An Engagement Pic Takes Me Back 16 Years

This past week, my beloved and I have been taking care of a friend's dachshunds. When they dropped the girls off, they also left us some newspapers to put down in case they had to eliminate when we were gone or sleeping. I've not been a subscriber of the local paper for a couple years, so took the opportunity to take a gander at what had been going on in my town of late. Turns out that most of the papers were from June of '08. Talk about sad times; W (or should I say Cheney) was in charge back then. This didn't stop me from perusing a bit while eating lunch a couple days ago.

The first thing I grabbed was the lifestyle section. In it could be found pics of couples who had plans to be married over the summer (to think, they're not even newlyweds any longer). I carefully looked at the last names and found one that I recognized: Stokes. There was only one person I've ever known that has that name; a guy by the name of Ted who was a social worker of sorts for me in 1993. Well, wouldn't you know it. It WAS him. Getting married in his late 30's was somewhat unconventional, but who am I to judge?

Back in '93, I was seeing a psychiatrist who monitored the meds I was taking, a psychologist who I relied on for therapy, and Ted. I forget what his official title was, but his job was to meet with me every couple of weeks and take me somewhere for an hour where we might chat (it differed from traditional therapy in that it was less formal and we actually went outside of the mental health building).

Many times I would opt to go to a fast food joint to have lunch. He didn't always order food for himself as many of his clients throughout the day chose to go to restaurants. It's good he didn't have a problem with people eating in front of him. I recall that he was a big fan of the band Live and Hootie and the Blowfish. It was great to socialize a bit with someone my age (though he was actually getting paid to do so).

One afternoon, I arrived at his office a bit early, so waited out in the hall. I looked up and saw that all of the counselors had their names listed in white letters on a black board (similar to the one pictured below):



I got a wicked idea as I looked at Ted's name. I adjusted a few letters so that his name was listed as "Ted Strokes". I chuckled as he called me in. I did this again a couple weeks later when I saw that his name had been put back to normal. A week after that, as I sat with him, I mentioned that I'd recently seen his name listed on the board as Ted Strokes. He laughed a bit and said that he was aware of the issue.

A few months later, I was well on the road to recovery and no longer needed his services, but seeing his pic sure brought back some memories and for that, I thank you, Master Strokes.

Kanye West Interrupts Obama's Speech

Football

Today is the day that most NFL teams begin their season. I've had a problem of late with the sport being referred to as "football". You want a game in which the foot is used on a much more frequent basis? That would be soccer, which is fittingly named football around the rest of the world (as it should be). What the Vikings and what-not play is rugby as far as I'm concerned.

In high school, I'd frequently bet against my hometown team. My Chem teacher once asked why I did this. I replied,"If the Vikings win, I'm happy and don't mind parting with a few bucks. If they lose, I get some moolah to ease my sorrows".

I'm not as big a fan of the team as in years past. For example, this afternoon, the opposing team made a great stop on one of the Vikings players. I literally cheered as it was a fantastic play; it was irrelevant to me what color uniform the guy who pulled it off happened to be wearing.

An interesting article about fans' overidentifying with their favorite team can be found here. The first paragraph:

"It happens to me every time: I tell myself that it's just a game, that these overpaid basketball superstars don't really have any loyalty to a particular team, place, city, etc., that I really shouldn't care about the outcome of the NBA finals. And yet and yet: despite my self-awareness, I can't help but nervously pace during the 4th quarter, as I watch my Lakers surrender a 24 point lead. (The possessive pronouns of sports fan are so odd, considering that Kobe Bryant made more money in the 4th quarter than I will in the next decade.) And then, after the heartbreaking loss, I'm way too upset to sleep. I have to wait for the adrenaline in my blood to breakdown and for my pulse to return to resting state. It's such an annoying state of being, mostly because I know that my mild and meaningless suffering is a complete waste of emotion."

Earlier this decade, I went to a Vikings game with my beloved and a friend of ours. Shortly after the game began, my friend got a footlong hotdog. That thing was monstrous; just like Vikings player Visanthe Shiancoe). If I was a woman, I probably woulda fainted right there.

