed.

Is anyone ever at home anymore?

There was a time, we had "rush hour." A couple of hours before the workday began, the roads would jam up with cars because everyone was on the road getting to work. And of course, the same would be true for a couple of hours after the workday ended. Everyone was going home.

So this would leave a few hours during the day where non-essential travel could be accomplished rather painlessly.

Not anymore.

24 hours a day, 7 days a week now, the roads are packed. Millions and millions of cars out there, clogging the roadways. Where the hell is everyone going? Do they not like their homes anymore?

No one is ever at home. Either that, or the census count is way, way off.

So yeah, this apparent lack of at-home citizenry could be a bonanza for burglary. I just wonder who's feeding the dog, ya know?

And speaking of going places, howbout this?

I saw one of those infomercials the other night. It was for this device which uses ultrasound waves to chase rats and roaches out of your house. It doesn't kill them, it merely urges them to find somewhere else to be. Get lost.

So...just suppose for 30 seconds or so, that this product really did work as claimed. Now everyone with half-a-brain who wanted to be rid of rats and roaches would simply buy one or two of these toys, and plug it in. Roach and Rat free house. Voila!

Except: where would all the rats and roaches go? Where would they call "home?" And how nasty would that place be, huh?

See?

Time on my hands is rare, but it's still very productive.

Oh, and Blogger still thinks my blog is being written by a BOT. Imagine a robot this dumb?

Friday, September 12, 2008

9.11.08 - Seven Years On

I always find this day a tough one to get through, and, seven years later, those feelings haven't gone away. I just want to share my own recollection from that day in September, 2001.

People who write recollections of terrible events usually start out with something along the lines of "It was an ordinary day."

September 11th, 2001, for me was very much an ordinary day. It was a workday, and I was on my way in to work. I was running late for a meeting, and was a little sour about that. I had decided not to stay in NY City overnight the previous evening. We'd been working on a large project, and Monday night the 10th was the last working night before the project went into effect after the meeting on the morning of the 11th. I was regretting my decision to instead, go home that Monday night and skip the hotel.

About 8:30, my ferry into NY landed on the dock. I was hurrying to get from the East Side over to the World Financial Center, just west of the World Trade Center. I was using a Blackberry device to communicate with a partner of mine who was at the meeting and who had agreed to cover for me.

Then around 8:40 AM, he sent me an email to tell me that all was well, and that I should just head right to work at the Exchange, and meet him there. Everything worked out fine, so my mood was a little less hostile when I got to the Exchange.

I stopped in the office coatroom and hung my suit jacket. I put on my work jacket and headed upstairs. As I reached my work area, a large group had gathered around one of the large TV monitors that we had installed. They were watching CNN.







Apparently, at around 8:45 AM, an airplane had struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The plane had smashed into the north face of the building, at the higher floors of the building. The reports were early, but there was a video crew on location already, and images were being broadcast. We could see the building burning, and heavy smoke coming from the building.

I turned to one of my partners and he asked if I wanted to join him outside for a smoke. Two of my brothers were working at 4 World Trade Center, which to those who might not know, are those black buildings we could see at the base of the larger towers. I suggested we walk over to the WTC as it was still early, and I could see that my brothers were OK.











Kevin and I began to walk north on Nassau Street toward the Trade Center. As we walked, huge amounts of paper were floating down from the sky. A good portion of these papers were charred on the edges, but we could see that they were mostly letterhead, computer printouts, and the like. The street was already fairly covered by the paper. I reached down and picked up some of the paper as we walked. The letterhead was printed with familiar company names, but I felt as though I shouldn't be reading what was printed on it, so I dropped it. There was a pretty heavy smell of smoke in the air, but we were far enough at the moment that it wasn't a real problem for him or me.





As we got to Liberty Street, we got a clear view of what had happened. There was a large, gaping hole in the side of the building and large amounts of smoke pouring out. People were milling all about, not quite sure what was going on. We watched the building as we walked closer to the site, and the smoke became thicker as we approached.

We walked together, looking at the building. We could see burning debris falling from the sides of the North Tower, and the noise from the responding emergency vehicles filled the air. People were heading in both directions, toward and away from the towers.

