Blago Blog

With the recent discovery of corruption in the Illinois Governor's office, one has to take some time to contemplate the state of political affairs. Is it the nature of the environment to survive in government these days to be unethical? Or is it the inherent nature of the individual who is predisposed to being corrupt just attracted to politics? Or could it possibly be the incredible thick hair of the heir apparent to Gov. Ryan? Speaking of Ryan, if he was so bad, why did they name an expressway after him in Chicago? Matter of time before Blagoveich Blvd. rears it's ugly (but thick hair on) head.

Privacy Under Pressure!

Ever feel that nothing's ever private anymore? Take for instance, the workplace. Now, I know they always say that your email and telephone conversations belong to your employer, and I fully understand that it is a priviledge, but how about an office? Shouldn't one feel somewhat secure behind a closed door? Too often, I find myself trying to get caught up on messages only to have that knock on my door asking if I'm busy. Duh? Why would I have my door closed if I want to speak to someone? Because I am the polite dolt, I typically will let them in. This is based on prior history when I would ignore the knocking, only to be greeted by further persistant knocking. As I opened the door, the person assumed that since he did not hear voices (indicating a meeting) that I was available!

This leads me to my present day dilemma. So after heaving down a large, supersized, bowl of extra creamy New England Clam Chowder at my desk, I found my lactose intolerant bowls twitching. I'll leave out the details and let you assume the rest. Behind my closed door sauna, I found myself in the relaxed comfort of my office scanning my emails today. Before I could launch into another long, drawn out message, I heard that startling knock at my door. As the pressure mounted, and the tension in the air filled, I came under a strange dilemma: Should I just play quiet in the hopes that my interrupting visitor would just leave or risk that my sealed office would reveal my obvious lactose intolerance issue?

The People Have Spoken

Barack Hussein Obama has officially been elected as the next President of the United States. This is really an accomplishment considering that he had to overcome such an unusual name. Meanwhile, the Republicans have already begun gearing up for the 2012 presidential election - Mitt Romney announced today that he was legally changing his middle name to Bin Laden.

Ring Tones

In this age of technology, you can hear the most popular and inane tunes when a phone rings. In fact, you can typically hear an obsure tune play instead of the typical electronic rings on a cell that you used to hear when they first came out. What I'm puzzled about is the inablilty to actually program a recorded voice to play back that's linked to caller ID. Invention (you heard it hear first) alert: Why don't they set up a way so when a caller calls, a voice prompts you that "it's your battle axe of a mother-in-law calling, please ignore the fat tub of goo!" or the more telling "it's your sexy nymphomanic girlfriend, drop everything and answer before she changes her mind!" Imagine the possibilities, if your boss calls: "Mr. arrogant bastard is checking up on his minions, better answer and break out the chapstick because he's gonna need a kiss-up" or the bill collector: "thank you sir, may I have another!"

There can be no end to the creative madness!

Driving Me Crazy!

Growing up as a precocious child, I was always curious about driving a vehicle. My first recollection was riding a bus, and being amazed at the enormous size of the vehicle. After dropping in the fare into the glass coin box, I sat in the front seat and watched a huge black man steer the bus into the traffic. As he made each stop, he was careful to open the door and greet each customer with a smile. My most vivid memory is actually the steering wheel, and the drivers ability to move the wheel with great effort. Not only was power steering probably a luxury, I'm not sure if it was even invented at the time, so a driver must have been pretty strong to overcome the physics of steering a bus of such size and weight. To compensate, I believe each bus was outfitted with a larger than life steer wheel. In fact, I think it would be difficult for even Atlas to be able to carry it on his shoulders. I imagine such a steering wheel would be protruding from the side windows in a normal car today.

I often think about how much easier and fun it would be to drive with such a large steering wheel. Only a few inches of movement would surely allow one to make a 45 degree turn. I couldn't even imagine how large an air back it could contain, probably an air mattress, so you can believe that it would be safe! I would even bet that it could serve as a hula hoop and snare a thrown driver in the event of a front end collision. Imagine being saved in an accident and being able to compete in Ringling Bros. at the same time!

Pardon My French!

I've never cared for the expression "pardon my french". Naturally, to show my disdain, I began to use the expression myself with what I hoped was a sarcastic tone. It now occurs to me that the subtlety of my tone may be lost on the casual listener - I could be one that others look upon with the same disdain that I have.

All I can say is "L'enfer avec cette merde". I don't think FreeTranslation.com quite handled my expression correctly though. Oh well, pardon my french!

Scratch Pad

I was having a meeting with someone I hadn't met before, and for some reason, during the middle of the conversation, I completely forgot his name. I typically would like to mention a person's name in such a meeting to further a point, but simply could not figure out who he was. I tried to cheat to see if I could read his ID badge but unfortunately, it had been turned in such a matter that it was impossible to read. I wanted to resort to looking him up, but could not do so nonchalantly during the discussion. He also liberally mentioned my name during our discussion, and it started to become awkward when I just kept interjecting, "you know," in place of his name.

What really worried me, however, was that with the onset of fall's colder temperature, I realized that my skin was getting dry and increasingly itchy in the low humidity in my office, particularly in the deep recessed channel of my back where you just could not humanly reach unless you were a certified circus acrobat. As I became fidgety in my chair, I wanted to ask my cohort to scratch my back, but thought the better of it since I could not remember his name. The mere thought of someone putting their unsanitary hand down my back to scratch somehow seemed unappealing until I realized that I REALLY NEEDED this itch to be scratched!

What would you do?

iWonder

How did the letter i become so prominent in product naming? Lower case at that. And what exactly does it stand for? Idea? "'I' can't put my name on this product but 'I' thought of it!"?