I Have To Pee

One downside to being a frequent moviegoer is that, unlike a person who watches movies exclusively on DVD, there's no way to press the "pause" button when nature calls. As I mentioned in my prior post, I always go to the bathroom before a movie starts. But what if I go to a film that is a bladder-strainer (such as "Lord of the Rings")? What if I drank too much Mello Yello at Friday's a couple hours before?

A little over a week ago, I went with a friend to Brad Pitt's "Inglorious Basterds" (an A movie if ever there was one).

About 90 minutes in, my bladder started calling for some relief. Now, there was no way I was gonna resist its call; I mean, how can one enjoy a bloody climax if their privates are screaming (pun intended)? I knew I had to go, but when? Certainly not in the middle of a crucial scene.

Over the years, I've mastered the art of going to the bathroom during a relatively non-important scene. For "Basterds", I took off when what appeared to be a expositional scene began. It consisted of Mike Myers (as a Brit) discussing strategies on how to deal with the Nazis (or as Pitt called them in his Mississippi drawl: "Natzis"). Two minutes later, when I returned, the scene was just finishing up and I didn't feel that I'd missed anything.

For those unsure how to distinguish essential parts of a film from non-essential, help has arrived in the form of a website called RunPee. It not only lists the best scenes in which to take a pee break, but also tells you what you missed if you go at that particular time.

Full disclosure: Sometimes when going to the bathroom while a movie is playing, I'll skip washing my hands in order to get back to the theatre that much quicker.

Public Restrooms

Almost without fail, I go to the bathroom before sitting down to watch a movie or eat at a restaurant; having an empty bladder pleases me greatly. When at a urinal, instead of just standing upright, I typically lean my head forward against the bathroom tiles. Washing my hands takes just a few seconds because I rarely ever use soap; in fact, I put my hands under the faucet for only about a second before getting to work on drying them. If all a restroom has is those automated dryers, I just shake my hands dry, not wanting to waste 30-45 seconds getting them completely dry. I also very rarely look in the mirror while in a public restroom. What's the point?

Now for some amusing bathroom stories: one evening at the Outback, I saw an old man waiting right outside the men's and women's bathrooms. I quickly realized that he didn't know which restroom was which; one said "Blokes", the other "Sheilas". A minute later, when he saw a man exit the "Blokes" restroom, he entered it.

When I see a man go to the bathroom and then not wash his hands, I'm tempted to go up to his significant other and tell them what just transpired; I have a bit of Larry David in me:



If memory serves, I actually did this about 10 years ago in a bowling alley.

I was in Friday's a couple weeks ago and a 20-something walked up to the urinal next to me and started going. Five seconds later, he began moaning as if he was being sucked off. I was like, "Jesus, save it for your woman".

Lastly, many moons ago, I saw Garth Brooks in concert and was eliminating when a couple girls walked in. I quickly used my hands to cover what I was packing as they headed for the stalls. A minute later, they were washing their hands and I can't say I minded that they were there. In fact, none of the guys present appeared to have an issue with it.

Skip Day

I rarely get sick, but sometimes just don't feel like going in to work. Once the thought enters my mind that it'd be more fun to just stay home, forget it; in all but the most extreme cases, I'm not goin' in. For the last job I had, I preferred calling in "sick" by leaving a message. This was only possible if the person who got to the office first hadn't arrived yet. Sometimes I'd have to hurry out of bed to get to the phone in order to ensure this.

When it was 7:30 or later, I'd have to talk to someone in person. This would be preceded by me preparing to sound like I'm sick. I would usually go downstairs so that my wife couldn't hear me laying on it pretty thick (she'd typically be asleep, anyway). Sometimes I'd dial the number and then get cold feet. After a minute or two of composing myself, however, I'd leave a message in which I spoke much slower than usual and sounded much less alert.

Two minutes later, I was a happy camper and went straight to bed with a smile on my face.



