Archive for April, 2006

Oh hey…

I’m sitting here with some good stuff to write, but I think I’m just too dang tired to put out anything worth reading, so I’m going to go to bed. I had a good weekend (more on that later) lot’s of BBQ’s, friends and family. My heart was happy. Some friends are leaving and that’s sad but times are a changin’ and that’s ok. The sun today was nice, all warm and sunny. I discovered some new music over the weekend that I’m just eating up! It’s a definite change from what I listen to, but for now I can’t get enough.
Hmm….I think I’ll sign off and let the music take me to the other side…..

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History teaches everything including the future. –Lamartine

I guess this is the week for us to not forget history. I know history in school often seems boring and pointless but I think it holds the power to help us in our future. Without it we’re destined to make the same mistakes again. Twenty years ago today was the Chernobyl accident in Russia. If you don’t know what this is I suggest you go to this site and read up and also view the pictures. Props to Laura for the link. It might seem silly to take a moment to remember something that happened 20 years ago in a country you’ve never even been to, but I find it important. We’re all on this earth together and being human, I think we’re all connected to one another. The Chernobyl incident still affect people today.

Yesterday was the Holocaust Remembrance Day. It’s hard to believe that this even took place just over 60 years ago. It may seem like a long time but in the grand scheme of things it really hasn’t been that long. I hope that no one ever forgets the atrocities that took place in Germany. And I hope and pray that nothing like that ever happens again. Even though it does. When are people going to stop killing eachother? *Sigh* We would do well to learn our history and to pay attention to our fellow mankind.

The pictures below may be disturbing, but I don’t really care, it’s just a reminder of what happened over 60 years ago.

We are so fortunate.

Survivors liberated from one of the camps.

A literal mountain of eyeglasses.

Children used in medical experiments. So sad.

A moutain of shoes leftover from murdered prisoners.

A country without a memory is a country of madmen.
George Santayana

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The Moment…..

The bright lights shone hot as they beat down upon his head. His heartbeat thumped with adrenalin in his ears. The crowd, raucous and rowdy, roared with anticipation and celebration. This was not a comfortable spot to be in, a sick feeling crept towards his throat as the sweat gathered across his brow. His eyes fixed upon the clock, 2.3 seconds left, down by one point. “This is it” was is only thought. He cleared his mind and pulled himself together as he took his spot on the court. The referee blew his whistle to signal the start of the 5 second countdown to inbound the ball. Sneakers chirped as players moved and battled for position. Bodies collided, arms tangled signaling for the ball. The inbounder’s eyes darted left and right scanning for an open hand. In desperation the ball was thrown to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t open. The ball cut through the air trying to find it’s rightful recipient, instead it found the head of the opponent. In horror he watched as the ball bounced off the forehead of the man who was gaurding him and tumbled towards the halfcourt line. He scrambled towards the ball commanding every fiber in his legs to launch him forward. He lunged for the rock and surprisingly found his fingers around it. Gathering it up he turned, jumped high and shot a Hail Mary of a shot to the tiny basket 36 feet away. The crowd drew in, the clock drained the last tenths of a second off the screen and the buzzer sounded signaling the end of the game. Yet the ball still sailed through the air like a silent missle en route to its target. Nothing was heard until the sweet sound of a leather ball falling through a net.


He had just won the game by two points at the buzzer! He is Derrick Anderson circa 2003 playing for the Portland Trailblazers.
He is me in my living room last night, handing out the buzzer beater beatdown to Phil’s poor Celtics. Nothing sweeter. Except maybe a sexy woman, wine, a bear rug and a box of matches, but since I couldn’t pull all of that together on such short notice, victory over Phil was sweet enough. Sweet sweet victory.

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My Daily Dose of Dumb

I don’t know why my tv is even on the E! channel but for the last two nights I have found myself watching the dumbest shows on TV. I…..I can’t stop watching the dumbness. Last night it was the Gastineau Girls which is just a show about nothing. If you had a show with just a white screen and no sound, it would have a better plot and budding protagonist than this show. It’s just duuuuummmmmbb, emphasis on the “umb”. The daughter Brittny was supposed to show up at a club and “spin” some records, i.e. do some DJ’ing, but she shows up and says, “I don’t want to” causing the club to scramble to fill in the hole. It’s just weird, these people have never lifted a finger in their lifetime and now they’re on tv. Pathetic bile. Tonight my TV was *still* on the E! and they were showing “Girls next door” which is an inside look at Hugh Hefner and his 3 girlfriends. These girls put the “du” in dumb. Damn, I didn’t know people could be so stupid. A few of these girls are so classically blonde is hurts. Constantly happy and peppy no matter what the situation brings. They talk about making cookies, going on the slip and slide and watching fireworks. Wow. I thought to myself, “Hef! How can you put up with such wasted space?! You can’t even talk to these girls!” But then I realized what they lack in mental stimulation they make up in…”other” stimulation. That’s when it dawned on me that unlike his girlfriends, double H is no dummy. He’s a an old man and he has scantily clad twenty something blondes prancing around him 24/7. That man is living the dream. Forget mental stimulation, he doesn’t need it, and I bet any other 70-something would agree. Ask your Grandpa.

