Unfortunately,
Thank you for your understanding during this difficult time.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Very Sad News
Todays news is so sad that I can't even type it. I hope the diagram below conveys how sad I am right now...
Monday, June 8, 2009
Zipper Discretion, or Things not to do at Work
As I've mentioned in the past, my bladder is of non-legendary proportions. I have also mentioned that I have roughly 37 seconds of free time in any given day. The combination of these two factors has led to a relatively innocuous home habit behavior that I never gave much thought to until it started up at work.
Here's the pattern: In the door, slap the light, and unzip while walking full speed so that by the time I reach the bowl I am ready to, ahem, uh, tinkle. Sorry, scratch that. I am a great big behemoth of a man. I do NOT tinkle. I, um, go wee wee. Anyway, this preparation en route reduces the process by two seconds or more per bio-break, which spread out over the course of a week leaves me with close to two minutes of free quality time.
Here's the conflict: the work bathroom is a multi-bowl configuration, set up in a U-shape, with the doorway and short hallway on one side of the U, the sinks and paper towels at the U-base, and the bowls and urinal at the other side. This layout means that my zipper is down with still roughly a dozen steps to go before I reach my target.
Now, it is bad enough that I am walking around zipper down in a room that might contain other people, let alone persons potentially in charge of my career. What's worse is that on occasion I come across a coworker coming around the corner. I'm a scary enough looking dude as is, but running into me coming full speed around a corner with a zipper down is a pretty sketchy proposition. The added bonus is that these people are typically coming at me with wet hands and reaching for the waist-height paper towels. Awkward... very, very awkward.
This leads me to a two-part conclusion:
1) I should probably start wearing underwear, and
2) Victoria's Secret is probably not the best choice.
Here's the pattern: In the door, slap the light, and unzip while walking full speed so that by the time I reach the bowl I am ready to, ahem, uh, tinkle. Sorry, scratch that. I am a great big behemoth of a man. I do NOT tinkle. I, um, go wee wee. Anyway, this preparation en route reduces the process by two seconds or more per bio-break, which spread out over the course of a week leaves me with close to two minutes of free quality time.
Here's the conflict: the work bathroom is a multi-bowl configuration, set up in a U-shape, with the doorway and short hallway on one side of the U, the sinks and paper towels at the U-base, and the bowls and urinal at the other side. This layout means that my zipper is down with still roughly a dozen steps to go before I reach my target.
Now, it is bad enough that I am walking around zipper down in a room that might contain other people, let alone persons potentially in charge of my career. What's worse is that on occasion I come across a coworker coming around the corner. I'm a scary enough looking dude as is, but running into me coming full speed around a corner with a zipper down is a pretty sketchy proposition. The added bonus is that these people are typically coming at me with wet hands and reaching for the waist-height paper towels. Awkward... very, very awkward.
This leads me to a two-part conclusion:
1) I should probably start wearing underwear, and
2) Victoria's Secret is probably not the best choice.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
News Items
2 quick items from the news this morning that struck me a little odd:
1)The man who killed a Weslyan student recently may be charged with a hate crime due to racist journal entries. Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t murder itself pretty hateful? Is there a special section of prison for people who commit a misdemeanor or two en route to a felony?
“Hey MadDog, be careful of the new guy in cell block 6…”
“Why is that, Spike?
“Well, he robbed a bank.”
“ So what?”
“After he robbed the bank, he jaywalked on his way to the getaway car; not only that, but his getaway driver made an illegal right turn on red!”
“Wow, he’s hard core. Thanks for the warning!”
2)The Coast Guard graduation is today, and apparently the speaker is Johnette Napolitano, Secretary of Homeland Security. Can anyone tell me why the lead singer and bassist for Concrete Blonde is acting as Secretary of Homeland Secu
rity? Was there no one else more qualified? I’m pretty sure I’d be better for the job, as I’ve put up several picket fences, and once fired my nephew’s 0.22 rifle, hitting a soda can dead center from 50 yards. Matter of fact, I shot that can without shooting anyone in the face, so I might make a pretty solid Vice President too…
1)The man who killed a Weslyan student recently may be charged with a hate crime due to racist journal entries. Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t murder itself pretty hateful? Is there a special section of prison for people who commit a misdemeanor or two en route to a felony?
“Hey MadDog, be careful of the new guy in cell block 6…”
“Why is that, Spike?
“Well, he robbed a bank.”
“ So what?”
“After he robbed the bank, he jaywalked on his way to the getaway car; not only that, but his getaway driver made an illegal right turn on red!”
“Wow, he’s hard core. Thanks for the warning!”
2)The Coast Guard graduation is today, and apparently the speaker is Johnette Napolitano, Secretary of Homeland Security. Can anyone tell me why the lead singer and bassist for Concrete Blonde is acting as Secretary of Homeland Secu
rity? Was there no one else more qualified? I’m pretty sure I’d be better for the job, as I’ve put up several picket fences, and once fired my nephew’s 0.22 rifle, hitting a soda can dead center from 50 yards. Matter of fact, I shot that can without shooting anyone in the face, so I might make a pretty solid Vice President too…
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Heavy Stuff
So my new office is going through some moves, with some people moving to new offices upstairs, and others just swapping offices. This has resulted in me, being the designated office sasquatch, having to move lots of heavy shit from one office to another, one floor to another, repeatedly redundantly over and over again repeatedly. I have also been tasked with moving regular stuff, like normal office chairs. Everyone in my office is perfectly capable in moving an freaking chaie, but I am apparently the go to bitch when something needs to be moved.
In response, I have decided to request help from someone smaller than me anytime I need to move anything that I deem to be below my designated weight threshhold. If I need to get a copy from the printer, I will ask for help. Need a new pen? You better believe it. Could someone run over to the cooler and refill my water mug?
In response, I have decided to request help from someone smaller than me anytime I need to move anything that I deem to be below my designated weight threshhold. If I need to get a copy from the printer, I will ask for help. Need a new pen? You better believe it. Could someone run over to the cooler and refill my water mug?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I'm watching you...
So I had a great trip to the eye doctor the other day. He put these special drops in my eyes that enabled me for a brief time to actually see through the very fabric of time and space.
In fact, during that time, I saw what you were doing just then, and really, now, how old are you? You should be ashamed. At least wash your hands when you're done.
