Semi-Failed Blog Swap...

Allow me a small introduction.  20somethingbloggers hosted/suggested a blog swap, I signed up, then promptly went on to fail in providing my partner a blog by the deadline of December 20th.  I sent my post today, so we'll see if my partner will have me back long enough to put my post up...without further ado, I present to you the smooth words of Samantha, from Zombie Sharknet.  Her latest post is this one, because I failed her...but you should check out the other posts, too...

Oh golly. This is an interesting one. I could go the traditional route and go on about how I’ve always wanted to get fit, but that would make for a ridiculously boring post so I’ll steer clear of that one. Let me think...

I have been putting off a lot of things. It’s kind of what I do (and don’t you dare lie and say you don’t do it too, because I can tell by the look in your little eyeballs that you’re exactly the same), so there are quite a few things to choose from.

A year and a half ago I started a course in Parapsychology, which I have yet to really begin. It’s via distance education, so it’s not like I’ve been wagging class and smoking behind the bike sheds instead of sitting down and getting stuck in so DON’T JUDGE ME! Ready for the excuses? I work full time. Sure, my job is boring and I never have enough work to do and could do my assignment then, but I’m always so tired, and when I’m bored at work I have NO motivation for assignments. I’m also doing a course for work that I have assignments for and they’re more important than this one, and I don’t have time to do two lots of assignments. I did bring all of my assignment paperwork to work so I could attempt to do it, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. AT LEAST I’M TRYING!

Yup. So uh, I should probably get onto that next year.

I’ve also been putting off that whole “get a new job” thing. I really don’t enjoy my job. As I mentioned before, I don’t really have a lot of work to do and that, my friends, is one of my biggest pet peeves. I amuse myself by having staring contests with the walls (they ALWAYS win! You’d think they’d let me win at least once, but noooo) and finding bugs in the office and making up amazing back stories for them. One killed himself in my coffee a few weeks ago because his wife left him and he lost him job. Poor fellow just couldn’t hack it.

Lately I’ve been writing letters to friends that usually feature a stupendous stick figure drawing. I know guys, you wish you could have a letter like that, but I just can’t write to everyone you know. But what I’m saying is: instead of overdosing on coffee, running off to the toilet every two minutes due to said coffee intake, finding insects and befriending them and singing songs about how crap my job is, I SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT AND FIND A NEW JOB!

While I will miss my little bug friends, I think finding a job I’ll be happy in will make up for it. The hard thing is finding that new job though, and I have a feeling that it will be quite the difficult task. Like seriously, this is stressing me out more than trying to think of new names for my bugs, and that’s a pretty stressful task. For realsies.

What else? Hm. Oh yes. QUIT SMOKING, YOU DIRTY TRAMP. I’ve told my boyfriend that in March I shall quit, so I now have to follow through with that. I am not looking forward to it. Smoking is horrendous, I know this, but it helps me feel less anxious and awkward and gives me something to do with my hands when I’m nervous. I sure am full of excuses today. I’ll be off to Thailand in a week, so I can’t go giving up smoking now when I can buy a packet of cancerous goodness for $2! Yeah, I know, cheap right? I’m sadly excited.

That my friends, is what I need to get a move on with next year. You know, when I get back from Thailand and have recovered from all the relaxing I’ll be doing. Oh my god, this post is basically me whining all about shit I need to do to. Ah, you asked little ones, whether you know it or not, so leave me to wallow in self pity and maybe I’ll motivate my face to get a move on. MAYBE. I’m not promising you anything, so if I don’t go ahead with anything you can’t get mad at me because I haven’t promised! Ha!

Alright, I shall hand Ninja In A Mazda his blog back. I’m sure he’ll want to discuss my post in detail, and chronicle how it made him feel every step of the way. Or maybe he’ll just forget that this whole thing ever happened by getting rip roaringly drunk and passing out for a week and then continuing on with his blog as usual. Either way, I’m happy. Goodbye cupcakes.

FAQ

Factually Accurate Quips?  Foreign Assignment Queries?  Functionally Allowed Quantities?  Flying African Quails?  Family Activity Quotas?  Formidable ......enough.  It means Frequently Asked Questions, and they are a prime opportunity for the answers of the questions to get in one last plug...like....

