Ni!

For yesterday's Big Game, I bought along a snack food that I have taught myself to love in spite of its citric bite and the shock to my sensitive tooth fillings: grapes.

We began discussing the grapes and my forced adoration because of my kidney malfunction. My fellow players knew that I did not drink alcohol but were unaware of the reason. I explained my particular kidney malfunction and said that when my kidneys fail, the amount of water I can consume will be limited, but gaining water through natural food sources is a different quality of water. Nothing holds natural water like grapes and watermelon. Grapes, I like. Watermelon, not so much.

It also occurred to me in the tellilng that I have developed a nonchalant attitude toward my problem. I know that I am in Stage 2 of ADPKD, that my liver is already affected by the disease, and that eventually one or both organs will fail. I know that when that happens, if I survive the initial failure, I will be added to the tail of a rather long list of people in need of a kidney and/or liver transplant. My options will be severely limited, and there is no cure apart from a transplant, but why tilt at windmills? It could be worse.

Yes, there's worse.

A friend here at The Fort has cancer, and her family is devastated, obviously. We all are. She has children at home as well as her husband, extended family, and friends. She's trying to fight it, and we're all pulling for her in our own way.

As much as my diagnosis was a shock to me, I already knew that ADPKD was a genetic malfunction, and that there was nothing to be done but get my body healthy in all other aspects in an attempt to prolong the inevitable. Cancer, on the other hand, is completely different. There are things that can be done in a lot of cases, but they're pretty much all frikkin' miserable treatment programs, with hair loss the best of the side effects. While some cancers are hereditary, most come out of the blue. Sometimes the cancer is very tough to beat, and sometimes it just won't quit.

Her situation and that of Mister's friend from school have opened my eyes to the surprisingly large number of people I know who've either had cancer themselves or who have had someone close to them with cancer. It's absolutely shocking how many! It has also brought to my attention the disparity in treatment options when insurance is inadequate or unavailable as well as how some hospitals deal with that situation.

My father's wife discovered a lump in her breast. A biopsy turned up cancer. Because she had no medical insurance, the cheaper option was to perform the double mastectomy with reconstructive plastic surgery later than to even attempt chemo/radiation.

Luckily for my dad's wife, the oncologist who confirmed her diagnosis had staff privileges at the one hospital in the tri-state who would allow her surgery pro-bono. Well, not so much pro-bono as "we know you won't pay us, but we'll pretend we don't," and they did not refuse to treat her. A big thank-you from me to the hospital, because even though I don't like her much, she takes care of my father and I don't have to.

I have my own problems, but they seem so small when compared to the crises of others. As much as I would love a non-surgical cure for my problem, cancer really needs it more.

I ask for nothing

I was raised by a family and society that expects me to be Christian of some variety. My father expects me to be of the Catholic bent, at one point encouraging "the fat one" to become a nun. Events have occurred since I became an adult which have shaken my hesitant faith into non-existence. However, to say that I am not a Christian is to suggest that I am some other thing, such as a Buddhist or Muslim. The greater truth is that "religion" is no more than a history-based mythology for me.

Instead I believe in the power of me. Whatever I can do to make our world, our society, our friendship better, I will try. I will recycle, install solar panels and rain barrels, grow my own tomatoes, smile in the face of rudeness, listen to hurt feelings, give comfort and relief, and meet for karaoke in bar even though I neither sing nor imbibe.

It is human nature to need something to believe in. It is my opinion that belief in oneself should be enough. However, humans are emotional and occasionally weak. A person might require belief in someone or something else in order to believe in themselves.

For those people, the power of prayer is amazingly beneficial. When one feels helpless, "lifting" ones troubles to a god is like removing a weight off the shoulders. In the case of a dear friend slowly dying of cancer, the prayers of her friends and family not only eases their pain, but helps her feel their love for her and so calms her spirit in the face of death.

However, some people take this prayer thing a little too far, in my opinion.

A relation of Mister's often sends out prayer requests. They are as varied as the weather. When her granddaughter was born premature, the prayers were along those lines. Later, they shifted to prayer requests for a safe drive to/from the doctor's office and the like.

A week or so ago, an in-law passed away. It is my understanding the the lady had lived a long, full life and was much loved. Fantastic. If only I can be so lucky! However, if I judge the requests correctly, this relation's spouse was absolutely devastated and required much praying to make through the week. Really? Am I the only person who celebrates a life well-lived? Why not pray thanks for that? She could have been beset by misfortunes, or like my friend with cancer, painfully wasted away while her small children watched, helpless.