A few minutes later, as we got closer to the South Tower, it was apparent that this was a lot more than a small-aircraft crashing into the building. The damage was too widespread for it to have been anything less than a commercial airliner. Unfortunately, as we got closer, we could also see that among the debris that was falling, there were also people who had jumped from the higher floors. We weren't quite close enough to actually see who they were, but we knew what was going on.











We were a few hundred feet from the actual base of the South Tower at shortly after 9 AM. He and I had stopped in a rather empty area and were standing quietly. There was a Burger King restaurant to our left, and people were standing in front of it, and the adjacent firehouse.

Suddenly, there was a very loud sound and a large explosion over our heads. We didn't know it that moment, but a second plane had flown in and crashed into the South Tower. As it sunk in, very quickly, people began to run toward Kevin and me. We turned and began to run as well, as debris and smoke began to rain down.

I remember as we reached the corner of Liberty and Nassau, he and I stopped next to a large white truck to catch our breath. Kevin looked at the truck and said, "We might not want to be standing next to this truck."

That was actually the first time that thoughts of anything sinister going on passed through our minds. Up to that moment, this was all one big, horrific accident.

We caught our breath, and joined the crowd of people running south on Nassau toward Broad and Wall Streets. As we reached the Exchange entrances, the first sets of doors had their gates pulled down. We continued to the south end of the building, which was also locked.

He and I found an alcove another block down and stopped there. It was next to a Timothy's Coffee Shop, and offered some resting space off the street. The crowd thinned somewhat by that point.







I took my Blackberry device from my belt and began to read emails from various people. The partner who had attended the meeting was in the Trade Center Plaza when the first plane struck the north tower. He had run toward Albany Street and was on the other side of town from where we were now. He and I exchanged a few messages for the next few minutes. I also began to receive emails from my brother, who was working in Jacksonville, Florida, and who was watching the news on CNN. He began to send me updates. Among the first was the revelation that the media was declaring this an act of terrorism, and that the country was under attack.









I emailed Kevin's brother to find out where he was, and to let him know that Kevin was with me and we were ok. A number of people stopped and asked if I would send emails on their behalf, to check in with family, etc. One woman told us that she had gone in late that morning, and was due at an office in the North Tower. She asked if I would email her husband.

In the meantime, a number of my friends were sending me messages, telling me their whereabouts and inquiring as to mine. We were exchanging whatever little information we had, trying to not only make sense of what had happened so far, but trying to figure out what we should be doing next.





At one point, my brother's emails increased in frequency and urgency. Kevin and I were still standing by the coffee shop when I got one that said there had been another attack, this time at the Pentagon.

It's hard to remember exactly what I was thinking or feeling in those few minutes. I was grateful to have the Blackberry device, as apparently all the cell phone service, as well as the land lines, had been knocked out of service, yet this Blackberry continued to stay connected. I was exchanging emails with anyone who could write, and learned that quite a few of my coworkers were still inside the Exchange. Kevin and I could not get inside, so we holed up right where we were.









About 10 AM, my brother emailed me again. This time, he was borderline frantic.

"Look, they confirmed an attack on the Pentagon in Washington. There are rumors that the Washington Monument was hit, as well as Camp David. CNN said there are more planes unaccounted for. Get the hell off Manhattan. Get off and be safe."





I began to read this message out loud to Kevin and a couple of people who were standing with us. I was interrupted by a very large rumbling sound, followed by what sounded like something crashing. Kevin and I reacted the same way: "shit, another plane is crashing!" As I stepped out onto the street, a huge black cloud blew at us, and I immediately thought that a plane had crashed, and this was the fireball. Instinct said, "run." As the cloud hit me, that's exactly what I did. I got a couple of lungs full of this smoke, dust and debris, and ran coughing and choking back toward the building.

While we later learned that it obviously wasn't a plane crashing, but rather the South Tower collapsing that was plunging us into terror, we didn't have that knowledge at that moment. We didn't know what was happening at all.

It isn't lying to say that we were in utter panic. This all happened a lot more quickly than I can describe in writing. He and I ran into the building that we'd been standing in front of. We ran inside, and without speaking, decided being inside was not what we wanted to do. We both ran to the east entrance to the building, opposite of where we'd been standing. The glass doors were locked, and I ran for the fire extinguisher I'd spotted. We were going through that door one way or another. But luckily, a guard ran over and unlocked the door, and we ran out onto New Street.