Q: What do I do if my PC will not recognize my Verizon High Speed Wireless Internet Card?
A: At Verizon Wireless, we believe in high-quality, excellent products.  If your quality Verizon High Speed Wireless card is not being recognized by your PC, restart the PC.  If the problem persists, call the industry leading Verizon Wireless customer hot line at 1-800-Talli-Ban.

So, here is my first installment of Frequently Asked Questions.  These are questions that I have been asked quite frequently recently, and I assure you that my FAQs only have one agenda:  To verbally express my opinions, find other people that share those opinions, and form a gang of liked minded people large enough to require membership cards and a logo.  Pretty innocent, right?

Q: Why do you have a mustache?

A: Well, let me answer your question with a question.  Why do you want dudes to suffer and die from prostate cancer?  Because, I don't.  And I mean I don't want to suffer and die from prostate cancer and I don't want anyone else to either.  I'm not sure how long this has been going on, but every year, in the 11th month, people everywhere sport some upper lip carpet to "Change the face of men's health".  Check it out.  Also, I just bought an ice cream truck full of chloroform, so I thought this was the appropriate uniform.


Q: We are going to the Ram for lunch, do you want to go?
A: Absolutely not.  First, this would be a work function, which means my ordering a beer instead of a freaking Diet Coke with lemon will be frowned upon.  Secondly, the likelihood of me ordering something that I will enjoy is about as likely as our group receiving customer service that could even generously be labeled as "almost average".  And finally, that place (and most restaurants) are reverse gyms.  People go there, and if they are dedicated enough, they get fatter.  In fact, I think I have made a New Years resolution in the past to eat at out less often and to go to the gym more often.  I believe the typical life cycle of resolutions like this include, but are not limited to:  two and half weeks of diligent adherence (with Thursday and Friday of the third week off as a reward).  After three weeks, it is back to crushing half pound burgers covered in hickory smoked bacon (add $.75) and moving the gym bag from the car to the kitchen, but still feeling guilty about the infidelity to the resolution.  After four weeks, the gym bag moves back to the closet where it emerged from five weeks ago, and watching The Biggest Loser has officially taken the place of hitting the treadmill.  Sooo, no thank you.

Q: How has the British Pound performed compared to the US Dollar this year?
A: Pretty well, recently.  At the beginning of the year, the rate was around 1.62, but fell over 8% through August, which is when it started to recover.  At the end of November, it is nearly back to where it was at the beginning of the year.  The Pound's journey thus far in 2010 is not unlike the journey of one Mike Vick.  There are certainly obvious differences, and I am no currency expert, but I'm confident in saying that the Pound's decline through the middle months of this year were not due to the currency's conviction on federal dog fighting charges.  Equally, it's recovery has nothing to do with Vick's capacity to stay down, hit the film room, and be the player that Atlanta hoped he would become when they drafted him in 2001.

Tom out.

February 28, 2009...

...was the first time I ever wrote a blog.  It still exists on the Interwebs, but I have brought it here for you.  I cannot recall what was going on at the time, but I like it, so I am reposting it..for my 120 Facebook friends to read and my 17 followers to read...

"Since we were kids, we have been asked and expected to set goals. Since we were kids, we have had goals set for us. The most basic and common example is, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

It seems that this question is usually related to an occupation. When I was young, I always thought I wanted to be a professional athlete. A general lack of natural size and ability has hinder that pipe dream. What drew me to that occupation? Well, I always thought there could be nothing better. You play a game for a living.

Even now, people ask what where I see my career going. They are still asking me what I want to be when I grow up. I still don't know that answer. But, I do know one thing. Under no circumstances does what I am professionally define what I am when I grow up.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

I want to be honest regardless of the situation.
I want to be a good friend.
I want to help Katie be what she wants to be when she grows up.
I want to be me no matter who is standing next to me.

BUT, I also realize that these things are easy for me to say, because I have a job. I have a career path, even if I don't know exactly what it is. Since I don't have to worry about money right now, I can focus on what I want to be, in non-monetary terms. It's like Kanye says, "Havin money isn't everything, not having it is."