And now we're being asked to pray for this guy who has worked nearly 40 hours this week, with another 20-30 to go before his working week is done, so that he may have the strength to make it through. How about instead we pray our thanks that he's got a job at all, adding an additional prayer for those who are unemployed and hungry that they might find relief soon?

Day after day, week after week, this relative posts request after request. The sheer quantity of of requests, all along the lines of gimme-gimme (give me strength, get me there safely, etc) even if for the benefit of others, makes me frown. On the one hand, it is very generous of her to be thinking so much of others. On the other hand, only one request of the dozens so far was a request for thanks to be given.

Am I being harsh for thinking of this as very selfish and un-Christianly?

lulz wut?

I hate purposely-misspelled words. Hate them! For instance, the use of the word, "pak" or "pac" instead of "pack," makes me nuts!

On the other hand, hilarious-but-innocent misspellings get me laughing and it's so much fun.

This weekend, a teenage friend on Facebook posted the notice that he was "makin pancaks." Another comment reads, "HOLLY CRAP I JUST LOOKED AT THAT PIC AND IT SCARRED YHE HECK OUT OF ME!!! WHY THE HECK WOULD YOU PUT SUMTIN LAKE THAT WAHERE THE PUBLIC CAN SEE!!!!! hahahah jk jk but it is scurry!!"

I laughed so hard just now, that I decided to find and join a "misspelled words" fanpage on the site.

Yes, there are fanpages for misspelled words. There are also fanpages for "watching clouds go by" and "turning the pillow to get to the cold side."

On the first 10 of the 225 fanpages related to misspelled words was a 43-member prayer group titled

PRAYER FOR THOSE EFFECTED BY MISUSED AND MISSPELLED WORDS

I'm going to let that soak in for a moment. If it weren't all so darn funny, I'd cry.

Serious blogger is serious. Srsly.

The "actress" Jessica Simpson is an airhead. Everyone knows this, and usually what comes out of her mouth is disregarded after some eye-rolling and/or rude giggling at her expense.

She was recently asked if she would demand the return of a gift she had given to her ex-boyfriend, Tony Romo. Her comments pissed off many Native Americans because she said she was no "Indian-giver."

This anger confuses me. I had always assumed "Indian-giver" was a slam against white people, because of the many treaties signed and then broken by the white settlers in North America. You see, much was given to and promised to the Native Americans ("Indians") by the whites, but much was retracted and ignored by the whites. In this respect, an "Indian-giver" is one who gives a gift only until such time as the giver wants it back. No gift is truly "given." As I read her statement, I got the impression she thinks the same way.

Sure, she made her case worse by stating outright that she was herself an "Indian," but who knows? Perhaps she is.

If my interpretation of the phrase is in fact incorrect, please help me. I want to be as well-informed as I can, although I haven't used that phrase since I was a child and didn't understand how words hurt people.

Update

Remember my birthday and the bad waiter incident?

Turns out that had I complained, it would not have mattered. Not one little bit.

The guy at my table who didn't get his order did complain after I left. The owner was on-site, and my friend let him know what happened. The waiter was called out on that situation, and he said in his defense that he simply didn't hear my friend give his order. The owner was satisfied with that, and quite literally shrugged the whole thing off.

I'm sorry, but that's just ass.

If you are in customer service, you are supposed to make eye contact with each of your clients. I know that as a waiter/server/whatever, your interaction with the clients is critical to receiving a decent tip, which might even put you over the full minimum wage if your tip is awesome enough. I fondly recall the old days when servers actually wrote down your order, noting all the special details, and then repeated the order back to you. This clown barely gave us the time of day. If he approached our table at all, it was because we rudely flagged him down.

No, it wasn't rude of us to flag him down; he just acted like it was.

On the other hand, the alcohol-swilling drunks out on the veranda received non-stop care and attention from the same server who ignored us all night. I guess one solution to my dilemma is to just become a public drunk.

All I can say is that it will take a guarantee that Mr. A. Hole is not our server to get me to eat there again, and even then I will decline after I remind myself that Mr. A. Hole is supported unconditionally by his boss, Mr. WishyWashy Pants.

We are not amused!