The wisdom of that choice was quickly questioned by both of us. We ran right into a stifling cloud of smoke and dust so thick we actually couldn't breathe. I made the futile attempt to filter the air with a handkerchief as I ran, but quickly discarded that. The smoke was so thick, I could no longer see Kevin as we ran.

There was a NY City Traffic Agent running with us, and she was as scared as I was. We ran south, as it turned out, but I couldn't tell where I was. It occurred to me that Kevin was no longer with me. Nor was the traffic agent. I looked around a moment and yelled for him, but he was gone. As I made my way south, I spotted the familiar sign from a restaurant I knew. I headed toward that, and got inside. A very kindly gentleman was working the counter, and as people ran in, he offered large cups and bottles of water. My eyes were burning and swelling some, so I took one of the cups of water and stepped outside with two NYC policemen, and we proceeded to pour the water into our eyes. As we stood in the street, one of the officers wandered a few yards west to check things out. He turned and came running back toward me and the other officer, and he was yelling, "Run, run, get down, get down" and in an instant, the narrow street filled with the unmistakable sound of another jet engine, moving quickly and toward us. The streets in that area are very narrow, and the tall buildings make the area cavernous, so it was extremely loud.

People panicked and ran. I remember standing frozen for a moment or two, trying to get bearings as to which way to run. Suddenly, a woman ran up behind me, screaming and wailing, and literally jumped on my back as I began to run. She'd wrapped her arms around my face and caused my nose to bleed from the force, and she was screaming in my ears as I ran. I hollered at her to hold on and stop screaming.

It turned out the jet we'd just heard was actually military aircraft moving into the area, but we didn't learn that until days later.

There was actually a comical moment at this point. As I turned the next corner and began to run through the smoke, I ran, literally, head-on into a pole from scaffolding that was erected on the building. To this day, I am amazed that I didn't go down, or at worst, drop my passenger, who finally stopped screaming. I'd opened up a pretty good gash on my forehead to add to the bloody mess that was going on in my face.







I ran west after that, and entered South Street. For a few minutes, the air had cleared, the woman had stopped screaming and we could both breathe. I asked her to climb off a minute so I could gather myself a little and figure out what to do. She got off, and simply ran toward the north. I didn't ever see her again after that.

The East River was across the street from where I was standing. Through all the chaos, here I was standing right where I'd started the morning off at 8:30.

I worked my way across to the Ferry landing. There were a number of people from my job standing there on the pier. A group of young children, along with their mothers and teachers, were standing there as well. Apparently, they were all on a field trip to Manhattan from New Jersey that morning, and had gotten caught up in the chaos as well. Another gentleman named Kevin, who also worked with me, was standing next to me now, and he had a large handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He was looking at me rather intently, but not saying anything. I forgot about my bloody nose and forehead. One of the women offered me some tissues and I used those and my water bottle to wash off a little.

Then we heard the same rumbling crashing sound again. It wasn't as loud this time, but it was distinct. The North Tower was collapsing now, and the dust spread out and covered the entire Lower Manhattan area. As we watched from the pier, the smoke, dust and debris cloud blew out at us from between the buildings. I remember that there was no panic on the pier at that point. A few of us gathered the children and mothers between us and moved them toward the actual dock where ferries could tie up, just in case the ferry companies decided to send help. But other than that, we stood engulfed for only a few minutes until the wind from the river cleared the air again.









We lucked out over the next half-hour. A ferry company called SeaStreak sent its whole fleet to Manhattan shortly after the situation and the need for evacuations became obvious. The boats were there in a very short time, and the crews aboard them worked very quickly to get people on. the mothers and kids from the field trip were the first on board, and they moved to the inner cabin, while the rest of us moved to the upper two decks. I wound up on the top, outdoor deck with some other fellas from the Exchange. It took only a couple of minutes for our ferry to pull out and as we pulled back and began to turn around into the channel, we could see the entire skyline covered in a huge cloud of smoke and dust. There was a brief moment where I urged the ferry on; it was time to get out of there.

But we were now safe for the time being. I remember talking to one gentleman as I tried to get my cell phone to connect. He asked who I was trying to call and mentioned that my brothers worked in the trade center. He walked around the top deck and returned to me with a working phone and told me to make my calls. He then took a look at my face to see where the blood was coming from. It was mostly dried blood now, as the bleeding had mostly stopped, but I would wait until I got off to try and clean up. With all the smoke and dust on my face, it didn't much matter.