Since everything is what you make it, life is a matter of your perspective. Sure, you could have more. But, you could have less. Your life could be much better. But, it could be much worse. I wish everyone could keep that in mind when they complain about not getting paid enough, when they complain about the neighbor's dog barking, when they complain about how shitty their lives are.

Your life is not shitty. Your perspective on your life is shitty. If a person changes that perspective, even if everything looks the same from the outside, that person's life is different."

You alls is (road) trippin, boo.

Katie and I have traveled a bit since Memorial Day. Summer.  That is what you call that time period between Memorial Day and now.  Moving on from the lesson on seasons...The Ninja's Mazda has crested 193,000 miles.  The vast majority of those miles have been on the one and only Interstate 84 (I-84).  Mostly, my fellow drivers are respectful, and as fueled by common road courtesies as by 89 octane.  That being said, I have a few observations and questions for my other road dwellers.

1. So, orange 2009 Dodge Calibers don't have cruise control?  That is why you have passed me, then slowed down 4 times in the last hour, right?
2. Where are you from that it is okay to do that?  You know - pretending that I wasn't traveling at least 10 mph faster than you when you decided to change lanes to take 13 minutes to pass the big rig that is going...the same...speed...that you are.
3. Don't text and drive.  Even Kansas City Chiefs rookie running back, Dexter McCluster, agrees with me.
4. I see that your family consists of two big stick people, one medium sized stick person, a small stick baby, and two stick dogs.
5. I was going to ride your ass for the next ten miles, until I saw that "Back off - I have kids" sticker.  Well played.  Note:  This sticker was the inspiration for my new sticker: "Back off - I ate some leftovers earlier".
6. Why are you looking at me like that?  I'm not the one with a confederate flag on my back window.
7.  $25 a year.  Maybe $35 a year.  I may or may not alienate one of the 17 faithful, awesome people that at one time have enjoyed something I wrote with this one.  Vanity plates are just about the biggest waste of money I can think of.  I'm not talking about the ones that support a university or breast cancer research - I'm talking about the ones that identify a 1997 Chevy Suburban as "CRAIGZ" or inform everyone that the dude driving his PT Cruiser is "JUSCRZN".  Simply stated, someone paid the state of New York extra money to put this (see pic below) on his/her license plate.

 Tom out.

Nosebleed Section

Since I've come into my own as a beacon of financial responsibility and sound decision making, I've thought that the equation was simple: $ earned - $ spent >0.  And for the mathematically challenged, the words version of that is spend less than you make.  It's pretty simple.  That, plus "If you can't pay cash for it, don't buy it." has lead to Katie and I's moderate financial security.  Now I realize that just like all of the great economic models and theories, I have assumed away the human element.

You know, the element that says, "Well, I can't really afford a new TV, but Best Buy has 0% financing for the first year and I will pay it off before than and the dude next door just got one".  And don't forget the human element that says, "The bank preapproved me for a $600K loan, and even though I can't afford a $3,500 monthly mortgage payment, the bank is smarter than me, and has no incentive to sell me a mortgage that isn't in my best interest, I am going to buy this bastard." (And I'm not sure sure whether it is more the bank's fault or the person's fault, so I will say that both parties were irresponsible, greedy, and disappointing.)  And finally, the human element that says, "I got a bloody nose, it has been bleeding for over an hour, blood is coming out of my tear ducts, I shuld probably go to the emergency room."  I've heard that medical expenses are the #1 cause of bankruptcies, but I had never personally been raped by tha fact until May 24, 2010.

What started out as a simple sprinkler system repair, turned out to be an activity that proves that ninjas DO get bloody noses.  As I wrestled with PVC snakes hidden in a filthy plastic lined hole in my front yard, my nose started to bleed.  A few hours later, I was in the hosptial, watching Game 5 of the Celtics/Magic series, having crazy inflatable tampon deals shoved in my nostril to remain there for two days.  I am all for having reasons to not go to work, but staying home for two days because I have a tampon in my nose is a little ridiculous.  I knew going to the emergency room was going to be expensive, so as I recovered, I dreaded getting that bill in the mail.  Examine Exhibit A...the bill for stopping my bloody nose.

