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.