After 45 minutes or so, the boat docked in Highlands NJ. As we disembarked, we could see that the parking lot was jammed full of emergency vehicles, doctors, policemen, firemen, nurses, EMT's etc. It was quite a scene. As I walked off, a nurse approached me to help, but I assured her that I looked a lot worse than I was. She looked at me a minute and said "OK."

The next Lady wasn't going to be convinced. She took my arm and lead me to a waiting ambulance where she sat me down. The took out a few bottles of what I assume was saline solution. She flushed my eyes, nose and mouth, and I have to admit that it felt very good. She cleaned up the cut on my forehead, noting that the scalp bleeds like crazy, even from small cuts. She cleaned me up nicely, and checked my eyes with that little light they use. She suggested I go to the Emergency Room on that ambulance, but I assured and convinced her that I was ok, and that people a lot worse off than me would be coming in on the later ferries. I had to sign a medical release form and they let me go.

I realized that I'd left my car keys and wallet in my suit jacket at the Exchange. A friend who had been off from work that day happened to come looking for us to see if we needed a hand with anything, and he offered to drive me home. That was a nice lucky break, since it was at least 12 miles to my apartment. When I climbed into the front seat, his wife and kids were in the back. The kids were very curious as to why this man with dirty, dusty, bloody clothes was in there car. We decided not to go into details with them, obviously.











I remember the moment my cellphone went back into service. The first call I received was from my friend T., who had been the family babysitter at one time, but who was now like family. She was very upset on the phone, but at the same time very happy to be talking to me. I was just as happy to talk to her. We were brief, as I needed to get in touch with my kids and the rest of my family, but there are some things you never forget, you know? A friend was looking for me to be safe.

The best part of that week was the moment I laid eyes on my kids. It took some doing because I had no car for a couple of days, but eventually, all was right again with my family.





My brothers were fine. My older brother never got off his train from the lower level of the Trade Center. The Transit command told the train crew to keep the doors closed and go back to NJ. My younger brother was at work in 4 World Trade Center, but at the first sign of trouble, the entire division there was moved out of the building. He was actually standing a few hundred feet from me when that second plane flew over our heads, but he evacuated to Brooklyn.

You never quite forget seeing the loss of life that took place that day. I saw people choose to end their own lives because the conditions were so horrific in the upper floors of the towers. Those are memories that never leave you.

I think about how fortunate I was that day, seemingly being in the right places at the right time, or rather not being in the wrong places. I saved some items from that day, including the shoes that served me well. I also think about the decision not to stay overnight at the hotel as I had for 2 nights the previous week, the hotel being the Marriott World Trade Center Hotel, which was destroyed in the attack. Who knows what time I'd have gotten up, or when I would have been in the plaza, or countless other "what-if's". I just count my blessings.

I didn't lose any family members that day, but I did lose some friends.







Lt. Stephen Bates was a NY City Fireman. I was friends with him from a local neighborhood hangout in Queens, as well as some time spent during summers in the Hamptons. I attended his memorial service in October 2001.



Eustace (Rudy) Bacchus was a friend from work. He was among the group of people that trained me when I first entered my industry. He had become an independent contractor, and was attending a meeting at the Windows on The World Restaurant the morning of September 11th.







Alvin Bergsohn was another friend I had made when I began my career. He was a mentor to me during my early days, but also became a good friend with whom I shared a lot of laughs on the Exchange over the year. Al eventually left the Exchange and was working at Cantor Fitzgerald on September 11th.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Danger Zone

I did something today that no father should have to do with his kids.

Think a minute.

It's worse than what you are thinking.

Yeah. Back-to-school shoe shopping.

Brings chills right?

I have a 15-year old daughter, a 13 year old son and a 9 year old daughter. Pretty formidible task, I'd say.

We first tried our luck at a place called "Famous Footwear." See, to me that name means you're likely to find name-brand shoes right? In reality, that place carries one size in every style. Thousands of shoe boxes on the shelves, and only one size to choose from, at least where the girls' shoes were concerned. It's not like they're sold out, they have very few empty spaces on the shelves. It's ridiculous to see 20 pair of size 3 shoes in one style, unless your school allows kids to wear silver shoes, that is. Those you can find in any size.