$865?!?  As written on a check, eight hundred sixty five and xx/100 dollars.  The craziest part is when I tell most people about this, they are not even shocked.  "Sounds about right" is the most common response.  Well, I beg to differ good sir, that does not sound about right.  It sounds about absurd.  Like myself, I'm sure you are wondering what could possibly cost that much, so please see Exhibit B, the less than satisfying breakdown of charges.

Emergency room....$529
Professional services...$336...Now, if I am paying $336 for professional services, I better be getting a new transmission or a Z job.  (If you have to ask, you can't afford it).  Thank goodness I have health insurance to pay for this calamity.  As inevitable as it seems that this blog will end up having a political agenda, that isn't really my intent.  True, I do think that the healthcare system seems to have something wrong with it, but I don't really have a solution, and until I do, I will keep my mouth shut on that one. 

This is more about me learning first hand how expensive medical bills can be.  Seriously, if a bloody nose costs a grand (Taking the huge, terrible, inflatable tampon monster out of my nose was an additional $60 and my appointment at the ear, nose, and throat doctor was another who knows how much), how much does a pregnancy cost?  How much does a single car rollover on the freeway cost when the driver has to be Med Evac'ed to the hospital cost?  How does someone pay for that without health insurance?  For me, one of the things that I have always considered simple is knowing how to manage your own money.  Spend less than you make.  Simple.  But it isn't that simple.  So, when I hear about bankruptcies, "Dumbass" is no longer my first thought.  That person may very well be a dumbass, but unless I know that person's story, I will never know if they are bankrupt and losing their house because they had to have a new TV, clothes, and Tahoe, or if they just had a terrible string of health insurance-less nosebleeds.

Tom out.

Consider your welcome worn out.

The house guest is an interesting breed.  They usually visit for a good reason, a reason that makes you happy.  A monumental occasion that you want to share with those close to you.  But lets be honest, you enjoy the presence of your house guest at the expense, to some degree, of your own comfort.  They know it, and you know it, but it is always manageable for a short period of time.

Our friend, Bart.

Our house guest, Bart (Bathroom Absolutely Ripped ToBits) has been with us since about March.  When he first arrived, it was awesome.  He kept Katie company when she didn't have a substituting job lined up for the day.  He provided fodder for workplace conversation.  And we have learned a few things from Bart in the last couple of months.  For example, we will probably never buy a house with only one bathroom, but if we do, we know that we can survive a weekend with five adults and only one bathroom.  We have learned how to replace the sub floor, and that a 15 inch pry bar is a fantastic tool when ripping up the underlayment layer of a house's floor. We have learned that the crawl space under the house isn't really that scary.

But it isn't all sugar and spice with Bart around.  He has quite literally bowed under the weight of his own vanity, which requires us to step in, and provide him support.  That is what friends do.  But, it does try one's patience.  After working with him all day today, I feel like a good friend, and I feel like we have made some progress.  But the truth is that Bart is still in pretty rough shape, and it will be a while before he is ready to leave us...

Tom out.

On to the Next

After a two month hiatus, the ninja is back and can proudly proclaim that the ship of me complaining about how school is sucking the life out of me during my good, youthful years has sailed.  In the last week, several milestones have been reached.

Most importantly, the Mazda in which this ninja rides, toppled the 185,000 mile mark with class.  Back seat covered in dog hair, string cheese wrappers and pens jammed into the driver side door pocket, and 3 pennies glued to the bottom of the cup holder with layers of Diet Mountain Dew.

Secondly, I turned 28.  This means two things.  First, my ten year high school reunion is this summer (not going).  And second, it is only a matter of months before I have friends celebrating their 30th birthdays with black Over the Hill balloons and napkins and Miata convertibles.  But ultimately, it means nothing.  I took the day off and we ate plain cheesecake.

The third milestone is that I graduated with my MBA from Boise State University.  In my Resolusmus List, I wanted to get all As this term, and I almost made it.  As of right now, the silly elective course with zero graded assignments, and the "laid-back", cool non-professor has kept me from that dream.  I have an email in to the professor asking for justification and in hopes of a change, but I'm not optimistic.

But, that is not the important thing because I graduated and I really don't care that much.  The important thing is that I'm done!  The first thing I did after obtaining those three special letters after my name was de-lumberjack myself, much to the pleasure of everyone who was tired of wondering if they should give me a chainsaw or a flea collar for a graduation/birthday gift.

