"Welcome to middle age."

While visiting with the doc today, I had described how my injuries occurred, and he commented on how intense group exercise classes can cause a lot of problems when the group sets the pace rather than each individual.  I told him I had thought I was ready to push myself as much as I was, but it strained me, then I pushed myself another way during my own workout a few days later, and bam: mess.  I said I'm usually pretty cautious and ease into things, but it had been a while since I'd worked those muscle groups.  Turns out he says I'm doing all the right exercises to strengthen the right areas, but I needed not to push myself so much so fast.  I said I had thought I'd been doing really well but just got a little ambitious and would have to be a bit more careful.  Then he said it.

"Welcome to middle age.  As you head into it..."

I kind of chuckled as I missed the rest of his sentence because my immediate, initial reaction was to think, "Ha ha, doc, yeah that's a funny jo--..."  Immediately following this interrupted thought was the next one which interrupted it: "Oh @#$%.  That's not a joke.  It's just true.  I'm heading into middle age."

Fortunately, I'm probably in as good a shape as I've ever been, and I feel good and am apparently still attractive enough to capture the attention of those to whom I'm attracted and energetic enough to play "war" with the kids and spry enough to keep up with twenty-somethings on hikes, so I've got that going for me.  And we're in a time when thirty is the new twenty, so that's fun.  But now I'm even beyond that age people need to comfort themselves about by saying it's the new twenty.  Hmph.

As I related this exchange with my doc to some friends tonight, one of them choked and said, about himself, "Crap, when did that happen?"  Ha ha, can't fight it, so I'll accept it.  Bring it on, middle age.  Let's have a ball.

A little too deep in thought

My mind is racing on about half a dozen different topics. I don't try to stop it, I just occasionally try to direct it to either the most productive topic or the most likely to be resolved and filed away quickly. But still, it races on. So today, as is often the case, my shower time was spent processing, away from the input of my computer screen or books, and I was deep in thought. I got out of the shower and had almost completely finished drying myself when I noticed something didn't feel quite right: there was too much friction, like I was still oily. I sniffed my arm. No scent but my own. Shoot. I'd forgotten to use soap. I sighed, turned around, and got back in to do it right this time. Talk about distracted. In my defense, though, I did at least wash my face. *sigh*

Realizations inspired by canine quirks

Despite having had a rough day, while reading in the most secluded room in the house tonight, I couldn't help but smile at the weirdness of my brother's family's dog's behaviors during his nightly routine: attempting to dig a hole in the carpet next to the couch, daintily but vigorously nibbling itchy spots on his leg with awkwardly exposed teeth, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes like he's slightly self-conscious about this habit, fluffing and re-fluffing his bed and walking around on it in tight little prancing circles to get it just right, lying down, then repeating because it apparently wasn't quite right after all... These were all behaviors I haven't noticed during the day when he's eating, playing, napping, begging, or out for walks. These are the quiet little behaviors he does when there's nothing to beg for, nothing to eat, nobody to play with, no energy to go walking with.

As I sat watching bemused from the couch, I thought, "This is the stuff that endears me to the critter. ...Heck, this is the stuff that endears me to people, too." As much as many people seem to "have to adjust" to others' idiosyncrasies and quirky behaviors they do when they think nobody is looking or out of habit without realizing it, I've realized those are the very behaviors and quirks which often most quickly endear me to someone. I have a habit of people-watching, but I'm usually not so much making up stories about them in my mind as watching for their general temperament and gestures, or the quirky little things they do differently from most people. And as silly as it may be, I feel like I get to know someone more at one overnighter where I see their nightly routine or catch glimpses of their late-night, less-guarded demeanor somewhere between alertness and sleep than I will in three hours of lunch conversation in which they put on their best face.

In short, quirks aren't something I feel like I have to get past or overcome about people (except for those rare, uncomfortable ones like reaching into their underwear to scratch deep in their rear end then handing you a glass of water without washing their hands...those kind are not so endearing, even if revealing) but glimpses into a person which I look forward to seeing when I'm really interested in getting to know someone and which endear me to someone more quickly than just about anything they might say or do when trying to be as "normal" as they think most people want them to be.

