Friday, March 30, 2007

Fart Dance Fever

Today at work I had gas that was so bad that I considered taking a half day off just so that I could go home and let it all go at my leisure.

It was one of those times when the rumbling of gas around in your stomach is so active that it sounds like you're farting already. And, it's always when you have that painful pressure and rumbling that your buttcheeks decide to be such close buddies that any little seep of gas sounds like you're pulling on the valve of a balloon while letting the air out. You have to do that uncomfortable dance in your seat to move the gas around or else it'll just work it's way out in your current position. The new position that you work yourself into is the most obvious and awkward way that you can sit in a seat. If anybody was to take a single glance at you in your chair at a 45 degree angle, balancing on one cheek, and one foot off of the ground, they would be able to tell wassup with no problem.

I'm just glad that it was a Friday and my cubemates left early -otherwise it would be a day with half pay.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Freedom Fighters: the Circle of Blame and the Emotional Clusterfuck

Being a man, I used to hate arguments. Even if you win (the argument), you lose (out on sex). It might sound strange, but at some point in the last few years I started to actually enjoy arguing.

It was the strangest realization when I discovered that I was pissed off, just got hung up on, and yet, I was excited about it. It was like this battle that happened every time that I picked up the phone. Between battles we would reload by gathering information, forming strategies, or looking for holes in the other's logic or story. Come battle time we brought our artillery to the agreed upon location (Cingular network) and unloaded whatever we had.

Sometimes there would be midday sneak attacks where one of us called the other person when he/she wasn't expecting it and let off a bomb. It was possible to avoid those attacks by not picking up the phone, but then you'd just get bitched out for not picking up and your excuse would be scrutinized in the ensuing battle. It was better to take sneak attacks head on as they came rather than let the bomb feed itself all day.

Sometimes there would be peace talks in a calm environment, like in an e-mail. You can set up all of your defenses for the day's attacks and suggest some sort of compromise to end the war. But, the next day all is forgotten and once again you feel the wind from the harsh words as they whiz by your ear and explosion from the intense decibels of yelling that penetrate your eardrum.

In the beginning, I took advantage of my superior technology (knowing her e-mail password and searching around her computer) and clearly dominated what appeared to be a one-way war. Information wins wars. But then my own weapons (Google Desktop Search) were turned on me as the enemy adapted. The enemy didn't have any real substance to her attacks, but she had enough to create her main weapon: The Circle of Blame.

In case you've never heard of the Circle of Blame (because I made it up just now), it's very much like riding a merry-go-round that you can't get off of; and the merry-go-round is on fire; and there are people on the outside throwing potatoes at you; and you have this spray bottle that will just barely keep the flames off of you; and you have this shield that is exactly the size of a potato; and the only way to escape is to jump (hang up the phone) ... only to end up on another merry-go-round (pick up the phone - begin [merry-go] Round 2).

Okay, so metaphors aside, what the Circle of Blame is is when you get blamed for something, you give your excuse, that leads to something else (you give your excuse), which leads to something else (excuse, yet again), and then eventually comes back full circle to the original source of blame (then repeat). This is known in the political arena as filibustering. This is known in the female mind as entrapment. The only point to repeating this circle over and over again is to either catch the man with something inconsistent or else make the man forget what he said before. Women have the skill to widen the circle over time so that the man can't remember the proper or past response to each question. And, all he has to do is answer it differently than he did before and he's guilty! The genius thing about the Circle of Blame is that the man doesn't even have to be guilty of anything for this weapon to be used effectively on him. The only necessary ingredient is the formation of accusations. And, for most women, forming accusations is as easy as waking up in the morning. It's something that's natural and just part of life.

Women may have the Circle of Blame, but men have: the Emotional Clusterfuck. Men don't have time to come up with as complex of methods as the Circle of Blame, but we've got brute force on our sides. Since we don't give a damn, we are immune to emotional methods of attack. If my enemy said to me "your friends hate you and my girlfriends think that you're ugly" I wouldn't give a damn. Now, if I attacked with an analogous barrage, I'd get rather satisfying results with minimal effort. My enemy would be distraught for weeks and would believe my words over her own opinion. Furthermore, she would have no defense, as her emotions would draw the bridge and lead my invading army to the throne.

