Hollywoooood!!!!

...You've screwed with the wrong dude.

I went to see Ghost Rider today with a buddy. The movie was a flaming pile, but that isn’t the point of this post. I was watching the previews when a romantic comedy trailer came on. Halfway through I recognized something that seemed rather familiar…

Check out the trailer then read on (anyone without high-speed Internet, too bad. I told you to get it and that it was cheaper than the dial-up you have now)

Did you see it? About two thirds of the way through? He’s sitting in the playhouse and playing fetch with the children. Now, where o’ where could I have seen that before? Hmmmmmm, perhaps right friggin’ here a few years back! I swear to God if they had been swinging Boxaboo's© at the begining, I would have the right to sue. Hollywood, you thieving unoriginal assholes! If there is one thing I’ve learned from the past couple of weeks its that I can do it better…and I’ve decided I will. That’s right you fat cat jerks, I’m gonna write my own screen play and its gonna be great. I mean it too, no jokes. I am pissed as hell that crap factories like Ghost Rider and Little Miss Sunshine get all sorts of praise while other great movies like Sin City and Foxy Brown get snubbed by the Academy. Incidentally both those directors got together and are coming out with Grindhouse; I can’t wait.

So there you go. Do I know what the story is gonna be about? Not really. Do I have a premise, plot or budget? No. Will it ever hit a major studio? Well only if it is flung from my car as I am driving by screaming obscenities. Still, that is the way Evil Dead was made and many others and by God I can do it too. So if you want a part you better start sending me head shots and bio’s cause I got a feeling the roles are gonna fill up fast.

Little Miss Sunshine

This morning I was at work listening to NPR when a story came on about the up coming Academy Awards and one of the nominees for best picture Little Miss Sunshine. The interview was full of softball questions and arrogant comments made by the writer/directors. During the entire interview something was nagging me at the back of my consciousness. It finally came to me around the time one of the co-directors was likening the scenes with the family pushing the car to a start to a big Hollywood dance number; this movie has been done before.

I then began to recount through my mind the plot and individual characters and scenes in the movie National Lampoon’s Vacation. Tell me this plot summary couldn’t be for either film.

The _____ family embarks on a hilarious cross-country trek in their broken down vehicle. Along the way the grandparent dies, the father comes to grips with his life and the mother tries to keep the family together. There are run-ins with cops, several life lessons and colorful characters. Finally, the family makes it to their destination only to find it isn’t what they expected and that only by coming together as a family can they salvage the trip.

I thought best picture was supposed to be about originality and so on. It is unbelievable that this movie was accepted as a nominee. Now, I will admit that the characters are darker (the suicidal uncle, overly angsted teen, and the drug using grandfather), but damn it, those are new modern day stock characters. The mothers even dressed virtually the same in both films.

If you don’t believe me then rent both and tell me they aren’t the same picture just separated by a generation and rewritten by some preening ass, who would pass off a work of comedy as his own “art”. Son of a bitch. Personally, I felt that national lampoon did a better job of making the film entertaining.

There you have it kids. Great things can be accomplished through plagiarism. Don’t bother writing your own reports just change some words around, dress it up differently. You never know you may just win a prestigious award someday off of someone else’s back.

*This post not plagiarized. Not even the picture, though I know it looks totally awesome.

And Then...

Now that I’ve officially graduated I have found myself at the center of a torrent of activity surrounding the day of the, long awaited, graduation ceremony. From the very morning I found out LJ called me five times from her cubical to get my input on airline tickets. Calls were made; people informed and out of it all an avalanche of bluster. It is kinda weird; for so long now getting gradated seemed like this nebulous thing floating somewhere just out of reach. When the time actually came the moment was sort of a non-event. Yet, now I find myself having to make to-do lists to keep up with it all.

Let me share:

· Arrange for lodging

· Get Cap and Gown

· Frame Diploma

· Rewrite my falsified Resume

· Write derogatory and hate filled letter to High School Science teacher who said you’d never get a degree

· Call friends to arrange good times and drinking

· Make reservations for the swanky restaurant that I always promised myself I would eat at for graduation

· Come up with brilliant last prank to pull on my now alma mater

The thing is though that for years and years the top of my big “Life’s To-Do List” was dominated by graduating from college. Now that I’ve done that it just doesn’t seem right replacing it with the next thing down, winning a pie fight. So I’m struggling to figure out what my next big thing should be.

When I was 12, and I went to my fist SCUBA class, there was a poster on the wall. It showed the progression one could take in the many certifications of diving. At the pinnacle of the list was SCUBA Instructor. Most of my teen years were spent in motivation from that poster. I always imagined working up toward the next level and dreamed of someday reaching the top. Then, at age eighteen I achieved it. I never did teach any classes, but it did help me get into the field school at my university which led me here. Long story short; I am wondering what the next big thing is going to be.

Of course there is always graduate school; however it seems sort of dumb to finally get out of school just to jump right back in. Plus, it also feels like delaying the real decision. You know, what do I really want to do with my life, decision. Yeah, I like my job ok, yet there are and always will be things about it that I don’t like. Paramount among those things being that I am not using all of my potential. So, what now? I made a new years resolution to make twice as much as I am now, but maybe that isn’t the rout I should go. I dunno. Maybe an elected office, I know there is some sort of primary coming up next year.

Education Smeducation

For like the past year I have been playing this strange cat and mouse / telephone tag game with my University in Florida. I have been slowly, yet steadily, been making progress toward graduation. Well, the day finally came and it was a lot more unceremonious than I figured it would be. Some office peon just asked me for my social before she could talk to me further, probably to look at my GPA to see if she should be rude or not, when she got back on the line her exact words were “Oh, you’ve graduated”. “What?! Seriously?” I inquired. “Yep, you’re done”. As simple as that. LJ and I were on our way to work when I made the call; I guess it didn’t really sink in till later. So, now I am in the throws of planning for the graduation ceremony.

I must say this has been a looooooong time coming. Yeah, it has taken just under a decade to for me to do, but what can I say? Life, to me, has never been about competing against others as far as timeframes go. I had a really hard time with…well everything when it comes to school. I look at this more like me topping Everest rather than me coming in last in some “race”. Besides, I know a lot of people in my program who are waiting tables or doing other jobs that frankly are beneath their talents, who graduated on time and with a good GPA, yet I’m the one working in my field. Anyway, my diploma is on its way as well as my transcripts. Inconsequently, my middle name on the diploma will say “Danger” so that everyone will know how I live my life…Dangeresque.

On a completely different subject, someone from my old high school class just contacted me through myspace to send me an invite to our ten year reunion. Now, my question is, who really goes to those things and why? LJ and I talked about it and I came to the understanding that if you were raised in a small town where you literally knew everyone it would kinda make sense to go. However, I felt that the people you met in collage or in other places might be more important to you. The only reason I could figure people would go would be to measure themselves against others from the same origins. So, like if you became a celebrity or really successful you might want to go. Or maybe if you wanted to get one last shot at that girl (or guy) you always wanted to sleep with, then I could see that. Otherwise it kinda just seems like masturbation. I dunno, you tell me what you think.

Also, give me kudos on graduating…you ignorant plebs.

Dumber Days

LJ and I watched a movie tonight that set forth a series of events that led to this very post. The movie was Idiocracy, written by Mike Judge. It was one of the most horrific and terrifying movies I’ve ever seen. The premise is based on a man of totally average intelligence from our time getting frozen and reanimated in the distant future. Normally this wouldn’t be so bad, normally, but in this future everyone is an idiot. The reason is, intelligent people get bread out of existence while idiots of every creed, race, and socioeconomic class breed like jackrabbits. In 500 years the entire population is somewhere within the realm of 60 to 80 on the IQ charts.