Look into my eyes

Have you ever paid attention to where you're looking when you're actually "looking someone in the eyes"? Maybe I spent so much of my life generally avoiding eye contact that actually making eye contact became a deliberate thing, but I realized, recently, that I had changed the way I looked people in the eye.

At some point, I started bouncing back and forth between both of their eyes in rapid motion, which somehow felt awkward. Sometimes, I've also looked at their eyes generally but in a non-focused way, just looking in the direction of their eyes but not into them. But when I noticed I was doing that, I decided to focus my attention, and when it's been natural and steady, I noticed I tend to look at people in their right eye, or the left from my perspective. Unless their right eye is somehow covered, crooked, or vacant, then I switch to the left and stick with it.

And as I've stopped myself from scanning back and forth between both eyes, and instead looked more intently into their eyes (or, more accurately, their single eye I've chosen to focus on) I've noticed more of a connection when talking, and I've regained that sort of "window to the soul" perception. It's been good.

So now I've been noticing what other people do, too. Since everyone I know has the use of at least one functional eye, I can ask y'all: what eye do you look into? Or do you look through them? Or bounce back and forth between both? Or avoid eye contact altogether? Or have you never thought about this and think I'm weird for even asking? You might be right. I'm going to sleep.

Another Time-to-Wake-Up Moment

In my dream, I was reading news about an incident at the hospital my fully-functional mother checked herself into (if you know her, that's already pretty outlandish), and a stranger was mentioned in the article: "Officials questioned Fed-Sheze, a white alexander with semi-nude electricity." Yeah, just wake up before the dream gets weirder or you find out what "semi-nude electricity" entails.

I posted my last such incident on Facebook: When I'm holding a crescent wrench with a round, knurled handle, and someone tells me, "You guys are gonna need to iron out that broken skillet," and I'm standing there with my wrench trying to make sense of what I need to be doing, it's probably just time to wake up. So I did and thought, "Thank goodness I'm awake. That wasn't making any sense."

Dreams are fun. I wish I remembered them more often.

Sister-In-Law Is Right About Anchovies

...they do swim all over the pizza even if they were only put on half.

...but I'll add my additional theory: they only swim when nobody's looking. If you eat a pizza, half with anchovies, at the restaurant, the non-anchovy half might be OK because the anchovies have been watched and could therefore not commit their acts of flagrancy. But as soon as a box lid closes over them, and nobody can witness their misbehavior, they're swimming all over the blasted pizza, tainting everything in their path. Nasty, fuzzy, swimming anchovies. She was so right about them.

Let's See If We May Not Eff It

I've been a fan of Douglas Adams' work for several years now. We would listen, as a family, to his books in audio form during road trips. We listened to other books as well, but the Hitchhiker's Guide and Dirk Gently series were my favorites. I recently listened to The Salmon of Doubt unabridged, borrowed from the library, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Among the many gems of thought to be found in it was the following quote which not only points out a remarkably common logical fallacy but summed up a lot of thoughts I'd been having on...well...some stuff:

"Imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in, fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!'"

Maybe I'll expound another time, but for now, I'll just include a few other quotes I enjoy from interviews and his books:

"A learning experience is one of those things that say, 'You know that thing you just did? Don't do that.'"

"We don't have to save the world. The world is big enough to look after itself. What we have to be concerned about is whether or not the world we live in will be capable of sustaining us in it."

"If you try and take a cat apart to see how it works, the first thing you have on your hands is a non-working cat."

"Let's think the unthinkable, let's do the undoable, let's prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all."

"(..) Sir Isaac Newton, renowned inventor of the milled-edge coin and the catflap!"
"The what?" said Richard.
"The catflap! A device of the utmost cunning, perspicuity and invention. It is a door within a door, you see, a ..."
"Yes," said Richard, "there was also the small matter of gravity."
"Gravity," said Dirk with a slightly dismissed shrug, "yes, there was that as well, I suppose. Though that, of course, was merely a discovery. It was there to be discovered." ...
"You see?" he said dropping his cigarette butt, "They even keep it on at weekends. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. But the catflap ... ah, there is a very different matter. Invention, pure creative invention. It is a door within a door, you see."

