Come back cold turkey to fly lids off ? No no it's not Ma$e it's ANDREW!!! And for those of you who are indeed math wizards I have not been gone for 5 years, though to the blogosphere I'm sure it seems like it's been as many. Here's a recap of what you missed in the past week when neither myself nor Keith was blogging:
1) Turns out Sassy killed a chipmunk last night. You would think that the cat would learn something from experiences in her past (i.e. killing=bad) but she hasn't. This only further fuels suspicions that cats, and animals in general, are not nearly as intelligent as humans are.
2) Wait hold up...humans kill other humans too. This only further fans the flames of the rumours that the 'guns don't kill people, I kill people' philosophy is alive and kicking in America.
3) Ok hold on again...that's right, we can find an excuse for everyone. Turns out guns are the real problem and that the people who use them against others are not to blame. If that dang gun wouldn't have told me to kill those people...
4) I moved into a new apartment. If you forget how horrible the old apartment was, go back to the blog archives frommmmm March, and re-read the one about my white trashy neighborhood. This new apartment is much cooler. More on this later.
So there's your week, I mean 5 years, in review. Keep in touch kids!!
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
...but everyone loves a happy ending
Epilogue:
After a brief reprieve from the breezeway, Sassy safely moved all of her kittens to the garage. Ain't no tomcat out there going to come tearing through a steel garage door, just to eat some kitten meat. After talking it over with her kids, Sassy decided that it would be best if they went out to find loving families of their own. Within a few days all of Sassy's little ones found safe homes and loving parents to help them mature into well rounded cats. Sassy herself seems to be adjusting well enough to life as an 'empty nester'. Shaquanda assures me that Sassy wanted to pass on her thanks for your support and prayers throughout her ordeal with Tom. She is getting lots of rest, and will be back to her spunky old self soon.
After a brief reprieve from the breezeway, Sassy safely moved all of her kittens to the garage. Ain't no tomcat out there going to come tearing through a steel garage door, just to eat some kitten meat. After talking it over with her kids, Sassy decided that it would be best if they went out to find loving families of their own. Within a few days all of Sassy's little ones found safe homes and loving parents to help them mature into well rounded cats. Sassy herself seems to be adjusting well enough to life as an 'empty nester'. Shaquanda assures me that Sassy wanted to pass on her thanks for your support and prayers throughout her ordeal with Tom. She is getting lots of rest, and will be back to her spunky old self soon.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
The SPCA isn't going to like this one, either
The other day I heard a story from a woman that I work with-a story which happens to be one of the greatest stories I've heard in a long time. It's a story about love, about betrayal, about jealousy and revenge. It's a story about an unforgivable sin and the retribution exacted for such a sin. And what's most important about the story is that it is about cats. Yeah that's right, kitty cats. Here we go.
So "Saquanda"* comes in to work and starts to tell this story. She starts to tell the sordid story of her lovely cat Sassy and her baby kittens. At Shaquanda's house they have a little breezeway where Sassy and her lovely little kittens sleep. They keep the door open to the outside so that Sassy can go out for a jaunt around town when the kids are asleep (sometimes the pressures of being a mother can be a little overwhelming, you know). Well a few days ago they left the door propped open a little bit, as usual. While Sassy was out and about, her kittens were hanging out in the breezeway and having quality kitten bonding time; it was at that point that a malicious predator crept into the breezeway. The predator's name was Tom, and he was a tomcat with no home and no family. One might be able to chalk his salty disposition up to the fact that he had no home, no lovely wife like Sassy, and no kids to call his own. But on that evening, whatever caused his saltiness also fed his bloodlust and desire to kill! When Tom saw Sassy's kittens cavorting about in the breezeway of love, he was blinded by jealousy! He pounced on one baby kitten, attacking it ferociously and ultimately delivering a mortal neck wound to the helpless infant. In the heat of the moment, Tom also shut the door to the breezeway by slamming up against it.
Sassy, as you recall, was out for a night on the town thinking that her little babies were all safe and sound. As Sassy was roaming around town, her motherly instincts warned her that her little babies were in trouble!! She left the singles bar she was having a glass of milk, and flew home just in time to see one of her babies kil't right in front of her own eyes! Fueled now by a desire to ensure her other babies' safety, Sassy lurched forward trying to squeeze into the breezeway. However Tom had shut the door to the breezeway and all that Sassy could do was yell, and scream and howl with anguish that only a mother's broken heart can know. Things were not looking good for Sassy's little babies.