You see, this is the difference between a man and a woman in a fight. A man is only susceptible to attacks of logic and reasoning. A woman is only susceptible to attacks of feeling and emotion. It's much harder to attack with logic than it is with emotion. For this reason, men should always dominate arguments. But not all men are smart/mean enough to use the Emotional Clusterfuck. To these men, I have a message: you need to start thinking of yourselves as Freedom Fighters.

Each time you lose a battle, the government (your woman) slowly, but surely takes away your freedoms and dignity. First, you can't go out drinking with the friends she doesn't like. The, you can't hang out with that female friend of yours that you've had since high school. Then, you have to watch a re-run of Sex In the City instead of Family Guy. Then, you have to be home for dinner on time every night. Then, you have to be home in time to make dinner every night. Then, you have to wash her car every week. Then, you have to brush her hair. Then, you have to paint her nails. Then, you have to rub her back. Then, you have to hire a concubine because she doesn't feel like going through the pains of labor! This is out of control! Don't let it happen to you! I'm here to save lives - spread the word!

I'm exaggerating, of course. Relationships are not always wars. Probably just mine was.

This post is still under work...I'm trying to perfect the concepts here....

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Hydroxycut and Me

I've been taking Hydroxycut for about three weeks now. It's done a decent enough job that I can notice on my midsection and I can appreciate that fat loss when I make quicker cuts on the soccer field, but there are more and more strange effects that I'm noticing. First of all, there's the equivalent of 2 cups of coffee of caffeine in each pill. You start off with 3 pills a day, each about 1/2 hour before a meal. After 3 days you double the dose - that's 12 cups of coffee a day! You're supposed to take the last dose 5 hours before you go to sleep so that you don't suffer sleep deprevation (though they don't specifically say that this is why on the bottle). Because of this high dosage of caffeine, I can't drink sodas, teas, or coffee anymore. Not a big deal in my lifestyle, except that I love tea drinks and boba.

So, what have been my personal experiences? I've had two nights of restlessness out of these three weeks where I've gone to bed at 4am or later even though I intended to go to sleep around 1am or 2am. That's not extremely out of the ordinary because I think a lot at night and try to find solutions to all of my problems before I can rest easy. I don't have that many problems so it's typically not that bad. Something else that recently started happening nearly every night are these really weird dreams. I'm not so crazy as to let dreams effect my cognizant life, but when you have really weird ones the emotions you felt during them stick with you for the rest of the day.

I think that what I need to do is work out twice a day in order to get rid of all of the energy that I have. I'm going to play soccer every day at lunch and then work out every day after work. I'm not sure how long I can continue this. It seems worth it because I'm in great shape and tear it up on the soccer field. I'll probably just keep it up until the bottle of pills is empty, take some pictures of myself to show to my kids one day, and then see how I do after I'm off of it.

Anybody else have experiences with work-out supplements that they want to share?

Monday, March 12, 2007

The Quadruple Flush

On my way back from Tahoe this weekend I had a sacrosanct experience after eating at Mikuni's in Sacramento on our way back. After a delectable lunch I had to possibly deuce-deuce it up before the long trip home, but I was thwarted by powers beyond those of mortal men. As soon as I opened the door I could tell that someone was in there emptying their bowels and, most likely, the gates of hell along with it. I've been in plenty a port-o-potty that necessitated holding one's breath, and even some individual stalls at work, but never an entire public bathroom. I closed the door and waited outside for two reasons. One, the bathrooms were all being used; and two, to save the rest of the restaurant from being contaminated.

After some poor souls were able to breast-stroke themselves through the dense fog of stink in order to leave, I took a deep breath and entered. At this time deuce-duece was definitely out of the question without some sort of seperate air supply. I put my water bottle down and then proceeded to divide my intentions by themselves ("uno-uno" for the mathematically or linguistically impaired) at the urinal. It was at this time that I experienced what I thought was the illogical and impossible: the Quadruple Flush. I've heard of courtesy flushes and double flushes, but never a quadruple flush. I think that his reasoning was that the smell would be able to permeate through the local sewage system, trail him, and then this disaster would be linked to him. He was most likely trying to flush his turd into the next county (and, rightfully so). Curious. Interesting. Captivating. I suppose that that would do the trick. The man is probably working from experience.