Drop an i in front of "Phone" and now everyone knows you have an Apple product of obvious utility. But how did "Pod" come to mean a music player? If Apple made a line of kitchen appliances, would we have an iFridge? Or maybe the coffee maker could be an iOpener!

i think this all started with BMW. 328i. 530i. i used to think the "i" designation meant it was something special (although there is still no obvious reference as to what it stands for) until I realized that letter i was on every freakin' Bimmer!

Hey - this gives me an idea...

Karma Chameleon

Check out my picture in Webster's Dictionary! I'm right there under "hypochondriac". If your uncle happens to be in the hospital after suffering a heart attack, please don't tell me the symptoms that led up to his attack - otherwise I'll be feeling those same symptons that evening. Those stomach pains that one tells me they're feeling after lunch in the cafeteria; poof - there they are!

You have a friend who becomes a downer with their constant complaining? I can become that friend. Tell me about that pain in the ass that won't stop making jokes and there I'll be, right next to him or her.

Why can't someone tell me about these wonderful people they know who are always engaging? Maybe I could take that on too. But wait - then I'd probably feel inadequate; you know I have those self esteem issues too.

Well is dry

As I pass through the friendly halls of my workplace, I am typically greeted by strangers passing who will smile and say "hi." Unfortunately, I am getting really tired of this practice because frankly, I feel my "smile bank" is running low. Too often I have to smile even though I don't really feel like it, and rather reserve my smiles for someone more deserving, like the pretty secretary on the 2nd floor or the cafeteria cashier who always has the uplifting "have a great day!" Somehow, I feel that there is only so many smiles that a person can offer before they are gone.

Think of it this way. Someone smart, like Yogi Berra, or at least Thad Bosley, claimed that a pitcher only has so many pitches in his arm before he becomes useless. That's why some pitchers go easy as they warm up so as not to use up those precious pitches. I liken that thought to what I am doing with smiles. If you're not careful, you may use up those smiles and that frown will be a permanent part of your face. Just look what happens when you used up your. . . well, you know.

Fashionista

As I grow wiser, I have noticed some weird fashion statements by my male peers. Why is it that I see a greater preponderence of men in white socks and dress shoes? It's still awkward in jeans, but I even see them in dress pants. Now I don't begrudge the person who is living check to check just trying to make ends meet, but is it that difficult to have the appropriate socks on? I'm even more mystified when I see white athletic socks with dress shoes. The only thing that I think would top that would be watching my neighbor down the block mowing the lawn in his black dress socks and shoes with shorts while he puffs on his cigar. At least his cigar band matches his socks.

Nature is Calling

I've been thinking lately about the Mormon church. Yes, this is a shameless plug to get those googling for info on Mormons or Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to inadvertantly land on our blog. In any event, I came to believe that they are right about one thing. Traditionally, they have believed that a man should have more than one wife, otherwise known infamously as polygamy. Now, before you go off being all righteous on me, let me explain why there may be some merit to this idea. Think of other forms of life and how they can procreate incredibly with multiple partners. Man has billions and billions of sperm, but one woman could not possibly be expected to furnish her man with that many children or acts for that matter. I sincerely believe that nature intended man to have multiple partners. Do you think that cavemen only responded to one woman. Of course not! Their clubs in fact had the blood and hair of many women. In fact, it's only right that we do so. We should not go against the laws of nature, but live in harmony with as many wives as we can handle. Let's start a movement now! We shall call ourselves the New Age.

Asleep at the wheel

Similar to a lot of people, after a big lunch, I get drowsy, and during these occasions, am often tempted to catch a few z's in my office, but I'm fearful of getting caught since I don't have a lock at the door. This is another area that I think we've been beaten by the wiley Japanese who typically look forward to a restful nap during the work day to recharge their duracells. Why is it so taboo in American business anyway. You would think that there is so much waste during water cooler conversations and gossip visits that a 30 minute snooze wouldn't affect productivity much. In fact, I would bet that there are Japanese studies that prove such a nap would increase productivity. Next up: having sex in the office to improve the workplace blues.

Defined by Race

Why isn't that most people immediately consider race to be the primary differentiator of a person. Take Obama for example, he is a black man first, even though he is actually of mixed races. Why couldn't people seem him as that skinny guy, or that Chicagoan? Or that smart guy, or that glib person, no, we consider him the black guy running for president.

Now as he's running for the white house, a thought crossed my mind about the intense number of hours he must be spending in campaigning for the presidency. In fact, one could say that he's doing "yeoman's duty." What I beg to know is how did that expression come about? And who is that poor yeoman anyway? Did that come to be when George Bush graduated from his alma mater, and someone exclaimed that he must be doing Yale men's duty? Must have been some black guy.

Stay-cation

I'm getting really tired of overused terms and just plain dumb words, like the newly coined "stay-cation" to refer to those who prefer to stay home (likely because of the high cost of gas) rather than invest in a family (expensive) vacation. I am recommending that we create a post of these dumb phrases or words as a final call to retire them from our language. To start off our list, how about these priceless artifacts:

• "It is, what it is" (what ever the hell that means to anyone, since I've yet to understand this waste of rhetoric)
• "It's neither here, nor there" (another phrase that is about as insightful as the ever popular, "uhhh" or similar "you know, blah, blah, blah, you know"

By the way, I'm also tired of people responding to "how're you doing" with the generic "I'm fine." From now on, I'm going to add a little color to the dialogue by saying, "I'm translucent, Thank you"

General Postmaster

My mailbox has been approved by the Postmaster General. I'm not really sure why it needs approval, particularly at such a high level. It's only slightly more advanced than a waste basket. Slap a door and a flag on a waste basket, boom, you have a mailbox!

Why is this guy a general, anyway? I think this power has gone to his head if he has to go around approving mailboxes. If he wants to approve things, maybe he should take a closer look at some of the people they hire. Or even those crummy little trucks they drive around in.