In an odd coincidence, my daughter went to her eye doctor the same day, and she was also a bit disturbed by your actions, but slightly less so as she is only 7.5 and doesn't fully grasp the complexity of that thing you were doing. When she is older I will try to explain it to her.
In fact, during that time, I saw what you were doing just then, and really, now, how old are you? You should be ashamed. At least wash your hands when you're done.
In an odd coincidence, my daughter went to her eye doctor the same day, and she was also a bit disturbed by your actions, but slightly less so as she is only 7.5 and doesn't fully grasp the complexity of that thing you were doing. When she is older I will try to explain it to her.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Nearly Drowning in a Horizontal Fashion
I went to the town pool with my daughter yesterday. She loves swimming, and free pool hours are definitely as high on her list of favorite activities as they are on my list of dreaded weekend activities to avoid at all costs. Growing up as a fat kid with chronic ear infections, it is really no wonder that I'm no fan of swimming. However, as long as I was there doing my parental duties, I decided to swim a couple of laps to get some exercise in.
I did a few dozen laps alternating between butterfly and backstroke with kickflip turns and even measured breaths, and by that I mean I did a lap and a half of semi-retarded freestyle with great gasping gulps of panic, fearing more for my life with each chaotic spasm of my willy-nilly limbs. (How do you do a half lap, you ask? Obviously you plan it out ahead of time so that you end up in the shallow end so you can walk the last half lap. I may be a bad swimmer but mama didn’t raise no dummy.)
As I clung gasping to the wall at the end of the last half lap, I wondered two things:
1) The body craves more oxygen during exercise to fuel working muscles, therefore heart and respiratory rate increase. As such, shortness of breath and an elevated heart rate typically indicates that exercise is being achieved. I exhibited these symptoms at the end of my swim, aka nearly drowning in a horizontal fashion. The big question is, however, does nearly drowning constitute exercise? Is there a fundamental difference? And if so, is there any way to incorporate the wii fit balance board?
2) If you look at people that run great distances for exercise, you begin to see similarities between them and other mammals that run. They get sleek and wiry like cheetahs or horses. Does this mean that as I swim I may start to resemble a whale? If fat helps me float, isn't my body likely to do whatever it takes to preserve my inherent flotation? My goal is to burn fat, but the self-preservation instinct would call for less drowning, and therefore the preservation of more flotation, aka fat. If regular swimming is likely to cause the preservation (or increase) of fat reserves, I may retire my Speedo for good (as 6.76 billion humans breathe a collective sigh of relief).
I did a few dozen laps alternating between butterfly and backstroke with kickflip turns and even measured breaths, and by that I mean I did a lap and a half of semi-retarded freestyle with great gasping gulps of panic, fearing more for my life with each chaotic spasm of my willy-nilly limbs. (How do you do a half lap, you ask? Obviously you plan it out ahead of time so that you end up in the shallow end so you can walk the last half lap. I may be a bad swimmer but mama didn’t raise no dummy.)
As I clung gasping to the wall at the end of the last half lap, I wondered two things:
1) The body craves more oxygen during exercise to fuel working muscles, therefore heart and respiratory rate increase. As such, shortness of breath and an elevated heart rate typically indicates that exercise is being achieved. I exhibited these symptoms at the end of my swim, aka nearly drowning in a horizontal fashion. The big question is, however, does nearly drowning constitute exercise? Is there a fundamental difference? And if so, is there any way to incorporate the wii fit balance board?
2) If you look at people that run great distances for exercise, you begin to see similarities between them and other mammals that run. They get sleek and wiry like cheetahs or horses. Does this mean that as I swim I may start to resemble a whale? If fat helps me float, isn't my body likely to do whatever it takes to preserve my inherent flotation? My goal is to burn fat, but the self-preservation instinct would call for less drowning, and therefore the preservation of more flotation, aka fat. If regular swimming is likely to cause the preservation (or increase) of fat reserves, I may retire my Speedo for good (as 6.76 billion humans breathe a collective sigh of relief).
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Smurf Porn
X-Men was a great comic book/superhero movie, but I really was disappointed by the lack of primary colored frontal male nudity. Superman was a great comic book/superhero movie, but again, no primary colored male genitals. Spiderman? Also great, but tragically devoid of oddly colored naked man-junk throughout the film.
Finally, at long last, someone finally captured the missing element from so many almost-great comic book superhero movies... that's right, sportsfans, I just watched almost three hours of bright blue naked giant man-bits swinging about on screen. This phenomenon was exaggerated by the fact that I saw it all on IMAX, so that the already impressive blue fruit basket was supersized.
It was superhero meets Smurf porn.
It was Blue Man Group meets the Full Monty.
It was a whole new take on the phrase "blue balls".
It was...Watchmen.
(In case you have wisely chosen to preserve an extra three hours of your life, one of the main characters in the movie is some sort of steroided hairless muscleman made out of blue energy that walks around buck naked the entire movie.)
The soundtrack, special effects, and CGI were amazing. The concepts were interesting. The storyline, however, was a bit confusing. I can only assume that someone dropped the screenplay on the way to the copier and got the scenes shuffled. I bet this movie starts a lot of nerd fights about whether super powers are required to be a superhero... most of these characters had cool outfits but no powers. Somehow all the powers got lumped onto one character...
Anyway, did I mention there was naked blue dong everywhere?
Finally, at long last, someone finally captured the missing element from so many almost-great comic book superhero movies... that's right, sportsfans, I just watched almost three hours of bright blue naked giant man-bits swinging about on screen. This phenomenon was exaggerated by the fact that I saw it all on IMAX, so that the already impressive blue fruit basket was supersized.
It was superhero meets Smurf porn.
It was Blue Man Group meets the Full Monty.
It was a whole new take on the phrase "blue balls".
It was...Watchmen.
(In case you have wisely chosen to preserve an extra three hours of your life, one of the main characters in the movie is some sort of steroided hairless muscleman made out of blue energy that walks around buck naked the entire movie.)
The soundtrack, special effects, and CGI were amazing. The concepts were interesting. The storyline, however, was a bit confusing. I can only assume that someone dropped the screenplay on the way to the copier and got the scenes shuffled. I bet this movie starts a lot of nerd fights about whether super powers are required to be a superhero... most of these characters had cool outfits but no powers. Somehow all the powers got lumped onto one character...