This is the stage that is set for one of the most awe-inspiring, gut wrenching, and just plain old tough-ace interventions that Western PA has ever witnessed. As the melee is unfolding in Shaquanda's house, both she and her husband are watching from the house to see what will happen. Shaquanda was obviously upset, knowing full well that one of her little kitties had been annihilated, and that the rest of the littler would likely meet the same demise. As both Shaquanda and her husband "Rambo" watch from the sidelines, something clicks within Rambo. He turns to his wife, and with a chin set like flint and with the resolution of a thousand patriots says "Honey, I'm going to take care of this. But it is going to be really...really...bloody." Rambo, as crafty and deft as the most skillful of thieves steals into his young son's room and lifts one of his toy baseball bats. He turns to leave his sleeping son's room, when he cathes a glimpse of his son...sleeping so peacefully. As he ponders the thought of having to tell his son why his favorite cat, and her kittens are all dead, he clutches the toy baseball bat close to his chest and mutters under his breath, "Don't worry son. I'll make this situation right."
As Rambo darts through the house, he hears his wife whipser "Honey, what are you going to do with that 12" wooden toy baseball bat??" . But Rambo has no time to respond. In the breezeway he hears Tom screaching and howling at the other kittens-a bloody howl that only the bloodthirsty know! Rambo jumps into the breezeway, scattering kittens and killer alike. He positions himself between the attacker and the quiering kittens. As Tom wipes the blood from his horrible cat mouth, he starts to size up this new foe who has entered the arena (i.e. the breezeway). As Tom strafes around this tower of a man, Rambo cooly looks over his shoulder at the frightened kittens, then his wife. "Sweetheart, I want you to take these kittens...I don't want them to see any more killing tonight."
As the two enemies stare each other down, Tom breaks the stare and leaps at Rambo. With the force of a mighty wind, and the hand eye coordination of a professional baseball player, Rambo sidesteps to avert what would be a vicious cat bite. As he slips to the side of Tom, he lets fly with the baseball bat and cracks the attacker in mid-flight right across his cat face. Stunned, Tom lets out a yelp of pain, put the yelp is cut short by another swift blow to his abdomen by a mini-Louisville Slugger. Now clearly outmatched by an opponent who will not relent, Tom realizes that this night could be his last night on planet earth. He forsakes his plan of attacking Rambo, and makes a bee line for the breezeway door. Unfortunately for himself, however, Tom had shut the door to the breezeway when he first came in to stalk his prey. Without opposable thumbs, that door would be next to impossible to open again! This is a fact that Rambo had counted on, and with a knowing grin and a reluctant sigh, he raised the baseball bat above his head.
Raise.
Swing.
Crush.
As the blood crept out of every conceivable crevace of Tom's now lifeless body, Rambo knew that his killing was not in vain. Though he had prevented the death of at least 3 small kittens, he still had reservations about killing an animal...that he wasn't going to eat. As his wife now held the other kittens and cajoled their mother Sassy, Rambo quietly buried the small kitten who had had his life stolen from him just a few moments prior. Never again would a jealous male cat attack Sassy's children...not in Rambo's house. After talking with Sassy and the kittens, Shaquanda and Rambo decided that they should relocate for a few days. With the decision made, Sassy and Shaquanda and Rambo all said a tearful "We'll see you soon" and parted ways. Hopefully they will return again one day soon, a little bit older, a little bit wiser.
The End
So that's the story that "Shaquanda" told us about "Rambo" her husband killing this cat that was attaching their cat. How freaking hard is that?!
*names changed to protect the innocent...and sweet!
So "Saquanda"* comes in to work and starts to tell this story. She starts to tell the sordid story of her lovely cat Sassy and her baby kittens. At Shaquanda's house they have a little breezeway where Sassy and her lovely little kittens sleep. They keep the door open to the outside so that Sassy can go out for a jaunt around town when the kids are asleep (sometimes the pressures of being a mother can be a little overwhelming, you know). Well a few days ago they left the door propped open a little bit, as usual. While Sassy was out and about, her kittens were hanging out in the breezeway and having quality kitten bonding time; it was at that point that a malicious predator crept into the breezeway. The predator's name was Tom, and he was a tomcat with no home and no family. One might be able to chalk his salty disposition up to the fact that he had no home, no lovely wife like Sassy, and no kids to call his own. But on that evening, whatever caused his saltiness also fed his bloodlust and desire to kill! When Tom saw Sassy's kittens cavorting about in the breezeway of love, he was blinded by jealousy! He pounced on one baby kitten, attacking it ferociously and ultimately delivering a mortal neck wound to the helpless infant. In the heat of the moment, Tom also shut the door to the breezeway by slamming up against it.
Sassy, as you recall, was out for a night on the town thinking that her little babies were all safe and sound. As Sassy was roaming around town, her motherly instincts warned her that her little babies were in trouble!! She left the singles bar she was having a glass of milk, and flew home just in time to see one of her babies kil't right in front of her own eyes! Fueled now by a desire to ensure her other babies' safety, Sassy lurched forward trying to squeeze into the breezeway. However Tom had shut the door to the breezeway and all that Sassy could do was yell, and scream and howl with anguish that only a mother's broken heart can know. Things were not looking good for Sassy's little babies.