  The other question I keep getting is....WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?  Interesting question.



Other than relax and enjoy my evenings and weekends, hang out with Katie and friends that I have all but ignored for the last couple of years, and help Katie maintain the home that I have been living in (such as replacing five sprinkler heads this evening), here are two ideas.

Number One: I will be taking pictures.  Taking pictures of everything with the graduation/birthday present that I bought myself, the Nikon D5000 camera.  I have pretty much already mastered this bad boy, as you can see:

I understand the importance of lighting.

I also know how to capture action clearly.

Honestly, though, it is a fine piece of camera ass that I plan on taxing extensively this summer.  There are plenty of gizmos and whizbangs for me to figure out, so it should keep me busy for a while.

Number Two: I will be writing blogs about things that don't really matter, and using various nerdy tools to help prove my points.  And that will begin with settling the debate of whether the toilet seat shall be left up or down.  To be upfront, I gladly put the toilet seat down, and I have been doing it for so long that I don't think I could go back if I wanted to.  Insert lame, predictable joke about me being well trained here.  I don't remember how it came to be that I put the toilet seat down, and I don't really care.  So, when male friends come to visit our home and leave the toilet seat up, it is as strange to me as it is to Katie.  As we discussed this after our friends left one night, I mockingly mentioned the classic argument that women should put the toilet seat up for men because women want to be treated equally or whatever that stupid ass argument is.  What this boiled down to was me creating a spreadsheet to prove what position, as a matter of efficiency, the toilet seat should be left in after use.

Here is a link to the Google Doc for the fellow nerds that aren't just going to take my word for it.  If the link doesn't work, by all means email me so I can send it along.

It is based on the logic that if the toilet seat needs to be in the down position for the majority of "uses", then it is most efficient to leave it down.  The last line of the spreadsheet shows the percentage of "uses" that require the seat to be down, and if it is above 50%, the seat shall remain down.  I have provided a few screen shots to illustrate some examples.

Standard: 1 male, 1 female...

No matter how many males you add...

The first shows that increasing the number of males and the number of times the males pee decreases the percentage of events that requires the toilet seat to be down.  So, if these variables do increase, so does the validity of the argument for leaving the seat up.

The second shows the example of having one male and one female each providing a #1 and a #2 daily.  The percentage is in favor of always leaving the seat down.

The third shot proves that as males are added to the building, the percentage approaches 50%, but never reaches it.  Therefore, no matter how many males are in the building, the seat should always be down (assuming each male provides a single #1 and a single #2 daily).

There are some things that the model does not consider, such as the fact that males could pee with the seat down, in which case you would need to consider who cleans the bathroom floor.  Another example is that the lid is usually closed as well, so does that defeat the goal of efficiency in that the person still has to lift the lid even when utilizing the seat in the down position?  I don't have all of the answers, man.

Moats.

Australia has it right.  Hawaii has it right.  The 17th green at TPC Sawgrass has it right. Japan has it right.  Granted 75% of the entities mentioned here did nothing to get it right, they are just islands.

But I don't see them as islands.  I see them as plots of land protected by the best defense ever...the moat.

Herstmonceux Castle, Sussex, Rebuilt in 1777

You see that moat? Please explain to me how, in 1441, when this castle was originally built, the Department of Landscaping and Defence (as spelled in Sussex) knew the effectiveness and overall badassness of moats, but we don't use them now.  It is 2010 for some type of allegedly destiny controlling, omnipresent entity's sake, why are we not using moats?  It is a simple defense, here are some key elements:

• some type of large, deep ditch filled with water, preferably SmartWater, because that will create a SmartMoat...I don't think I even need to tell the potential damage a SmartMoat could do.  
• various occupants of the moat include, but are not limited to (Note: all occupants of the moat shall be enhanced by SmartWater when applicable):
• alligators...the traditional choice
• water moccosins
• battleship and patrol boat located at D4-D8 and H10-H11, respectively
• piranhas
• frickin sharks with frickin laser beams attached to their heads
• dudes with gold chains and AK-47s riding jet skis (imported directly from an episode of A-Team)
• portugese man of wars
• free style rapping clones of michael phelps
• a draw bridge...I realize that Australia does not have a draw bridge.  But, it has kangaroos and dingos and whatnot, so the drawbridge requirement can be waived.