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."

"The impossible often has a kind of integrity to it which the merely improbable lacks."

"For Children: You will need to know the difference between Friday and a fried egg. It's quite a simple difference, but an important one. Friday comes at the end of the week, whereas a fried egg comes out of a chicken. Like most things, of course, it isn't quite that simple. The fried egg isn't properly a fried egg until it's been put in a frying pan and fried. This is something you wouldn't do to a Friday, of course, though you might do it on a Friday. You can also fry eggs on a Thursday, if you like, or on a cooker. It's all rather complicated, but it makes a kind of sense if you think about it for a while."

"All opinions are not equal. Some are a very great deal more robust, sophisticated and well supported in logic and argument than others."

"Anything that is in the world when you're born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works. Anything that's invented between when you're fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you're thirty-five is against the natural order of things."

"I'd take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day."

"Anything that happens, happens. Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen. Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again. It doesn’t necessarily do it in chronological order, though."

"There is a theory which states that if anyone discovers just exactly what the universe is for and why we are here, that it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. Then there is a theory which states that this has already happened."

"Apparently, we need to think about the building being inhabited by dragons and look at it in terms of how a dragon would move around it. So, if a dragon wouldn’t be happy in the house, you have to put a red fish bowl here or a window there. This sounds like complete and utter nonsense, because anything involving dragons must be nonsense—there aren’t any dragons, so any theory based on how dragons behave is nonsense. What are these silly people doing, imagining that dragons can tell you how to build your house?"

"I love deadlines; I love the whooshing sound they make as they pass overhead."

"The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at or repair."

"The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't."

"[Arthur Dent] hoped and prayed there wasn't an afterlife. Then, realizing the contradiction, he merely hoped there wasn't an afterlife."

"In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move."

"The last time anybody made a list of the top hundred character attributes of New Yorkers, common sense snuck in at number 79."

"Nothing travels faster than the speed of light with the possible exception of bad news, which obeys its own special laws."

"On the way back, they sang a number of tuneful and reflective songs on the subjects of peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms."

"Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job."

"God's final message to Creation: Sorry for the inconvenience."

Nostalgia for the Jazz Choir Days

I have a few friends in various choirs around the country, and partially because of their updates on Facebook et al, I've been reminiscing lately on my years in the good ol' University of Idaho Jazz Choir I. I think being at the symphony helped revive that nostalgia for being part of something which brought visible pleasure and delight to a small sea of faces and practicing discipline and learning little life lessons, like the fact that there's tension and intensity in the pauses--the silence makes the sound that much more energetic and impacting, things like that that give a sometimes annoyingly analytical mind like mine fodder for analogy. I loved performing in concerts, lost in the wave of 200 faces but striving to perform with all the accuracy and intensity to carry your section if the rest of them were suddenly and tragically picked off by a sniper, for example. It could happen. And I relished enveloping myself in the rhythmic energy of songs like Song of the River or Jambalaya, the purity of joyous African songs like Fana Naye and Mabalabala, and the soothing dissonance or lulling sweetness of songs like La Golondrina or My God Is Real.

Tonight, I was reminded again of the nostalgia of jazz choir participation and wondering if there's anything comparable here that's audition-free, but I realized even a comparable choir would just be missing something without Dan Bukvich, our beloved, feared, and respected conductor. I'm not sure if there's anyone quite like him. I miss his unique compositions and arrangements, his simultaneously authoritative and personal demeanor, his antics such as kicking boxes when we'd screw up, yelling at us that we were genetically flawed and that we needed to read his mind, etc. I remember trying to stifle a smile one time as he was scolding the choir rather aggressively, with the freshmen quaking and trembling in fear before his commanding presence. I tilted my face downward as I tried to cover my smile with my hand, and just as I did, he looked at me, saw my expression, and for just a very brief flash showed that he, too, was hiding a grin with a twinkle in his eye before going back to his intimidation of the undisciplined choir.