This is the stage that is set for one of the most awe-inspiring, gut wrenching, and just plain old tough-ace interventions that Western PA has ever witnessed. As the melee is unfolding in Shaquanda's house, both she and her husband are watching from the house to see what will happen. Shaquanda was obviously upset, knowing full well that one of her little kitties had been annihilated, and that the rest of the littler would likely meet the same demise. As both Shaquanda and her husband "Rambo" watch from the sidelines, something clicks within Rambo. He turns to his wife, and with a chin set like flint and with the resolution of a thousand patriots says "Honey, I'm going to take care of this. But it is going to be really...really...bloody." Rambo, as crafty and deft as the most skillful of thieves steals into his young son's room and lifts one of his toy baseball bats. He turns to leave his sleeping son's room, when he cathes a glimpse of his son...sleeping so peacefully. As he ponders the thought of having to tell his son why his favorite cat, and her kittens are all dead, he clutches the toy baseball bat close to his chest and mutters under his breath, "Don't worry son. I'll make this situation right."
As Rambo darts through the house, he hears his wife whipser "Honey, what are you going to do with that 12" wooden toy baseball bat??" . But Rambo has no time to respond. In the breezeway he hears Tom screaching and howling at the other kittens-a bloody howl that only the bloodthirsty know! Rambo jumps into the breezeway, scattering kittens and killer alike. He positions himself between the attacker and the quiering kittens. As Tom wipes the blood from his horrible cat mouth, he starts to size up this new foe who has entered the arena (i.e. the breezeway). As Tom strafes around this tower of a man, Rambo cooly looks over his shoulder at the frightened kittens, then his wife. "Sweetheart, I want you to take these kittens...I don't want them to see any more killing tonight."
As the two enemies stare each other down, Tom breaks the stare and leaps at Rambo. With the force of a mighty wind, and the hand eye coordination of a professional baseball player, Rambo sidesteps to avert what would be a vicious cat bite. As he slips to the side of Tom, he lets fly with the baseball bat and cracks the attacker in mid-flight right across his cat face. Stunned, Tom lets out a yelp of pain, put the yelp is cut short by another swift blow to his abdomen by a mini-Louisville Slugger. Now clearly outmatched by an opponent who will not relent, Tom realizes that this night could be his last night on planet earth. He forsakes his plan of attacking Rambo, and makes a bee line for the breezeway door. Unfortunately for himself, however, Tom had shut the door to the breezeway when he first came in to stalk his prey. Without opposable thumbs, that door would be next to impossible to open again! This is a fact that Rambo had counted on, and with a knowing grin and a reluctant sigh, he raised the baseball bat above his head.
Raise.
Swing.
Crush.
As the blood crept out of every conceivable crevace of Tom's now lifeless body, Rambo knew that his killing was not in vain. Though he had prevented the death of at least 3 small kittens, he still had reservations about killing an animal...that he wasn't going to eat. As his wife now held the other kittens and cajoled their mother Sassy, Rambo quietly buried the small kitten who had had his life stolen from him just a few moments prior. Never again would a jealous male cat attack Sassy's children...not in Rambo's house. After talking with Sassy and the kittens, Shaquanda and Rambo decided that they should relocate for a few days. With the decision made, Sassy and Shaquanda and Rambo all said a tearful "We'll see you soon" and parted ways. Hopefully they will return again one day soon, a little bit older, a little bit wiser.
The End
So that's the story that "Shaquanda" told us about "Rambo" her husband killing this cat that was attaching their cat. How freaking hard is that?!
*names changed to protect the innocent...and sweet!
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
"No! YOUR shirt is gay!"
Yeah, you guessed it, it's time for a fundamentalist rant against the abhorred homosexuals! Yeaaahhhhh!!!
Ok that's not true I'm not here to dog on homosexuals (sorry Anon), but I am here to tell them one very forceful, and heartful message:
STOP MAKING MY CLOTHES GAY!
Yeah, you heard me right homosexual-land, I told you to stop making my clothes 'gay'. Some of you might be baffled, but I'm going to explain what I'm talking about here. This all came about a few weeks ago when Chaney still lived with me and we were talking about something really important (probably about how he hates Americans). So we're talking, and I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to wear to work. After staring at the same clothes in my closet for a good 10 minutes, I finally come to the conclusion that I'm going to wear these black pants and this white and black embroidered Calvin Klein shirt.
So I've got my shirt on, and I'm feeling pretty fly. Chaney however looks at me and kind of smirks at me. Thus went our conversation:
Me: "What?"
Chaney: "Nothing man, nothing"
Me: "What on earth are you smirking about?!"
Chaney:Nothing man, I'm just glad that you're not gay.
Me: "You're dang right I'm not gay! What the heck are you talking about??"
I could go on and on like this but as you all can probably guess, Chaney was referencing my apprently 'homosexual looking' shirt which heterosexual Andrew thought was sweet. That's when it finally dawned on me:
GAY MEN ALL OVER AMERICA ARE MAKING MY CLOTHES STEREOTYPABLY GAY!