I guess this guy is so flush with power that he only allows "real" mail to be left in these boxes. Now I get all kinds of fliers and crap stuck in the flag and tacked to the post. Why can't these people just leave this junk in my mailbox? Are they afraid they'll be arrested by some marauding Postmaster Corporals or Privates?

MasterCard-Bait

Amazing how overused the tag phrase has been since MasterCard successfully launched its commercial on "priceless." A week doesn't pass at work when someone tries to put together a memo with (what they believe is) an attention getting teaser at the beginning that always culminates in "priceless." Don't people realize that this is so ridiculously old that it's become passe, and the mere thought of trying to make it sound fresh only makes the author seem even more obsolete. So I plead with the world to stop this insanity, and let's rid the reference to "priceless" once and for all. Now on to the next overused term. . . NOT!

Room 101

I spent the night in Plainwell, Michigan last night. At the Motel 6.
The Westin was full.
The Hyatt had too many kids.

I got my room through Priceline.com.
I said I would like a five-star hotel.
It came back and told me it would like a user that had a clue.
I kept lowering the number of stars until I got a room at the price I wanted.
I didn't know you could go as low as .2 stars.

When I got there they gave me room 101. "Must be the front row."
I felt pretty special until I realized I was the only guest.
I got suspicious around 11:00 when the desk clerk called to say he was going home and could I make sure the front door was locked.
I didn't really mind being alone in the hotel but I really didn't like fixing the morning coffee and putting out the breakfast buffet.

Too Hip

I really don't like the way some people try to horn into conversations by trying to act like that they are already part of the team when they haven't "paid their dues." What I mean are people that are new to a group and immediately begin to pretend like they are a regular. For example, there is a person on our team who's name is Fletcher, but those that know him call him "Fletch" which actually is a pretty cool nickname to have. We have this woman who just transferred into our group who immediately refers to him as "Fletch." She is the type of person who pretends to be your biggest ally only to backstab you at every opportunity. Hearing her constantly bring up "Fletch" is so grating that I want to retch. A popular term that she tends to recite is "peeps." As in, our group needs more "peeps" if we are going to deliver this project. Did I say she gives me the creeps?

I Want to be Famous!

Not in a crazed criminal kind of way, however. And based on the readership of this particular endeavor, it won't in the blogging world either. Frankly, I have no idea how to accomplish this "famous" thing but something has to click.

Looking at my life to date, I'm finding it difficult to believe I'll be famous for anything of a serious nature. On the other hand, I'm not a Guinness Book of Records type person either. Maybe radio talk show host - that would be good. Or now that Richard Roeper is leaving that movie review program maybe I could take his place. That would be great - fame and all the movies I could ever want to see! Maybe I could finally meet Shannen Doherty! She's my favorite.

Sarbannes Oxley

With corporate america on heightened alert because of dishonesty, an outsider would think that we would now be having a period of the most open, civilized, and honest cultures, but in my company, this is very far from the truth. For example, how many times have people pretended to be on board for an idea during a meeting, only to secretly sabotage the proposal behind your back? During interviews, why do we act as if we love the candidate and string him or her along with no intentions of ever hiring the slug? Why do we tell the rude cafeteria cashier, "thanks" and "have a great day" when we know we are only patronizing her? Why do we say "great!" when asked "how are you doing? when we know we'd rather be at a Cubs game instead? Why do we claim we're so busy when we spend three quarters of the day gossiping about our idiot boss?

The Office

If you can't tell by now, I work in an office full of idiots with zero personalities. (And no, I don't fit in). Perhaps, it's because of the fact that I reside in an IT department may have something to do with it. For example, I had a brief conversation several months ago with a geek who's overweight body parallels his oversized ego. To break the ice, I initiated some small talk, and mentioned that I recently purchased a state of the art navigation unit. He immediately felt obligated to mention his new $5000 plasma screen. After spending what seemed like an eternity listening to me why his choice was better, I immediately saw my opportunity and ran like hell.

Over the course of the next several encounters with him in the hall, he immediately asks me about my navigation unit, which initially was a nice gesture to show that he remembered, but now seems so one dimensional as that is the only basis of our conversations. I typically respond back that I still like the unit, and the conversation stalls. After many long pauses, I usually make some excuse to "have to run."

My issue is why can't the imbecile come up with something original. Heck, I'd even appreciate if he asked me about the weather, baseball, rumor, anything but the damn navigation unit. It's times like these that make the old fashioned "how are you. . . fine," conversations seem so right.

What's Up? Or Across.

Summertime is here, time for all to show off our seasonally thin physiques. And while at the office this summer, grab your polo shirts and go!

But why, when we want to look our thinnest, do the shirt designers insist our polo shirts must have horizontal stripes? Don't they make one look fat? Even me in my... well, even me.

Long sleeve shirts never have horizontal stripes - always vertical. What's the deal with the polo shirts then? Finding vertical stripes on a polo shirt only happens when the summer help stacks the shirts sideways on the shelf!

Next up, boxer shorts.

Corporate Affairs

I work in a large Midwestern Fortune 50. Like large companies, we have our share of politics, but undeniably, we also have an unusual culture of enjoying being bland and about 20 years behind the times. Because we don't have a sense of urgency, we have become boring. Instead of meeting plan expectations, we meet to discuss who is celebrating the next 50 year anniversary. Average turnover is incredibly low, which on the surface hints at loyalty, but truly hides the truth of reality. We are at best, average, and likely sub-par in terms of talent. Which brings up my point. I feel that I am a "stellar performer," but feel that would be a hollow gloat. It's like claiming to be valedictorian in an inner city school. In other words, I feel like a shining star(fish) in a sea of mediocrity, and I am drowning fast. I need to find another ocean to crap on.