I'd sometimes feel a tad guilty about doing this (like a teenage boy after masturbating), but certainly not enough to stop the behavior.

BTW, I bought groceries this afternoon and the total came out to $55.55. That's gotta mean something, right?

Midnight Snack

Ever since turning 30, I get up at least a couple times in the middle of the night. In most cases, I'm at least a tad hungry, so after going to the bathroom, I hit the refrigerator for a snack or two (I've noticed that it's easier for me to get to sleep if I have a reasonable amount of food being digested). But where to eat it? I'm not big on eating at the kitchen table and don't really like ingesting food while in front of the telly.

I hit upon the idea of eating on the floor of the bathroom at least five years ago. While sitting cross-legged on the floor mat next to the sink, I peruse EntertainMeWeakly



(check it: the cast of Seinfeld is reuniting this fall on HBO's "Curb Your Enthusiasm")

or Snoozeweek as I eat a NutriGrain bar (or an Oreo Cakester if I'm jonesing for some chocolate). On other evenings, I'll microwave some Pillsbury homestyle pancakes and make sure to put plenty of syrup on them.

I sometimes even eat my dinner in there; the white noise offered by the bathroom fan is a nice reprieve from the TV blaring as my wife watches stuff like Nancy Grace and "Fried Green Tomatoes". The bright lights given off by the vanity also make it much easier for me to read.

Eleven Years Ago Today

On August 23rd, 1998, I woke up by myself at the Ramada hotel in Mount Prospect, Illinois. Today was the big day. I took a long shower and shaved. I got dressed in regular clothes and headed next door to the Bristol Court banquet hall. There weren't too many people there yet.

I went to the men's dressing room. My best man, Phil, was there. I changed into a zoot suit. The other men in my party arrived soon after. I took a stroll around the banquet hall. Everything appeared to be in order. I was called over to do pictures with my about-to-be in-laws. Next, I met the rabbi (I'm not Jewish, but my wife-to-be was. Don't worry. Even though I'm not Jewish, I've been cut) who asked me to sign a wedding contract called a katuba. I didn't see her, but could hear my beloved talking from the top of the stairs (Is that bad luck?)

At 11am, it was time for the ceremony to start. I was quite nervous, but there was no turning back now. I went to my designated spot under the Jewish hupa and waited for my bride. Her parents walked her down the aisle. They had forgotten to put her veil down, however. Oh well. The rabbi gave a short talk about love, life and God. My love and I recited some Hebrew, exchanged rings, and drank wine. At the end, I was asked to smash a glass (actually a light bulb) with my foot (famous Jewish tradition). I did so and everyone said, "Mazel Tov". We then kissed (but not for too long, since her dad was just 3 feet away) and I felt mighty relieved that the most difficult part was over.

We did a meet and greet with everyone who had come (about 150 or so). Both my parents were there and 3 of my 4 siblings (the 4th one was having "issues" at the time). Many more pictures were taken by the wedding photographer.



After a while, the guests went to their seats. The entire wedding party was introduced by the DJ providing music for us. Dori and I were given a standing ovation, which was surreal, but cool. We sat down and proceeded to chow down, but not until after a few toasts. The food (caesar salad, chicken, etc) was quite good. Dori and I then proceeded to visit with our guests.



Then the dancing started. Our first dance was the Jim Brickman-Martina McBride love song, "Valentine". Next, the bridal party came out and then it was an all-skate, I mean, an all-dance. They were playing a lot of fast Jock Jams-like songs, but I just couldn't loosen up enough to really get down like some of the people there.

The music stopped right around 4pm and, like that, our wedding was complete. Me and my girl went to our respective dressing rooms and changed into civilian clothes. The girls in the bridal party suggested that everyone in the wedding party go out to eat someplace close for supper. Wendy's was right across the street, so the ten of us headed over there and had a good meal. The bridal party still wanted to have fun, so suggested a movie. They decided on "There's Something About Mary". We had seen it a week before (even back then, I was a movie freak), so didn't go along. We found out later that everyone loved the movie (it was quite good).

