Been A While...

I don't go on rants as often as I used to. The reasons as to why are many I'm sure (or not...who knows?), but I still do take notice of the occasional annoying/petty/stupid/hypocritical things people and society at large, do. And so, without further adieu, the most recent annoying things I feel are comment worthy.

-There's this radio ad I've heard several times the last few weeks for lasik surgery. As a guy who now wears glasses, I can understand how there might be a market for people who wish to have their vision permanently improved, and remove the need for wearing glasses/contacts. Now, you would think a radio ad for such a surgical procedure would go something like this: "Tired of wearing glasses/contacts? With a short surgical procedure we can restore your vision back to 20/20...permanently." There you go. An ad that tells you what the service is and what it can do for you. Short and to the pont. Clear in its intent and succinct. But that would be too simple and make too much sense, wouldn't it? You see, advertising is all fear based. Rather than show you a useful and life improving service or product, and illustrate how that product can work for you, advertisers like to instill a sense of dread in their target audience that if they don't buy this product, your life will take a turn for the worse. You will smell worse, your penis won't work right, your hair won't grow/lay flat/be wavy/be blond-red-brunette, the hair you DON'T want won't go away and keep growing, you'll get fat, you'll be too skinny and won't gain muscle weight, the car you drive isn't sexy enough, the car you drive isn't practical enough, the car you drive isn't green enough, etc., etc. So, you may or may not be asking yourself, how could you possibly freak somebody out with a lasik commercial? Like this: the commercial starts out with the sounds of what appears to be somebody breaking into a house, presumably late at night. The wife freaks out in a hushed panicky voice, and the husband fumbles around stating "I can't find my glasses!!!" The woman says "Oh my god...they're inside...the children! What about the children???" And the guy states: "I can't see a thing...where'd I leave my glasses????" The wife then states: "What are we gonna do???" Good question lady. Perhaps you could start by calling 911? So, there you go. According to the lasik people, if you don't have their procedure, you will be murdered in your bedroom by a gang of thrill kill psychopaths breaking into your home, and your kids will be either sold off into a Russian white slavery ring, or, dragged down into some sort of torture dungeon. Wow. Pretty grisly stuff, and definitely a good reason to get that lasik surgery! However, what I'm confused about is how this scenario is supposed to play out differently if the man had, in fact, already had the lasik procedure. Would it go something like this: Sound of people breaking in home. Wife to husband: "Well honey, you know what to do." Man calmly, but with a bit of pity in his voice, almost Eastwood-like, "Yep. Be back in a sec", as he knows that the evil doers who just broke into their house have no idea what they're in for...and that is some seriously vision corrected ass kicking. Man goes downstairs and the following is heard: "Oh my god...he's not wearing glasses!!! RUN!!!" Then there's the sound of what appears to be laser beams being fired. "Oh my god! His lasik corrected perfect vision is burning a hole right through my chest! Arrrrrrhhgghgghhg!!!!!" Then there's the sound of hearts exploding and sizzling flesh. "Eat hot lasik death you burglarizing evil doing pieces of filth!!!! Muwahahaha!!!! Get some! Get some!!!!" More laser vision being fired, more hearts exploding with the sound of panicky bad guys meeting a gruesome end as they die horrifying deaths. After the grotesque, but triumphant scene downstairs, the man goes back upstairs, eyeballs his wife, and states: "Poor fucks never knew what hit them...thank you lasik eye surgery center. Now give me some sugar baby..." Aaaaaand scene.

Anyway, this commercial kinda pissed me off because they basically equated wearing glasses to sacrificing the potential well being of your family...which I find reprehensible.