But still…….so dumb!

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Whoop Whoop!

So apparently some lady in our sample department may or may not have the Whooping Cough. Regardless of the lack of info this has created a panic ripple effect in our office. Everyone is thinking about getting a booster, and it seems like every other hour is spent talking about it and looking up the symptoms online. So you know what’s funny? All of a sudden all these people are starting to feel a little sick. Oh, so-and-so has a sore throat it must be the Whooping Cough. Oh and so-and-so has been coughing for a few weeks, she might have it too…etc…etc. Honestly people calm your paranoia. Now I’ll admit if it were really a threat everyone should be a bit concerned but here’s the kicker. The lady that was ‘diagnosed’ wasn’t even diagnosed. This to me is unbelievable. She went to the doctor, he listened to her lungs, and then she told him how long she’s been coughing, he didn’t hear her cough or do any swabs or actually test for it! He just gave her some antibiotics and sent her on her way. Way to go Kaiser. Line ‘em up and pump ‘em full of drugs on their way out, just like a slaughterhouse. This is the reason I’m not too concerned, we have no facts.

All this pandemonium reminded me of something that happened years ago at a church summer camp. It was in the dead heat of summer and out group was somewhere in central Oregon, for those of you who don’t know, think “desert”. In a word it was hot. We all went rock climbing and came back tired and thirsty. We were told over and over again not to drink the water from the river, b/c it was really nasty stuff. There was a rest stop right by the river and so on the way out from rock climbing everyone guzzled and filled their water bottles to the top. We all piled onto the sweltering bus ready to head back to the shade of the campsite. Everyone kept drinking down their long cool bottles of water when suddenly a fellow camper, one of the know-it-all types boarded the bus. As she got on she noticed everyone drinking fresh water.

“Where did everyone get the water” she inquired.

Someone pointed towards the restrooms that were stationed right by the river.

“You can’t drink that water, it’s CONTAMINATED!!!!!”

Immediately a fearful hush fell over everyone, followed by a collective grown that rippled throughout the sweaty windows of the steamy bus. Almost instantly people began to complain of stomach aches, and headaches and this and that. It seemed damn near everyone was falling sick from the ‘contaminated’ water. I’ll never forget what my friend Dave J. shouted from the back of the bus as everyone else was falling ill, “Hey, at least it was something cold to drink!” That brought a smile to my face, true indeed. As you can probably guess there was nothing wrong with the water, but it’s funny how many people felt ill after one stupid, misinformed girl opened her mouth. Reminds me of what John Malcom Forbes said, “The dumbest people I know are those who know it all.”

So I don’t know if I’ll get the whooping cough or if I’ve even been exposed. I suppose if I start singing “Whoop, there it is” over and over again it means I’m contagious, so stay away. And if I start to sound like one of the three stooges pray for me, because I’m already dead.


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Like a 5 course meal blended into one milkshake….

….so was the dream I had last night. Things started out normal enough, Jake, Phil and I were on our way to a concert, I didn’t know who we were seeing, but right when I got there I remembered. System of a Down (SOAD). Once we got to the auditorium is where my dream took a turn and never looked back. SOAD was jamming out in the outdoor ‘auditorium’. Except it was no coliseum, instead where they were playing from was a huge tower that stretched at least 200ft. in the air. A large circular tower and all the fans were crowded around the bottom craning their necks towards the sky to watch their favorite band. Not only was it an odd sight to see a concert tower it was more curious that the tower was not done being built, in fact while the concert was going there were construction men on scaffolding still piecing the tower together. I guess the concert just couldn’t wait?!

Annoyed that I couldn’t see very well and that my neck was hurting from all the craning I decided to go investigate this tower.
I was able to gain access near through an underground tunnel. Underneath the concert tower was an intricate system of catacombs and mud. Which if you think about it makes zero sense as a foundation for a concert tower. Anyway, I was exploring when I heard a bunch of the electricians I used to work for coming around the corner. Fearing that I would get caught where I wasn’t supposed to be I ran and hid. When the coast was clear I made a beeline for the underground exit.