If moats were not the bees knees, why would there be a professional football player named after them?

What people don't realize is that Ryan Moats comes from a long line of Moats.  His ancestors worked primarily in personal security....

Tom out.

Now or later? Vegas is giving good odds on later.

Friday night, 4 hours reading about business ethics.  Saturday, 5 hours writing about the differences in financial statement presentation between IFRS and US GAAP and another 3 hours reading about evaluating a firm's resources and capacities in terms of business strategy.

I describe this process because in the last two days, at least 12 hours has been dedicated to homework, instead of doing something with Katie or watching college hoops, or basically anything that I actually enjoy.  Now, I realize this sounds like a bitch sesh, but that is not my intent.

My intent...is to highlight the struggle between now and later.  Between instant gratification and the chance at prolonged security.  Between living in the moment and letting the moment pass while you study in hopes of much better moments later in life.  Between taking the new washer and dryer set or choosing what is behind door number 3.

My understanding, the common understanding, is that you spend the first 20 something years of your life in school, bettering yourself, preparing yourself for adulthood, because that will help you get a better (higher paying) job.  Right?  And a better job will lead to a better life (more stuff/better stuff) or quality of life. Right?

So, here's my deal...I have clearly decided to "invest in my future" with continued education.  I am betting on the future.  I am giving up the current good for the chance at the future great.  I am a degenerate gambler betting the over on my own happiness.  All of the experts are betting the same line. But its called gambling for a reason.  I could crap out.

As morbid as it sounds, I could die tomorrow.  I've invested all of this time in an education, but a degree is not a fucking forcefield.  Can a degree block cancer or the drunk driver that crosses the double yellow right before the grill of his F-150 eats the front of the Mazda for dinner?

Can the average of one million dollars more I will make over a lifetime because I have a degree buy back the countless hours that Katie sits in the living room by herself watching Frisky Dingo waiting for me to emerge from the computer room claiming victory over the Harley Davidson business case analysis that is due Tuesday?

Can a graduate degree even guarantee that I will have a job that won't make me want to methodically merge my receding hairline with my mahogany desk over and over at a medium pace?


If my commitment did any of these things, I wouldn't doubt it so much, but it doesn't and I do.  But its too late to go back now...graduation is in two and half months, and then this won't matter.


Tomout.


In other news, one the items from my New Year's Resolusmus List has officially been crossed off...

Totes Commercials.

So, I generally despise commercials.  Not only because so many of them are poorly done, but they are advertising something completely horrible, like jewelry on Valentine's Day or income tax relief. 

Sidebar: Let me tell you something.  If you owe the government $30K, you either messed up some type of self employment situation, or you have just ignored your taxes for several years.  Either way, just pay it.  And don't act like you don't benefit from things that those taxes buy.  

Back to commercials that make me happy.  The first one is for Orbit gum. I wish every argument was like this. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nfh92hKLO6c

This one is old as hell.  Think Home Alone.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ungfgWA_-8
 
For whatever reason, of all the Sonic commercials, this one by far, BY FAR, is my favorite.  Probably because I love the phrase, "Don't bring that weak INSERT ANY TYPE OF ACTIVITY OR OBJECT HERE action in here!" I'm very mature.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjY9VGEUdGs

Finally, this would not be possible without the coolest lady in Aiken, SC.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjMUfIKktWU

Maybe I will do this again if any company ever makes a good commercial again.

Cheers. Tomout.

Happy Valentine's Day Eve

Jessy at The Giant Typo expressed her idea to have a bunch of people write their own love stories, then she would post them on her blog.  I volunteered to write one.  Go check out my love story...it's a bit different from the other ones she has posted, but if you know me, my mom, and Katie...you will appreciate it.

My other favorites are from Kamal Singh at 10 Pints and a Curry and April at Doch ihre Worte frisst der Wind.  But each one gives a different perspective.

Read them all here...