After watching it LJ and I embroiled ourselves in our favorite pastime…arguing the same point but at different degrees. She believed that the population was probably doomed to such a fate while I believed that people will probably keep on as they have for thousands of years with equal numbers of intelligent and not so intelligent people roaming the Earth. At the end of the debate I decided that I needed to take an IQ test*.

Let me just sandbag for a moment. I took an IQ test at the age of like eleven and scored 111. It was explained to me that the average IQ fell somewhere between 90 and 110, putting me juuuuuust above average. So, I took an internet test to get a quick gauge and scored 131. “Hurray”, I thought before reading the next line down. Average has moved apparently, as the graph indicated that average falls anywhere between 70 and 130. “Crap”, I thought again, statistically sucker punched. At least I am still one point above average though.

So, I asked LJ what her IQ was and was answered with somewhere between 140 to 147. I also remember my brother taking an IQ test and getting like 138 or something. Let me put down my usual cloak of total intellectual superiority for just one moment and tell you all something serious. I have always felt that any friends worth my time were as smart as or smarter than me. There are a lot of people out there that I could never befriend due to the imbalance of conversational intelligence. I’m not trying to come off as pompous, but according to a free internet test that consisted of 50 questions and took less than 30min to complete, I am smarter than most of you out there…seriously. I admit that I feel that most of my friends are smarter than me, (revel in this moment it may be erased the next time you read this post) but that is what makes it fun for me. I feel that I can converse with those that can digest what I say and form a well thought out and concise reply. There I said it, ‘course how many of you think you are what I would consider a friend…let that roll around in your head for a while.

Back to topic: there are a lot of things out there that annoy people. For some its how people dress, for others it’s what region others may be from. Me, I get annoyed with stupidity. I hate it like a militant lesbian hates men. I look at so many things in our society that are just dumb. And I’m not just talking about what everyone considers dumb like Paris Hilton. No, things like organic food markets, ear candeling, the acceptance by Webster’s of the word irregardless, sending more troops to Iraq, network television, and so many others. Thomas Gray was right “Ignorance is bliss”, because if you’re halfway intellectual you live in a world of dumb-asses.

*I do NOT believe that the results of an IQ test does a smart person make. IQ tests are merely a standardized test that gauges how quickly one may learn something or the aptitude for learning. It isn’t even proven to be totally and completely accurate. At best it’s a ball park figure.

Myspace Must Die

…so that my intelligence may live.

Maybe a year ago I begrudgingly signed up for a myspace account. It didn’t really work for me at the time due to my slow-ass internet connection. The reason I even signed up was due to a huge shift in my actual friend network. You see all of us had what I consider actual blogs through blogger or other providers. Then everyone went to myspace. The question on my mind is why?

As far as I can tell myspace is a fancy, template based, way of posting stupid pictures linking dumb-ass youtube videos and sending ridiculous amounts of chain mail. Everyone who knows me knows that this particular post has been a long time coming. So, here we go.

I want you all to know that I intended on keeping my very blank myspace account, but that it will remain blank for freakin’ ever. I am doing this only so that I can read the two posts that my friends write a year and so that they can send me useless crap that I will not read or even open. I would now like to share with you some of the dumber chain-letter crap that I have received.

• From my brother and sister:

THiS IS SO SAD...

I BET THAT 97% OF U WONT REPOST THIS!!!

When Jesus died on the cross he was thinking of you!

If you are one of the 3% who will stand up for him then repost this w/the title:

I LOVE U AND IM SORRY!!!

If you know me, you know that I have a complete disregard for the words "love", "sorry", and "repost". I'm also sure that Jesus is pleased as punch that all of you are remembering him through a crappy virtual hands across myspace, instead of going out and doing actual "good works" or whatever.

• From my friend Beth

(random questions taken from one of like ten questionnaires she’s sent me)

Ever punch someone in the face?

Have you ever wished someone dead?

Ever seen a corpse?

Again, anyone who knows me knows that the answer to all of these questions are yes and if more of these things get sent to me the answer will become an emphatic yes.

Now, lets talk about the friggin’ pictures. Do I really need to see the picture of Johnny Cash flicking off the camera? What does that picture have to do with you? How about all the pictures of God damned Bam Margera. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’ll spell it out for you. Bam is a tool. A tool used to sell deodorant and other such items to stupid young morons. He is only famous for the same reasons as Tom Green. Hold up, I’m getting off track; this could be a whole nother post. You aren't clever for putting these pictures up, you are a tool like Bam is a tool. It adds nothing to your image and says nothing about who you are.

All I’m saying is if you want to keep in touch with your friends then the technology has been around since the advent of the cell phone. The cell phone market has allowed losers to use such things as text messaging (which is also a huge waist of time and energy), and ring-back tones so that everyone will know that you love the show Knight Rider…or Ludacris...or whoever no one really cares to hear. Also email allows you to send stupid messages to everyone at the click of a button. So why waist time on a psudo webpage if you could do it just as easily through email. Finally, IM. IM was and is the basis for all of this crap. When some genius decided he could make funny looking smiley emoticons he opened the friggin’ flood gates. From smiley’s to pictures of Bam it was a process that took less than five years (a single tear rolls down my cheek). I’m not saying IM was bad. I’m only saying that the invention of fully colored and moving emoticons changed everything.

Now, to the point. I just want you all to know that I literally check my myspace account once every week, sometimes less, and I rarely if ever check anyone elses account unless prompted to by email or cellphone conversation. I will NEVER respond to anything that even resembles a chain-letter. And finally, my myspace account will be the blandest and most void area in all of the myspace…space. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you want a website then have a reason to have it. Put something out there. Be interesting; don’t just slap the equivalent of virtual bumper stickers all over it. Quality over content people, quality over content.

Jelly Stains & Farts

I was out surveying at work today when I noticed that my fingers were sticky. I did the inevitable look down and saw that during lunch I had dripped some delicious blackberry jelly all down the side of my shirt. I had then subsequently gotten it all over my trusty GPS (no, not my new sporty personal one; the $3,000 one from my office). As I was using my fingers as a squeegee and savoring the sweet, slightly gritty leavings of my lunch I came to a revelation.

When I have kids I could totally blame shit like that on them! “Hey buddy, you’ve got some brown stuff on your shirt.” “Oh, yeah that’s chocolate. My kid was eating a Snak-Pak and some must have gotten away from him… (sigh)…kids.” Or better yet; “Honey we need more Snak-Paks, it seems Billy went through all of them.” “In only three days?!” “Yup, that little sucker loves pudding. Heh, like father like son I guess… (sigh)…kids.”

Then I really got to thinking about it. A few years ago I got really bad heartburn while LJ’s parents were over one night. Her mom suggested that I mix some water and baking soda and that that would take care of it. I skeptically gave her home remody a shot and it worked, it actually worked. Unfortunately though, much like a fourth grader’s papier-mâché volcano science project, my stomach acids reacted to the baking soda with all sorts of fizzy fury. I started laying down some incredibly foul belches. They were so heinous in fact that at one point my mother-in-law commented that my completely innocent dog must have been the culprit of the horrific odors. In my awkwardness I immediately joined in and blamed him as well (sorry Zeus). Well, thinking about this I immediately came to the conclusion that I could easily lay the blame for any nasty belches or errant farts on dirty diapers. Brilliant.