Anyway, did I mention there was naked blue dong everywhere?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Caffeine Withdrawal
I stopped by the methadone clinic in Hartford yesterday afternoon openly seeking... but apparently they don't consider caffeine withdrawal to be a significant medical event worthy of pseudo-opiates. Tell that to the 14 inch railroad spike that enters my skull just above my left eye and exits just below the helmet lump.
helmet lump: hel mut luh mp, from the Polish Helmutsky Lumpowiescz; refers to the little nub on the back of the skull that allows helmets and hats to stay on properly. In SAT format, ass is to tool belt as nose is to glasses and helmet lump is to helmets.
I've decided to quit the diet soda in hopes of shifting my metabolism to help with some weight loss. The latest diet misconception that I'm operating on is that the chemicals and artificial sweeteners in diet soda cause the body to store fat and crave sweets and salts, and that this is the cause for my elevated BMI. Others have suggested that said phenomenon may in fact be related to my lack of exercise and the vast amounts of food I cram down my pie hole, but I assure you that they are sorely mistaken.
helmet lump: hel mut luh mp, from the Polish Helmutsky Lumpowiescz; refers to the little nub on the back of the skull that allows helmets and hats to stay on properly. In SAT format, ass is to tool belt as nose is to glasses and helmet lump is to helmets.
I've decided to quit the diet soda in hopes of shifting my metabolism to help with some weight loss. The latest diet misconception that I'm operating on is that the chemicals and artificial sweeteners in diet soda cause the body to store fat and crave sweets and salts, and that this is the cause for my elevated BMI. Others have suggested that said phenomenon may in fact be related to my lack of exercise and the vast amounts of food I cram down my pie hole, but I assure you that they are sorely mistaken.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Surly Russian Beer Wench
So I'm spending a night down in Mystic with my first wife for our ten year anniversary. We stop by "an authentic Irish pub" for a beer before dinner, where we are greeted not my a sweet Irish lass, not by Shamus McGuinnes, not by good Saint Patrick himself, but by a surly Russian beer wench. She begrudgingly took our beer order after rattling off the beers on tap in a thick Rusky accent. We asked if there were an appetizer menu, to which she replied "No appetizers; we serve corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash", except that it sounded more like "vee serv cahrn beev und hash, und bangerz und mash", all in a very surly thick accent. She angrilly slammed our beers down and demanded $9, and then goose stepped away.
We drank our beers, left a tenner, and ran away.
NOTE TO ALL PUB OWNERS: I don't care if your bar is knee deep in leprachauns, shallayleighs, and four leaf clovers, your pub ain't Irish if you've got an angry Russian chick tending bar.
We drank our beers, left a tenner, and ran away.
NOTE TO ALL PUB OWNERS: I don't care if your bar is knee deep in leprachauns, shallayleighs, and four leaf clovers, your pub ain't Irish if you've got an angry Russian chick tending bar.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
a book review
I used to say I had the bladder of a six year old girl. Being a thirty something Sasquatch-esqe behemoth of a dude, it was a funny line, right up until (a few years ago) I actually got acquainted with the real world bladder strength of my daughter, a typical six year old girl. As far as I could tell, that kid peed about 4 times a week on average. She'd make it through bath time, book time, a 12 hour night of sleep, and a few morning cartoons before casually sauntering towards the potty. I, on the other hand, typically make a bathroom run twice a night, and yet each morning I find myself sprinting Jesse Owens-style towards the bathroom in a full-out panic (meaning of course that I ran fast, not that I overcame massive racial oppression to become a true hero to millions of people around the globe, in case that analogy was at all unclear.)
I haven't yet come up with a better line to make light of my pint-sized bladder, and still find myself tempted to fall back on that comparison. Truth is I wish I had the bladder of my six year old girl... anyway, where was I? Oh, that's right, over there, on the couch, about to piss myself.
I've almost peed myself on many a long car ride, trying to make it one more exit.
I've almost peed myself at bars or parties when the bathroom is occupied and my bladder has about given up the good fight.
I've almost peed myself at concerts, unwilling to make the run during a good song. (Tragically enough, not all venues offer the convenience of the Meadows in Hartford. At this outdoor amphitheater, concert goers typically break through the wooden fence at the top of the hill, thereby creating a close and convenient potty alternative to trekking the mile or so through the venue to the actual bathrooms. I used these alternate accommodations one fine evening at an Allman Brothers show after many a beer. I ducked through the hole in the fence, walked down the fence line to the first available spot, and proceeded to drain the lizard. Mid-pee I glanced down at to my left where I noticed the couple in the grass, pants at their ankles, frantically humping like bunnies, not more than a foot from where I stood. Following the proper "dude pissing" etiquette, I nodded hello, mumbled "Howzit going?", and returned my gaze to the fence boards in front of me.)
Anyway, this evening, I almost peed myself while finishing up Kevin Smith's "My Boring Ass Life". His account of trying to get Jason Mewes off of heroin was so incredibly compelling that I came pretty damn near to staining the sofa. I just couldn't put the book down for the minute or so that my bio-break might require.
Long way to come for a book review, eh?
I haven't yet come up with a better line to make light of my pint-sized bladder, and still find myself tempted to fall back on that comparison. Truth is I wish I had the bladder of my six year old girl... anyway, where was I? Oh, that's right, over there, on the couch, about to piss myself.
I've almost peed myself on many a long car ride, trying to make it one more exit.
I've almost peed myself at bars or parties when the bathroom is occupied and my bladder has about given up the good fight.
I've almost peed myself at concerts, unwilling to make the run during a good song. (Tragically enough, not all venues offer the convenience of the Meadows in Hartford. At this outdoor amphitheater, concert goers typically break through the wooden fence at the top of the hill, thereby creating a close and convenient potty alternative to trekking the mile or so through the venue to the actual bathrooms. I used these alternate accommodations one fine evening at an Allman Brothers show after many a beer. I ducked through the hole in the fence, walked down the fence line to the first available spot, and proceeded to drain the lizard. Mid-pee I glanced down at to my left where I noticed the couple in the grass, pants at their ankles, frantically humping like bunnies, not more than a foot from where I stood. Following the proper "dude pissing" etiquette, I nodded hello, mumbled "Howzit going?", and returned my gaze to the fence boards in front of me.)