When I go out to buy clothes, I go out and I find something that I think looks good, and that fits well. Pretty basic right? I also work at Brooks Brothers, so you have to know what clothes look at least semi-decent together in order to sell the clothes that the store purveys! Well somewhere over the course of the past 10 years or so, when you get clothes that fit right and look great (and I do reiterate, I look great) everyone is like "Man that looks like a gay person's ensemble." I'm sorry, I didn't realize that homosexual men had the corner on the market of pink and purple shirts, embroidered dress shirts, American Eagle tshirts , Express Khakis, and PaulFrederick.com! Not to digress into a philosophical conversation here (and I'm not going to run too far with this) but it really seems close (close, not clothes) minded to stereotype gay men into the category of 'dressing gay'. For all the talk of 'treat me equally' and 'I'm not different than you!' that you hear from countless homosexual advocacy groups in America, they will readily stereotype one another by their clothing and be happy to indulge in the fact that they seem to have a corner on the market on styles of clothes that are 'theirs'. It's like they need a mouthpiece to declare their sexual preference, and then when you call them on it they'll say things like 'don't judge me like that'.
I'm not here to judge, and this is not a blog about lifestyle choices...save about the clothes that you wear. But let it be known, people of America, that from this point forward, I am here to break the stereotype of the gay man's clothing! I'll wear my purple shirt with my matching purple tie! I'll wear that pair of pants that I got from Express that might be a little snug against my junk! I'll wear my Peal Leather Co. shoes and I'll even polish them up to be sparkly and shiny and very attractive looking! And if anyone says to me "Dude that outfit looks gay", I will calmly remind them that 1) they are stereotyping a subset of the American population which is wrong!! and that 2) I, in fact, am crazy about chicks. I just happen to think that these clothes are suitable for ANY man to wear, so throw off that stereotype and WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT (except that gay pirate looking shirt, Joel) WITHOUT FEAR OF RETRIBUTION!
That's what I'd say, and you should say it too. On a more exciting note, however, my friends Jeremy and Colin made a video game. They just made one! I think it's pretty slammin and if you go to the Mercury Effects website you can download a demo and play it. This is gonna be a hot one, kids!
Ok that's not true I'm not here to dog on homosexuals (sorry Anon), but I am here to tell them one very forceful, and heartful message:
STOP MAKING MY CLOTHES GAY!
Yeah, you heard me right homosexual-land, I told you to stop making my clothes 'gay'. Some of you might be baffled, but I'm going to explain what I'm talking about here. This all came about a few weeks ago when Chaney still lived with me and we were talking about something really important (probably about how he hates Americans). So we're talking, and I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to wear to work. After staring at the same clothes in my closet for a good 10 minutes, I finally come to the conclusion that I'm going to wear these black pants and this white and black embroidered Calvin Klein shirt.
So I've got my shirt on, and I'm feeling pretty fly. Chaney however looks at me and kind of smirks at me. Thus went our conversation:
Me: "What?"
Chaney: "Nothing man, nothing"
Me: "What on earth are you smirking about?!"
Chaney:
Me: "You're dang right I'm not gay! What the heck are you talking about??"
I could go on and on like this but as you all can probably guess, Chaney was referencing my apprently 'homosexual looking' shirt which heterosexual Andrew thought was sweet. That's when it finally dawned on me:
GAY MEN ALL OVER AMERICA ARE MAKING MY CLOTHES STEREOTYPABLY GAY!
When I go out to buy clothes, I go out and I find something that I think looks good, and that fits well. Pretty basic right? I also work at Brooks Brothers, so you have to know what clothes look at least semi-decent together in order to sell the clothes that the store purveys! Well somewhere over the course of the past 10 years or so, when you get clothes that fit right and look great (and I do reiterate, I look great) everyone is like "Man that looks like a gay person's ensemble." I'm sorry, I didn't realize that homosexual men had the corner on the market of pink and purple shirts, embroidered dress shirts, American Eagle tshirts , Express Khakis, and PaulFrederick.com! Not to digress into a philosophical conversation here (and I'm not going to run too far with this) but it really seems close (close, not clothes) minded to stereotype gay men into the category of 'dressing gay'. For all the talk of 'treat me equally' and 'I'm not different than you!' that you hear from countless homosexual advocacy groups in America, they will readily stereotype one another by their clothing and be happy to indulge in the fact that they seem to have a corner on the market on styles of clothes that are 'theirs'. It's like they need a mouthpiece to declare their sexual preference, and then when you call them on it they'll say things like 'don't judge me like that'.