The stories make you consider what you think love is...no better time than the present to think about it, I suppose.  Here's a hint, you can't find it in a wallet or a vase.
Tomout.

asserhole casserole

Instead of reading chapter 8 of my Managers and the Legal Environment text book (Sales, Licensing, and E-Commerce), I have decided to sleep, watch You Tube videos, watch the Senior Bowl, and publish the result of an on-going discussion I have been having at work for the last few weeks.  This stated with a question of the definition of salad.

I am unsatisfied with the large variety of things that can be called salad.  Potato salad, taco salad, etc.

Anyway, somehow our attention turned to casseroles.  After many discussions, we feel that we have a pretty solid method of determining whether a given dish is a casserole.  So there you have it.  I claim to be many things, however, a culinary expert is not one...so let me know if you think I have made a mistake.  Then I will argue with you.  Tom out.

Found in notebook...I was half rapper, half accountant, half grad student, 100% not amused with my current situation

I found this in a notebook a couple days ago.  Not sure when I wrote it since I have pretty much hated school from the second semester on...

You have to put a beat on in the back of your mind, then read this like you would if you were a rapper.

maybe kanye has a point
why am i chasin these degrees
maybe i should follow his leads
don't worry, i ain't gonna drop out
but i can't say
it hasn't crossed my mouth
yeah its crossed my mind
cuz sometimes
a good reason is hard to find
to stay on the college grind
shit, i could make it on tv
are you kidding me
i got so much talent
its hard to balance
between the sheets
where microsoft excel
and thread counts meet
the worlds at my feet
i struggle to find any man
who doesn't question his fool proof plan
yeah i got my confidence
but its evident that
maybe my education and experience
are irrelevant
i think big like an elephant
and hope my future isn't
tiny like an infant
i better not quit my day job

The Cool Multiplier and Inhalers

In my last post, I mention the MMA Affliction Tee guy burying Red Bull and vodkas at 11 in the morning.  He had an inhaler.  This made me wonder, what effect does the use of an inhaler publicly have on a person's bad ass/cool/hotness level.  There are people that are cooler/bad asser/hotter than others, without question.  But, can their reputation handle the pounding that using an inhaler would deliver?  I'm not so sure, but let's take a look.

For example, Chili Palmer (John Travolta) from the movie Be Cool.  Anyone that can have the following dialogue is going to rank quite high on the cool scale.

Linda Moon:  What are you going to say to them?
Chili Palmer:  Nothing more than I have to, if that.

You are the best John Chili Travolta Palmer.  He continued on to punch Elliot (The Rock) in the throat and "break him smooth down".  If you haven't seen this movie, you should...lots of good characters.

Another example is Jay-Z.  The cat is just smooth and has been for longer than I've been alive.  His qualifications include, but are not limited to: having a Hard Knock Life, making the Yankee cap more famous than a Yankee can, having Obama on the text, running New York, being addicted to the game, having 10 #1 albums, married to Beyonce, and CEO of Rock-a-Fella records.

And what about All World celebrity/football star, David Beckham.  He can bend it, he can model Armani underwear, and he has a British accent.  He is also mildly attractive (or so I've been told).  He is one of the only celebrity type people that I can find that has actually been seen using an inhaler.  So let's do a little experiment...look at this photo of Becks:

Pretty good looking guy, right?  He doesn't look like a bad ass, but you can't judge a book by it's cover, he could be a secret ninja.  Let's indulge ourselves once more to enjoy another picture of this elite athelete:

Shit.  He just went inhaler.  What are we supposed to think now?  Well, I have a hypothesis on how we can calculate the effects of inhaler use on a person's reputation.  This is a purely scientific process that I call the Cool Multiplier.  It defines characteristics of people, and gives each characteristic a value that is multiplied by the person's original cool/bad ass level to arrive at a more accurate rating.

The spreadsheet above shows a few simple examples.  The calculation for Becks can be broken down with two items.  He earned the multiplier of 1.5 for having at least one tattoo and the -1.25 multiplier for having an inhaler.  This makes his total multiplier .25.  You can see that his original value of 8 is multiplied by .25 to arrive at the new value of 2.  Using this calculation, any person can obtain a more accurate depiction of that person's cool/bad ass value.  Here are a few examples of multipliers that can be applied to someone:

1..........Not a child molester
1.25..........Has a beard
1.50..........Has at least one tattoo
-1.25..........Uses an inhaler
-1.50..........Is a bad tipper

There are many other characteristics that values can be applied to, but this is just an expiriment and an introduction to this process.  Please feel free to add factors that you feel are important and should be considered here.