Anyway, this evening, I almost peed myself while finishing up Kevin Smith's "My Boring Ass Life". His account of trying to get Jason Mewes off of heroin was so incredibly compelling that I came pretty damn near to staining the sofa. I just couldn't put the book down for the minute or so that my bio-break might require.
Long way to come for a book review, eh?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Certainly, I DO like amenities though
Now I know that not many people will be able to relate to this, but finances have become a bit tight in our household for the last few years. We had a roommate for a few months, a coworker friend from my old job, but the big layoff there forced him to move back home and embark on a new career. We've been without that extra income for a few months, and we're getting mighty sick of ramen and boloney sandwiches. Therefore, we've been searching for a new roommate; we've asked around, but no one we know is looking for a new place.
Like Gramma always said, if you've got a spare room, and grammar and spelling aren't high on your list of roommate requirements, you head to the Craigslist "housing wanted" section... I had no idea what sort of sketchy creepshow awaited me there. How sketchy, you ask? Well, I don't want to go throwing around numbers after just barely dusting off teh old Sketchometer, but let's just say that it is pretty well pegged at maximum sketchiness.
Here's one memorable post from a few weeks ago: (names and emails have not been changed... I'm all about protecting the innocent, but I have no such altruism towards the creepy and deranged.)
FIRST, AN UNEDITTED COPY FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE:
Hello, thanks for reading.
I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though.
I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value.
Other than that one need, I am open to suggestion. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!"
Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem.
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com and expect a speedy response.
Thanks,
Kevin
AND NOW, A FEW COMMENTS:
Hello, thanks for reading.
I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though. WELL CERTAINLY, OF COURSE. I MEAN REALLY, WHO DOESN'T LIKE AMENITIES?
I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. UPPER LEVELS WITHOUT LOWER LEVELS WILL BE CONSIDERED TO BE STRUCTURALLY UNSOUND AND ARE THEREFORE NOT CONSIDERED TO BE A GOOD VALUE. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value AND INCLUDED STAIRS, AN ELEVATOR, A LADDER, OR SOME OTHER MEANS OF ACCESS. I SUPPOSE I COULD BRING MY OWN LADDER, BUT AGAIN, THAT WOULD LIKELY TO NOT BE CONSIDERED A GOOD VALUE. THIS REMINDS ME OF ANOTHER AD WHICH OFFERED A PRIVATE SECOND FLOOR BEDROOM, WITH PRIVATE BATH AVAILABLE IN THE BASEMENT.
Other than that one need WHICH ONE, AMENITIES? OR DO YOU MEAN THE SECOND FLOOR LOCATION WITH BOTTOM FLOOR PRESENT? , I am open to suggestion. HERE'S A SUGGESTION... GO FIND YOURSELF A NICE REFRIGERATOR BOX IN THE WOODS BEHIND THE 7-11. YOU ARE TOO FREAKY TO LIVE AMONG OTHER HUMANS. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! HE WROTE WITH GREAT ENTHUSIASM... I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!" ASSUMING OF COURSE THAT IT HAS BOTH AMENITIES, AND THAT ANY UPER LEVELS WOULD BE ATTACHED TO STRUCTURALLY SOUND LOWER LEVELS.
Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem. AS IN IT SHOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM, BUT IT PROBABLY WILL BE...
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com WHAT? ZOMBIEKNIFA? YOU KNIFE ZOMBIES? YOU PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT BEFORE YOUR DISSERTATION ON THE REQUIRED ADJACENCY OF BILEVEL LIVING ARRANGEMENTS. MIGHT I ALSO EMAIL THE SECOND OCCUPANT DESCRIBED ABOVE, WHO I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS REACHABLE AT ZOMBIEKNIFAGIRL@GMAIL.COM... and expect a speedy response AFTER I CALL 911 IN TERROR AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU SHARING MY PLANET, LET ALONE MY HOME.
Thanks,
Kevin
------------------
This goes without saying, but the Kevster and ZombieKnifaGirl move in next weekend.
Like Gramma always said, if you've got a spare room, and grammar and spelling aren't high on your list of roommate requirements, you head to the Craigslist "housing wanted" section... I had no idea what sort of sketchy creepshow awaited me there. How sketchy, you ask? Well, I don't want to go throwing around numbers after just barely dusting off teh old Sketchometer, but let's just say that it is pretty well pegged at maximum sketchiness.
Here's one memorable post from a few weeks ago: (names and emails have not been changed... I'm all about protecting the innocent, but I have no such altruism towards the creepy and deranged.)
FIRST, AN UNEDITTED COPY FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE:
Hello, thanks for reading.
I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though.
I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value.
Other than that one need, I am open to suggestion. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!"
Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem.
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com and expect a speedy response.
Thanks,
Kevin
AND NOW, A FEW COMMENTS:
Hello, thanks for reading.
I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though. WELL CERTAINLY, OF COURSE. I MEAN REALLY, WHO DOESN'T LIKE AMENITIES?
I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. UPPER LEVELS WITHOUT LOWER LEVELS WILL BE CONSIDERED TO BE STRUCTURALLY UNSOUND AND ARE THEREFORE NOT CONSIDERED TO BE A GOOD VALUE. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value AND INCLUDED STAIRS, AN ELEVATOR, A LADDER, OR SOME OTHER MEANS OF ACCESS. I SUPPOSE I COULD BRING MY OWN LADDER, BUT AGAIN, THAT WOULD LIKELY TO NOT BE CONSIDERED A GOOD VALUE. THIS REMINDS ME OF ANOTHER AD WHICH OFFERED A PRIVATE SECOND FLOOR BEDROOM, WITH PRIVATE BATH AVAILABLE IN THE BASEMENT.
Other than that one need WHICH ONE, AMENITIES? OR DO YOU MEAN THE SECOND FLOOR LOCATION WITH BOTTOM FLOOR PRESENT? , I am open to suggestion. HERE'S A SUGGESTION... GO FIND YOURSELF A NICE REFRIGERATOR BOX IN THE WOODS BEHIND THE 7-11. YOU ARE TOO FREAKY TO LIVE AMONG OTHER HUMANS. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! HE WROTE WITH GREAT ENTHUSIASM... I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!" ASSUMING OF COURSE THAT IT HAS BOTH AMENITIES, AND THAT ANY UPER LEVELS WOULD BE ATTACHED TO STRUCTURALLY SOUND LOWER LEVELS.
Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem. AS IN IT SHOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM, BUT IT PROBABLY WILL BE...
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com WHAT? ZOMBIEKNIFA? YOU KNIFE ZOMBIES? YOU PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT BEFORE YOUR DISSERTATION ON THE REQUIRED ADJACENCY OF BILEVEL LIVING ARRANGEMENTS. MIGHT I ALSO EMAIL THE SECOND OCCUPANT DESCRIBED ABOVE, WHO I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS REACHABLE AT ZOMBIEKNIFAGIRL@GMAIL.COM... and expect a speedy response AFTER I CALL 911 IN TERROR AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU SHARING MY PLANET, LET ALONE MY HOME.
Thanks,
Kevin
------------------
This goes without saying, but the Kevster and ZombieKnifaGirl move in next weekend.
FBI Profiling via Netflix Queue
If the FBI conducts threat profiling solely based on Netflix queues (and I'm guessing they might), I may be soon heading out on an all expenses paid trip to Guantanamo Bay.
More often than not, I end up sending all three of my movies in at once... Not that I watch all three in a sitting, but I tend to forget to send them in, thereby turning a membership-based service into my own personal economic stimulus package. (I provide similar stimulus to my gym as well.) Anyway, so a few days ago, I went to the mailbox and found the following three movies glaring at my from the dark depths of my spider-infested mailbox: Horton Hears a Hoo, SawV, and My Best Friend's Girl.
I'll provide full movie reviews soon, but for now, let me just say that the thought of having to watch "My Best Friend's Girl" again if far more terrifying than any of the torture scenes depicted in "SawV". On a related note, a whole crate full of this movie was just mailed to Guantanamo. Apparently forced viewings have been found to be 78% more effectove than waterboarding.
More often than not, I end up sending all three of my movies in at once... Not that I watch all three in a sitting, but I tend to forget to send them in, thereby turning a membership-based service into my own personal economic stimulus package. (I provide similar stimulus to my gym as well.) Anyway, so a few days ago, I went to the mailbox and found the following three movies glaring at my from the dark depths of my spider-infested mailbox: Horton Hears a Hoo, SawV, and My Best Friend's Girl.
I'll provide full movie reviews soon, but for now, let me just say that the thought of having to watch "My Best Friend's Girl" again if far more terrifying than any of the torture scenes depicted in "SawV". On a related note, a whole crate full of this movie was just mailed to Guantanamo. Apparently forced viewings have been found to be 78% more effectove than waterboarding.
Wake up, take a shit, and check email
I just bought a book called "My Boring Ass Life" by Kevin Smith, brilliant director of movies like Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, and most recently, Zack and Miri Make a Porno. It is essentially a daily diary of his life... It is very long, and very detailed, and pretty much every daily entry starts with the phrase "Wake up, take a shit, and check email." It then goes on to detail his life, and then every entry ends by saying what TV show he fell asleep watching. All in all it is prety mundane, yet for some reason, I'm unable to put it down... And if that sort of book is interesting to me, then maybe I do have something to say worth reading after all.
In other words, back by popular demand is my own little chunk of the vast void of socially redeeming content lovingly known as the Internets. That's right baby, the Sketchometer is back. So, to sum up my absence over the last many moons, well, I woke up, checked my email, did some stuff, changed jobs, suffered through a long cold winter without motorcycle therapy, watched TV, and fell asleep watching Iron Chef.
In other words, back by popular demand is my own little chunk of the vast void of socially redeeming content lovingly known as the Internets. That's right baby, the Sketchometer is back. So, to sum up my absence over the last many moons, well, I woke up, checked my email, did some stuff, changed jobs, suffered through a long cold winter without motorcycle therapy, watched TV, and fell asleep watching Iron Chef.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Welcome Back!
Crikey, that computer took a long time to reboot... now I'm no slave to technology, but it seems to me that waiting two and a half months for your computer to reboot is just too long. Anyway, just after that last post my laptop froze up and I had to reboot... while that was happening, summer happened and somehow it has been a long time since writing.
Why am I writing now, you ask? Simple, really. Fall arrived yesterday. I know this because I woke up at 4:30AM for no apparent reason with no hopes of sleeping again... that means summer is done, and it is time for my sleep disorders to kick back in. Again, this morning, here it is ungodly early and I am back at the computer.
Call it a summer vacation, I guess, assuming that you call two long weekends to be an adequate summer vacation. I call it "sucks to be a grown up", but hey, tomatoe, tomato, whatever.
So here's the quick update... I've been one busy dude these past months. I sold the old truck and two motorcycles, bought a new (to me) motorcycle, and bought out most of the local Home Depot. Summer projects included framing in a new TV room in the basement, building a new dog fence to reclaim several heavily contaminated dog poo zones, building a living room halfwall to reclaim the living room and dining room as dog free zones, knocking out a built in giant planter thing at the end of the driveway to make more room, poured a slab to fill in the resulting giant crater at the end of the driveway, dropped and chopped and split a few cord of firewood, and I'm partway done framing in the new screen porch.
Between non-stop projects and long weeks at work and the need to do all sorts of computer stuff to get the vehicles sold and the new vehicles bought after researching for many many hours, that didn't leave a whole lot of time for typing up snarky little stories.
So that is mostly why it has been a long freaking time since writing.
Sorry.
Rest assured, though, I've got plenty new stuff to say... I'm a bit backed up, so to speak. I've eaten too much mental cheese and the old brain dump highway is a bit constipated.
Rewind about 5 or 6 years... we were on vacation in SC, staying at wifey's mom's house in the uber fancy guest suite... picture a sort of a dark cool Bellagio-esqe room, impeccably decorated, furnished with fancy little trashcans that cost more than our bedroom set. Anyway, Kid 1.0 is just a baby at this point, and she all stopped up, hasn't poo'ed in days, and is running a fever as well. After days of a cheese and whitebread diet, Wifey get worried about her bowels and gives her some baby-laxative medicine, a bowl of raisins, and a big shot of prune juice into her formula. She waits 10 minutes, hands the kid to me, and then immediately leaves. Not leaves the room, she leaves the house. She leaves the town. She might have even crossed state lines.