I’m in no way saying that I won’t love my children. I just think they will be a rather convenient scapegoat until the age they can rebuff my accusations with a well formulated and concise counter argument. So, ostensibly never. I can see it now. There we all are in the family room. LJ wrinkles her nose in disgust and asks who disrespected her house. At that point I quickly chime in with “Billy must have. You remember how he was as a kid.” “Dad please stop doing that. I’m 26 now and have full control of all my bodily functions. Besides it was never me growing up it was always you. Don’t you think its time you started taking responsibility for your own farts?” At which point I respond, “Your argument is flawed from here to next Tuesday. Let me just break it down point by point…” Until, everyone is too tired and confused to assign blame. God, I’m going to love having kids.

The Happiest Holiday

Hello all. LJ and I just got back from our trip to Atlanta for the holidays. “Was it fun?” Yes, faithful reader it was fun, but then LJ and I are fun people. We could have fun at a sponge museum. “Was it stressful?” Yes, again inquisitive reader. As most holidays are and as it is when time is a limiting factor it was stressful. I felt that LJ and I did rather well though. She was even brought tears at the thought of leaving.

So what did we get, well there were so many great gifts that I am only going to list a few. First I got Karaoke revolution for the PS2 from LJ. So, now instead of just busting my mad dancing grooves with DDR, I can bust my even awesomer vocal grooves to such classic hits as Everybody Wants to Rule the World, (She’s a) Brick House, Sweet Caroline, and much much more! (upstairs neighbors beware). My parents got me a super sweet GPS. We all went geocaching for the last few days; a new outdoor hobby I am getting into and whole heartedly endorse. It’s like getting to find buried treasure everywhere…I love it. My grandparents got me the first four Dark Tower novels by Stephen King. I have wanted those for like forever. Oh, and LJ got me those rubber band-gun armatures. I can’t wait to start designing my rubber band weapons (upstairs neighbors beware). My sister got me a pirate shirt that I have been wearing since I got it. My Brother gave me like the best and most thoughtful gift he has ever given me, The fourth season of Futurama (a show LJ and I just love), but unfortunately we already had it. So, I exchanged it today for two movies I have wanted for years but could never justify the expense. So Yay!

But Christmas isn’t about just getting awesome gifts despite what any eight year old may tell you. Some of the gifts that we gave that I am most proud of include a “Noseometer” a set of ceramic noses cast from LJ’s and my own perfect beaks. It’s going to be too hard to explain this one so we’ll just leave it there. An “E-ticket” from the olden days of Disney World that we gave to my grandparents.

The best though, or most sacrilegious…depending on how you’re counting, was my gift to Mike and Courtney. Now, when I give a gift I don’t just like to give some bauble you can fawn over for the requisite minute or two before tossing it into the back of your closet never to be seen unless re-gifted some day. No, I like to give powers also. This year I bestowed the power of the clergy to my unsuspecting friends. Through the looseness of our laws, the freedom of religion, and the ease of the internet I was able to ordain my buddies. Now, with their beginners clergy packs including an ID card, an embossed frame able certificate, and a blank marriage certificate that is legal in 45 states (FU Arkansas) they have all rights and privileges of a man of the clothe. They also have the right to use clergy parking at any facility that has such. Like hospitals, religious institutes, and the Republican Party’s national headquarters. Now that is one hell of a gift.

We had a great time though, and can’t wait to go back. So, did you guys have a good Christmas too?

My Fondest Christmas wishes II

Here we are at the end of yet another wonderful year and yet another wish-list post. So, that those out there who just stumbled onto my blog understand; I do this because my family brow beats me three or four times a week about twelve days before Thanksgiving until I have supplied them with an ample list of material desires that they feel they can chose from to make their Christmas stress that much easier to manage.

“Oh, that just isn’t what Christmas is about. (tsk-tsk)”, some of you glassy-eyed idealists may be thinking as you wrap the hastily put together Christmas ornaments that your untalented 5 year olds made in a half hour for no one in particular. Then you will present them to some poor bastard of a family member who spent hours standing in lines at the crowded malls to buy you the high ticket…whatever, and who will be thoroughly disappointed with your gift even though you won’t notice because you are stuffing your face with all the free food while complaining about how Christmas is just too commercial. Assholes.

Hmmm, that was a bit of a rant. Sorry, back on subject. Yes, I have found that making a virtual list that consists of helpful links, pictures and in a convenient place for all to see is the best solution. This way my family can just make a simple run through and see what I’m interested in this year. But, I digress.

So, without further ado…The list

• A set of plans and armatures for the construction of a personally manufactured, rubber-band gun. Construction to begin soon after January 5^th ’07. This one is essential, since the military wants a prototype ASAP with deals set for many European nations as well as local law enforcement branches and children across the U.S.

• The CD/DVD album just put out by Gorillaz. Rockin’
• Any of the collection of Dark Tower series on CD: Numbers 1, 2, 3, or 4 (I have the rest)
• EFA-Linker II (1G) Flash Set. A must for any self respecting handheld gamer with a Gameboy Advance SP. With this little baby I can play all those great old NES games that are currently stuck on my computer and will be that much more entertained in places such as waiting rooms, elevators, funerals, and of course while talking to old friends on the phone.
• Since it will be ski season here in snowy Nevada soon, any gift cards for REI will be gratefully accepted. Also, because gift card are easy to take back on an airplane.
• A cool vintage cowboy shirt would look extra cool to all the kids at the skate park. Not to mention I could finally fit in at all the country western bars I go to.
• Honestly, just walking through Best Buy is a great way to find the right thing.

So there you have it. Another awesomely awesome Christmas list. If you have any questions feel free to leave a comment or call.

The Story of My Life…

…in four easy steps.

I was talking to LJ the other day and she reminded me that my mom’s birthday was a few days away (really, what would I do without this woman?). So, I procrastinated for the requisite day and then I called my family. I was in the middle of telling my dad that I was going to send a belated birthday card to my mom, per my usual lateness, with a Target gift card in it; that was when my dad informed me that sending money to my parents is completely inappropriate (really, what would I do without my dad?). So, I was talking to him about what would be appropriate to send.

At that point my mother chimed in like a ghostly voice from someone else’s phone call, “Write a blog about me!” “Didja here that?” my dad asked. “Yeah, but I don’t think you guys quite understand the dry spell I’m on. I mean I haven’t been writing regularly and it really isn’t flowing, etc.” Well, you know how it ended I guess. Let me just say that it takes me a while to write these things usually. I have to either be fired up about something (see last post), or I have to have a really cool idea that may take some massaging before it’s ready for full blog-dum (yes, I just made that word up. Up yours Webster). So, I had to do some prep for this and in doing so I actually had a pretty cool revelation. First, however, let me just say that writing about someone else’s motivations or personal characteristics is pretty much impossible unless fiction is the goal, so I decided to write about what I knew for sure…myself.

It is interesting how someone who is involved in your life can actually direct the paths you take, even if you think you are making the choices for yourself. This may seem like an obvious statement, but I have to admit it shook me a bit when I realized it for myself. Let me set the stage. It is the summer of 1990, I’m 12, and my mom is tired of seeing my ass in front of the TV. I remember she is driving me back from some place and gives me an ultimatum, as only parents can. She tells me that I can take acting lessons, photography lessons, or SCUBA diving lessons. I chose SCUBA because I thought it was outrageous to think that my parents would actually pay for it and I could get back to watching Transformers and playing whatever Nintendo game I was on at that time. Three weeks later I was four feet underwater in a local pool and finishing homework assignments that taught me about Boil’s law, pneumatic breathing systems, and human biology as it is affected by submersion in water.