-I woke up this morning at 4am thinking one of a few things had happened, due to the nuclear fusion like illumination burning THROUGH the curtains of my bedroom window. 1) the apocalypse was indeed upon us and all those fundamentalists were right. Oh shit. 2) the last day of Burning Man was being celebrated in my back yard and nobody invited me. The bastards. 3) A small tactical nuke had been set off as Al Queda had determined my neighborhood was a high value target...I'm guessing due to our overly infidel adherence to maintaining our landscaping and pools. 4) The sun had just gone supernova and I had eight minutes to live...which made me contemplate there was no need to get out of my warm bed and take a leak after all. I think I could probably hold out for eight minutes. 5) The mothership had just landed outside my window, the aliens were here, and I was about to get an anal probe. Man...talk about a buzz kill. Hopefully the gray, big eyed bastards would have the decency to buy me a drink first...you now...kinda ease into it. 6) My idiot neighbor had just installed a backyard light that had the equivalent of 14 trillion candlepower. Well, it was #6. Is there any reason to illuminate your backyard with the brilliance of a Class A star? What in the hell are you trying to illuminate back there? You concerned Charlie is hiding in the tree line and are going to need to call in an air strike? Maybe you are anticipating the need to crack a chest and do a little impromptu open heart surgery next to the bbq pit at 3am? "Scalpel. Check. Chest spreader? Check. Clamp? Check? Spatula and tongs? Check. Ok. Lets save a life...and for crying out loud..keep an eye on those burgers...oh, and pass me a cold one...I'm going in." I don't really know how to finish this thought other than saying my neighbor sucks. I think that probably sums it up nicely.

-I would really like to know what goes on in peoples heads as they're driving (actual answer: nothing is going on in their heads other than the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the buzz of a solitary fly, or the sound of an EKG machine when it's flatlining...you know, that "bewwwwwwwwwwwwww" sound). I ask this question because of the following encounter: I was exiting the freeway at an over crossing. The over crossing has an unusually high crown to it, which basically means you can't see oncoming traffic to the left or right until they've crested the rise and are almost right on top of you. So, you have to be careful and really hyper vigilant as you pull into traffic. I look left and right, and left again. No oncoming cars. I start to pull into traffic by making a left turn, and, like a Scud missile screaming across the desert, came a tatted up idiot in a graphics laden Mustang. Because I was actually paying fucking attention to what I was doing, I saw the methed out tweaker maniac coming and promptly stopped my car before entering the lane. This is a crucial point I want to get across here: I stopped before entering the lane, and he was still a good 100 ft. away. So, here now is the scene: the oncoming Mustang's lane is still WIDE OPEN, I'm stopped while he was still 100 ft. away, and there is no traffic obstruction as he approached. So what does this basement dweller of Maslow's Hierarchy do as he drives by completely unencumbered by me or anybody else? Yep. He honks. Apparently this Affliction hat wearing, tattooed neck having, graphics Mustang sporting lunkhead was not the unmitigated asshole I made him out to be, but was, in fact, a theoretical physicist. I say this because the only reason I can imagine that he would have honked when there was absolutely no danger of a collision is because, in that short amount of time, he worked a quick calculation in his head and wanted to let me know that in alternate, parallel universe, we had a collision. In some alternate reality, we were no doubt having a conversation where he was trying to explain to me "Yes, he WOULD have had car insurance had he not spent his last $150 on a new tattoo and would I consider an 1/8oz of weed as fair compensation for my damage" and "Just because he was doing 65mph in a 40mph zone he doesn't see how any of this could be his fault...but he's got the hook up with a bouncer at a local strip club if I'm willing to forget this happened...". Needless to say, I greatly appreciate his desire to expand my physics loving mind into the realm of worlds just beyond the thin membrane that separates them from our own...

Then again, may be it was a congratulatory honk celebrating my professional alertness whilst behind the wheel, and how my vigilant driving posture saved us from having a collision due to his driving with his head up his ass. Maybe his honk said: "Well played my good man! Your strict adherence to actually paying attention to what your doing has paid off handsomely good sir, as your efforts prevented us from having a rather unfortunate collision due to my disgusting, self absorbed carelessness!"

Nah...I seriously doubt it...I think he was most likely just an asshole.

Stuff

-Attention old drivers of the world: just because you do 28 mph in a 45 mph zone, does not, by default, make you a SAFE driver, OK? What it does make you is the Typhoid Mary of the transportation world. Perhaps we will call you 'Road Rage Mary'. Like Typhoid Mary, nothing ever happens to YOU as you toodle on down the road. But like Typhoid Mary, you blithely INFECT everybody else. Traffic stacked up and impeded behind you, sending blood pressures skyrocketing as people try and pass you to make their appointment. Otherwise rational people taking radical risks behind the wheel and running over small children and baby ducklings as they swerve wildly out of control to make the green light ahead that you seem oblivious to. In their anger, desperation, and over aggression, they then crash and die a slow, agonizing death in a fiery hell, cocooned in their burning, metal, four wheeled coffin, wondering why the gray hair that held them up and changed lanes every time they did, has a 700 horsepower Cadillac, if said gray hair never drives it any faster than one half whatever the actual speed limit is. And you, dear old person, just cruises down the highway (at 28 mph) blissfully unaware to the carnage that just occurred all around you. You will then mutter under your breath "Damn kids are driving like crazy!" as the cityscape fills with twisted hulks of burning metal and scorched corpses. You go home secure and arrogant in the knowledge that you just had another accident free day behind the wheel...not realizing you're actually a serial killer worse than Ted Bundy.