Once outside, the concert was still in full swing. I noticed that everyone was looking up at something…..besides the band playing 150 ft. above their heads. I too looked up and the clouds were flashing green, bright green. Some middle aged ladies who were completely out of place at a SOAD concert came up to me and told me the lights were a new kind of Northern Lights. I stood in awe as the green flashes zapped from cloud to cloud. System of a Down could tell that no one was paying attention to the concert anymore so in mid song they just quit playing and left the tower stage. I was sad the concert was over b/c I had spent most of my time underneath the tower and looking at new Northern Lights. Undaunted the ladies went on to tell me that everything I was seeing could be recorded on the new Xbox 360, all I had to do was point it to the sky. (WTF?!)

My open mouthed sky gazing was interrupted by Jake pulling me away telling me we had to go. I pleaded with him that we needed to find Phil, but he said ‘nevermind him’ and took off in the car with me in tow. (sorry phil!) As we drive I notice that the scenery becomes more and more rural. I look down at the GPS but it was so zoomed in all I could see was the ‘dot’ representing us. I unzoomed and we weren’t even on a road and we were heading the wrong way.

I sheepishly cleared my throat, “Jake, buddy…um we’re going the wrong way, and we left Phil back there.”

With angry confidence Jake declared, “I know what I’m doing, we can go back for Phil later!”

Just then the road turned to gravel, and then mud and got creepy real quick. We rounded a bend when off to our right was a creepy old man standing by his property gate with a shotgun in hand and a wide toothless grin on his face. The old man had that twinkle in his eye, the Deliverance twinkle.

“Jake! Get the EFF outta here!” I freaked.

Jake sped on and suddenly we came into a clearing and what lay before my eyes? A quaint, small town. It was extremely clean
even though all the brick buildings looked like they had been built at the turn of the century. Like a possessed man, Jake bolted straight for the upscale French Bistro in the middle of the town. Upon entering Jake ran to the bathroom (I guess he really had to go). While I was waiting for Jake the waiter an unusually tall asian man with a wide head came out and asked how many were in my party.

“Uhh, none? I guess my friend just had to use the bathroom.”

His thin eyes widened and he bellowed, “Then you get out! We not serve non paying customer!”

I convinced him to let us stay even though we were severly underdressed and there was no way we could afford a plate of salad.
As I waited for Jake the entire place filled up with customers. All yuppies, all dressed to the max. I became uncomfortable and walked around looking for Jake. As I passed by the hostess’ stand near the front entrance I noticed a tall woman enter. She was wearing a slinky turquoise evening gown that sucked to her shapely hips like saran-wrap around a leg of lamb. Just as my eyes were slowly making their way down to her shoes (see previous post) the pretty lady fainted!

“Aww crap!” was all I could mutter.

With that I turned around and briskly walked away, I had a Jake to find. I investigated the back part of the establishment when suddenly I heard a blood curdling scream. I tore around the corner and found what I was looking for, well sort of. There before me was Jake lying on his stomach, naked from the waist down and his bubble butt sticking in the air. Around him were 3 or 4 tiny asian women and they were busy waxing his entire backside, the whole thing from the top of the butt cheek on down to the ankle. The scream was the result of them ripping all the hairs out of Jake’s left side in one fell swoop. I must admit they did a good job since his left cheek looked smoother than a baby’s bottom, but it was freakishly disturbing because he still had a hairy right half. Nevertheless, I ran to him and told him we needed to get out of here. Fortunately, he agreed and got up from the table. The asian ladies started slapping him and covering their eyes because he still didn’t have any pants on and his dongle was hanging out everywhich way. They were also mad at him because they hadn’t finished.

“No, you can’t leave, we not finished yet, we do right side now!”

Y’know, it’s hard to find people that dedicated to their work. Lucky for me Jake finally had his head screwed on straight and ran with me towards the exit. Even though he found his pants, he didn’t put them on, instead he just held them in front of the frank and beans so as to not disturb the other customers. Classy.

….and that was it.

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Green Egg

After relieving myself of yesternight’s debauchery I groggily walked back to my bedroom early Saturday morning when Caleb, age 4 followed. In the background I could hear his grandmother yell for him to ‘come back here, and leave me alone’. But Caleb, stubborn as always wouldn’t listen, instead he was determined to tell me something.

With shrill excitement he exclaimed, “We’re going to go on a Easter Egg hunt today!!!!”

I stopped, looked down and tried to match his enthusiasm, “Really?! Are you excited?”

Nearly bursting out of his skin, his big blue eyes widened and he said, “YES!”