Jump ahead five years; I’m now 17 and I am ankle deep in some nasty muck inside an ivy and weed covered spring house on the outskirts of a plantation house where my mother docents. She has some how convinced me that this would be a way better project than blazing a trail near the cool river at the rock cliffs where I literally spend all of my spare time rock climbing. No, here I am dredging old crap out of this 150 year old refrigerator, while mosquitoes are slowly draining not just my blood but my will to live. I have to admit to myself though, I am curious as hell to see what the next handful of slimy mud will uncover. I proudly line up my 1945 Coke bottle, a twirling baton, some old ceramics I can’t identify, and some iron fragments on the bank of the rivulet of the stream coming out of the stone door.

A year later, my mom tells me that after I graduate from high school I should think about taking a trip. I spend some time thinking about it but my best idea was going to Florida for yet another diving trip. She tells me I should think bigger. I came back with a backpacking trip or something when she suggested that I go west with some friends, way west. A few weeks later my bags are packed and I have a meticulously assembled black plastic binder with every hotel I should stay at as well as awesome sights to see and a minivan fully packed with two buddies in tow. I made my way west through Texas and up through The Great Basin, seeing sights that I had never dreamed I would see in person and especially not with the freedom of just myself. It is an amazing thing for a kid to see just how big the world really is and just how unprepared you are for it. I came back with a lust for adventure and exploration.

Before I left for the west, my mother suggested that I take all of my outdoor skills and apply to work at a high adventure camp, some place where I would be comfortable. She and I walked through some applications for an internship in Antarctica and more for some dream jobs at high adventure camps across the U.S. I didn’t hold my breath for any. But about a week after I got back from my trip, I was on my way to the Florida Keys. I’d gotten a job at the high adventure camp “Sea Base”. There I lead groups of kids snorkeling over pristine coral reefs, deep sea fishing, and other awesome activities that were really probably more fun for me than them.

One average humid and hot evening I was talking to my mom from a payphone near my base camp when she told me I needed to start thinking about college because I would be getting back soon. She had already sent me something that might help. For the next month, I was brow beat to read through this book that listed just about every job that has anything to do with SCUBA diving. I came across one that I thought was pretty cool, “Marine Archaeologist”. So eventually, I got into one of the five schools in the country that actually offered it as major.

Let me just wrap this up from here. Those who know me know that I am now employed at a commercial archaeology firm in Reno Nevada. They have heard all about my harrowing tales of adventure, high jinks, and discovery as I have explored through the most remote parts of the “high desert”. I won’t bore you with all sorts of deep emotional revelations, nor will I wax poetic about how life is funny, blah, blah, blah. What I will say is that it is pretty clear, at least to me, that I wouldn’t be here, doing this if those events hadn’t happened when and how they did. I’m also not going to say that other events didn’t contribute. Yet, when I thought about those pretty major and overall good events in my life they were all due to my mom (really, what would I do without her?).

Mark vs. Servers

The Title Match…ding ding

I went to a crappy truck-stop restaurant a few days back and the service was terrible. It was so bad that I left no tip. The people I was with had a bit of a problem with that until I explained my position on the matter. Then only half of them had a problem with it.

I was so incensed by the reprimand I received that I decided to take a poll from everyone I knew on what they felt the average gratuity should be. I then took the data and compiled a statistical model and found that the average tip that any server would receive on any given night would be somewhere around 17% of the total meal costs, this includes some really bad tips and some, of what I would consider, overly generous tips. The interesting thing when I took this poll was all the different philosophies I heard about tipping.

At this point I want to establish to you the reader that though I am an opinionated jerk, I have worked in the service industry most of my life and, yes, I have waited tables. I don’t feel that this gives me the right to never tip on some sort of misguided justifications, however it does give me the right to say that I do know what it is like to wait tables and how hard the work really is and how much I made at the job. Now, that said, the gratuity industry is not full of starving, poor, struggling, proletariats. This industry is just like any other. The laborers just have to contend with a more direct relationship to the capitalistic market place than most. In my research for this post I came across some web pages and opinions that gave what they considered to be undefeatable reasons as to why you should tip well. Now let me defeat those notions for you all.

1) Hourly wages are typically significantly less in the service industry, because tips are considered part of the servers’ income.

The reason that the wages are lower is not just to differ the operating costs of the restaurant but, to ensure that the service is actually good. The whole point of gratuity is that if you do a bad job you get tipped less. This should motivate you to do a good job. It should not be sympathy for the server’s income that makes you tip well, it is meant to be the quality of the service. I can tell you that in the restaurant that I worked in consistently poor service would have meant that that person would have been fired.

2) Your server does pay income taxes. In absence of proper documentation of tips, the government will look at the servers’ food and beverage sales and base their taxable tip income on a percent of it. So if you do not tip the server, it has actually cost the server money to serve you.

Let me just say BULLSHIT! Yes, they are taxed. However, let me put some perspective on the previous statement. Let’s say that Sally is a waitress and that she pays taxes like a good little citizen. Let’s also assume that she makes close to 30,000 a year (figure taken from my sister’s old job). Now, the government will assume that she makes a 15% tip on every meal. If she made a 15% tip on a thirty dollar meal she would get $4.50, out of that she would pay 0.68 cents to Uncle Sam making her take home $3.82. If you tip 10% on the same thirty dollar meal because Sally wasn’t doing a great job then she would make $3.00 of which she should be taxed 0.45 cents instead of the 0.68 cents the government will get. Does this mean that poor Sally won’t make rent? Hell no! She still takes home $2.32. She is still turning a profit people. Now, if Sally was really doing a shit-ass job and received no tip from a table she was serving on that same thirty dollar meal then yes she did pay 0.68 cents to serve you. However, as I stated earlier the average tip is 17% meaning that on average she is making $5.10 on that meal. So, even if you don’t tip her Sally still has a damn good surplus of tips that she probably isn’t reporting in her taxes that that money is coming out of. And one more time I want to emphasize that we are talking about less money than a cup of coffee would cost at the very restaurant she is working at. If you receive atrociously horrible service do you feel that maybe Sally should buy you that cup of coffee for ruining your meal? It isn’t like you’re not paying for the food, which may have been cold, late, and served rudely.

3) Believe it or not, servers do not always get a paycheck. Sometimes, because of the taxes they pay and/or deductions, servers must pay in to the company rather than get a check.

In some situations the above situation is true. However again lets put some perspective on that. Some serving jobs are so lucrative that, yes, the restaurant actually charges the servers to work there. The take home for these waiters is generally more than 40,000 a year. Also, the way the above statement is phrased would lead you to believe that the poor servers actually have to pay all their hard earned money to work. People do not work for free in this country. Slavery was outlawed with the thirteenth amendment. No one is being taken advantage of here…except your heartstrings.

4) Your server has to tip too. It is very common for a waiter or waitress to have to tip out their supporting staff, ie; the bartender, buss person, food runners and others. Bartenders may have to tip out their bar backs. These tips are based often on the sales of the server, so if you don’t tip them, in addition to the 8% the government gets they often have to shell out money to the support staff putting them further in the hole. Sometimes the support staff is tipped a percent of the servers’ tips. So not tipping the server is the same as not tipping any of the hard working support staff in the restaurant.

Again, all I have to say is capitalism. If a server is not providing good service on a frequent enough basis to pay the support staff then they need to rethink their job or their support staff will make them rethink it. This really isn’t a difficult job, no matter what some would have you believe. Keep the drinks filled, get the orders right, bring the food out in a timely fashion, and have a smile on your face and I guarantee you will make enough to tip your support staff the way you should.