Yesterday was trivia night at a local island-themed restaurant. The food is interesting, although their drinks menu is longer than their food menu.

We always join others who regularly arrive anywhere from about 30 minutes or more ahead of us to halfway through the game. This is standard operating procedure for trivia night no matter where it's held, and the restaurant has been hosting the event for some time now. Nobody should be surprised by late-comers.

The two who were already at our table were well into their meals when we arrived. In a series of long waits of at least ten minutes, we were offered a beverage but no menu, received our drinks and had to ask for the menu, were given the menu, and had our order taken. About 20 minutes later, our appetizer arrived, a simple dish of six shrimp in a coconut-rum sauce. A few minutes later, I actually managed to flag the server over and ask for a bread basket.

By the time the bread arrived, our final two companions had joined the table but were completely ignored by our server until he delivered our main courses, which was about 20 minutes after the shrimp had been delivered--at least 40 minutes after ordering. Getting refills on anything that wasn't alcohol was negligent at best.

Of the two who joined us last, one got her food, the other did not. Luckily, he wasn't billed for it, although I suspect that initially he was but then the server realized he'd never put the food order in. No apology was issued by the server at any time.

We had the worst time trying to get his attention all night. One of us ordered fries, but the ketchup bottle we were forced to borrow from another table was absolutely empty. Another ran out of both salad dressing and cocktail sauce. Two wanted to order seconds on the peel-and-eat shrimp-by-the-piece special, but in the end had to get theirs "to go" because it was almost 9 pm when they were able to place that order. And still, one companion never got anything other than a glass of soda-pop.

Meanwhile, there are two tables outside on the veranda where every Monday is the same group of people who sit for hours drinking alcohol and smoking cigars and cigarettes. Our server was also responsible for them, and they received prodigiously good care and attention in spite of the fact that while I was there, none of them had eaten any food. Perhaps they already had; I don't know.

However, when it was time to hand out the checks, we could not shake this guy. He hovered around the table until each one of us had pulled out cash or card.

And so I present this dilemma: Mister was so ticked off, he didn't want to leave a tip. I paid with cash on purpose so that my amount couldn't be changed later, and left slightly less than 10%. The owner of the restaurant stopped by our table because he is a personal friend of one of my tablemates, but none of us complained about the server.

I didn't even know how to broach the subject. I've never had to complain about really bad service before, and couldn't start. I had hoped that one of the others would speak up, especially the guy who didn't even get the food he'd ordered. No one did. Also, I felt uncomfortable with the tip. I've never given so little, but then again, I've only once had just comically bad service from a brand-new server (which resolved itself happily and is now a running joke with my dinner friends). Last night's server, however, has been at that restaurant at least for as long as we've been going there.

Please advise me on how best to proceed. By sheer luck I will not be returning to that particular restaurant again, but I still want to have my arsenal ready just in case this unfortunately happens again.

All-American

I was browsing at a discount store last week and found this:




Yes, my friends, that truly is an Inaugural Lava Lamp. It is also, in my opinion, yet another example of why the rest of the world generally disregards the United States of America.

I'll take Insane Genius for $1000, Alex.

Happy birthday to the late Nicola Tesla, a most magnificent genius and my first nerd crush. (Second was Carl Sagan, but that's another story for another day.)

Too bad he was very all dead by the time I discovered his brilliance, otherwise I would have stalked him for sure.

Self-Entitlement VS Stupidity

A local grocery store is part of a larger shopping plaza. At one end of the building is a spur road that connects the plaza to the two main roads that it bisects. Where this spur meets the parking lot is a 4-way stop. Let's assume the plaza runs east-west.

I was driving from the north and came to a stop as required by law. I noticed to the east a very large red SUV parked in the fire lane at the video store in the plaza. The driver's door was open, and my guess is that it was still running. Common sense told me to wait. A quick check of my rearview indicated that no one was waiting behind me.

That hesitation on my part probably saved my car's life. The whole event was over in a matter of seconds beginning with my decision to wait.

A well-manicured soccer-mom type bounded out of the video store, climbed quickly into the SUV, and then shot forward with no regard to the car that was legally coming up behind her in the proper lane. As she approached the intersection, she just barreled through it, not bothering to even slow down or look. She turned south, the same direction I was intending to go.