Gas Solution

As I was leaving work today, I came up with the most brilliant idea to solve our gas crisis. Okay, so I wasn't referring to gasoline, but flatulence. The most difficult issue is typically where do you go to "let it go?" I find it awkward to do so in the most obvious place, the rest room. Although it is expected, it is still an opportunity to giggle while your colleagues stand next to you by the urinal or in the adjacent stall. In fact, it is not uncommon for those with fine social upbringing to flush occasionally so as to disguise the aforementioned sound.

As I mentioned, I came across the ingenious idea as I was leaving to go home. It came to me like a lightning bolt as I exited through the revolving doors. Now, during the momentary spinning, I did notice that for that brief period that there was blissful silence. In fact, the person who was leaving with me was trying to continue the conversation, but lo and behold, I could not hear a thing! It was almost like the "cone of silence." I think I'll order the baked beans for lunch tomorrow. Of course, I may have to remain spinning for a while in the revolving door, but I pity the next one in line who wants to use the section of the revolving door. . .

Back Rub the wrong way

I noticed a job posting today for Stark Investments in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, land of our fellow cheeseheads, and was quite surprised to see the title of the position. Instead of seeing Senior Director of Accounting, or VP of Purchasing, I came across the enviable opening of "Senior BACK OFFICE Manager." Now I'm not sure how popular that title is, or how many people are pounding on their doors, or how to put that title down on a business card without cringing, but somehow can't imagine that to be too flattering. My mind wanders to a social engagement, like a dinner party, and imagine the conversation going towards, "so what do you do?" In between the CFO, VP Engineering, and the like, no doubt the "Back Office Manager" would stand out like a sore thumb. So what does a "B O Manager" do?

Name Change

I saw in the paper today that a guy changed his name to In God We Trust. I think it's great that Mr. Trust is so firm in his beliefs; I just hope he doesn't turn cynical and name a child of his First National Bank And.

Management by Cliche

A few years ago, HP pioneered the concept of MBWA, or management by walking around. The intent was for management to get out of their cozy offices and get to know their people by mingling. Such behaviour was expected to promote teamwork and cohesiveness, thereby improving productivity. Now, I don't know if it succeeded, but at the time HP was growing rapidly, fueled no doubt, by the growth of the technology sector, in general. Was it really due to the concept of MBWA or was MBWA just a by-product of the natural culture which led it to success. Or was it neither and that HP was just at the right place at the right time with the right product that was destined to climb.

This has led to my thought of the recent deterioration of management, or "leadership" as my company like to call it. Instead of any new, profound thought, we are deluged with Colin Powell quotes that are as dated as my HP reference or Fortran. I constantly hear "one size doesn't fit all" or "we don't want to swing the pendulum too far." Whatever happened to real leadership? I believe we have replaced any new leadership thoughts with old and tired cliches, because we have people in leadership roles who are not qualified, and resort to what is familiar. What is troubling is the fact that a large number of the herd actually responds to the rhetoric as if this is exciting! This speaks volumes of the state of the economy and civilization. While we ramble on, our crafty European and Japanese are developing more creative workforces. Oh well, if it ain't broken, don't fix it.

Blondie

Ever notice how certain names immediately convey some imagery? It's kind of like "Hubert's" give you the impression that the gentlemen is somewhat nerdy, but friendly. "Horatio" is doomed to be a milquetoast. Don't even get me started on a "Melvin."

What I find particularly interesting is how every "Sara" or "Sarah" that I have ever met is blonde. Now I didn't necessarily say that Sarah's are attractive, just blonde. Think about Sarah Jessica Parker strutting around New York in her blonde locks. Don't forget Sarah Michelle Gellar sashaying in her Buffy attire. Just thinking of Sara makes me Smile.

Power Lunch

My first opportunity in the real world was as an intern with a big (8, now 4) accounting firm. While on an engagement with a very significant client, I had lunch with the rest of the audit team consisting of a senior and two junior consultants. Since we had to pay for our own meals at this time, we chose to imbibe at Wendy's. I ordered a small meal because I tend to be a slow eater and wanted to leave a good impression with our "boss", the senior auditor, by being attempting to showcase my exemplary conversation skills. Unfortunately, I chose to have a bowl of chili with extra cheese and onions. Although the beans probably would have been sufficient to cause some minor embarrassment, the cheese actually caused me the most problems because of its naturally gooey nature. Imagine for a moment, how difficult it must have been to pull the stringy cheese out of my mouth as it continues to remain intact all the way to the bowl. It even leaves you with that weird "hairy" feeling that you didn't get all of it even after you pull the last remaining strands. Although the senior tried her best to ignore my challenge, I know it made her uncomfortable. What truly saved me in this ordeal, (yes this is a positive story with a great? ending) was the lunch choice of one of my other junior audit colleagues. Instead of selecting another great meal from the menu board, he choice to bring his bag lunch with him.

To which he got immediately reprimanded that bringing his homemade concoction was just plain "unprofessional." Not only that, but she felt, although interns, we were still paid handsomely, and should be able to afford a decent meal, even if at Wendy's. In the event that we would be eating with clients, she would immediately have taken that bag lunch and threw it out or sent the junior auditor crying home. Needless to say, I was utterly shocked that she brought up this perspective with such rigorous passion! My junior friend however continued to munch on his home prepared sandwich and seemed mildly amused, but nonetheless seemed bothered.

From this day forward, the poor sap decided to pay for his meal and never brought up this situation again. I now reflect on this story, as I have many times, and realize somehow the trauma of this situation has remained with me, because I cannot recall any occasion where I brought my own lunch to work. I also realize much too late how absurd the thought was to publicly admonish someone who was trying to save a few dollars on a paltry salary or chose to maintain a certain nutritional diet. Unfortunately, I have to publicly admit that I am now that ugly senior, and have looked unflatteringly at those who do tend to bring their lunches to work at my place of employment. I can be having a lunch meeting, and as soon as I see that lunch bag come out, I'm just ready to scream. Instead, I just cast a slight downward glance as I eat my cafeteria special while shaking my head disapprovingly and referring to my lunch-bag carrying denizen as a "plebeian" who will never advance to the next caste as long as I am able to offer my opinion during promotion periods. In fact, I would even stoop to taking a bite out of the sandwich while the person steps away to wash their hands or gets a soda while leaving the meal in a vulnerable and visible spot. When they return, they become so disgusted that they will typically through the "damn" thing away, while I secretly laugh on the inside as they generally suspect the wrong person would take a germy bite out of their artistically assembled sandwich.