My son managed pretty well. He's not too particular in his choices...luckily I did check his selections and found 1 size 10 shoe in the box with a 10 1/2.

For me, it solved the mystery of where all the crack-heads disappeared to: they're all merchandise managers at "Famous Footwear."

Kohl's made it easy. Every shoe in the department was loose on the floor. A good chance to play Treasure Hunt. Find an actual pair of shoes.We found "High School Musical" brand sneakers for the 9 year old.

PayLess was more like "Buy Less" in my case. Walked out of there practically empty handed. I mean, there's a Lippy in the store just looking to fork over cash, and they didn't want any of it from me!

The 15 year old found a pair of black flats at a store called Mandee's. And then a woman I quickly grew to love informed said 15-year-old that the "Converse" Chuck Taylor's were up front. What an eye-opener that was though. When I was 15, those suckas were $9.99 a pop. Now they're $49.99. Incredible what a desperate man will put up with in order to just go home.

Forgot to get myself a pair though.

Oh, and Blogger still thinks I'm a Bot.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

So Here We Are...

I can't believe how fast time goes by when you're not checking the clock. I don't want to write all that stuff about "how busy" I am, I've been, because sometimes that sounds like you're trying to make a hero out of yourself, when in reality, it's more likely that I'm just a lousy time manager.

Another year has gone by since my friend took her life. I liked to write about her every year, and I missed that opportunity this time around. I promise her a beautiful, lengthy memorialization next year.

I'm making a go of the new career. I'm not knocking the cover off the ball by any means, but I am following the right path, it seems. I just attained my first promotion. The promotion doubled my pay scale, so that means it really matters. I look at my kids, every night. Every single night. And while they are lying there sleeping, it reminds me of just how much they depend on me, and also reminds me of the responsibility I absolutely have to to live up to. So there's no time for the "victim" mentality. Things took a wrong turn, and I was feeling wronged. Yeah, and that will buy about half a cup of coffee and little else.

So that means a lot of hours, a lot of work, a lot of aggravation. And only a little blog time. It's funny how much you can miss that.

Some other things I miss:

  • Music. Music I looked forward to driving to; music I couldn't wait to buy. This isn't the lamentations of an old fool looking for the Beatles to come back. I was always a huge Popular Music fan, very progressive, always on top of the latest. What we're being fed now is crap. Pure, adulterated techno-tweaked garbage. I can't wait for the next "movement."

  • French Fries. Fresh sliced potatoes (ok maybe frozen, alright?), deep fried in vegetable oil. And that's it. No sprayed-on seasoning (I'll do that myself pal)and better yet, no sprayed-on starch or whatever the hell that gunk is. It turns the fries into finely seasoned styrofoam. Yuck, barf, whatever you want to interject there. Gimme potatoes and oil and maybe some salt. I'll worry about my own arteries.

  • Human face-to-face conversations. You know, the ones that aren't interrupted by cellphone calls. See, if we're chattin', and that call comes and is more important, that's your prerogative. But I'm done and I'm walkin'. These damned things have become like baby pacifiers for grownups. People can't seem to be off them for more than a minute. Technology isn't always great, I guess. I see them lining up outside Walmart every morning here, so they can get inside and start making their cell calls. Just friggin' stupid, in my opinion.


So what else is going on...? I don't think my interest in a Presidential election has ever been this low at this point. I hope it gets a little more engaging before November. I don't want another vote of mine to be cast for the lesser of two evils.

Oh, and, I think giving someone a "self-help" book is somehow contradictory, don't you? There's a group of folks I spend time with, and lately they've been on this whole "improvement" kick. I don't think that's bad at all. Heck, none of us is a finished product. But one of the ladies was talking about it, how she was going to fix a lot of things about herself. She then listed all these traits, habits, etc., about all these other people, and how they annoy her. And while she stated that she was going to be sure not to do any of those things herself, I couldn't help but think there was just one more correction she might want to consider, you know?

Hmmm...I'm also having a problem with the commercials from the drug companies lately. There's one where the woman is discussing an asthma drug, but she's a silhouette. You can't see her face or anything. She's like a spectre. Kinda like those idiotic Charles Schwab commercials, where they turned everyone into cartoon characters. And this other commercial, for some fibromyalgia medicine; they have probably the most annoying woman I've ever encountered as the spokesperson. I wonder if that's how they cross-market drugs? You'll need to buy the company's tranquilizer after a few viewings of the fibro drug commercial.