I'm not here to judge, and this is not a blog about lifestyle choices...save about the clothes that you wear. But let it be known, people of America, that from this point forward, I am here to break the stereotype of the gay man's clothing! I'll wear my purple shirt with my matching purple tie! I'll wear that pair of pants that I got from Express that might be a little snug against my junk! I'll wear my Peal Leather Co. shoes and I'll even polish them up to be sparkly and shiny and very attractive looking! And if anyone says to me "Dude that outfit looks gay", I will calmly remind them that 1) they are stereotyping a subset of the American population which is wrong!! and that 2) I, in fact, am crazy about chicks. I just happen to think that these clothes are suitable for ANY man to wear, so throw off that stereotype and WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT (except that gay pirate looking shirt, Joel) WITHOUT FEAR OF RETRIBUTION!
That's what I'd say, and you should say it too. On a more exciting note, however, my friends Jeremy and Colin made a video game. They just made one! I think it's pretty slammin and if you go to the Mercury Effects website you can download a demo and play it. This is gonna be a hot one, kids!
Friday, June 10, 2005
Tough Decisions...
Alright kids, here is the scenario. I asked you a few months back a very thought provoking question: Is it a greater flaw to be too compassionate, or too competitive? If I recall correctly, your answers...failed to answer the question (though we did have some solid dialogue). We were talking about another quandry in the office a few weeks back, and now I want to pose the moral dilemma to you. Your feedback, as usual, will probably be great.
Here's the question: If you had to punch either your 10 year old brother in the face, or your own mother in the face, who would you punch and why?
I know, I know it's a morbid question and dimes to dollars says that Heidi, Jen, and Amanda all say "Oh my WORD Andrew that's HORRIBLE!!!" with that exact same inflection. But keep in mind it's JUST hypothetical. So what's the verdict, people?
(Anon I know you're still out there and whether or not this validates your comments a few posts back, you still need to answer this one too. And answers like "Whichever one I can't convince to be a closet socialist and clinical cynical finger pointer" are not really answering the question)
Here's the question: If you had to punch either your 10 year old brother in the face, or your own mother in the face, who would you punch and why?
I know, I know it's a morbid question and dimes to dollars says that Heidi, Jen, and Amanda all say "Oh my WORD Andrew that's HORRIBLE!!!" with that exact same inflection. But keep in mind it's JUST hypothetical. So what's the verdict, people?
(Anon I know you're still out there and whether or not this validates your comments a few posts back, you still need to answer this one too. And answers like "Whichever one I can't convince to be a closet socialist and clinical cynical finger pointer" are not really answering the question)
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
One more Link
So I was thinking of blogging today about the cons of media these days. I'm tired of all news networks. Whether it's CNN, Fox News, or ESPN News - there really just isn't enough stuff that needs to be said constantly 24 hours a day. The result is a glut of information, and emphasizing stories that really have no need to be so public. Take Jennifer Wilbanks for instance. Yeah it totally stinks that she lied and hurt everyone. But do I need to be bombarded with it? In times past that story doesn't even make the hour, it hits the cutting floor with a loud thud, or at best gets mentioned for 30 seconds after the donkey who won the spelling bee, everyone chuckles, end news.
But no, now we hear all about Jennifer, all about Michael Jackson, and everytime a Republican or Democrat takes a dump. I'm sick of all news all the time. It just keeps watering down product. Now ESPN has to fill its flag station with things like dramas about poker, when it would be running the stuff that's on ESPN News or ESPN 2. We don't need this much coverage please make it stop!
This was proven even more when I received an e-mail from my sister. It's about a site called EatMJ. The site is unbelievable. It's a review of all the eateries around where the trial is taking place and it's done by some journalist. This way all the reporters who have basically lived there for two months can find other places to eat. MAYBE IF WE DIDN'T NEED SO MUCH COVERAGE OF NEWS WE WOULDN'T NEED WEBSITES LIKE THIS WASTING THE PRECIOUS TIME OF PEOPLE MAKING THEM OR THEM TAKING UP SPACE ON THE INFINITE WORLD WIDE WEB!!!!! It's awful. I just want the insanity to end and my normal life of occasional news back. Here's the site make sure you read the reviews about certain restaurants. They really are quite humorous Not humorous enough to warrant an entire website though.
Booooooo!
But no, now we hear all about Jennifer, all about Michael Jackson, and everytime a Republican or Democrat takes a dump. I'm sick of all news all the time. It just keeps watering down product. Now ESPN has to fill its flag station with things like dramas about poker, when it would be running the stuff that's on ESPN News or ESPN 2. We don't need this much coverage please make it stop!
This was proven even more when I received an e-mail from my sister. It's about a site called EatMJ. The site is unbelievable. It's a review of all the eateries around where the trial is taking place and it's done by some journalist. This way all the reporters who have basically lived there for two months can find other places to eat. MAYBE IF WE DIDN'T NEED SO MUCH COVERAGE OF NEWS WE WOULDN'T NEED WEBSITES LIKE THIS WASTING THE PRECIOUS TIME OF PEOPLE MAKING THEM OR THEM TAKING UP SPACE ON THE INFINITE WORLD WIDE WEB!!!!! It's awful. I just want the insanity to end and my normal life of occasional news back. Here's the site make sure you read the reviews about certain restaurants. They really are quite humorous Not humorous enough to warrant an entire website though.