One of the best things while performing was to feel like a part of a living organism, a vividly dynamic and precisely responsive organic wave of sound that swelled and flowed with Dan's hands as he pulled the strings and intensified our energy with his stare. It was exhilarating when the choir was so responsive, so disciplined, so alert that it almost felt like we were a speeding freight train of voice and percussion, a big Thunder Mountain Railroad twisting and turning and seemingly about to speed out of control before being brought firmly back onto the tracks in precise rhythm and controlled dynamics in a flash. The very best moments were when we'd be hitting the rhythm and tune well, and he'd get that glimmer in his eye that forewarned he was about to step it up a notch, and suddenly, his hands would hush the choir at a completely unexpected place or speed us up beyond anything we'd rehearsed, and we'd respond with an almost arresting change in the music which reminded me that music is a living, breathing creation, full of life of its own, fed by the discipline and passion of its performers and composers. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing him close his eyes after such a transition into the previously unknown as if he was simply soaking in the newness, savoring the flavor and letting the energy of the music harmonize with his soul, as it did with ours, to tell him what was next, as we awaited the next signals with sharp alertness.

There were other bonuses, too, like when he reported to us that Claudio Roditi had expressed real enthusiasm for joining us on stage during the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival again the next year, or some children at the elementary school adjacent to the university had expressed their awe and glee for the jungle songs we sang.

Mind you, this was no professional choir. We were amateurs in every sense, and many of us couldn't always even carry the tune precisely. Even those moments which felt most rewarding to me probably sounded acceptable at best to the polished ear. But the energy, the effort, the connection, the focus, those were what it was about. While my first year or so in the choir seemed to have more of those moments (is that because I got used to them or because I entered the choir at a really good time?), I always looked forward to more of them, and they came, though not easily. Like he always said, it's not like riding a bike: professional performance requires ever-increasing effort to maintain the focus required. I learned from my choir experience in addition to having a great time.

Out of curiosity, I looked up Dan Bukvich on YouTube tonight and found a couple of pieces some schools had performed, one a percussion piece and another a band piece. No choir stuff. So I went to his web site and there found the piece I'd been waiting for since we recorded it years ago: Missa de Montunos. I don't know if this is the recording we did or a newer one, but I just downloaded it and am listening to it now. I loved performing this piece: it was one of my faves. My favorite movements to listen to are the Allelujah, Sanctus, and Gloria movements, and my favorites to perform were Credo, Sanctus, and Gloria.

If you're curious about or are a fellow former jazz choir member (as I know a few of you are) and would like to download other pieces, there are a few more available here, though the recording quality on all of these is not great: you really have to be in the recital hall or auditorium to get the full experience of UI's jazz choirs.

Some recommendations to sample his style:
Missa Africa
Song of the River
Loolah

Older stuff that's fun:
Mambo!
Pop Music
Samba!

Christmas:
Jingle Bells

There are many others I've loved performing and listening to that are only available on CDs or in DVDs of performances, like Missa Samba, Jambalaya, Skip To My Lou, Samba de Orfeu, Soolaimon, Kanyoni Kairu, The Bells, La Golondrina, Fana Naye, Mabalabala,...

Now the trick, as always, is to take these fond memories and make sure I put my energy into something I'll look back on equally fondly a few years from now. But for just this moment, I'm going to finish listening to the Missa in my car and reliving a little as I belt out my part while driving. *grin*

The Mystery of the Blue Honda

It showed up a few weeks ago. We thought maybe someone was visiting the neighbors from out of town and needed a place to park. We've since learned this car has nothing to do with the neighbors. A blue Honda Civic parked on the street in front of the house sits there in puzzling permanence, occasional moving, often gone during the day, but always returning to the same general area to sit overnight in a place that makes no sense to any of us. The most confusing things about it are: a) we can't figure out what the H it's convenient to because there's ample parking in other areas of the block in front of other houses, etc, and b) we've never seen the driver go in or out...until today!