I will continue to do so until I rid the world of these unprofessional bag lunch people!

Barnes & Borders

I stopped in my local mega bookstore recently, and became puzzled as to what they are trying to sell. There in the corner was a small cafe serving small pastries and coffee whilst readers were sipping their warm java as they flipped pages of, no doubt, books that they had taken off the shelf. Now, I can understand that libraries are now cutting into this line of business by offering their own cafe on premises. In fact, our local branch even offers a cup of coffee as well where the strong savory smell permeates through every wing of our library. In that case, I can understand that the books are essentially free, so why not make some extra cash by pushing the liquid caffeine? But the primary source of revenue in a bookstore must be the books, right? So why do they encourage potential buyers to sit around and read their books without having to purchase them. In fact, don't they risk that the book reader may damage one of their publications by spilling their liquid gold on a brand new Stephen King book? Yes, one could argue that then the book store just made a sale, but realize that most in this situation may just quickly close the book and put it back on the shelf awaiting the next unsuspecting buyer? I also think asking people to come in and relax somewhat upsets the entire premise of the retail world. Turnover! Shouldn't customers come in and buy what they need and get the hell out so you can make more profit? Imagine if people lined up at the Infiniti dealer only to come in and sit in the car while drinking coffee without any intentions of buying? Why, not only would that discourage other potential buyers, the dealership would rarely have a car to test drive with all the homeless people squatting in their previously shiny and clean cars!

This insanity must stop! It's just so un-American! Now leave me alone while I head over to my Starbucks so I can use their Wi-FI connection.

Shook me all night long

This early morning, I awoke to a vibrating bed, and it didn't even cost me a quarter. No, I wasn't at a cheap motel, but rudely awaken at 4:30 in the morning in the midst of a real live, crevice making, earth splitting, earthquake! Imagine my surprise to see the walls shaking like Jerry Lee Lewis while trying to get out of bed walking like Jerry Lewis. I originally thought that such occurrences were reserved for those on the west coast. My to my dismay, my world was turning. Now as I brace for the aftershocks, I'm reminded of a time when things were so much simpler, and you could count on things being there when you wake up. Instead, I can't sleep because I keep thinking my toothbrush is bounding to the toilet during the next wave of tremors. What am I going to do!

Wide Bottom Girls

With all due respect to Freddie Mercury and Queen, I do have some empathy for those overweight women out there. However, I do believe that I have run into a couple of those Lane Bryant types who may not necessarily be classified as the nicest people around. Case in point: yesterday as I was leaving the complex of my large midwestern employer, I was walking through the crowd trying to get to my car in the parking garage. There is a narrow hall that can fit approximately 20 people wide going in both directions. This allows probably 3 people walking alongside in each direction. I, along with several others, was trying to keep pace, when suddenly there she was. A large woman who happened to be going at a slower pace. Now, I do not begrudge someone who may not be able to keep up, especially those who may be elderly or potentially have some physical handicap. Rest assured, this was not the case. What was unusual in my circumstance was the velocity of her arm movements. She was rapidly flailing, yes flailing her arms around to such a degree that no one could pass her.

Now, I'm not referring to her arm movements as those of a typical speed walker. Hers was definitely of the obnoxious, "don't even think about passing me, or I'll snip off your scrotom" variety. More to come tomorrow.

The Wright Stuff

Why is one who writes plays not referred to as a playwrite rather than the seemingly misspelled playwright?

And what's with that bizarre phraseology anyway? Was John Lennon a songwright? I don't believe John Grisham is a bookwright. And yet, Ben, Little Joe and Hoss are all Cartwrights.

Can't they all just be authors? Or writers?

Just a thought.

Nathan Kinzel, blogwright

Privilege

I don't mean to sound insensitive, but ever notice how some handicapped individuals may actually have benefits not typically afforded to the general populace? Now, I am not referring to handicapped parking spots, nor bathroom stalls, which I can fully understand and endorse due to their disability. What I'm intrigued about is the ability to do what you and I, John Q. Public, cannot do. For example, just today, I was walking down the hall of my large midwestern employer and walking beside me trying to keep pace was a man walking on crutches. As he walked, he let out some lengthy flatulence, that because of the sheer duration of the sound, I admit that I was somewhat impressed. Now, my first reaction was, "whoa, that can't be what I think it is," so I paused. I kept insisting to myself that it must be the rubber on the bottom of his crutches or perhaps shoes that were rubbing together that unusual sound.

To which, he definitively reminded me that there was no mistake in that he let loose again. No, not only did he repeat his reminder, but cut loose a monumental example of why he IS the man! Afterwards, he looked at me like he was surprised that I would dare question his need to release some gas. As if, I were the one with the unusual problem. I then noticed an older woman walk past who looked at me with a serious, but quizzical stare as if I were the one with the problem as well. No doubt that she heard and noticed what HE did, but now she was staring at me as if I were the issue. So now, my friends, I am at a loss. Perhaps, I should be more sensitive to those less fortunate, and allow them this rite of passage without making them feel so uncomfortable. You could say, I suppose, that I should cut them some slack as they cut the cheese.