Anyway, all is well for a few minutes, and then I hear the most unholy rumbling and gurgling from Baby 1.0's lower half, followed by olfactory notification that it was time for a new diaper. We head up to the bedroom, and I lay out hand towel to protect the bedspread. I open the diaper and see ... well, in the interest of avoiding too much detail, let's just say that Baby 1.0 was no longer stopped up. I cleaned the situation up, and was putting on a fresh diaper when she looked up at me, made a funny face, and then exploded from every orifice. We're talking sudden vast quantities, top & bottom, front & back, the whole deal. All in the middle of the fanciest guest room that one can imagine, with no help available within miles.
By the time wifey returned, I had used up full box of wipes, 4 more diapers, a full can of rug cleaner (no, not on the baby), and had 2 full baskets of laundry to do. Kid 1.0 was happy as could be now that she was purged.
That's the sort of brain dump I'm expecting, so stay tuned... and grab some of those computer wet-wipes, 'cause this might get messy...
Why am I writing now, you ask? Simple, really. Fall arrived yesterday. I know this because I woke up at 4:30AM for no apparent reason with no hopes of sleeping again... that means summer is done, and it is time for my sleep disorders to kick back in. Again, this morning, here it is ungodly early and I am back at the computer.
Call it a summer vacation, I guess, assuming that you call two long weekends to be an adequate summer vacation. I call it "sucks to be a grown up", but hey, tomatoe, tomato, whatever.
So here's the quick update... I've been one busy dude these past months. I sold the old truck and two motorcycles, bought a new (to me) motorcycle, and bought out most of the local Home Depot. Summer projects included framing in a new TV room in the basement, building a new dog fence to reclaim several heavily contaminated dog poo zones, building a living room halfwall to reclaim the living room and dining room as dog free zones, knocking out a built in giant planter thing at the end of the driveway to make more room, poured a slab to fill in the resulting giant crater at the end of the driveway, dropped and chopped and split a few cord of firewood, and I'm partway done framing in the new screen porch.
Between non-stop projects and long weeks at work and the need to do all sorts of computer stuff to get the vehicles sold and the new vehicles bought after researching for many many hours, that didn't leave a whole lot of time for typing up snarky little stories.
So that is mostly why it has been a long freaking time since writing.
Sorry.
Rest assured, though, I've got plenty new stuff to say... I'm a bit backed up, so to speak. I've eaten too much mental cheese and the old brain dump highway is a bit constipated.
Rewind about 5 or 6 years... we were on vacation in SC, staying at wifey's mom's house in the uber fancy guest suite... picture a sort of a dark cool Bellagio-esqe room, impeccably decorated, furnished with fancy little trashcans that cost more than our bedroom set. Anyway, Kid 1.0 is just a baby at this point, and she all stopped up, hasn't poo'ed in days, and is running a fever as well. After days of a cheese and whitebread diet, Wifey get worried about her bowels and gives her some baby-laxative medicine, a bowl of raisins, and a big shot of prune juice into her formula. She waits 10 minutes, hands the kid to me, and then immediately leaves. Not leaves the room, she leaves the house. She leaves the town. She might have even crossed state lines.
Anyway, all is well for a few minutes, and then I hear the most unholy rumbling and gurgling from Baby 1.0's lower half, followed by olfactory notification that it was time for a new diaper. We head up to the bedroom, and I lay out hand towel to protect the bedspread. I open the diaper and see ... well, in the interest of avoiding too much detail, let's just say that Baby 1.0 was no longer stopped up. I cleaned the situation up, and was putting on a fresh diaper when she looked up at me, made a funny face, and then exploded from every orifice. We're talking sudden vast quantities, top & bottom, front & back, the whole deal. All in the middle of the fanciest guest room that one can imagine, with no help available within miles.
By the time wifey returned, I had used up full box of wipes, 4 more diapers, a full can of rug cleaner (no, not on the baby), and had 2 full baskets of laundry to do. Kid 1.0 was happy as could be now that she was purged.
That's the sort of brain dump I'm expecting, so stay tuned... and grab some of those computer wet-wipes, 'cause this might get messy...
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Why yes, in fact, I am ready to rock.
80's mullet? Check.Sunglasses with Croakies? Check.
Sipping a Pepsi? Check.
Ready to rock? Check.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Happy Freaking Birthday
That's right sports fans, I return to blogging on this, my 33rd birthday. I'm sorry for the delay in posting... It was a rough end to May, a rough start to June, and the Father's Day/birthday one two punch has not been too terrifically swell either. May: Wifey got a severe headache on May 24th which lasted for 6 days, 5 missed work days, 3 narcotic prescriptions, 2 PCP office visits, 2 cat scans, one MRI, 1 neurosurgeon, on neurologist, and one 12-hour ER visit before finally starting to go away. The good news is that nothing serious is wrong. The bad news is that they still don't know exactly what caused it or why she still has a low grade headache. The other bad news is that judging from my expert review of her MRI, it appears that my wife has several famous aliens in her brain. Go ahead and even try to tell me I'm wrong:
Exhibit 1: Darth Vader
Exhibit 2: Admiral Ackbar
Exhibit 3: The Predator
June: Early June was largely consumed by a nasty heatwave and wifey recovering from the severe headache and trying to get rid of the lesser headache. And no, don't you go calling it a migraine, or all doctors and nurses within a 12 mile radius will immediately get their panties in a big wad because there is apparently a clinical variance between migraine symptoms and that of severe head pain that makes one stop eating and lie flat in a dark room for 6 days.
June 15th/16th, Father's Day and my 33rd birthday has thus far been overshadowed by my first real car accident. No injuries, thankfully, but the Honda Element was crunched up pretty good and had to be wheeled off on a stretcher. We were headed home from our season ending lacrosse game... have I mentioned that I've been coaching my daughter's 1st and 2nd grade girls lacrosse team? Anyway, I was pulling out of a parking lot onto a busy three lane each way road near the Farmington mall. I don't know what happened but all of a sudden there was shiny black Jetta lodged in my front left quarter panel. Never saw the dude, not sure if he was speeding or swerved into the lane or popped out of a wormhole or what... there is even the tiniest of possibilities that I just didn't see him, but I think the supernatural is far more likely.