-Did some ground fighting today as a result of a training day at my job. After rolling around and incurring facial abrasions, bruised knuckles, pulled and strained muscles, a rolled ankle and a kick to the left ear, I realized something: I'm not a kid. Sure, I'm in pretty good shape. I run 5 miles every other day, and go to the gym in between that, about five to six times a week. And I look pretty good...but I'm 40. What the 25 year old jujitsu ninja sadistic instructor doesn't realize is that we have two very different realities. His is he'll jump out of bed fresh as a daisy tomorrow, like yesterday was just a walk in the park. My reality is I'll wake up like I was hit by a train and will be munching on Advil like it was a bowl of M&M's. Good times. What I did take away from the experience was this: apparently I have 'loose shoulders' because they were amazed that a Kimura and another shoulder lock had little effect on me no matter how far they cranked it. I have no idea what good this knowledge will do for me, but there 'ya go. Also, I have no idea how championship fighters do what they do. I'm in pretty good shape like I said, but after a mere 2'30" of boxing and grappling, it felt like my lungs were on fire and puking seemed like a real option for a moment or two. Doing that for up to 25 minutes is insane, and I'm not sure how you get to that level of fitness without steroids, methamphetamine, some cappuccino, a Mountain Dew, and a Red Bull. Oh, and maybe routine hypodermic injections of pulverized walrus testicle. Anyways, it was fun, but I think I prefer hanging out in my jacuzzi with a nice cocktail as a preferable source of entertainment.

-went to Roller Derby Saturday night. Here's a few pics from the match and me with my friend Poppy (derby name Devious Dolly #88) of the V-Town Derby Dames (city of Visalia) "B" team.





They played 'No Town Roller Derby (city of Fresno) and the Visalia "A" team played a team from Santa Maria. It was actually pretty fun (although my friends husband, who is a really cool guy, saw it a little differently and stated he'd be 'camped out at the beer garden...let me know who wins'. Funny guy). It was an interesting combination of 50's Rockabilly culture (there was a Rockabilly band), burlesque, and girl on girl aggression. Like I said...fun:) There was a larger crowd than I was expecting, plus a beer garden, so perfect, right? The crowd was pretty diverse too. Besides all the guys with duck tailed haircuts and girls with the Betty Page thing going on, there was the usual "Bro and Bro-Ho" contingent (vomit), cowboys, Barbie Dolls, skaters, normalish looking housewives and dads, and the very young to very old. Who knew a bunch of women skating around in short shorts and fishnets knocking the crap out of each other could bring such a diverse crowd together? Oh wait a minute...why WOULDN'T a bunch of women skating around in fishnets and short shorts engaging in various forms of violence appeal to the masses? "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?????" hahaha Anyways, it was cool. So there you go, my one weekend activity. I could regale you with tales of cooking for a couple of demanding teen girls, laundry, and doing the dishes, but somehow I'm not sensing the anticipation for those stories.

My first (old) blog...huzzah

So, I’ve been trying to write this blog for a few hours now. I ate some tacos, did some texting, and took a nap (unplanned….was very tired) on my sister’s sofa. Now I’m sitting on the same sofa with her laptop and attempting to write this, watching tv (first it was a show about this lost Caucasian tribe they found in ancient China nobody knew existed, and now Dave and Conan), having a conversation with my sister, and IM’ing various people. Normally, I make fun of this kind of over-connected stimulation, and I don’t know if I could do it every day, but right now…yeah…it’s kind of fun. It’s my second admitted act of hypocrisy today. What can I say? I’m on a roll.