Ironic

No, this is not a tribute to Alanis Morrisette, but an observation. Why is it that there are so many bald barbers? Worse yet, why are there so many overweight doctors? You'd think that they, if anyone would understand proper nutrition. I thought it peculiar when I took my son in to the optometrist recently and noticed that all the doctors in the practice wearing glasses. Didn't they eat carrots when they were young? Imagine my surprise to find the local LASIK practitioner is blind as a bat!

Take Me to the Cleaners

I really don't like ironing. Part of my problem is that I'm a slow ironer. A week's worth of clothes will take me an hour. But I (strategically) have enough clothes to last me two weeks. My standard ironing session has therefore now been extended to two hours.

I have finally allowed myself to escape this grueling task by taking my clothes to the cleaners. Aside from the obvious extra expense, I have discovered a minor problem with this idea - there is a non-stop barrage of hangers entering our household.

I've contemplated taking them back to the cleaners for "recycling" but I don't like the thought of my clean clothes hanging on someone else's used hanger. I'm sure I'm not alone in that.

In trying to stem this tidal wave of wire, I have adopted far more stringent quality standards in my hanger assessment. At the first sign of bending, those wire hangers are gone. The slightest crease in a cardboard pants-hanger renders it obsolete. This isn't enough.

Hangers get sent off to school with my college bound son. My youngest son does his best to rotate the stock by yanking his clothes from the closet with barely a thought that there is some object that suspends his shirts underneath that shelf. Still, they don't stop coming.

Vacant hanging space in my closet is filled with idle hangers. The college son's empty closet is empty no more as even more hangers have filled that space. There's no more room in the laundry room. Or the youngest son's closet. Or the pantry. Or the refrigerator. We've even resorted to giving hangers to Goodwill. Please make it stop! With these cleaning bills, I can no longer afford a bigger house.

Bathroom Etiquette

Here's a topic that I have yet to find Emily Post address. What do you do when you happen to be having a conversation with a colleague, and he begins to walk into the restroom? Do you continue the dialogue as if nothing's change even though you are surrounded by plumbing? I found myself in this predicament today. First, I must say that the conversation began innocently enough. I was attending an offsite meeting, and decided to make a mad dash to the building complex because it happened to be lightly raining. As I came closer to the building, I noticed the colleague in question up ahead, and as he saw me approaching, he stopped, despite the rain, and waited for me to catch up. Because of this courtesy, I believed that I had an obligation to continue the conversation since he earnestly struck up the dialogue. During the middle part of our talk, and without warning, he entered the bathroom. He ran into the stall, and rather than stand there dumbfounded, I decided to use the urinal. After a few moments of awkward silence, he continued the conversation as if nothing was different.

Besides the occasional groans and grunts coming from the stall, nothing else was unusual and he was able to discuss the complexity of calculating the company's latest quarterly results. During this awkward spell, he let loose what could only be described as an incredible cleansing of the bowels. Not only was there the tell tale sound of water splashing and volcanoes erupting, he was still able to resume the dialogue as if nothing was happening. At this point, I am trying to wash my hands and hoping no one else were to enter to hear us keep this conversation going while he was in all his glory.

Now, my real dilemma at this juncture is how do I leave? Should I stay and be subjected to this and possibly be accused of being the perpetrator as I walk away with his stench on my clothes? Or do I leave and possibly risk that he is offended that I left him in mid-conversation? After all, he was willing to stand in the rain and wait for me earlier? Or worse yet, what if I leave and don't say anything, and he assumes that I am still there continuing the conversation with a ghost? What if someone enters to hear him talking to no one?

Bowling 101

I joined a company bowling league last fall. This is not my company's league, mind you, so over and above the fact that I'm a member, this is clearly a league with minimal restrictions on membership. Just the same, these people are serious about their bowling; makes one wonder what I'm doing there.

My first lesson on day one - bowling is done at a "house". And there are apparently vast differences between these houses because one of my teammates told me later on that at "this house" he only needs to bring two [bowling] balls. Yes, only two. This person owns four bowling balls and drags them (literally) every week to our house of bowling. With roughly 70 pounds of equipment, bowling bags can now be purchased with wheels and can also be stacked one upon another.

And if you purchase a new bowling ball, this equipment should be phased in slowly. Sort of a courtship period, if you will. It takes some time to develop a relationship with a new ball so one should proceed cautiously - perhaps using only for practice for the first few weeks.

Let me tell you, there is quite a level of sophistication for a league comprised of teams such as the "Big Johnsons" and "Minds in Da Gutter".

Bunny Job Hopping

Yes, it is that great time of the year when we scurry around looking for those golden eggs. No, I'm not referring to Easter, but an employment search. This led me to the weird thought that why are references ever requested anymore? In this age of litigation, you'd think that there are other ways to corroborate character, like credit checks, background checks, and checks in the mail. Anyway, I digress. Is it really feasible to ask for references when we know that the candidate will attempt to provide a biased sample of people to speak with. Ok, so it is somewhat disguised as Grandma puts the handkerchief over the phone to pretend to be Sally the CFO from IBM.

This is Nuts

Felix Pie of the Chicago Cubs is suffering from "testicular torsion" (or in layman's terms, a twisted testicle) that will require some minor surgery. This is apparently a rather expensive procedure because I hear that Elliot Spitzer paid over $4,000 to have this done back in February.

Breakfast of Champions

100% fruit juice. Whole grain cereal. God, I'm sick of eating healthy (well, let's ignore that cheeseburger I had for lunch today).

Seriously though, is there a better juice than Hawaiian Punch? I'm telling you, if you simply mix sugar, water and red food coloring together you get one tasty beverage. Fresh squeezed orange juice has nothing on a nice Hawaiian Punch.

And then there's Cap'n Crunch. Sort of like eating crunchy candy for breakfast. And it really stands up to milk! For that matter, it really stands up to my gums too. However, once they scab over and form calluses there is not a better cereal on the planet.