Long story short: $1000 deductible, Brian is on a motorcycle for the week, and today's forecast is strong thunderstorms with high winds and large hail likely. I feel like I got hit by William "the Fridge" Perry, and now I need to go help a coworker move his office. Awesome. Can't wait to see what the rest of the day holds... Happy Birthday big B...
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Long Delay due to Nausea
Sorry for the long delay in posting. An overcast but bright day in the field last week without sunglasses combined with a computer intensive week, all served up hot under some new ultra high intensity fluorescent tubes directly above my head has left me with a significant case of eye strain. I didn't realize how bright those tubes were, or I would have strapped a couple of these oatmeal can eclipse viewers to my skull before entering the building. Anyway, when I get eye strain, I tend to be nauseated and headachey around the clock, so I've tried to avoid any extra computer hours in my life these past days at almost any cost.
After many an angry email about the lack of updates, I have decided to bravely choke back the actual vomit and spew forth some blog-vomit for your reading pleasure...
First off, in trying to find an appropriate picture to convey just how freaking bright these new fluorescent bulbs are, I did an image search on "burned retinas". It turns out that only a few google image results for this search are actually about bright things, while the majority are from people blogging about things that they have seen that are so horrifying so as to burn the image onto their retinas forever. Most aren't really appropriate, but here is one for your viewing pleasure:
You're welcome.It is time to end this post as the fuzzy orange haze is starting to creep back into the edges of my vision... more coming as soon as I stop heaving... BH
Friday, May 9, 2008
8 things about me (that might terrify you)
So my friend Shamalam asked me to participate in this blogger thing called Crazy Eights where you share eight unusual or little known facts about myself. Spouting such things on the internet is sorta like having a million strangers rifling through your underwear drawer, but luckily, I can trust all three people that read my blog. Fair enough, here goes.
1) I have never, ever, in my whole life chewed a piece of gum. Seriously. This is due to a childhood fear of choking coupled with a gross gum-chomping sister. She's not so gross anymore (hi K!), but I still won't eat gum. Over time this has also manifested into a hatred of gum... if I step on a piece on a hot summer day, I am quite literally ready to hunt down the gum-dropper and beat them senseless after I clean my shoe off on their face.
2) I prefer to eat pizza with the cheese removed, again due to the childhood choking on stringy melted cheese thing. Rip that cheese off, throw some Parmesan on the remaining saucy bread, and eat it alternating with the cheese/toppings via fork. I don't do this in public because a scary looking 6'4" 285 pound man has no business eating like a toddler out in the open, but if I'm home alone, I grab me a fork and say "hello, Parmesan!".
3) I think Facebook might be the creepiest thing ever. It is sometimes sorta neat to track down people from the past, but inevitably it results in an awkward standoff where no one knows how far to take things... it is like a high school reunion but in small email doses, where everyone ends up nodding their head in cyberspace saying, "yeah, cool, sounds great... um...yeah." It is also really creepy for a grown-ass man to email some other grown ass man and ask him "wanna be friends?"
4) I hate cats. But I think I covered that before... ah yes, I did, in A Disturbing Revelation ...
5) Despite my reputation as an all around nice guy/teddybear/swell dude, sometimes I am a total prick. I don't mean to be, but sometimes I am. Like sometimes I'll talk a little shit about people behind their back. I always feel bad about it, but I still do it. I've tried to counteract this by being an asshole right out in the open, and I think it might be working.
Like today, this dude at work told a really dumb joke, and instead of fake laughing, I just looked at him, smiled, and said "dude, you're a jackass", and went back to work. I felt really good about myself after that. I think being an asshole is making me a better person.
(NOTE 1: Talking about coworkers like this guy and the One-up-ya guy is a prime example of the fact that I'm an asshole... but assholes need to let off a little hot air now and then too, even if it is a stinky habit.) (pause... wait for it... now go ahead, laugh at my fart joke.)
6) I have a documented memory disorder. I was tested in middle school because I would get great grades on most things but was just unable to memorize things. It would have been a learning disability but in order to qualify, it had to be paired with another diagnosed weakness. Everything else was pretty good, but my memory is really crappy. It was a pain in the ass throughout school, and was totally apparent in all my grades. Thinking, writing, and doing classes were b's and a's, while the "look at a squiggly under a microscope and write down 10 characteristics of that subphylla" class was a D-.
Despite this memory problem I have amazing recall for totally useless information, and I really kick-ass at Trivial Pursuit. I somehow remember that they made less than 30,000 of the CJ-8 "Scrambler" Jeeps, yet I have no idea why World War I was started. Something about the assassination of some Serbian dude named Franz Ferdinand, but that is it. My mom is a history teacher, and if she knew this she would cry. Don't tell her.
The worst part is that people ask me about the testing and whether I have short term or long term memory problems, and I just don't remember. It would be a bad joke if it weren't true.
7) I have spooky-good visual discrimination. I can't really do it like a party trick, but if someone is doing a word search, I can glance at it upside-down out of the corner of my eye from 5 feet away and see the words. They just pop out at me.
In grad school, we did this forestry lab where we had to measure a 10-acre forest plot using a compass and a chain. The method was for one person to walk in a straight line along a compass bearing (directed by another to keep a straight path), and then the third would walk from person A to person B measuring out the 166 feet (one chain), or the length of a side of a square acre. I was the runner guy... I'd head in a direction, jumping logs, dodging prickers, skirting swamps, and line myself up at what I thought was the right distance. The C person then measured the straight line (carrying the dumb end of the tape measure), and time after time, the person stopped within arm's length of me. I can also eyeball small distances and visualize things remarkably well too.
8) I've confronted many of my fears and won.
10) I like to eat my food evenly. Near the end of the meal, I should have one bite of each item left, and enough drink to wash it down. This is an unconscious pattern that I catch myself doing sometimes and it freaks me out a little. I do it with fast food(bite of burger, a few fries, maybe a single chicken nugget), I do it with pizza (bite of crust, bite of middle, just the right amount iof topping left), I do it with desserts (always maintain the cake to frosting ratio), and I even do it at Thanksgiving... exhausting, that meal is...