Smoke grenade.  Tom out.

Exit Row Hero

Headed to SLC, then to Phoenix, and it looked like Katie and I would not be sitting together on either flight.  I figured, "That's cool, fire up the Pod, and we'll be there in no time".

The man called for loading zone 4, so there would likely be no room for my carry-on bag in the overhead bin.  I figured, "That's cool, stuff my shit under the seat, and we'll be there in no time."

As the woman scanning tickets ran my folding up boarding pass across the machine it beeped, and she uttered the only words better than "We have upgraded you to First Class", she said I would be sitting in the Exit Row.

I figured, "That's cool, I have sufficient strength, mobility, and dexterity, and we'll be there in no time." 

I sat down in my exit row seat, stuffed my lapper under the seat, and began to soak in that extra leg room.  The airlines give you that extra leg room in the Exit Row to keep your leg muscles stretched out and limber; ready to spring in to action.

My mind wondered as I looked around at all of the people that I was responsible for.  The Make-out couple sitting behind me and to my left...rubbing each others faces together completely oblivious to the fact that in minutes we would be taking to the air in this death machine.  Way too serious business man, still rocking his Blue Tooth and crushing keys on his laptop as he no doubt approved something super important.

I was interrupted by my seatmate for the next 45-50 minutes asking me what time it was, because he didn't have a watch.  "Not time to die...not on my watch", is what I wanted to say, but I toned it down to "Ten til".  He confirmed that I was wearing a Boise State hat and that I was, in fact, on my way to the 2010 Fiesta Bowl.  We discussed terrible past flights, and how he missed the last Fiesta Bowl, because he was in an airport.  That was a nice three minute convo, ending with the typical awkward silence.  Outstanding.

What many casual airline fliers don't realize is that at 37,000 feet, there are guardian angels watching over them.  Guardian angels that are required to audibly accept the responsibility, much like the swearing in of a new Private to the United States Army.  Those angels are the Exit Row Heroes.  Sure, they look ordinary, but their sense of duty and guard dog mentality is like a volcano, ready to erupt.  Their sense of personal and societal responsibility is molded by the passenger safety card located in the pocket of the seat in front of them.  As the seat of 12B surrounds me, I wonder if I have what it takes...

The man across the aisle has what it takes.  No question.  His shirt says "Champion".  A champion of safety and leadership, no doubt.  He jokes about the need to audibly accept the responsibility, but quickly points out that, "Mutes can't direct and save."  A valid point.  The way he manhandles and manipulates his Wall Street Journal ensures me that during crunch time, the 42lb. exit door won't stand a chance.

I'm not going to lie, I was inspired by this man.  I acted disinterested as I studied the passenger safety card (which I stole), but I am very attentive.  Emergency landing on water, emergency landing on land; to say my senses were heightened would have been an understatement.  I was a beacon of situational awareness.  I scanned again.  The woman in 13C with a small child, completely overwhelmed.  The man in 9C that has already gone to the bathroom and clearly has no control over his bodily functions.  The large group of candy cane striped button wearing unaccompanied minors.

Awkward silence guy drifted to sleep after take-off, and I scanned the cabin, again taking in the people that I would potentially be saving.  "Maybe I am an Exit Row hero", I thought as I watched MMA Affliction Tee guy order a $10 Red Bull and Vodka.  An 11:35 am flight and he is firing up Red Bull and Vodkas?  Then I noticed he had an inhaler on his tray table.

Really??

Can he still be a bad ass with an inhaler?  I wondered...(more on this in another post)

These people are completely helpless...lost without me and The Champion of Safety (who is now flirting with the flight attendant).  I think of lecturing him on the dangers of complacency, but realize that would only weaken our bond.  I resist because these people need us.  And when the panicking masses follow the illuminated strips on either side of the aisle to exit, we will stand there in our herioc glory to guide them to safety.

Yeah, I have what it takes.  Tom out.