We then headed to my newly- christened wife's parents' house to do some laundry. We visited with them for a while, then headed to the honeymoon suite at the Ramada. Something was wrong with the bath, so we had to call for someone to fix it. The suite was nice. It had leather furniture which was quite sweet. We opened our wedding presents which, per Jewish tradition, consisted almost entirely of cash (!). After you-know-what, we went to sleep. The next morning, it was off to the Milwaukee airport and from there, a honeymoon in sunny Orlando, Florida.

Wiping is so 20th Century

Toilet paper, such a waste (and not even very effective).

Check out this article from Newsweek:

Deep down, Americans have always known that wiping their rears with dry paper is ineffective; a classic survey showed that half of TP users spend their days with "fecal contamination" in their underpants. And yet we continue to mock the bidet, the Frenchest of innovations, as froufrou, risqué, de trop. But while personal hygiene is one thing, the future of the planet is another. The average American uses 57 sheets of toilet paper a day; collectively, we burn through 36.5 billion rolls each year. Tossing all the TP in America would save 15 million trees, 17.3 terawatts of electricity, and more than 473 billion gallons of water annually; the environmental impact of bidets is minimal in comparison. No wonder the Japanese bidet behemoth Toto is gearing up for a massive sales push in the States. When it's hip to be green, ditching the Charmin could actually make a difference. And not only in our (dirty) drawers.

Summer Movies

I've been to four different movies over the past ten days. A week and a half ago, I saw "A Perfect Getaway", a thriller whose main point of interest is a doozy of a twist.

Going in, I didn't know what it was, but it's always cool trying to figure out what it is ahead of time. I wasn't able to do so in this case (I rarely do), but that didn't keep me from having a good time with it. The film took place entirely in Hawaii which made it awfully easy on the eyes (Milla Jovovich also helped greatly in this regard).

A few days later, I finally caught up with the 6th Harry Potter movie. Though there was hardly any action to be found, the characters and the struggles they faced held my interest throughout. Not something I'd wanna revisit, however, and like all previous installments, a very pale imitation of the far superior "Lord of the Rings" films.

On Saturday, I went to "District 9", a very highly praised sci-fi movie from a new director. Made for a paltry $30 million (crap like Transformers costs over $150 million), this movie had it all.

It started as a documentary about aliens trying to fit in with humans in South Africa before turning into a full-force action pic. I usually don't root for characters much in action films, but the ones in this movie really had my sympathies. A number of moments had me on the verge of cheering. Very stirring film and the number one movie of last weekend.

Yesterday, I caught "(500) Days of Summer".

As I went up to the cashier, I said, "I'll take one to "Days of Thunder". The guy asked me to repeat what I said and I did. A moment later, he gave me a tic to "Summer". I wonder if he went up to one of his coworkers later and told them about the yutz he encountered in the early afternoon.

"(500)" looks to be a love story, but the narrator states early on that this is not the case. The film had a number of laughs, but was even better at showing what it feels like to be in the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship, just not necessarily a relationship that is gonna end up with wedding bells. This is something that most rom-coms just don't get. Both leads were fantastic and the non-linear form that the film followed made for a more interesting experience than if it had followed a more traditional path.

One thing I noticed after seeing "Summer" was the high it had me on. Walking around the lake afterward, it was extremely palpable and I was reminded why it is that I love movies so much.

Here are my grades for the four: "A Perfect Getaway" (B+), "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" (B), "District 9" (A), "(500) Days of Summer" (A-)

God's Pizza

Later this afternoon, I'll be going to my favorite pizza place in town, Godfather's Pizza (I wrote about my somewhat-criminal early 90's actions there here).



The only time I go there is when they have their twice-weekly buffet. I typically arrive just before it starts (at 5), find a seat, get a pop, and make sure there is plenty of parmesan cheese at my table. I pretty much always eat the exact same thing: five slices of thin-crust pepperoni pizza and a few dessert sticks.