I was casually pouring myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with 1% milk when I saw a middle-aged guy with a glasses and pronounced widow's peak in his dark, combed-back hair carrying a multi-colored umbrella (we got a dusting of snow this morning) opening the car and getting in. My eyes widened, and I thought, "The elusive Honda-beast! He appears!" I quickly alerted my roommate, who came rushing out to witness the diurnal activities of the Honda-dweller. It was a little like a scene out of The 'Burbs. He got in the car, closed the door, then got back out and walked up the block a bit. I went back to my breakfast until I noticed him reappearing after less than a minute. Where had he gone? Why had he returned so quickly? Did he vanish into a wormhole and return instantaneously in Earth time? He opened his car again, and again sat and closed the door.

This time I watched from a secluded window. He got out again and walked across the street...to the elementary school. He walked up to the door, shook off his umbrella, stayed there for a moment, then walked up the block along the school. He disappeared around some kind of utility shed and was not visible for most of a minute until he reappeared, tightly hugging the school's wall as he walked, as if surely no observers could see him after such a stealthy move around the utility shed. I was intrigued as he rounded the corner of the school into the parking lot and playground area. I hopped in my car (looking into his when I walked by just to look for clues as to his situation: a kids' drawing hanging from the rear-view mirror, child booster seat in the back, tacky bobblehead on the dash...) and drove around the block to follow him. After weeks of wondering who this person was and why their car is annoyingly parked where we park, and once even boxed me in, the yutz, I wasn't going to pass up on clues.

As I rounded the corner, I saw him looking into a window or a door, then backing up and walking casually back around the building towards his car. I finished my loop around the block, but suspecting he'd be back within view of his car when he returned, I didn't want to park right there, so I went all gumshoe and drove to the back of the house and parked there instead, going in the back door. I am ninja.

I wondered: is he a father stalking his estranged children at school because his ex-wife won't allow him custody? A child-collector luring kids in by making it look like he has his own kids? A homeless guy living out of his car and sleeping in some nearby alley at night?

At this point, I decided that additional observations were probably not going to offer me more clues. I chuckled at the prospect of me crouching at the window with binoculars and wearing all black, spying all day to note every movement, departure and arrival times, patterns of behavior, etc, like you'd see in some sitcom. I decided to come back to this puzzle another time.

After a short while, I heard buses and noticed wee ones getting out of school. Must be kindergartners done with their half-day. Perhaps he was picking his kid up and hoped to leave early; maybe he wanted to sneak in some extra time rather than just delivering them straight to their mom's house like he usually does? Maybe he lives or is staying with someone just around the corner but parks there right in front of the school so he doesn't have to fight for a spot or have his kid(s) walk unnecessarily. Or maybe he's a nutball. I want to be a private detective so I can solve puzzles all day. Veronica Mars inspires me.

What's that you say? Just step out the front door and say 'hi' sometime and strike up a conversation? I might find out he's a nice guy and have all my questions answered without all the cloak and dagger? ...Pish tosh. What's the fun in that?

Geek Chic Spectacles

So, we were sitting around not doing much, and I tried on a pair of glasses someone purchased, and I decided I should take a new Facebook profile picture. Well, it turned out a touch awkward, so I kept taking more awkward pics, and then we passed the glasses and the camera around for a self-pic 2:00 a.m. photo shoot with much laughter. I then edited them in 10-15 minutes, and bam, new profile pics all around. Of course, we each had to have a glam/GQ shot. Hot.

More Awkward Treats

I feel vaguely uncomfortable each time I remove an individually-wrapped chocolate-covered rolled wafer (pirouline-style) from its long, round, shiny white plastic wrapper. I mean, who in Marketing thought, "Hey, we've made these dessert waf...ers look a bit like feminine hygiene products," and simply decided that was OK? Reason #48 I should consider going into Marketing: to prevent such decisions.

No, I Didn't Say "Bakin' Chocolate"

I couldn't resist. This weekend, I took an acquaintance to the World Market off of Fort Union in Cottonwood Heights to pick something up, and while there, I was browsing their chocolate collection and couldn't resist buying it: Vosges' "Mo's Bacon Bar". Yes, you read that correctly (I saw you do a double-take and re-read it). I'd had their Goji bar before, which I really liked, and I wondered if a company that made something so tasty would actually make something that tastes as hideous as that sounds. Being a chocolate adventurer, it had to be tried, so I made my purchase, asked the cashier if she'd ever noticed anyone buying these twice (she hadn't) and opened it up on my way back to Provo.