Mock Apple Pie

I suppose this does sound more appetizing than "Ritz Cracker Pie" but somehow I don't see the need for a fake apple pie. Research tells me that there was some kind of apple shortage back in the 30's so America's insatiable appetite for apple pie apparently had to be addressed somehow back then. But has anyone under the age of 70 ever not seen apples at the grocery store?

How does someone come up with this idea, anyway? "I wish I had a slice of apple pie right now - but maybe cracker pie would be just as good?" I think I might be more apt to make a fake strawberry pie with a bag of Starburst candies. I guess I'm just not a forward thinker (except for the "microwave" refrigerator idea a few weeks ago).

Then again, I really have no room to talk because I could go for a bowl of Apple Jacks right now.

Shake it up

In this day of rampant professionalism, I have to admit that I am uncomfortable with extending my hand to shake hands. Although I'd like to say that germs may be a factor in this consideration, and have had my share of standing by the restroom sink washing my hands while coworkers will "do their business" only to walk out with palms dripping with invisible bacteria, I do feel strange as people I do know well attempt to shake hands under the guise of professionalism. Obviously, I return the firm shake with a haughty "how do you do" or "good to see you again" to make it even more insincere. Am I wrong that I prefer to keep my distance with my colleagues or do I have to continue to play this unusual game of dilbert-esque interaction?

I would not socialize with these individuals, nor would I spend more time than necessary, so why must I be subjected to shaking the hands of someone and act like I really enjoy spending more than a prefessional minute with them. Excuse me while I wash my hands.

Sweeping Changes at My Place of Employment!

As an employee of an engineering firm, it's not unusual to occasionally find a few employees poring over a large drawing. This afternoon I noticed our Quality Manager gazing at a drawing with one of our machinists - not an unusual sight. What struck me was the janitor peering over this drawing at the same time. I'm not sure what input he could possibly have or, for that matter, what vital information he may have been acquiring from the conversation. I can only guess that there were special janitorial needs for this particular project; must have been an especially messy part that required an extra pass or two with the sweeper.

Hormel's Not The Boss of Me

I personally think the folks at Hormel are getting just a little too heavy handed. It's one thing to tell me heat up a pork roast in the microwave for four minutes, but what's with this "serve and enjoy" business? I'll leave it up to me as to whether or not I'll enjoy my pork roast, thank you. If I choose to serve and gag uncontrollably - well, dammit, that's my decision!

Hello Doctor

My brother had a physical recently where I understand he received shots for tetanus, whooping cough and shingles. He seems like somewhat of a do-it-yourself kind of guy so this shingles thing doesn't really surprise me. However, I think I'd rather have a shot for maybe getting a bathroom re-done.

I guess he's also been told to get a colonoscopy. That's really the kind of thing that's best kept to one's self because once you tell a few people, you'll be subject to no end of jokes. Having gone through the procedure not that long ago, I have been treated to three offerings of a viral video of a singing colonoscopy featuring Lou Rawls "You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine" with a disco ball rotating overhead.

And if, for exampe, one or two people in the lobby area may happen to mention you look like Richard Gere, don't bother telling anyone later on because, well... just don't bother.

By the way, I think I saw my doctor at the auto show this week. I didn't ask if he remembered me; I couldn't stand anymore jokes.

I'm Too Tired to Post Something Worthwhile

I've never really contemplated street naming, per se, but as I was heading into Barrington on Barrington road today, I started a mental list of streets named for various nearby towns. In the suburban Chicago area, we have Palatine Road that goes through the middle of Palatine and Schaumburg Road that goes through the middle of Schaumburg. However, Mount Prospect Road kind of misses the center of Mount Prospect where Elmhurst Road goes right down the middle. Elmhurst Road, of course, goes right through downtown Elmhurst but, for some reason, it has been renamed York Road by then.

In the south suburbs, 159th Street is a major road that goes through several towns - except South Holland. Upon leaving Harvey for South Holland, 159th Street inexplicably becomes 162nd Street; apparently three blocks further south without moving so much as a fraction of a degree of longitude. Naturally, once you leave South Holland for Calumet City, everything is right again as the 159th Street name returns.

Perhaps the city of Atlanta has found a way to circumvent all of the confusion created by streets with multiple names. I think most of the streets there are named Peachtree.

I HATE Chase Bank and Credit Cards!!!

I'm sure my recent experience is not that atypical of most banks and credit card issuers, but I must admit they definitely try my patience. After being charged $51 for late payment fees after having the customer service representative ADMIT they did not draw the bank transfer as indicated on the due date, I am completely dumbfounded when they claimed they could not reverse the charges. After three days of frustrating calls, and having them treat me like a kindergartener by explaining to me what interest is, and how it's calculated, I decided to pay off the balance and cancel my card. Unbeknownst to me, I realized that they still miscalculated the final balance (after just checking my account online), and still show me as being liable for $2.76! After another incredible call with a poorly trained senior citizen, know-it-all, who is trying again to explain to me why I would be charged because of the time value of money, completely forgeting my point in that the charge is erroneous. In fact, several times I attempted to interrupt the bastard, named Garrett (who refused to provide his last name or his manager, I might add) but he continued to ignore my pleas to listen and instead berated me for closing the account. Finally, after this idiot's tirade, he explains that he will, as a courtesy no less, waive the fee, but discovers that I have closed the account, and then refuses to do so since I apparently have not been very loyal to Chase. To which I request to be passed on to his manager. His response this time is okay, but he will have to put me on hold. After an inordinate amount of time, he claims that his boss is still busy, but I can wait. I will say that after a slight pause, he didn't have time to interrupt me this time as I told him to shove his headset up his fat hairy. . .