You might ask how I get away with taking five pieces of the same type of pizza off the buffet. Well, if there's no one nearby, there's no problem; I just go for it. If someone is behind me, I'll take two or three slices off the buffet, put the plate on my table, and then immediately go back up there to get two or three more.

Once seated in a booth, I move the table really close to me so that I don't need to lean forward to eat. If no one wishes to accompany me, I bring along an ish of TIME or Entertainment Weekly. It was while reading articles there that I first learned about two of my favorite TV shows: "Prison Break" and "Entourage". One time, when writing a check for the buffet, I wrote it out to "God's Pizza". My wife, seeing this, said, "Can you do that?"

At 5:15, I leave the restaurant quite satiated and rarin' to play with pup for a while in the backyard to burn off some of the pizza-powered energy.

Whoa, Nelly

Fascinating article in TIME magazine last week about exercise and how it won't make you thin.



Some choice bits:

"The basic problem is that while it's true that exercise burns calories and that you must burn calories to lose weight, exercise has another effect: it can stimulate hunger. That causes us to eat more, which in turn can negate the weight-loss benefits we just accrued. Exercise, in other words, isn't necessarily helping us lose weight. It may even be making it harder.

After we exercise, we often crave sugary calories like those in muffins or in "sports" drinks like Gatorade. A standard 20-oz. bottle of Gatorade contains 130 calories. If you're hot and thirsty after a 20-minute run in summer heat, it's easy to guzzle that bottle in 20 seconds, in which case the caloric expenditure and the caloric intake are probably a wash. From a weight-loss perspective, you would have been better off sitting on the sofa knitting.

Could pushing people to exercise more actually be contributing to our obesity problem? In some respects, yes. Because exercise depletes not just the body's muscles but the brain's self-control "muscle" as well, many of us will feel greater entitlement to eat a bag of chips during that lazy time after we get back from the gym.

This explains why exercise could make you heavier — or at least why even my wretched four hours of exercise a week aren't eliminating all my fat. It's likely that I am more sedentary during my nonexercise hours than I would be if I didn't exercise with such Puritan fury. If I exercised less, I might feel like walking more instead of hopping into a cab; I might have enough energy to shop for food, cook and then clean instead of ordering a satisfyingly greasy burrito."

This time last year, I was hitting the treadmill like a madman, walking an hour every two to three days. Though it felt good, I can't say it did much to help me lose weight. If I'd eaten a bit less, I'm sure I would've had more favorable results, but fact is, I'm at a healthy weight and if anything, should work more on reducing saturated fat from my diet.

Over the past few months, I've been getting about 10 to 15 minutes of exercise each day (nothing strenuous), eat about the same amount of food, and have maintained my weight for the most part. I'm more than cool with this. Though the treadmill just sits, unused, it makes an awfully good coat rack.

Fly Away

We've had a number of flies come into the house this summer due to leaving the garage door slightly ajar from time to time so that Zoe can come and go as she pleases. I have a very unusual strategy when it comes to dealing with them. Before I get into that, though, I have to note that flies in the house seem to bother the dog much more than the cat.

The dog will jump in the air to try to catch them and sometimes chases them from room to room. She actually caught one yesterday and was eating it (something that cats tend to do). The cat will chase moths in the garage, but doesn't appear to have much interest in flies (she did when she was younger).

When I encounter flies, I take a paper towel and try to capture them within it. Once I am able to do so, which can take some time, I open the deck door and let them fly away. Sometimes (though not too often), I'll clip a bit of their wing when I envelope them, but that's certainly better than what would happen if they'd wandered into virtually any other house in the neighborhood. My wife will sometimes get frustrated at my strategy saying things like, "Just kill it", but it's quite obvious to me that the fly just wants to be free; if a little extra effort can ensure this, it's a win-win.

The Climb

Doesn't It Just Break Your Heart?

For more pics of animals in casts, go here.

Tone-Loc or Tone-Deaf?

Video I taped of my brothers 20 years ago

8.5 Hours a Day

While reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, I came across a column by Stephen King in which he mentioned a recently released study that says adults spend an average of 8.5 hours a day in front of various screens (television, computer, mobile devices).