Booooooo!
Thank you Howard Dean
Head of the DNC Howard Dean made an idiot of himself once again. Way to further alienate an already alienated party. You can read about it here but not on CNN or MSNBC ... hmmmm go figure
Monday, June 06, 2005
If not for yourself, then do it for America!
Alright here's something I can't understand, and I want you to put yourself in my shoes so you too can be perplexed. And by the way, I do my best to be the best driver I can. So with that in mind, step into the insanity that is...
Grove City, Pennsylvania!!!!
Picture this. You are sitting at a stop light, and you are the first car in line to go once the light turns green. All of a sudden, without warning, the light changes from red to green. What do you do?
a) Slam your foot on the gas, peel out, and wave a killer 'hang loose' to the people behind you who are eating your dust
b) Quickly put your foot on the gas and accelerate to meet, or exceed the speed limit quickly
c) Look in your rearview mirror, side mirrors, take your foot off the brake, wait a couple of seconds, put your foot on the gas, and leisurely press the gas so as to move as slowly as possible out of the intersection
d) Let the car who is across the intersection from you make their left turn before you dare enter the intersection, even though you clearly have the right of way
e) C and D
Take this test with me. If you love America, your fellow Americans, or at least have a respect for the irreplacability of their time, you would probably pick B right? Sure! Now transport yourselves into the shoes of a GC resident. Your answer would likely be C and D. Yes you, the Grove City driver, could care less about the rules of the road and/or about your fellow drivers who actually want to go somewhere in some modicum of timliness.
I was baffled today driving through town about how clueless people are about the other drivers behind them. I was driving back from the police station, and my lunch break was almost up. I had to get to work rather quickly, but no one wanted to help me along in my quest to be a good employee. I used my horn 3 times in a one mile stretch. Let me assure you it wasn't an angry honk like
but more in the vein of
It was more of a "Pull your head out of your crotch and drive!!!!" honk. Here's what happened. FIRST! I was at a red light by the old Wal-Mart, and some dude decided that green meant sleep. This dude sat there as the green light apparently coaxed him into losing all sense of where he was. I was coaxed into honking at him, at which point he looked up at me alllllll pissed off-like. What baffles me more than the apparent lack of driver's education in this part of the country is the reaction of people when you call them out on being complete incompetent drivers. So this dude is all looking pissed at me, big deal at least he went.
SECOND! You have to understand Main St. Grove City. There is an eastbound lane, a Westbound lane, and that's it. When your light turns green, you have about 6.8 seconds to go because the light turns red again for another 5 minutes. Hence, you need to seize the opportunity to go when the light turns green-and you need to go quickly. Well about 500 yards down the road, I'm at a red light in front of McDonald's. As the light turns green, the few cars in front of me start to drive. The few cars, except the car in front of me, who wants to let the McFatterton in the McDonald's parking lot try to make a left turn across our eastbound lane of traffic into an equally slow westbound lane of traffic. Of course the person couldn't make a left becaure we're all Gridlock'd in traffic. Since I was apparently the only person in traffic who realized the ridiculosity of what was happening, I politely honked my horn at the dude in front of me. And do you know what? He actually went! He gave up his futile quest to let a greasy-mcnugget hungry townie across traffic and motored through the green light. Success!
THIRDLY! Ok I know this is getting long so essentially what happened was that I needed to make a left turn into work. The person in front of me, and I, both got to the now yellow light at the same time. The person in front of me needed to make a right turn, which, as some of you know, is wont on a yellow, NAY a red light! Person-in-front-of-me, however, didn't know this do they came to a complete stop WITH their right turn blinker on underneath the yellow light THUS preventing a last minute left hand turn by Andrew, and a good 2 minute wait at said now red light. I honked, but the person making their slow right turn was so old that I doubt the even heard me. So I hated them in my heart for a little while.
What am I trying to say here? People, when you go out driving you are not the only person on teh road. There are a ton of people on the road with you who have drives (no pun intended), motives, and reasons for being on the road. You, too, have reasons to be on the road. Usually people get in cars and get on the road to go from one place to another, and quite often, it's to get to said place quickly. I put a challenge to you people in Grove City, Pennsylvania, and all of America: Think about the people in front, behind, and to the sides of you on the road and drive in a safe, yet quick manner; if indeed someone does need to get somewhere quickly, you will be doing them a favor by taking their needs into consideration and I will love you as well.
Grove City, Pennsylvania!!!!