“Cool, well are you going to bring me back an egg?” I inquired.

With a definitive movement he lifted his hand, pointed at me and said, “Yup. I’m going to bring you a green egg!”

“I can’t wait!” I beamed.

And with that he turned and ran back to his grandma.

A few hours later Caleb returned from his easter egg hunt with a brown paper bag in hand. I can only assume the bag was a nice crisp new bag he received to put his candy in. But, by the time he had opened the bag a half a million times to look at his candy and to feel all the pieces sourround his little fingers, his bag, crinkled and wadded at the top looked not unlike something a whino uses to conceal his latest bottle of hooch in. I laughed, Caleb the little whino.

I smiled and asked “Did you get a lot of candy?”


Hoping he hadn’t forgotten, “Did you get me my green egg?”

“Ah huh”

His hand dove into the tattered bag and pulled it out.

“Is this is it? This is my green egg?”

Ebulliently he smiled, “Yes!”

What he handed me was this,

I woke up this morning thinking about Caleb and how funny he was with the whole thing. What surprised me was when he came back from the hunt he was trying to share his candy with everyone, which usually is not a prominent attribute of a 4-year-old. It made me think back 20 years ago when I lived in Idaho on the farm. A few times we had Easter egg hunts, but they weren’t really egg hunts so much as they were ‘find the whole basket’ hunts. And since it was on a farm my Grandpa made good use of the scenery and machinery to hide our baskets.

I remember spotting my basket on top of the swather.

My Grandpa chuckles,
“Well git up thar boy! If you want that basket yer gonna have to traverse them thar swather blades, if you fall and impale yourself on one of them blades, well tough sh*t, at least yer getting candy out of it.”

My sister’s basket was hanging high from a tree limb.

Spitting tobaccy on the early morning soil my Grandpa tells her, “If you can’t reach it, it’s time you learned how to climb a tree. If you fall and break yer arm, well tough sh*t, at least yer getting candy out of it.”

………or something like that.

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It’s gotta be da shoes!

I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing this, but it must be somewhere in the ’several years’ department. I have the super hero ability to recognize everyone I know and just about everyone I work with from the ankles down. Maybe you have this ability as well, I don’t know, but it dawned on me while I was at work releasing a quick twosie one afternoon. It wasn’t because that’s where I do all my great thinking, but rather the way the bathroom is setup. There is only one stall and one urinal and they’re side by side. So when I’m sitting down contemplating the meaning of life and a fellow employee comes in to drain the main vein it seems natural to take a look at his shoes. What surprised me was I totally knew who was standing just inches away from me on the other side of the stall wall. Stall wall, that’s fun to say, spread it around. “Oh, there’s Roy with his New Balance, and Steve with his leather loafers, ah I see Brian has entered with his steel toed Doc Marten’s, that’s Jappo with his Addidas, I see Lee and his Vans are taking a leak, and who is that schlomping in with his bare feet? Is that Fernando?! Que pasa mi hermano!” That crazy guy sure does love to feel the water between his toes.

After realizing that I could name everyone by their shoes it dawned on me that’s what I do when I meet anyone. I always look at their shoes, maybe not right away, but before they walk away my eyes wander down to their feet. Especially with women. Looking at their shoes is a good excuse to look at everything else all the way down. Sometimes my eyes like to take a round trip back up just to make sure I got everything.

I guess some part of me adheres to that saying that “you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes”. You can see where he’s been, where he’s going, if he stepped in doggie dunk on the way over, all sorts of stuff! I know that I really started to care about my shoes in the start of college, before that is was ‘whatever’. I think the shoes are the cherry on the bottom for a whole outfit, it’s amazing what a white pair of Reebok Pumps (remember those?) could do to an Armani pin striped suit. Or Teva sandals with white socks and khacki pants. I can see you getting a visual in your head, see what I mean? Therefore it’s important to pick your shoes wisely.

….And women. Oh sweet women. If you only knew the power you had with your shoes. Phil’s roomate’s wife has some awesome shoes that I think all ladies should take note of. You can never, ever go wrong with black strappy shoes. Black strappy shoes are
almost as good as the little black dress that every woman owns. Seriously. I’m hoping that my wife gets some awesome lingerie for her wedding shower but also I hope she gets some black strappy shoes. They’d better have strong latches on the straps because I don’t want those sexy shoes flying off during opening ceremonies of the wedding night! Y’know what I’m sayin’? Do ya? Cyber high five!