5) Servers do a lot of work that they are not tipped on also. It is called side work and it is work that is done for no more than their hourly rate. Side work usually involves cleaning the restaurant, stocking supplies and getting the store ready for the next shifts business. Side work can be time consuming and at times physically straining.

Yes, but the waiter does this as a part of their serving job. If all they did were these side jobs then they should be making minimum wages, but they aren’t. They are getting cash at the end of every night of work. On average a good amount of money. Let’s not separate the responsibilities here. The server is making enough during waiting hours to cover the work that he or she does before or after waiting tables. Part of the same job people. Besides if work wasn’t time consuming then what the hell is an hourly wage? Work is time consuming for all of us. Here’s a tissue.

Here is an excerpt from an article written by a server that I would like to share. “When someone asks me why people should tip, I answer their question with a few of my own. Do you want hot food? Do you want your drink refilled? Do you want the person taking your order to care about the quality of food you are going to eat? The answer to these questions is always yes. So why would a person that is getting paid hourly whether you eat there or not care about any of those things if there is nothing extra in it for them?” I want to address the last sentence there, the one that goes “Why would a person that is getting paid hourly whether you eat there or not care about any of those things if there is nothing extra in it for them?”, well God damn it, it is obvious to me that the person who wrote this drivel has never worked in any other service industry because if you have three consecutive “bad customers” who make complaints about the quality of your work, not even three shifts, just three customers, you would be fired. And in most of the other service industries you have to put that smile on your face and work really hard without that carrot dangling in front of you, because that is what is expected. At no point did I ever have the expectation that I would get rewarded for working harder at any of the other service jobs I worked. I had to work hard and be courteous just to keep my employment.

In no way am I saying that you should never tip, what I am saying is that in the absence of all of those things listed above it is completely appropriate to leave a virtual FU. I’m not going to apologize for leaving nothing to the person who ruined my meal or my evening with rudeness or lack of concern for me. In my mind its simple, and all the articles I’ve read agree with my logic though I think they would make a hasty retraction if they read this post, I am tipping for good service; I should not tip for horrible service, ever.

Out of all the people I surveyed, the average for a great tip was anywhere between 18% to anything really. Yeah, I had one person say that they would tip almost anything for great service. In my mind that is just trying to be flashy or maybe just a little irresponsible, but to each his own. For average service I heard anything from 15% to over 20% making the average the 17% I gave you earlier. And finally, for poor service I got anything from a big fat 0 to 15%. I heard from most of the people I surveyed that they will still tip 15% when they receive bad service! The most common answer to this was that the server could just be having a bad night. To this I say why the hell do we have the gratuity system if you people are going to screw it up for the rest of us? Do you think your doing a service to the next people to be seated if you are rewarding bad behavior? Don’t have such good will damn it you aren’t helping anyone.

The surprising thing to me was that only two other people agreed with my point of view. Even more surprising was how much people were willing to tolerate before they would give the server what they considered to be a bad tip which was actually a good or standard tip. I have to tell you it makes me hang my head and give up on the society I live in. Just promise me one thing. The next time you get egregiously bad service think of your children and how they will be brought up in a world where servers are making more than some college graduates. Imagine, your kids, trying to eek out a slim living on their bachelor’s degree they worked so hard for while receiving cold food and rude service from the fat-cat waitress who expects an exorbitant 25% tip on their meal and has no problem brow beating your children for that cash, all because you had to reward poor service. Please, please think of the children.

Speed Demon 2000

Warning: this post written while in a pissy mood

Ok, here I am, sitting at the most secluded table, at the F’ing Starbucks in the Barnes & Noble down the street from my house. I’m not here to sample any of their girl drink coffee-fections that so many out there think is hard core or whatever. I’m not here flipping through magazines that I have no intention to buy , though it is only hour one and there is only so log I can sit online. No, I payed four bucks to use their internet for two hours so that I could finish downloading a PC game I bought from Target like a week ago. *I never got through downloading it though due to the need for me to be connected for four hours! (*written after initial posting)

LJ and I bought Lappy, the newest member of our growing family, about a month ago. This is the first laptop I have ever owned and it is capable of doing things that a computer in my possession has never been able to do. Like store tons of info and having a good enough graphics card to play games more system demanding than solitaire. So, instead of buying a PS2 game at Target I figure “Hell, lets go check out the PC games." I am ambling through the selection trying to find a title that might peek my interest when I see a game titled “City of Heros”. “Cool”, I think to myself “a game where I can build my own ‘Hall of Justice’, create a heroic alter-ego, and go around fighting evil”. Then my gaze drifted next to it and I see another title, “City of Villains”. If you really know me you should know which game I purchased. “Holy crap, a game where I can build my own ‘Hall of Doom’, create my true villainous alter-ego instead of some pussy do-gooder, and a chance to cause random acts of chaos...delicious. Mwwwahahahaha”.

I take the game home and download it to my computer only to find out when I try and open it that I have to download like 430 megabytes from the net before I can play. I am going to put this gently, WHAT THE FUCK!. I have dial up, and yeah feel free to make all the jokes you want, so downloading anything is a virtual impossibility (no pun intended, unless it makes me sound smarter then yeah I intended it). Fucking PC games! This is no one’s fault but my own I realize. However, for years every once in a while I would try and break into PC gaming and get away from my console dependance and every time I will inevitably be foiled by my computers lack of some crucial component or software. This time I thought would be different though, because of my new lap-sized baby. But no, smacked down again by my lack of high speed internet service. Damn it!

I have been mired in all sorts of speed related bogs recently. After LJ and I sold my crapy little Honda, that while a piece of shit, could still reach speeds in excess of 100 mph. Now I am driving LJ’s crappy Ford Ranger that couldn’t make 100 mph if it was dropped off a cliff (which, strangely, is a somewhat pleasing thought actually). I can’t drive quickly, I can’t even accelerate quickly. Instead of gently passing slower moving traffic I am weaving so that traffic can pass me. The other day I took off from a red-light and was passed by about ten cars before I got up to 45 mph. This isn’t just embarrassing, this is slowly killing me. You ever have nightmares about falling? The ground, at higher and higher velocity, coming at you until the speed is almost palpable? I look forward to those dreams so at least in some way I can get my speed on. I practically get an erection from looking at sports cars and motorcycles. I am looking forward to getting a sedan, something unthinkable to me only four months ago, just so that I can chirp the tires while pulling away from a stop sign.

While I am out on sessions and am driving a company vehicle down some remote dirt roads, I start to throttle up and just see if I can barely corner the SUV into a slide in such a way that no one will notice. I actually said “screw it” on the last session and floored it around this beautiful curve. It was awesome. I put that vehicle into a controlled slide and came out the other side with a grin from ear to ear and my passengers clinging to any stable surface their hands could clasp. I lost my driving privileges for the next day, but it was worth it. I miss driving fast. No, not fast, just driving a vehicle that can keep up with what I want it to do.

Same goes for the internet. I used to have high speed in college and went back to dial up while making a budget with my wife after we got married. I guess I got used to it, but in the same way I miss a car that can preform like I want I miss having the ability to visit sites that require flash (which are on the increase). I can’t get streaming audio, download anything, see pics that my friends or family might post. Sorry, Mike, David, and Ryan but I only visit your sites when I know I have the time (5-10 minutes a page) and my dial up won’t cut out (15% of the time).