Cold as Ice T

I seem to recall having an inane (insane?) conversation with a curvy blonde one day over wind chill. She somehow managed to get me to think about wind chill, and whether metal or cars would "feel" wind chill. So when the temperature dropped down below freezing and forecasters are shouting out the wind chill factor, do inanimate objects actually feel the actual temperature or the much colder wind chill factor? I immediately tried to explain to her that objects do not "feel" wind chill, but only we do because we can sense the wind against our pores. To which she asked if dogs can feel wind chill? I suddenly realized why I was so attracted to her and completely recognized the value that she brought to this relationship. Nuff Said.

Do You Have Jumper Cables?

If the answer to the above question is yes, these are five words that you just plain don't want to hear. As a young pup I made the "smart" decision to invest in a set of jumper cables. I've never used them. On my car, that is.

Funny thing about jumper cables - people don't seem to need them on a sunny day with a temperature in the 80's. Or 60's. Or 40's, 3o's or even 20's. Watch the mercury fall below 0 though - then the fun starts. That's when you'll hear the dreaded question. Regrettably, I never found it within me to lie and answer "no". I finally had to resort to completely removing this evil accessory from the trunk of my car.

If you ever feel the need to purchase jumper cables, take my advice. Use the money to join a motor club instead. Trust me, it'll be well worth the extra money - even if you never do use it.

Beauty is relative

No this is not about your voluptuous cousin, you freakazoid! I would like to make an observation about attractive women. Now, I won't get soft and talk about "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and overused cliches, but wanted to share a thought as I sit in my high tech department full of overweight, overlooked, overdone, over-aged, and over the top females. Of course, you would say, they may not be attractive because the industry doesn't attract that type of person. Instead, we are beset with horn rimmed glass bearing, "techy types" littering the floors. The majority sex of our staff is male, and no doubt, very little sex occurs in this group, at least if another party is involved (who doesn't have a tail, that is).

Now you may ask, why do I bring this topic up on an innocent Friday night? Well, I suddenly realized as I drove home that it is relative. After spending an inordinate amount of time in this environment, I realized that the flirtatious geek who is constantly in the copy room is not that unattractive. Sure, not exactly the complement that one of the opposite sex would like to hear, but hear me out. Compared to the other females in the department, she's not bad. However, she definitely no Heather Locklear, nor even a Katie Couric, but compared to some of the smelly Roseanne Barr type beasts around here, she's beginning to look awful. . . appealing. Again, it's all relative. If I were in Atlanta, Georgia or San Antonio, Texas, I would say that Britney Spears would not garner a second look.

The Next Cool Thing

I'm just not impressed with my microwave oven anymore. At one time it may have been a miracle to dive into a burrito only two minutes after it left the freezer, but now - that is just so last century.

Microwave ovens have been commonplace for thirty years or more. What I can't figure out is why hasn't anyone applied this same kind of thinking to the refrigerator. Say, for example, that I've just arrived home from 7-Eleven with a frozen burrito and a six-pack of Coke. (Editor's note: if this were a true story, I would have grabbed a cold coke from the cooler but that would render this example meaningless.) Once I place my burrito in the microwave, I discover that my ice tray is empty; so there I am, moments later, with a hot burrito and a warm coke. I hate warm coke.

This is where we need a microwave refrigerator. Something I can place my warm coke in only to have it ice cold in just two minutes. I can't believe this isn't on the shelves at Best Buy yet. Just wait, one day I'll seem like a visionary.

One of the Good Blogs

Now that the presidential election season is in full swing, political commentary is everywhere: TV, radio, newspapers, magazines and on and on. Each of these bastions of information dissemination are naturally serious journalistic enterprises. Often times, as I listen to or read what these journalists have to say there are dismissive (or derisive) references to "bloggers" and their uninformed non-journalistic opinions that apparently diminish the election process. "Don't believe everything you read on the Internet!"

Fortunately for us, there is no way in the world anyone could possibly take our blog seriously. Yes, we may be embarassed by it's content (and to our knowledge we still are unread by anyone who knows who we are) but at least we can take comfort that our blog is not among those that are so reviled by the political press. Of course, this is not to suggest that these true "journalists" would actually approve of our blog - there's just no danger of us infringing upon their territory.

Germain to the conversation

In recent years, I have become more of a germ-a-phobe. Right around the time I had heard that Howard Hughes, the richest man in the world - pre-Gates, had this weird, eccentric concern over germs. Not that I would compare to this wealthy weirdo, but I think he was ahead of his time. I think about all these anti-resistant bacteria that is permeating the world, and how our antibiotics would one day be powerless in the face of these super-beings. That is why I chose to grip the door handle with my right pinky and then carefully place it in my pocket as I rub on some Purell hidden securely in the inner reaches of my pocket so as to not bring attention to my sudden fear of those insidious germs.

Often, I am the one who will be running to the rest room to wash my hands after shaking hands with a stranger. I will not hesitate to use paper towels to touch the faucet handles rather than risk the touch of some errant stranger who may not be as careful as me. Would it be appropriate to purchase a plastic bag in order to venture out into this strange, strained world?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I must have heard that a half dozen times this morning. I used to think it was a simple exclamation good for only a few minutes after the clock struck midnight on December 31. Boy, was I wrong.

Last Friday, the drive-thru attendant at a local Wendy's wished me a happy new year as she handed me my son's dinner. This morning, six or so people greeted me that same way in rapid succession. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I figure that once the calendar shows January 2nd, we're back at "good morning" or "how you doing" rather than continuing to throw out that "happy new year" line.

Not that I'm complaining, per se. My response to the first and second greetings this morning was simply to repeat those very same words - happy new year. But I felt awkward. The next couple of greeters received a "same to you" in response. I think I then descended to "you to" or some such dismissive reply. Fortunately the greetings stopped before I dove further into "back at you" or "happy new year, my ass!".

I suppose I just need to give in to the popular lexicon and bring out the seasonal greetings myself. Let me be the first to wish you and yours a happy Martin Luther King, Jr. day!