I like to think I'm open-minded when it comes to food, that I'll give most things a chance at least once, so I tried to not think about my preconceived notion about how awful the combination of pork product and cocoa bean derivative would seem to my inexperienced palate, and I took a bite.

The result was this:



I will not be buying it again.

The Curse of the Fall Is Upon Me!

No, this is not some essay on the fallen state of mankind since the Garden of Eden. It's a lament for my love-hate relationship with the season before winter: autumn.

I actually love autumn. There's so much to love about the season which appears to be upon us. I love the trees turning yellows and oranges and reds and driving through curvy roads surrounded by them. I love the refreshing cool of the night air. I love the fact that I get to wear my thermal shirts again. I love my thermals. And light sweaters. I love sweaters. I think I look best in long-sleeved shirts, and my definitely most butt-flattering pants are too heavy to wear during most of summer. I love the spices and, consequently, autumn foods and drinks. Thanksgiving (day of thanking the powers that be for amazing edibles and expandable stomachs) is right around the corner (even more so for my Canadian friends). I love the rain and the thunder storms. I love bundling up in a blanket with hot cider and watching the fire all cozy-like...

...which leads me to the "cursed" part. It happens every year, as the seasons change and the nights get colder. More than any time of year, during the Fall, I really want someone to snuggle up with and wrap my arms around. In the living room watching a thunder storm, or in the hot springs in the mountains, or sipping cider by a fire, or just in a blanket watching a movie, or in bed when I hug my pillow... (insert tragic and somewhat pathetic violin music here) It usually comes with a romantic feeling. Wishing I had someone "special" to snuggle up with. Of course, cuddle-buddies are OK sometimes. Not that I have any here, and not that I'm much of a cuddler except with a very few people. And most of my friends, to be honest, aren't especially cuddly types. But even if they were, for some reason, I'm pretty sure that wouldn't really satiate this feeling. Nor would a dog or cat to snuggle up to. I mean, it's great to have a dog cozying its head on your lap or, much better, a purring cat curled up in your arms, but it's just not the same as a romantic someone. "Go find a cuddle-buddy then!" you say. But no, I'm not one to cuddle for the sake of cuddling. I'd rather not cuddle than cuddle with someone who doesn't matter to me or with whom I don't really have a good level of trust. And so I go cuddleless through this cuddly time of year... (cue your most heartfelt sympathies and "aws")

As a result, I think the ol' heart searches more during the fall for someone to direct that energy towards. No coincidence, probably, that this tends to be the time of year I've crushed more than other times. So far, though, there is no such target, which is both relieving (because I don't want the messiness of a flirtationship right now) and frustrating (because I got all this tender lovin' to give!). What's a guy to do? If you see me snuggled up in a blanket by the fireplace with my pillow and two mugs of cider, don't judge.

Being Eddie

Scary Facebook Mobile glitch story time.

So I'm at the gym tonight, and I'm chatting with an acquaintance of mine, Sterling, showing him how my phone has a full browser, so I pull up Facebook and notice I have a new friend request and have been poked by someone. I click to see who poked me: Jennifer T. I don't know a Jennifer T., so I think, "Wait, did one of the Jennifers I know get married recently without me knowing?" I check the picture. I do not recognize this girl. And last I checked, nobody who isn't already my friend on Facebook can "poke" me, so I'm wondering what's up. To further investigate, I click the friend request to see who has added me, and it's Julie from California. I don't know Julie. It says we have 10 friends in common, so I click to see who they are. I don't know these people either. By this point, I'm puzzled, and Sterling has come around to look over my shoulder. I notice that my status reads: "Eddie 15th anniversary of my 35th birthday. Eeyow!" My name is not Eddie, and I'm not 50. Something is seriously awry.