This got me to thinking, what's the point of having a body if all you're gonna with it is sit in front of a screen? Such a sedentary activity. I admit to spending a lot of time on the internet and as the years go by, it becomes more difficult to remember what we did before this. As a child, I read books, but the net trumps this (I can read absolutely anything I want without having to turn a page and if something is boring, I can just move on to another website).

I believe that we are here to experience things, however, and staying home talking to others on Facebook may seem like a semi-social activity, but it's a poor substitute for face-to-face time. By the way, what is with these wusses on Facebook who have one of their children as their profile pic? Is it because they feel that they are grotesque-looking (or fat)? What of those who have a pic of two people (themselves and another) as their FB pic?

In heaven, are we also going to spend all our time in front of screens? Or will we actually get to live life as it was meant to be; with a plethora of members of the opposite sex who find us Dead Sexy and can't wait to get busy. But wait, why would we need genitals in the afterlife? Does God have genitals? Is that why he's referred to as a He? And if so, what in the hell does He do with them?

Doggie Style

It's (virtually) always a treat going to the local dog park; seeing how your dog interacts with the others, enjoying the sunshine with like-minded animal lovers, and trying not to stare at the better-looking bitches. The below video was taken in the spring of 2005 when Zoe was just under a year old:

Mystery Solved

I've wondered for years why restaurants serve such large portions, but was finally given a satisfactory answer last night:

"One of the things that has long occurred to me about restaurant dining is that, because every customer must be served the same portion size, they’re naturally going to provide huge amounts of food. If you serve a 275 pound man an amount of food that would be appropriate for a 125 pound woman, he’s going to still be hungry at the end of his meal and therefore a dissatisfied customer. Because the marginal cost of additional food (especially pasta, potatoes, and the like) is negligible, it’s just good business to pile it on. Naturally, everyone else will be given too much to eat and all but the most disciplined will overeat."

"Two obvious ways health conscious diners can adjust are to resolve to take half the food home with them — better yet, get a “doggy bag” before starting eating and divide it right away — or to share food."

I order chicken fingers most of the time at Friday's; they always come with five fingers. The first thing I do when they're served is put two aside to give Zoe over the next few days as a treat.

Life, Love, and All That Jazz

A cousin of mine who's in his early 30's was diagnosed with cancer this past spring. He went through radiation therapy, chemo, everything the doctors recommended. He has quite a sizable circle of family and friends who have been praying for him these past few months. So it was with much optimism that he had a scan done last week that would tell if his treatment was successful in getting rid of (or at least making a dent in) the disease.

It was with great disappointment that he found out that the cancer had actually spread. What does a person of faith do in such instances? Were all the prayers for nothing? What's going on here? Does God ignore prayers? Does he not mind that one of his children is gravely ill? Most believers would say something like, "God moves in mysterious ways", but that's an awfully dodgy answer. His circle will continue to pray and I can't say I blame them, but if prayer only works some of the time, really, what good is it?

Though a big believer in God, I never pray. Praying makes God out to be stupid, as if She doesn't know what you want in your life, as if He can't already hear your thoughts, that you have to audibly say what it is that you seek. I believe that I co-created all of the events in my life before I was born, so what's happening is just what's happening and ultimately for my highest good.

Those who don't believe in pre-existence (having existed before being birthed by their mother) frequently feel as though things are happening to them, that they played no part in what is showing up. I accept all of it and therein lies much of my peace. It's possible that one day, I'll die in an accident. In my mind, however, there's no such thing as an accident or a coincidence.

I also have no doubt that there is something after this life. Most people, in fact, are the same. Why, then, do they worry about things? It's as if they think that the will of God can be somehow be thwarted (this is why the Devil was invented, by the way). The outcome of life is not in doubt. We are all assured a happy tomorrow. I only wish that more could see life as I do, that there is nothing to fear, ever, that all pain and sorrow is temporary. The day we pass, however, we'll know. We'll remember and wonder how we ever forgot.

Here are some real-life accounts of those who remembered.