As much as Myspace is a joke (whole ‘nother topic that I won’t get into now) it has soooo much shit on one page that it requires too much bandwidth for my crappy dial up to handle. Because, everyone needs to have the latest funny video of that teenage idiot stapling his balls to a wooden chair or some other mindless video on their page. Oh, and I really need to see all those idiotic pics you think humorously define your personality so that everyone will know just how wild and kah-ha-razy you are. Lets be honest that shit is like putting “hilarious” bumper stickers on your car. It not only makes your car an eyesore but it makes you look like an idiot who needs a stupid piece of kitsch to look interesting or clever. It’s called content people. You wanna look smart or be cool then earn it with what you have to say and not with what you can swipe and put on your page.

Ew, that came off a little aggressive, sorry if I hurt any feelings. But, again most of this is coming from me not being able to visit anyone’s blog. Sorry, Patrick, Danny, and anyone else who’s got a crummy Myspace account. Damn, it is just like being a Formula 1 driver and having to drive a golf cart on the track while everyone else is whizzing bye. Oh well, someday I will either be able to afford it or go slowly insane (pun intended that time). That’ll be a short trip.

Say Hi Damn it!

I am a huge egotist when it comes to my hit counter. Not in the way that I feel superior to anyone or anything. No, it’s more like I wanna know who is stopping by my little corner of the web. So, I check my site meter kinda regularly to see where I am getting hits from , how frequently, and for how long.

I’ll tell you a secret. I discovered from my post “Sty in the Eye” that a more provocative title or even what would be a popular set of search words would yield more hits, thusly making me feel better about both my writing and my subject matter. That is why I have such awesome titles with such lame content. I expend all of my cool-hippness energy on the title and save none for the rest of my blog. Much like the music industry. That is why this blog only appeals to my closest friends…and some wayward blog travelers, who are usually lost, bored, or looking for some pictures to gank.

This brings me to you Mr. or Mrs. (and to a lesser degree Ms.) Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Yes, I know you have been hitting my site every day for like the last week and reading an unhealthy amount of halfassery. And yes, if you are sitting in front of your computer in Murfreesboro, Tennessee and wondering to yourself, “is he talking to me?“ the answer is yes, you are the one I am writing to. I love that you are hitting my page, don’t get me wrong. More power to you. I just want to know who you are and for you to maybe leave one little tiny comment. In fact you can simply copy/paste this comment:

Wow, what an awesome blog. You sir have an awesome blog. I too have an awesome blog or not. Boy, you sure are a card. I even appreciate your sporadic use of comas, and endearing misspellings. Well, I have to run (got other blogs to check out) I’ll bee reading your stuff tomorrow for at least 15-20 minutes. Keep up the mediocre work. ; ) winky smiley

See? That isn’t so hard. I just feel that if I am providing you with up to four hours of entertainment or insult (however you take my material) that you should just drop me a courtesy how-dee-do. That’s all. However if you are totally uncomfortable with the idea or you are fingerless or just painfully shy then no worry’s just keep coming by, there will be plenty more quasi-sophisticate, sophomoric, half assed opinions for you to read. Oh, and hey Murfreesboro, Tennessee…this post’s for you. <--Sung to the Budweiser ad theme.

Hot-Sexy-Toys

Yay, I’m a happy boy! Let me just start by saying that, with LJ’s help and nagging, I got myself signed up for a college class on statistics at a local community college. This will complete my CLAST requirement that UWF needed so I can finally collect my degree. As some of you might remember this is more of a technicality for completion of my bachelors yet they just won’t give me my sheepskin without it, go figure. Back to topic, this class is offered online. Which is good because in order to keep busy with my job I have to be able to go out on sessions So, in order to get online while out in the boonies LJ bought me a laptop!

I feel like a sweaty nerd at comiccon, renfair, and dragoncon all in one. I’m so happy! In fact I am actually writing this sitting in a Panera Bread in Sacramento, while LJ is working a booth at the California State Fair. I am totally mobile now. I can write blogs at home or anywhere I feel like. This laptop, or Lappy as LJ and I have named it, has 100gb, 1.8ghz processing speed, and an upgraded graphics card. I love it.

Years ago Andrew built a computer for me for like $500 and told me that owning my own computer will drastically improve my knowledge of the hardware and software. He was right. For the next like five years or so I have gutted the thing and installed all sorts of stuff and repaired it either by myself or with the help of various friends. Yet over time I invested less and less into it. Consequently it is now almost worthless and crashes kinda frequently. Hopefully though I will start putting some money into it and getting Desky back up to current par.

SECOND TOY

LJ and I have been saving up for a new car for the past 6 months or so. We thought we were in pretty good shape about three months ago so we went and talked to some car dealers. Well, other than getting the run-around, talked down to, and even threatened we came away with a different idea of what we needed to do before getting the new car. At first we had saved only like three grand for this but in order to get a good interest rate we feel like we need to put down like eight or more. So, in like another three months, NEW CAR!

I’m not really excited about the car per say, I am really eager to get that purchase out of the way so that we will have two reliable vehicles and then I can get a motorcycle. Yep, the bike is my real goal. I am so happy I married this girl she can really organize things, something I have been miserable at since my teachers saw the inside of my desk in elementary school.

It's not ALL about me

Sorry I haven’t posted in a bit. It seems I start a lot of posts that way. I have no excuse.Well here’s one; I have been doing a lot of office work recently which means that I sit inside all day and type on the computer, so coming home and doing the same really doesn’t interest me too much. Also I feel like nothing is really going on. Maybe, I can recap some stuff for you though. Ok, recently my parents and my sister came out to visit.

That was pretty cool because we haven’t seen anybody we knew since we first got out here. We went and saw some sites, ate out…you know the usual. My grandfather sent out some of the best cookies ever with them (Pinwheels) so that I could get some grandparent affection from back east. He even got up early on the day my parents were leaving to take the cookies over and made sure they packed them. Now, that is love. It’s kinda funny too. My grandfather and I love these cookies…like a lot. He gets them special then stockpiles them in a back closet that, if I remember right, my father told me he keeps specially cooled so that he can enjoy them in summer (they aren’t sold in summer in the south east due to the heat and moisture). God I hope I am this obsessive about chocolate when I am his age. What a role model.

He knows I love these cookies and has made sure that he has enough, on hand at all times, so that he and I can sit down and enjoy some together. In fact, he has always kinda surprised me with the links to which he will go to ensure that I have some of these cookies whenever possible. I was driving somewhere recently, just sort of thinking to myself, and I had this funny thought flash through my mind. Sadly, in this thought my grandfather had passed away and I was being read the will from some nameless attorney. “…and finally”, he reads, “I leave my entire Pinwheel Bonanza to Mark. I hope I saved enough to last him the rest of his life.” Then I am led to a warehouse much like the one at the end of Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Arc. Where rows and rows of cookies as far the eye can see have been slowly stored for years. Beautiful.

Back to my parents. We all had a good time. LJ and I loved having them out here. My brother couldn’t come because his comedy career has taken off so that it is hard to get him anywhere that he isn’t being paid to be. I am so proud of him. I have to admit I really thought that he wasn’t going to do well in comedy, I am so glad I was dead wrong. He really is quite a funny guy and this really seems to suit him. He was never really a 9 to 5 kinda guy anyway. My sis (sorry Adrienne. I couldn't find your blog) is starting classes in college again and everything is just sort of rollin’ on as things do. Oh, my mother just started here first week of teaching high school. That promises to be interesting I’m sure. I hope she likes it, though I’m sure she will.