Picture this. You are sitting at a stop light, and you are the first car in line to go once the light turns green. All of a sudden, without warning, the light changes from red to green. What do you do?
a) Slam your foot on the gas, peel out, and wave a killer 'hang loose' to the people behind you who are eating your dust
b) Quickly put your foot on the gas and accelerate to meet, or exceed the speed limit quickly
c) Look in your rearview mirror, side mirrors, take your foot off the brake, wait a couple of seconds, put your foot on the gas, and leisurely press the gas so as to move as slowly as possible out of the intersection
d) Let the car who is across the intersection from you make their left turn before you dare enter the intersection, even though you clearly have the right of way
e) C and D
Take this test with me. If you love America, your fellow Americans, or at least have a respect for the irreplacability of their time, you would probably pick B right? Sure! Now transport yourselves into the shoes of a GC resident. Your answer would likely be C and D. Yes you, the Grove City driver, could care less about the rules of the road and/or about your fellow drivers who actually want to go somewhere in some modicum of timliness.
I was baffled today driving through town about how clueless people are about the other drivers behind them. I was driving back from the police station, and my lunch break was almost up. I had to get to work rather quickly, but no one wanted to help me along in my quest to be a good employee. I used my horn 3 times in a one mile stretch. Let me assure you it wasn't an angry honk like
but more in the vein of
It was more of a "Pull your head out of your crotch and drive!!!!" honk. Here's what happened. FIRST! I was at a red light by the old Wal-Mart, and some dude decided that green meant sleep. This dude sat there as the green light apparently coaxed him into losing all sense of where he was. I was coaxed into honking at him, at which point he looked up at me alllllll pissed off-like. What baffles me more than the apparent lack of driver's education in this part of the country is the reaction of people when you call them out on being complete incompetent drivers. So this dude is all looking pissed at me, big deal at least he went.
SECOND! You have to understand Main St. Grove City. There is an eastbound lane, a Westbound lane, and that's it. When your light turns green, you have about 6.8 seconds to go because the light turns red again for another 5 minutes. Hence, you need to seize the opportunity to go when the light turns green-and you need to go quickly. Well about 500 yards down the road, I'm at a red light in front of McDonald's. As the light turns green, the few cars in front of me start to drive. The few cars, except the car in front of me, who wants to let the McFatterton in the McDonald's parking lot try to make a left turn across our eastbound lane of traffic into an equally slow westbound lane of traffic. Of course the person couldn't make a left becaure we're all Gridlock'd in traffic. Since I was apparently the only person in traffic who realized the ridiculosity of what was happening, I politely honked my horn at the dude in front of me. And do you know what? He actually went! He gave up his futile quest to let a greasy-mcnugget hungry townie across traffic and motored through the green light. Success!
THIRDLY! Ok I know this is getting long so essentially what happened was that I needed to make a left turn into work. The person in front of me, and I, both got to the now yellow light at the same time. The person in front of me needed to make a right turn, which, as some of you know, is wont on a yellow, NAY a red light! Person-in-front-of-me, however, didn't know this do they came to a complete stop WITH their right turn blinker on underneath the yellow light THUS preventing a last minute left hand turn by Andrew, and a good 2 minute wait at said now red light. I honked, but the person making their slow right turn was so old that I doubt the even heard me. So I hated them in my heart for a little while.
What am I trying to say here? People, when you go out driving you are not the only person on teh road. There are a ton of people on the road with you who have drives (no pun intended), motives, and reasons for being on the road. You, too, have reasons to be on the road. Usually people get in cars and get on the road to go from one place to another, and quite often, it's to get to said place quickly. I put a challenge to you people in Grove City, Pennsylvania, and all of America: Think about the people in front, behind, and to the sides of you on the road and drive in a safe, yet quick manner; if indeed someone does need to get somewhere quickly, you will be doing them a favor by taking their needs into consideration and I will love you as well.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Go figure
Just go read the first two paragraphs of this story that I found on the website for Fox News. It's about Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq Go figure that I didn't find the story on cnn.com. What a shocker. This is case number one of liberal media bias. I hate the UN too just to let you know. So I can't believe I'm posting this.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Papa was a kidney stone
Ok, so my title is a slight lyrical reference althought slightly adapted. I'm here today to play the role of Public Service Announcement, Father, Doctor, or whatever you call someone who gives wise and sage-like advice.
While in Cincinnati this weekend, trying to see the Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati, my friend Josh experienced a small slice of Hell on earth. We went to the ballpark on Saturday night and saw a lovely Pirate win, while scratching another ballpark off the list of parks left to see in America. Anyway, somewhere in the middle of the night Josh awakened. He was in excruciating pain and was uanble to perform any of the following actions: sit, stand, lay down, remain quiet, or not throw up. Really all he was able to do was: groan, ache, stand up either walking or bent over at the waist, and throw up. Imagine Satan is trapped in your side ... that's how much it hurt.
After thinking for a while this pain might go away, stupid guy reaction, we realized Josh needed to hit up the lovely ER. So we drove to The Jewish Hospital in Blue Ash, Ohio. They diagnosed him with a lovely kidney stone and a sizable one at that. I won't go into details, but it was big enough to make our poor friend Josh have to spend the night at the aforementioned Jeiwsh Hospital. The doctor said and I quote: "Your friend is on a lot of pain killers. We have him on Morphine and percocet (that's right I just looked it up) and he's still in pain and throwing up. I think we're going to have to keep him overnight."