Anyways, as I was on my Sisyphean commute to the Bay Area at an ungodly hour of the morning, I heard a radio station ad for 7-11 (or some place like it) for their newest breakfast creation: the taquito omelet. Wow. Really? Doesn’t that seem a bit of a stretch? I like omelets, I like taquitos…but this just seems like a bad move. I mean, they’re clearly running out of ideas. I will eat almost any breakfast food imaginable, but I do have my limits (side bar: somebody accused me of gorging on pastries and donuts for breakfast on a daily basis, and I just want to say this is patently untrue. Then again, while this person can be an enigmatic story teller, they can get carried away and prone to, well, let’s just say exaggeration, and I’m sure the next time they relate this story I will have graduated from pastries to inhaling five pound bags of granulated sugar for a morning pick me up, and then eventually the story will evolve to me walking around with a high fructose corn syrup bottle hanging from an IV that’s running to a direct line right into my carotid artery 24-7. Anyway, yes, I do like the occasional bear claw…and while mainlining a kilo of C&H’s finest has some appeal, I’m not there yet). It just sounds…desperate. What next? The donut guacamole burger? The biscuit and gravy spaghetti plate? The hot wings and pancakes? Wait…we do have chicken and waffles, but that’s pretty much for when you’re really drunk and it’s three in the morning. But I digress…it just seems like we’re such an ADD nation that we have to keep creating new and, well, certainly interesting, food items to keep people coming in to our ‘artificially flavored, instantaneously prepared, seven thousand year shelf life processed food’ delivery kiosks (also known as Johnny Quick, AM-PM, and 7-11). These places need to calm down and pare it back to what they do best: low grade gasoline, 148 oz. oil drum sized sodas, thirty six flavors of corn nuts, and racks and racks of chocolate donettes. If you’re going to go slumming for breakfast, let’s do it right (make mine a bbq corn nuts, a Coke, and maybe instead of the donettes, a berry pie. I’m feeling reckless…wait, you got one of those five pound bags of sugar laying around…..or maybe some corn syrup?).

As I continued my drive I tried to make a call. No signal. This is too perfect because I was going through the Livermore area, i.e. some of the most technologically advanced real estate in the WORLD…and I cannot …get…a cell signal. Am I the only one who sees the, oh, I dunno, the chocolate donettey deliciousness of the irony here? It’s not like I was driving through Kabul for god’s sake!!!! Worlds most advanced nuclear weapons systems being developed over there, plasma/fusion electrical research going on over there (read it in Discovery Magazine), Oracle compound over there…and not a low brow cell signal in sight. Who knows…maybe I’m just too easily amused by the little things…like multi-billion dollar tech firms being located in a valley of spotty communications signals.

OK, so I put my phone down and start scribbling a list (my first act of hypocrisy today) of shit that annoys me as I drive so I can write about it later (have to…I have no short term memory…at…um…all….and…uh…what are we talking about again?). Guess who makes the list? The dickhead in front of me, and here’s why. We’re in the number one (fast) lane and he’s tearing it up at 64 miles per hour. OH. MY. GOD. KILL ME NOW. LET’S GO MOTHERFUCKER!!! Naturally, traffic is flying by to my right and I can’t change lanes because the self centered pricks have apparently never seen a turn signal before and have mistakenly identified my desire to change lanes as an opportunity to have a high speed collision should I dare to actually make good on my lane change. So I’m stuck. What makes it worse is this guy in front of me is driving a big old high powered SUV. And not just any SUV…a…wait for it…Porsche Cayenne. This guy went out and dropped a pile of extra ducats to have a “high performance” vehicle masquerading as a station wagon, and he refuses to take it over 64 miles per hour. And it gets better: it was the Cayenne S. The S version is what you get when you ask the sales person “Sure, it’s a Porsche…but have you got anything with some actual BALLS?” And yet, this guy had…none (balls that is). We got to a downhill run and there was no traffic ahead of him, and he…SLOWS DOWN. Tippy tap on the break pedal. Un-be-liev-able. Clearly Porsche needs to run some sort of psychological profile on their potential customers before they consider selling them a vehicle. “I’m sorry sir…but you’re just not the type of manic, coked up, self centered, poor decision making asshole we need to have in our vehicles to truly drive them properly. Should you go through another three divorces and start dating a stripper twenty years your junior with an out of control meth and ecstasy addiction, give us a call as you phone in your Viagra and heart medication refill…then we’ll talk”.OK, I have GOT to get off of this sofa…