No, real big news other than LJ and I are both tossing around the idea of grad school. I don’t know which of us will do it or even whether that will happen at all, but I’ll just say we are thinking about the option. If I do it I am hoping to do one of those programs where you get your masters and doctorate rolled into like four years, but again we’ll see. ‘Course, if I do ever get a doctorate I’ll have to change my last name to like ‘X’ or ‘Strangelove’ or something.

Oh yeah, you guys should check out my buddy Mike’s blog. He has revamped it and has started blogging again. His content is second only to Half Assed’s and the site looks great too! It also appears that he has built a new site for Reference Toxicity, the only web comic H/A endorces due to the fact that I am a semi-pivital and reoccuring chacacter! Also, it's funny.

Lets see...ummm...oh, my hit counter is about to go over 6,000! Thats pretty cool. This hasn’t really been a very topical blog, but hey maybe I’ll have some half assed opinions about something next week…or the week after…or the week after…

Holy Skeletons in the Closet Batman!

A few years ago I drove up from Florida for a visit to my parents on a school holiday. After I had packed my car and was on my way out the door I was saying “Bye” to my dad and in the process I casually asked whom the pictures on his desk were of. “Oh, my first wife”, he responded in an uninterested tone. “Ok, I’ll call you when I get back home. See ya.” “Later”, he called out. I actually made it all the way down to my car and was on my way out of the driveway before it fully hit me; “My first wife”!? I quickly ran back up the steps to see what the hell he was talking about. My dad then explained to me how he had been married before to another woman and then had a divorce a year later. Let me just say that he couldn’t understand why this had struck me so hard. When I asked him why he had never told me he merely replied, “It never came up.”

Today my parents and sister came to visit me in Nevada. While everyone was going through their morning routines my mother leans towards me in her chair and says, “I have to tell you something”. After a little back and forth she tells me that she had had a child before she met my dad and had to give it up for adoption. Also, that he had recently contacted her. I have to tell you here that I used up all my disbelief those years ago on my father’s whole first marriage bit so my reaction was a lot more subdued. Still, when I asked why she had never told me the answer was, again, “It never came up.”

It never freakin’ came up! In twenty-seven years of conversations with these people you’d think that at some point the discussion would have veered close enough to make the leap to this subject, let alone crashing directly into it. That aside, I have a biological half-brother out there. Exciting news really. I read a letter he had sent and saw a picture of him and got a bit of a biography too. Interestingly he had slipped his name into the letter through random capitalized letters. I just happened to be the first one to notice this and subsequently fueled a bit of a frenzy this morning that resulted in my mother writing an email to her first son.

You know as proud as I was to have studied and become an archaeologist it ain’t shit compared to this dude. As unrealistic as this may sound to those who know me and thereby feel that anyone hindered by my family’s genetics should achieve this; I swear it’s all true. He is a PhD in atomic physics and works at a particle accelerator lab. That is a lot to meet up to, but hey maybe this is how all younger siblings feel (I’m new to that feeling).

As curious and exciting as this news is I am rather taken aback. I mean is this it? Ok, my dad had a former wife, my mom had another kid. I am terrified to talk to my grandparents. I can just imagine sitting down in their family room chatting about whatever when my grandmother lets it slip that she worked as a spy during WWII and my grandfather wasn’t really in the armed forces, he was actually a globetrotting jewel thief…”d’you want more ice tea honey?”

Mediation = Awesomeness

So, I am one of those people who are unshakably sure of themselves most of the time. In fact, I am so sure of my correctitude that in a friendly discussion I will fling the rules of etiquette and good graces out the window faster than a pissed-off Russell Crowe in a hotel room and become quite belligerent toward my adversary. At this point I will usually call on my own personal mediator. That’s right, personal mediator.

While most people have personal financial advisors, physicians, lawyers, nutritionists, therapists and trainers; I feel it more advantageous to have a personal mediator. Someone with whom I can call upon to offer an unbiased appraisal of my current discussion. Someone to settle any conflict of trivial fact or opinion that might arise in any of my discussions. This personal mediator, in my opinion, is on call 24 hours a day and will always field my questions whether they are about movies, video games or deep societal issues. So, I guess this post is to say thanks bud for all the outrageous questions you have answered over the years.

Don’t think I don’t appreciate your willingness to wake up on a weeknight at 3:30 AM and entertain my drunken half-baked questions on whether the winged animal in Super Mario Bros. was a flying turtle or a duck. Or answering bizarre questions while at work or in the gym. Even taking impromptu polls, when asked, of your fellow compatriots or co-workers to solve a matter of popular opinion. It is this selfless attitude and willingness to entertain ridiculous questions posed at the most inopportune times that will assure your top five ranking on my cell phone’s speed-dial for years to come.

Kudos to you my personal mediator and kudos to all who toil fruitlessly for the benefit of us, the burdensome friends out there.

At this point I would like to cordially invite my mediator to become a full member of the Half-Assed Opinions Technical Staff. This will mean longer hours, a heavier workload, and an almost palpable sense of slackery that you must exude everywhere you go. Don’t think that this position doesn’t come with an awesome benefits package though. As all members of the H/A staff you will have a .002% financial right to any of the half invented products that will never be created, marketed or even discussed at future H/A meetings. Also, you might get a cool H/A T-shirt someday…if I remember to make one…ever.

This offer will self destruct all over your CPU in; 5…4…3…2…

Putting the ‘Dis’ in Dysfunctional

So, LJ has been riding my case about having kids for like the last three months or more. It has gotten serious enough that when she goes to Wal-Mart, Target or any other clothes retailer she might want to stop by the kid sections to look at baby clothes. Maybe she’ll just tell me about reading numerous articles or blogs about babies. Hell, today we had to go to Babies R’ Us just so that she could look at baby room furniture.

Its not that I don’t want to have kids, it isn’t that I don’t like kids. It’s just that I don’t know if I can handle kids in a daddly way yet. For example I just know that to me having a kid around would just be, in my mind, supplying me with a punching bag for practical jokes. Now, before any of you fly off the handle you have to realize that this is just about normal behavior in my family. For the first five years of my life my father, in a rather brilliant parenting ploy, had me convinced that he had killed and devoured my older brother because he had misbehaved so grievously one day. Honestly this may have kept me inline somewhat for a time. I’m only trying to illustrate that in my family it was okay to bend the truth with your children because, hey they were easy dupes and it was amusing for the adults.

I can just imagine myself doing all sorts of crazy-ass things to my kids simply for my own amusement. Just off the top of my head the other day I thought about how funny it would be to sneak into my kid’s room at night and pee in his or her sock drawer. Then the next morning when they come running downstairs to tell me that their sock drawer smells like pee, I can look up from my coffee, with a shocked and dismayed look on my face, and say “Oh…jeeze…Well, some kids have this problem…I guess. You know Billy most kids have trouble with wetting the bed but you must be extra messed up…you pee the sock drawer in your sleep. How embarrassing.” Or maybe while they are at school I could raise their bike seat a little bit every day for a week until they come and tell me that their feet don’t reach the peddles anymore. At this point I say something like “Well Susie most kids your age grow up, but I guess you’re shrinking. Not a lot of kids shrink you know. You should be happy though, it’s kinda like winning the genetic freak lottery. Still your Mom and I are pretty disappointed though…(sigh).”