Sterling suggests I go to the profile to see who it is. Apparently, I'm a hefty dude with a shaved head and a goatee wearing shades and lots of leather, including chaps. We go to more pictures, and I am apparently a biker dude with a family. By this time, I've realized my phone has somehow logged me into someone else's Facebook account. I clicked the Inbox. Sure enough: bunches of messages from people I don't know. Eddie's messages, apparently. Must...resist...urge...to read...

Of course, now the mischievous devil in me awakes and thinks, "Oh my gosh, I could have so much fun with this. I could set his status, read his e-mails, send inappropriate messages to random people on his friends list..." But of course I wouldn't do that. I'll respect his privacy. ...just one status update? Maybe just change it to "Eddie likes the way chaps feel with nothing else on" or "Eddie used to be Edith" or something like that? No, of course not. Maybe a "helpful" status, like "Eddie's account has been hijacked due to bad programming on the part of Facebook Mobile". No, I figure I'll just leave his status alone.

But how did this happen? I had logged into Facebook Mobile yesterday with no problem, and it has always automatically logged me in, and my phone had been in the house right up until I went to the gym, and I never left my phone alone for even a moment, so I don't know how anyone (especially someone apparently from California) could have had some fun and changed my phone's settings by logging in as someone else. Could this just be crossed wires either in Facebook Mobile's programming or in cell phone networks? And then it sinks in: if this is happening to me, when might someone less benevolent than myself magically log into my account and respect my privacy less than I'm respecting his?

Unsettling.

Birthday Joy That Keeps Giving

So, Javier introduced me to the wonderful world of signing up for restaurant birthday deals, and I'm loving it. Certain restaurants offer special deals and free meals for signing up for their mailing lists. Normally, I'm completely resistant to giving companies my e-mail address unnecessarily. My workaround: create an e-mail solely for bulk mail stuff like that which I can forward to my account without them having to know my real e-mail address, just like I've done with my e-mail address listed on this blog *wink*. Beautiful. I love GMail.

I went to a couple of web sites which list birthday deals, and so far I've scored the following (in addition to whatever smaller coupons or deals they offer for signing up):

• Arby's, Red Lobster, and Rodizio Grill: I'm not sure yet what they offer, but I'm excited to find out, by golly
  
• Noodles & Company: free meal
  
• Red Robin: free hamburger
  
• Baskin Robbins: free ice cream cone
  
• Cold Stone: free ice cream
  
• Happy Sumo: $10 gift certificate
  
• The Melting Pot: free chocolate fondue for two (I'm SO looking forward to finally setting foot in a Melting Pot) <--Removed because it's only valid when you buy a combo meal for two or a "four-course feature", which is expensive and is just a free dessert with a meal like any other restaurant.
  
• Tucano's: free meal (yup, the all-you-can-eat, make-yourself-sick extravaganza) with purchase of meal of equal or greater value (dine-in only)
  
• Benihana: free meal up to $30 value (ah, yeah)

Offers I saw but probably wouldn't use, so I didn't sign up:

• Winger's: free kid's meal
  
• Qdoba: free burrito
  
• Taco Bell: free combo meal of choice
  
• Schlotzky's: free sandwich for signing up, and unspecified birthday coupon
  
• Boston Market: free kid's meal, drink, and dessert

Then of course, there's always free dessert at most restaurants on your birthday.

Anyway, I haven't used any of these yet, so I have some eating out to do. Ah, the joys of being a cheapskate who's having a birthday.

How Seahorse Women Prevent Deadbeat Dads

Just the other day, I was talking with a friend about the phenomenon of men sowing their seeds everywhere they go and moving on to the next exciting option, or the deadbeat dad syndrome. Well, a National Geographic article in honor of Father's Day has sparked in my mind what may be a solution. One solution might be a practice that is, as of yet, not so socially accepted: stay-at-home dads. Of course, this would require keeping "dad" around through the long pregnancy until there's a little one to stay home for. But seahorse women have found an ingenious solution. They say, "Hey baby, you wanna mate? Yeah, I'm feelin' ya. Come on over, sugar," at which point they do their dance, get their flirt on, then promptly stuff their man full of eggs and shout, "Alright, chump, you got your action, now let's see you 'deal with the consequences' of your decisions, eh?" For some reason, they then stick around for the duration of the breeding season, or possibly future breeding seasons.