The new car to the east sat waiting at the intersection, a look of shock on the driver's face. I caught his eye and he waved me on. I graciously waved back and followed Ms SUV through the intersection. I later watched as she rolled through the T-style intersection (with no merge spurs) to join heavy traffic on the main artery road behind the shopping plaza, headed in the same direction I needed to go.

At the next intersection, the light turned red just as Ms SUV reached the crossing. She did not stop. Although it saddens me greatly to say this, fortunately the good people of the Asscrack of America are used to driving such as this, and no one popped out into the intersection until she had cleared it.

Stupidity, self-absorption, or overweening sense of entitlement? I report, you decide.

This Just In!

The Minnesota Supreme Court has finally ruled--unanimously--that Al Franken won the election against incumbent Norm Coleman for the Senate seat.

Congratulations, Mr. Franken. I hope you enjoy the experience, and have the opportunity to do something wonderful for the American people.

News article courtesy of TPM/DC online, found via Fark.com

Dear Citizens of Iran:

I noticed that some of you are rather unhappy with the results of a recent election, and have chosen to express this displeasure publicly. Some have suggested that the election results are not honest and true. I assume that you hold on to the hope for a recount or even a new election as the result of the current activities dedicated to alerting the world of your unhappiness.

I just just wanted to say, "Good luck! We're all counting on you."

Warm regards,

Soo

Born in the USA

A certain retail chain got famous in its early days because its founder and chairman insisted on trying to find things made in the USA which were of equal quality and resale price of foreign competition. After his death, his family took over the company. These days you are hard-pressed to find anything made here in the USA for sale in the store. Most products are imported from China, specially packaged with this store's name on the box, or from other countries where a dollar-a-day wage is living large.

Lately I've developed a little quirk in which before dropping a non-food product into my cart, I check the label for country of origin. If I can find the American-made (or in the case of pillows, American-finished) product for about the same price, I'll buy that. Sometimes I have to pay a few dollars more, but it's worth it to me. American business needs all the encouragement it can get from consumers to keep doing business, and do that business here in on US soil.

Today I wandered into one of the 4 local stores in search of a mosquito lawn spray and replacement lawn chairs. When I saw the prices of the China-made metal chairs, I thought $22 for the cheapest folding chair was a bit steep, especially since I needed 5 of them and was planning on splashing out next spring on an awesome patio set for our new deck TBBL*.

I opted for plastic chairs, and sighed when I saw the measly $13 price tag. "More China," I whined inside my head. As I was unloading the chairs, I started to peel the labels off before taking them to the back yard. It occurred to me that I had forgotten to check the labels, and so I did.

And I nearly dropped the chair.

They were nice-looking but cheap, comfy, and proudly made in the USA.

Yay!

*to be built later. Come party when it's ready!

Nerds!!

I want Rock Band.

I have a Wii.

I have been told it's tons better on the XBox360.

I need advice!

In all seriousness, I am concerned. I don't want to shell out for a 360 just for one game, but I don't want a miserable Rock Band experience. A friend and 360 enthusiast claimed that the download capabilities of the Wii were not good enough for RB, but was too busy playing RB to elaborate.

My kids often play MarioKart on the Wii using the worldplay feature, and can play for hours without getting booted off the wi-fi. Does this mean that our download experience won't suck as much as others, or simply that we can play MarioKart for hours?

I have the right television for it, along with the wireless internet connection.

Should I just shell out for the 360? And before you ask, the answer is no, I will not be buying other games to play on the 360. I really enjoy the Wii, and I play my gory shoot-em-ups online anyway.

Feel free to enhance my knowledge and/or sway my decision in the comments section.

Break Stuff

Today is just one of those days. Crabby, unhappy, and generally unrepentant.

I am not feeling like pleasing anyone today, and I really don't care if that hurts anyone's feelings. It's really too bad, because the sun is shining, and the temperature is trying to warm a little. But no, I'm cranky.

Feel free to vent in the comments.

May The Farce Be With You..... Always!

This morning while driving to The Girl and The Boy to school, we were chit-chatting. The Boy wasn't really paying attention, only butting in every few sentences or so. And then we saw him at the midway crossing: Mace Windu.

Mace Windu works at The Girl's high school. Tall, dark, shiny dome, and forever pointing a finger, he's in charge of discipline, and the kids say he's mean. The Girl supposed he was even in the military.

"In the military"? What does that mean, I ask. She explains that military people are, you know, like that. Like what, I inquire. The Girl says that military people, you know, are just mean.