God, that is some heartless shit. That is way worse than any of the pranks I pulled on Mike or Danny, Beth and Brad. I just feel like maybe I need time to mature a little more. I am more concerned with my toys than the possibility of buying some other kid toys. I want a motorcycle damn it! Still, the idea of having a little kid to mold into a pranking-video gaming-punk music listening-machine. That…could be kinda fun. LJ seems enamored with the idea. Sometimes it’s all she ever talks about. It just worries me because it is so much responsibility and we have so many other things going on right now. My mind is just filled with the neat things I would love to do with the kid, but then I think of all the things I have to do for the kid. I’m a little scared. You know my Dad always told me that he wanted a sports car but my Mom wanted children, and she got her way. I better get that motorcycle.

The ADHD Epidemic

*WARNING: This is going to be a long post so anyone who may not have the time or the attention span then bookmark it and come back later…it looks as though I have to climb atop the old soapbox again.

I was talking to my parents the other day and they told me that my cousin was going to be tested for ADHD (Attention Defecate Hyperactivity Disorder). I was a little shocked and asked why. I got the stock reply that I would say most parents give, “Grades, attention, attitude, etc.”. I must admit I am a bit emotionally invested here, not to mention that I am not licensed in any medical discipline (unless you count MD of Awesomeness, which most people don’t) so take everything from here on with a grain of salt.

You see years ago when I was a pre teen my parents decided that I had to go see a series of shrinks to see if I could be qualified as what was then called ADD for all the same reasons listed above. Though I was declared to have ADD and was put on Ritalin I have always felt that it was done in error. That’s right, I felt the psychologists had misdiagnosed me. Now, I don’t want to come off as a crazy-ass Scientologist here, but I do believe that the human condition is such that accurately diagnosing a person with any disorder could, and in most cases should, take a long time to do. People are just too fucking complex to qualify and quantify into such general behavioral groups like that. I just feel that to diagnose a kid so quickly like that, especially a child whose self-image will be greatly affected by what this professional may say about them not to mention that in this child’s mind their parents have decided there is something deficient enough about them to warrant taking them to this professional, you should get to know them for more than a couple of hour long sessions.

In my case I was humiliated and destroyed by the verdict. I felt that I was different from everyone else around me because of my medication and supposed problem. That I didn’t belong with the normal kids because I was lacking. My self-image was shattered and as a result I had to build a new one. I don’t begrudge my parents for this. I know they were doing it out of concern and love. I mean any parent who doesn’t want to make their child’s life better or even easier is just sadistic. They just wanted me to be successful and for school to be easier, I got that. Yet when I was talking to them the other day about this, though I have on numerous occasions tried to dispel their belief that I was ever truly any kind of candidate for ADD, they were relentless. They still believe that I have a learning disability and were trying to be supportive. I gotta tell ya its like having to prove you’re NOT a witch to a bunch of pissed-off torch bearing puritans. Once the dye is cast it never comes out baby, never.

So, let me explain to you what the symptoms of ADHD in fact are…

Children who have ADHD often:

• Are easily distracted by sights and sounds in their environment.
• Are unable to concentrate for long periods of time on low stimulation tasks (homework vs. video games).
• Are restless and impulsive.
• Have a tendency to daydream.
• Are slow to complete tasks.

Now it may just be me, but does that not sound like the typical child to anyone else? Is there any child who would rather be doing his or her math homework than out playing with the other kids down the street? Is there any kid with enough life experience or maturity to not seem impulsive? I mean seriously who’s kid is not ruled by their impulses? What I am trying to say here is that, to me and most of the other people I’ve talked to, ADHD is way too broadly defined to have any sort of real merit as a true psychiatric disorder. At least with most other disorders there are much narrower criteria that must be met. It seems that the term ADHD should be re-named “The normal kid complex”.

It is also striking how most of these symptoms are remarkably similar to the signs that anyone would display if they were bored. Now, I’m not saying that all the kids who are diagnosed with this are really a bunch of bright kids who just slipped through the cracks. Certainly there are children and adults who would benefit greatly from the medications provided. However, how many people are misdiagnosed a year?

When the illness was first discovered and the drug Ritalin was first marketed it seemed like most kids were either on Ritalin or had been on it for a while. Huge numbers of children in America were diagnosed as having ADD. Now, years later, there almost seems to be a bit of a backlash as those children have grown up. After doing a bit of research on the net I was surprised to see how many sites weren’t just about the symptoms of ADHD and the helpfulness of the current drugs but almost just as many articles or pages about why you shouldn’t be on these drugs or pages that seemed bent on the negative sides of the psychiatric community (as it pertained to the diagnoses of children with ADHD) as well as the drugs themselves. I felt that I had some vindication at this point. Apparently I wasn’t the only one.

In fact I stumbled across a lot of sites all about the problem of misdiagnosis of ADHD. Some even included a list of alternative reasons that a child might display the symptoms of ADHD. Believe me there were way too many to list here so you’ll have to check out the links at the bottom. Again I’m not saying that ADHD doesn’t exist; what I am saying is that it seems to be this “catch-all” diagnosis that some poorly qualified or inexperienced or even charlatans in the psychiatric community may use to prescribe a medication to children who may have some other condition or in fact nothing wrong with them at all.

Again, I am not saying that some people don't qualify or wouldn't benefit from medication for ADHD. However I am pleading with parents out there to not take this decision lightly. Think about what this could do to your child or even your relationship with your child. Also, think about what other causes this could be stemming from. It is way to easy to just say that this problem is genetic and therefore it couldn't be anything else; "Drug my child please." This should be a last resort and trust me it will have lasting consequences for both you and your child.

Check out these links for more info…

- ADHD Drug Side Effects
- Ritalin Side effects
- Misdiagnosis of ADHD
- The Overdiagnosis of ADHD (I highly recomend this one)

P.S. Yeah, yeah, sorry I haven't posted in a while but what can I say? I guess being a free-lance archaeologist for hire, not to mention a kick-ass husband keeps me pretty buisy. What's that? "But Mark, we need more opinions of a truely half-assed nature...whimper, whimper." Oh, ok. I'll whip up another batch of intelectual trav-sham-mockery as soon as I can. And maybe it won't take me a month like last time.

Eat Shit

So, I was out walking my dog the other day and per usual, Zeus, my eighty pound wonder-mutt, suddenly was dragging me over to something he had to check out. Before I could stop him he scarfed down a sizable chunk of dog poo. “Great” I think. I feel like the parent of the child who is constantly eating glue or some other rather nasty little habit. As I’m walking back to the apartment, Zeus happily bounding in front, satisfied no doubt in his found culinary treasure, I was thinking “Hmmm, why is there such a stigma attached to this?”

Yeah, yeah I know its poo. I know, I know. Gross as it is to us, maybe dogs just like the taste. I mean they aren’t pent up by social graces like we are and they aren’t people so why stress about it. Why not embrace it as their natural preference. Look at it this way you don’t get on your dog for liking the crotch notch and you don’t get onto them for sniffing other dog’s poop chutes, so why get on them about eating sod snickers? (Too much rhyming?) Anyway, so thinking about it I decided to give the idea to the old Half-Assed Innovations crew as I do any other half conceived notions. And here is what they gave me.

Here’s the thing: No overhead cost for product production or R&D. Simple box and wrapper design. All we need to do is alter people’s preconceived notions that dogs shouldn’t eat poo. Once that’s done its all profit baby.

Oh, yeah and while they were working on it the H/A staff also gave me this idea for future market development…”Scroungey’s Grab-Bag”, much the same as Pooties only for babies. We will just fill the boxes with anything a toddler might find and want to put in its mouth. With an adorable toddler aged mascot who looks like a sailor and is always searching for the next treat to taste. I had one word for my staff at that point…”brilliant”.