Of course, "mom's" parental role is finished as soon as she has dumped her eggs off. After "dad" goes through labor and pumps out a dozen to several hundred youngsters, he's done, too. But he sticks around with the wicked woman who did this to him. Maybe he's thinking, "Shoot, I saw my fish buddy have sex the other day, and he had a whirl and was scot-free to go find another chick to have fun with. If seahorse women are gonna be pulling this crap, I might as well at least stick around with the one who seems to like me..."

Male pregnancy. Clever, wicked seahorse babes.



Note: for more unusual parenting, read this article published for Mother's Day.

Where the @#$% is Matt?

I first saw his dancing around the world video, probably a predecessor of this one...gosh...a couple of years ago, maybe. Such a fun concept, and I enjoy things that shrink the world a bit.





And for extra fun, here's a video explaining how he addressed rumors that the video was a hoax by giving a tongue-in-cheek presentation at a conference, pretending to reveal how it was a hoax, going so far as to say the team created an army of animatronic dancers, and some people reported it as if he had "come clean" and admitted it was actually a hoax. The skeptics turned out to be the most gullible of all. Funny stuff:

Fighting Zombies With Ned and Chuck

I dreamed last night of a few things. I dreamed Jason L. had become an entrepreneur in Moscow, Idaho, running a moving company there with vans with cartoonish logos on them. I dreamed I visited Tracy and Brian at their home on Juniper Street while escaping from zombies, and they had three kids but lost two of them while I was there, so we went to the Olive Garden on Juniper, where I asked for an application because it was so close to home I was sure I'd be able to get to work on time regularly.

But the highlight was the whole zombie thing I mentioned. Night had fallen, and I was out walking through my old neighborhood with my friends, Ned and "Chuck" (Charlotte) from Pushing Daisies, and it got really creepy, and any yard enclosure was home to zombies, and we ran around defeating zombies and trying to escape the haunted neighborhood. The big piles of snow that acted like tractor beams were no help. We'd try to run away, but the snow piles tried to suck us in. One particularly nasty one outside the duplex on Tamarack by the intersection with Juniper was so strong, we just ran in place as the pile elongated while trying to draw us in and grew trying to engulf us as zombies appeared from the corner of the yard. Don't worry--we got away. Somehow, it was all a big, fun game. Ned and Chuck make life fun.

How The Hours Fly

Here's a small sample of what I spent 3-4 hours doing today (friends' personal blogs, which took up probably an hour or so of that, omitted):

http://mormonmatters.org/2009/04/21/does-the-lds-church-claim-to-be-an-exclusive-conduit-to-god/

http://mormonmatters.org/2009/04/17/lds-worship-part-iii/

http://mormonmatters.org/2009/04/27/are-we-going-to-be-eunuchs-after-this-life/

http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1893955,00.html

http://advocate.com/news_detail_ektid82363.asp

http://advocate.com/issue_story_ektid81028.asp

http://www.drlaurablog.com/2009/04/20/susan-boyle-wows-everyone%E2%80%A6almost/

http://www.drlaurablog.com/2009/04/22/using-the-airwaves-to-promote-cheating/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/05/06/funny-pictures-has-ur-name-on-it/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/05/05/funny-pictures-the-language-bub/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/05/05/funny-pictures-video-peek-a-boo/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/05/01/funny-pictures-ur-bags/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/04/29/funny-pictures-wait-that-one/

http://failblog.org/2009/05/01/audi-billboard-fail/

http://failblog.org/2009/04/29/name-fail-4/

http://failblog.org/2009/04/29/road-paint-fail/

http://failblog.org/2009/04/23/word-choice-fail/

http://failblog.org/2009/04/22/venus-flytrap-fail/

Yup, it's about time for a job. I could've been much more productive.

Brainedness

Brain Lateralization Test Results

Right Brain (48%) The right hemisphere is the visual, figurative, artistic, and intuitive side of the brain. Left Brain (44%) The left hemisphere is the logical, articulate, assertive, and practical side of the brain

Are You Right or Left Brained?(word test)
personality tests by similarminds.com