So I decide that we have to get rid of our Sunday game tickets, as the first pitch is in about an hour and a half. So I go find the dirtiest guy possible downtown, assuming he's not a cop, and sell them. Go back to the hospital and move Josh into another room. I had a nurse say, "I've given birth to two children and I've had a kidney stone. I'm willing to say the pain is comparible." I felt for him. It's been my number one fear in life. I hear it hurts so much that it makes grown men cry and double over in pain. I want everyone to be aware of how bad these kidney stones from the netherland can be.
A few quick notes about stones. A kidnesy stone is a stone formed of some things, but mostly calcium buildups, with some junk thrown in that your kidney didn't filter correctly. So don't throw too much junk down there. It's kind of like a burr, sharp on the end, which scratches on the way out. Most people can pass stones just by ... you know ... peeing them out. But if they're big enough they have to be blasted and broken up or even surgically removed. That's a bad stone though. Some people are more genetically likely to get them than others. Not everyone is going to get them and you may not be at risk. But you can still do things to prevent them. It's similar to the fact that not everyone who steps out in the street will get hit by a car. But if you can try to not get hit by a bus steamrolling towards you at 45 mph you want to. Right? Look both ways you dolt! So here's what you can do in short:
1.) Eat better food. Less meat (boooo) is a good thing.
2.) Drink lots of water.
3.) Pee often. I know I know, it's totally tough and manly to hold it, but holding it also might lead to the most worstest experience in your life ever ... a kidney stone.
4.) Drink less caffeine.
5.) Read the prevention part of this site
So Josh is waiting to pass his kidney stone. They let him go on Monday and he's now home with his family safe and sound. He's also double fisting percocet's until he passes the sucker. So when you go to bed tonight, or sit down to a meal, please do say a prayer for Josh. Pray for peace and healing. And if you think I'm even kidding ... think again.
While in Cincinnati this weekend, trying to see the Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati, my friend Josh experienced a small slice of Hell on earth. We went to the ballpark on Saturday night and saw a lovely Pirate win, while scratching another ballpark off the list of parks left to see in America. Anyway, somewhere in the middle of the night Josh awakened. He was in excruciating pain and was uanble to perform any of the following actions: sit, stand, lay down, remain quiet, or not throw up. Really all he was able to do was: groan, ache, stand up either walking or bent over at the waist, and throw up. Imagine Satan is trapped in your side ... that's how much it hurt.
After thinking for a while this pain might go away, stupid guy reaction, we realized Josh needed to hit up the lovely ER. So we drove to The Jewish Hospital in Blue Ash, Ohio. They diagnosed him with a lovely kidney stone and a sizable one at that. I won't go into details, but it was big enough to make our poor friend Josh have to spend the night at the aforementioned Jeiwsh Hospital. The doctor said and I quote: "Your friend is on a lot of pain killers. We have him on Morphine and percocet (that's right I just looked it up) and he's still in pain and throwing up. I think we're going to have to keep him overnight."
So I decide that we have to get rid of our Sunday game tickets, as the first pitch is in about an hour and a half. So I go find the dirtiest guy possible downtown, assuming he's not a cop, and sell them. Go back to the hospital and move Josh into another room. I had a nurse say, "I've given birth to two children and I've had a kidney stone. I'm willing to say the pain is comparible." I felt for him. It's been my number one fear in life. I hear it hurts so much that it makes grown men cry and double over in pain. I want everyone to be aware of how bad these kidney stones from the netherland can be.
A few quick notes about stones. A kidnesy stone is a stone formed of some things, but mostly calcium buildups, with some junk thrown in that your kidney didn't filter correctly. So don't throw too much junk down there. It's kind of like a burr, sharp on the end, which scratches on the way out. Most people can pass stones just by ... you know ... peeing them out. But if they're big enough they have to be blasted and broken up or even surgically removed. That's a bad stone though. Some people are more genetically likely to get them than others. Not everyone is going to get them and you may not be at risk. But you can still do things to prevent them. It's similar to the fact that not everyone who steps out in the street will get hit by a car. But if you can try to not get hit by a bus steamrolling towards you at 45 mph you want to. Right? Look both ways you dolt! So here's what you can do in short:
1.) Eat better food. Less meat (boooo) is a good thing.
2.) Drink lots of water.
3.) Pee often. I know I know, it's totally tough and manly to hold it, but holding it also might lead to the most worstest experience in your life ever ... a kidney stone.
4.) Drink less caffeine.
5.) Read the prevention part of this site
So Josh is waiting to pass his kidney stone. They let him go on Monday and he's now home with his family safe and sound. He's also double fisting percocet's until he passes the sucker. So when you go to bed tonight, or sit down to a meal, please do say a prayer for Josh. Pray for peace and healing. And if you think I'm even kidding ... think again.
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