There are some exceptions, like I will sometimes eat all of an item first, especially if it is something I don't particularly like... veggies go first when mom's watching just to relieve the pressure, or hot bread out of the oven goes down the hatch fast, but more often than not, I am left with equal parts on the plate.
11) Sometimes I get really distracted, and take things way too far... I realize that my 10 minute email check has turned into two or three hours, or my Sunday night quick project turns into a major room renovation. Sometimes I even lose track of myself and realize that it is 1:31AM, I'm exhausted, and I've just finished item #11 on an 8 revelations list.
1) I have never, ever, in my whole life chewed a piece of gum. Seriously. This is due to a childhood fear of choking coupled with a gross gum-chomping sister. She's not so gross anymore (hi K!), but I still won't eat gum. Over time this has also manifested into a hatred of gum... if I step on a piece on a hot summer day, I am quite literally ready to hunt down the gum-dropper and beat them senseless after I clean my shoe off on their face.
2) I prefer to eat pizza with the cheese removed, again due to the childhood choking on stringy melted cheese thing. Rip that cheese off, throw some Parmesan on the remaining saucy bread, and eat it alternating with the cheese/toppings via fork. I don't do this in public because a scary looking 6'4" 285 pound man has no business eating like a toddler out in the open, but if I'm home alone, I grab me a fork and say "hello, Parmesan!".
3) I think Facebook might be the creepiest thing ever. It is sometimes sorta neat to track down people from the past, but inevitably it results in an awkward standoff where no one knows how far to take things... it is like a high school reunion but in small email doses, where everyone ends up nodding their head in cyberspace saying, "yeah, cool, sounds great... um...yeah." It is also really creepy for a grown-ass man to email some other grown ass man and ask him "wanna be friends?"
4) I hate cats. But I think I covered that before... ah yes, I did, in A Disturbing Revelation ...
5) Despite my reputation as an all around nice guy/teddybear/swell dude, sometimes I am a total prick. I don't mean to be, but sometimes I am. Like sometimes I'll talk a little shit about people behind their back. I always feel bad about it, but I still do it. I've tried to counteract this by being an asshole right out in the open, and I think it might be working.
Like today, this dude at work told a really dumb joke, and instead of fake laughing, I just looked at him, smiled, and said "dude, you're a jackass", and went back to work. I felt really good about myself after that. I think being an asshole is making me a better person.
(NOTE 1: Talking about coworkers like this guy and the One-up-ya guy is a prime example of the fact that I'm an asshole... but assholes need to let off a little hot air now and then too, even if it is a stinky habit.) (pause... wait for it... now go ahead, laugh at my fart joke.)
6) I have a documented memory disorder. I was tested in middle school because I would get great grades on most things but was just unable to memorize things. It would have been a learning disability but in order to qualify, it had to be paired with another diagnosed weakness. Everything else was pretty good, but my memory is really crappy. It was a pain in the ass throughout school, and was totally apparent in all my grades. Thinking, writing, and doing classes were b's and a's, while the "look at a squiggly under a microscope and write down 10 characteristics of that subphylla" class was a D-.
Despite this memory problem I have amazing recall for totally useless information, and I really kick-ass at Trivial Pursuit. I somehow remember that they made less than 30,000 of the CJ-8 "Scrambler" Jeeps, yet I have no idea why World War I was started. Something about the assassination of some Serbian dude named Franz Ferdinand, but that is it. My mom is a history teacher, and if she knew this she would cry. Don't tell her.
The worst part is that people ask me about the testing and whether I have short term or long term memory problems, and I just don't remember. It would be a bad joke if it weren't true.
7) I have spooky-good visual discrimination. I can't really do it like a party trick, but if someone is doing a word search, I can glance at it upside-down out of the corner of my eye from 5 feet away and see the words. They just pop out at me.
In grad school, we did this forestry lab where we had to measure a 10-acre forest plot using a compass and a chain. The method was for one person to walk in a straight line along a compass bearing (directed by another to keep a straight path), and then the third would walk from person A to person B measuring out the 166 feet (one chain), or the length of a side of a square acre. I was the runner guy... I'd head in a direction, jumping logs, dodging prickers, skirting swamps, and line myself up at what I thought was the right distance. The C person then measured the straight line (carrying the dumb end of the tape measure), and time after time, the person stopped within arm's length of me. I can also eyeball small distances and visualize things remarkably well too.
8) I've confronted many of my fears and won.
- I was really afraid of heights, so I started rock climbing.
- I was afraid of needles and blood so I started donating blood regularly.
- I was incredibly queasy about childbirth so I started watching ER regularly and made it through a 33-hour labor and C-section without hesitation.
- I grew up next door to a man who lost an arm in a motorcycle wreck so I started motorcycling.
- I was deathly afraid of medical procedures, especially lower abdominal/groin area procedures, so I ignored a muscle tear that I thought was a hernia, and lived in pretty significant pain for 18 months. I've mostly fixed the muscle tear, and have developed a brilliant coping mechanism for dealing with medical fears. It is called a vaso-vagal reaction, and it involves getting dizzy, sweating profusely, and losing vision, followed by loss of consciousness.
10) I like to eat my food evenly. Near the end of the meal, I should have one bite of each item left, and enough drink to wash it down. This is an unconscious pattern that I catch myself doing sometimes and it freaks me out a little. I do it with fast food(bite of burger, a few fries, maybe a single chicken nugget), I do it with pizza (bite of crust, bite of middle, just the right amount iof topping left), I do it with desserts (always maintain the cake to frosting ratio), and I even do it at Thanksgiving... exhausting, that meal is...
There are some exceptions, like I will sometimes eat all of an item first, especially if it is something I don't particularly like... veggies go first when mom's watching just to relieve the pressure, or hot bread out of the oven goes down the hatch fast, but more often than not, I am left with equal parts on the plate.
11) Sometimes I get really distracted, and take things way too far... I realize that my 10 minute email check has turned into two or three hours, or my Sunday night quick project turns into a major room renovation. Sometimes I even lose track of myself and realize that it is 1:31AM, I'm exhausted, and I've just finished item #11 on an 8 revelations list.
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