Oh alright, it's not all bad, ok? I'm just letting loose a little. I would love to ask you this: Is being feminine and exclusive trait? I mean, if a woman is all feminine, pretty and elegant, does that somehow detract from her other qualities? If she has pretty hair, can she not be smart and strong? Is femininity a bad thing to admire?

I'll leave ya with that. My many self-improvement categories include one for talking to much. I'm working on it.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Sorting...

I often think about how a blog is a great way to unload, a means to share troubles and get some support during tough times.

But it can also become a trap. One can fill a blog, day after day, with one problem or another, and soon it becomes a way of life. The blog gets bogged down, and it seems routine after a while.

I think the one way out is when hope appears on the horizon, a way out, so to speak. And maybe that's how one gets energized; friends can come and remind one to keep one's eye on the prize. The stories can be more engaging that way, because I do believe that people like to root for others in trouble, despite what the Internet might otherwise lead us to believe.

This sort of explains the lack of activity here in my own Blog. I've run into a sort of personal quagmire of late. There are a lot of things happening, some of which have been out of my control, and others which I do believe it's my personal responsibility to get into hand.

I'm having a lot of trouble, but I haven't given up, or even given ground. My life, at the moment, doesn't have a lot to write about, but that doesn't mean that I'm not doing my best to get out from under. I'm in a very unenviable position, taking into consideration my age, my physical condition and my occasionally dark frame of mind. It makes for interesting living, to say the least, but not for enthralling reading.

There have been some bright moments mixed in though. This weekend there was an intensely bright moment, so hope is never completely lost, and life does allow us the occasional smile, even when times are overwhelmingly nothing to smile about. It reminds me that I have people in my life whom I care about, even those I haven't had the pleasure to personally meet. And sometimes we allow ourselves to neglect those people. Seeing someone I love, this weekend, and meeting someone else who is great, for the first time, well, that brought to mind the fact that I have the habit of going underground for extended stays.

I apologize.

Being part of a great community such as this, requires that one doesn't just go away without an explanation. Or a hello. I hope this covers both.

Life isn't over. It's just hard right now. I'll dig my way out, and then be back to annoy y'all.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Brain Seeds

Lots of idiocy to talk about, I'd rather just sow it all right here in one article.

One of the kabillion things that annoy me is this: I really don't mind doing laundry. Really. What I don't like is the fact that when everything is washed and dried, it needs to be folded. And what bugs me there is, as I go through the basket, everything is inside out. Everything, every time.

Enter The Genius. In an effort to combat this time-wasting problem I devised a strategy: as I took my clothes off this week, I would turn everything inside out. Only took a few seconds a day.

So today was the day I hit the washer. Everything in, inside out. And then into the dryer. I brought my smug, righteous self down to the dryer when I heard the buzzer, prepared to be all proud of my ingenuity. I grabbed the clothes in one heap, dumped them in the basket, and carried them to the table to fold.

And there, lo and behold, was every garment. Inside out.

I give up.

And there was a damned sock missing, too.




10 3/4 ounces of canned corn doesn't seem like much. Unless you drop that can on your foot, and you don't have a shoe on when you do that. Then it's a Sherman tank.




The Idiots at Blogger still think I'm a Spam-bot. I have to do one of those idiotic word verifications every time I want to Blog. Maybe if I go there and shake one of the losers around like a windsock, they'll get the idea that this is at least a humanoid?

The funny thing is, I have another Blog here on Blogger, and I saw that a bot had posted an entry there.(I think Nancy saw that, right?) So for all the bullshit precautions these morons take, the Bots still get their work done. And humans have to do word verifications.

If they don't fix it by August, I'm shutting down and Blogging elsewhere.




I'm going to miss the late, great George Carlin and his humor. Funny guy.



Friday, June 27, 2008

LOL More Flags, More Fun...

The Verizon fun isn't quite over yet. With them, it never really is.

I got the account squared away, and the customer rep told me how to add the second line to my online account. I followed the steps to the letter of the law. And this is what I got (with three attempts, so far.):

A New Category!


Hi folks, ya gotta love this story. It actually covers two people. I think we'll file this under Dangerously Clueless. Check it out here