I reminded her that her dad has 18 years on active duty, and he's not "like that."

The Boy perked up and asked, "What, bald?"

Mace Windu vs Mister, or
Like that vs. not quite like that!

1984?

Allegedly, there is a war going on somewhere, one in which the United States is heavily engaged. You wouldn't know that, if you had watched Fox News for the first time ever yesterday morning.

Over the weekend, a soldier murdered several fellow soldiers in theater. Also, the rates of drug use and misuse among soldiers is increasing. More jobs and homes are being lost every day. Governmental spending at every level across America is grossly bloated and unsupportable. One might hold up California on the brink of bankruptcy as an example, but because this happens on a regular cycle, we'll skip that and move on to other things, like the college professor who murdered his wife and several others, and then committed suicide. Or the rampant use of performance-enhancer drugs in professional sports.

And this is just the stuff going on with the USA. We don't have time to carry on with the rest of the planet.

On the whole, things are not lovely. Really and truly, the only silver lining is that our reservoir is now at full pool, and the weather is still cool enough to keep the windows open to catch the breeze. The rest is crap.

However, what qualifies as a news alert for Fox News is none of this. No, the channel has decided that a beauty-pageant contestant and her under-age nudie photos qualifies as an "Alert!" with the same level of saturation one might expect if a plane full of Congressmen crashed in a ball of fire into an orphanage hosting a dog show.

So a pageant contestant gets to keep her crown because nude and semi-nude photos she had taken back when she was 17 were not meant to be published but were instead for a modeling portfolio. Big whupdee doodles.

Come on, Fox. The USA may often appear to be full of proles, but it's not, unless you help make it so. Raise the bar, freaks. Raise the bar.

Swamp Thing

Over the last year or two, I stood back in horror as I watched my mortgage company get rightfully pilloried for being at the front of the national (and then worldwide) housing crisis. Being the #1 issuer of questionable mortgages, Countrywide became even more infamous thanks to a series of television ads that told clients they could "get help" through them, but then denied nearly every applicant.

Unfortunately, sensible people like me were the real victims. I bought only what I could afford on one paycheck even though I was urged by one real estate agent to buy twice that ("You're military--you'll get the credit easy!"). I have made every payment on time. I paid extra into the escrow when I knew the my property taxes were going up. I haven't taken out a home equity loan against my house.

How does that make me a victim? I don't get a share in the "bailout," but I can certainly fund it.

Home buyers are as much to blame for this mess as mortgage lenders. People know when their credit is questionable, or even downright bad. Add the temptation of loose mortgage regulations and we have bailout soup. Irresponsible lenders and irresponsible borrowers are getting a helping hand at my expense, and I'm supposed to be okay about this.

And then, adding rock salt to this festering wound, I log in this week to pay my mortgage only to discover that one bad apple has been changed for another: Bank of America bought out Countrywide's mortgages.

My first thought was, "How could I possibly make it any worse for myself?! Jehovah! Jehovah!"

My second thought was, "Super. F'n super."

It takes a real man to wear tights!

Please, someone explain to me why I belly-laughed until it hurt over this:





Thanks, XKCD, for another great day!

Happy Star Wars Day!

Yes, I know what you're thinking. But just because I think badly of George Lucas it does not mean that I have turned away from the entire franchise. I just said he's not getting any more of my money.

And so, without further ado, May The 4th Be With You, Always.

It's our boy with no pants!

I live in a quiet residential area that is, but isn't, a subdivision. One main drag that winds its way between two connectors, there are no signs indicating you are in [name redacted] subdivision. We're just a cluster of similar brick ranch dwellings, all but one without a garage, and popular with teenagers because it's fun to race through here, apparently.

This morning I was off to the hardware store to buy a machete. As I was weaving my way through the maze of cars no one likes to park in their private driveways (?!), I noticed two adults and some kids crowded around the back of a minivan. I slowed down even more for safety--one never knows when those little kids will decide it's a good time to dart into the street--when I noticed that the man was wearing some seriously tight shorts.

voice in my head: "Dude's way too tubby to be wearing bike shorts. Spandex at your size.... OMG those are underpants!!"

Yes, my neighbor was wearing a pair of tight-fitting boxer-briefs out in the sunny public on a lovely Sunday at noon. But wait! There's more! His waistband was rolled down and his butt crack was peeking out.

What has been seen, can never be unseen. I may never sleep peacefully again.