Would this count as a shoe fetish? I didn’t think that I was *that* much into them, but after re-reading what I’ve written I begin
to wonder, maybe I’ve got a thing for women in sexy shoes, or maybe just sexy women…..probably just women in general. Even though women’s shoe selection outnumber men’s 10 to 1 I think they need to realize that if they were to just harness the power of the black strappy heels, they’d be set for every outfit combination and social situation. Look:

Night on the town w/a miniskirt————-DING!
White T-shirt and jeans———————DING!
Uncle Harry’s Funeral———————–DING!
Washing the car in a bikini—————–DING!
Watching T.V. with me———————–DING!
Going to work w/a power blouse————–DING!
Scrubbing the bathroom———————-DING!
Eating Cotton Candy at the Carnival———DING!

As you can see from my handy-dandy list, black strappy heels are the only way to roll, and if you catch me looking, it’s ok because it’s the only way I’ll remember your name.

A word of advice:
Before you criticize someone, try walking a mile in their shoes, Because then you are a mile away and you have their shoes!

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Hard to figure out

Some people you just can’t figure out. My boss is one of them. Now don’t get me wrong, she’s a good boss and lets me get away with stupid stuff all day long. Not only does she see me reading the ‘net or writing emails, sometimes she’ll turn around in her chair and I’m just sitting there. Not doing anything, looking at my keyboard like a drooling idiot. Or better yet, today she caught me and Kelly comparing our forearm bulge.

ME: (to Kelly)”….y’see, yeah, right there. You have to squeeze your forearm really tight
with your left hand and then make a fist with your right hand. See how it expands like that?”

KELLY: “Yeah, that’s cool, although mine doesn’t go up very much.”

ME: “That’s ok you just need to exercise them mor….oooh! It seems like my thumb
and pointer finger don’t matter, it’s all in the last three fingers, when I squeeze.”

KELLY: “Neat! Here let me…”
(The Boss interrupts us)
BOSS: “What are you guys doing?”

ME: “Looking at our forearm muscles, do you wanna try?”

That was today but it’s also par for the course. The beauty is that the boss just rolls her eyes and goes back to work, while we continue to play. So that’s the good stuff. But other than that I feel like she’s full of opposites and I never know what she wants.

For example she likes Clay Aiken, but hates Norah Jones, she likes Michael Bolton, but hates Michael Bubley. She love, love, loves TV just a bit too much and sometimes I think that’s all she ever wants to do, yet she talks how she always wants to get out and do stuff, or travel, or something! Yet she just sits and watches the boob tube. When I have to design a new ad I feel like I can never find the perfect mix for her. When I design something like I always do, she says “you need to be more creative” but when I spice up my designs she says, “you need to be more consistent” ACKKKKKKK!!! You’re driving me crazy! Seems she is always opposite no matter what I do. I know it sounds like I’m bitchin’ but I’m really not, she’s never mean, or jerkish, it just seems like pleasing her is unattainable, and I don’t know how to figure her out! *Sigh*

Just about the only thing that really bugs me is her uncanny ability to strike up a conversation with me about 2 minutes after I put my headphones on. I swear she’s got a freakin’ fish eye mirror clipped to her computer. For instance, I will sit there color correcting, scanning and actually working for two hours straight, all the while listening to Michael Bolton’s “How am I supposed to live w/o you?” and the epic “my heart will go on” being played on the radio for the 25th time. When finally my head grows numb and I start to convulse I put in my head phones to remedy my torment. I start grooving out and just when the guitar man is about to shred his fingers off, she’ll start talking to me about what she watched last night or what she ate, I really wouldn’t mind if it was work related but can’t she see I’m about to get my groove on?! So I’ll plop out my ear buds and converse for two minutes and then resume my song, and just when the solo is about to reach its climax she’ll say, “You wanna
hear something funny?” etc..etc.. In my head I’m screaming, “DAMMMMMNNIIIIT!! Are you serious? C’mon!”

Today I decided to really test my theory out. Everything had been silent for awhile so I put my headphones in with no music on.
Curiously, she didn’t vie for my attention. So I turned on the mp3 player, queued up my song and hit “pause”. I sat like that for two more minutes….nothing. Finally I hit the play button and began to enjoy some smooth sounds from Pink Martini. After the lengthy intro to the song the singer breaks in, “The sun has gone and Micah have y forgotten me, it’s heard about the dark outide I cannot MICAH!” Not surprisingly she’s asking me if I saw the latest Gilmore Girls last night.
HMPH. Honestly I just want to get through one song, just one song! Overall I can’t really complain, sometimes if we’re good
she brings us brownies and I like brownies.

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Bumper Sticker

“4/3 of people don’t understand fractions”

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