Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Stuff… and Other Stuff
Well as I continue to look at the world through a fog (physical as opposed to the usual mental fog) here’s some things for you to see:
Turducken: My good friend John aka Rabdo and his fabulous wife Amy have promised to do their yearly Turducken on a weekend when I’ll actually be able to attend. Last year I couldn’t make it due to the fact that I accidentally said yes to going to Carole’s work’s Christmas Party, and so composed the following: Damn You Castrucci. The year before I composed the Turduckenomicon: The Book of the Dead Bird. Let me know if you’d like to read it. This year I will compose a song entitled The Redemption of John Castrucci. Next year, perhaps a musical.
Who Wants A Time Out? So my first real attempt at disciplining of my son sort of backfired. He’d been being a major pill – looking mommy in the eye while throwing his food across the floor – so I stuck him in a corner still strapped into his booster seat. I could tell he quite wasn’t getting the point when he was laughing and saying “Daddy!” But then: Crash! Turns out the boy has got the natural instincts of a spy: he rocked the chair back and forth until it fell over. This scared him and he cried – so he wasn’t like super cool spy – but we ran over and took him out of the chair so he got out anyway. Next time I put him face in I’m strapping him in with duct tape.
Tell Me Your Dreams: I’ve got a talent for dream interpretation. Tell me your dream and I will artfully employ my Bill-shit to translate what your subconscious is trying to tell me...er I mean you. Keep the kinky ones to yourself please. If you don’t like the answer, well you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place! Carole: the dream means you’re afraid of Duncan growing up and not being your little boy anymore. Rhonda I have no idea why you were doing that with a polar bear… I didn’t even think it was possible.
Observations on Life:
“And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
-- Hamlet Act 1, Scene 5
Turducken: My good friend John aka Rabdo and his fabulous wife Amy have promised to do their yearly Turducken on a weekend when I’ll actually be able to attend. Last year I couldn’t make it due to the fact that I accidentally said yes to going to Carole’s work’s Christmas Party, and so composed the following: Damn You Castrucci. The year before I composed the Turduckenomicon: The Book of the Dead Bird. Let me know if you’d like to read it. This year I will compose a song entitled The Redemption of John Castrucci. Next year, perhaps a musical.
Who Wants A Time Out? So my first real attempt at disciplining of my son sort of backfired. He’d been being a major pill – looking mommy in the eye while throwing his food across the floor – so I stuck him in a corner still strapped into his booster seat. I could tell he quite wasn’t getting the point when he was laughing and saying “Daddy!” But then: Crash! Turns out the boy has got the natural instincts of a spy: he rocked the chair back and forth until it fell over. This scared him and he cried – so he wasn’t like super cool spy – but we ran over and took him out of the chair so he got out anyway. Next time I put him face in I’m strapping him in with duct tape.
Tell Me Your Dreams: I’ve got a talent for dream interpretation. Tell me your dream and I will artfully employ my Bill-shit to translate what your subconscious is trying to tell me...er I mean you. Keep the kinky ones to yourself please. If you don’t like the answer, well you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place! Carole: the dream means you’re afraid of Duncan growing up and not being your little boy anymore. Rhonda I have no idea why you were doing that with a polar bear… I didn’t even think it was possible.
Observations on Life:
“And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
-- Hamlet Act 1, Scene 5
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
When the Majority Wants a Minority
The election has passed and much like the week to week clothing of your average high school boy – nothing has changed.
I listened to a lot of my friends yesterday talk about how they were voting, or had voted in the past, for the party they felt would lose but be the best opposition. Now there’s nothing wrong with opposition in the political house, theoretically out of debate will come compromise and golden ideas, but correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t the whole point of democracy to vote for the candidate you feel would be best?
Granted that can be a hard choice when you’re picking between slimeball and slimeball.
To me this election is one more indication that the political system in Canada just doesn’t work. I like living in Canada for the most part. All you need to do is wake up on a frosty morning and watch the sun come over the mountains and you’ll know why. But when it comes to politics and the way this country is run, it almost makes me want to go get involved and fix it myself (and the thought of me in politics is scarier for me than you).
I’m tired of living in a country of political dithering. We have essentially four parties full of people who are now getting paid to not make decision that affect our lives every day. Again. Didn’t we just have that? Didn’t it just not work?
Why, as Canadians, do the majority of us feel we have to have a minority government? Do we feel that the term minority means it’s politically correct to vote it in? The hippies and tree huggers our there are all paranoid in their tinfoil hats that Stephen Harper is going to start introducing capital punishment for gay people – here’s a news flash: the goal of any political party, and any politician, is to get itself/himself/herself re-elected: Harper maybe a beady eyed freakazoid but he’s not about to cut off his meal ticket nor that of his party.
Yes majority governments in the past have screwed up. And yes they will screw up again in the future.
Out of this whole process one thing I have seen. Democracy is government by the people; the people were indecisive – and so for the next 3 or 4 years so too will its government. Our new motto: Canada – we think we’re indecisive, but we’re not too sure.
But I guess this complaint is coming a day too late.
But I did vote.
So I do get to complain.
Observastions of Life: In this new section I will try to post little tidbits of things I've observed. Today's observation: Men - If there's a wet patch just in front of a urinal in the men's washroom, assume it's not water. Ladies - if you notice a wet patch just in front of the urinal you're in the wrong washroom.
I listened to a lot of my friends yesterday talk about how they were voting, or had voted in the past, for the party they felt would lose but be the best opposition. Now there’s nothing wrong with opposition in the political house, theoretically out of debate will come compromise and golden ideas, but correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t the whole point of democracy to vote for the candidate you feel would be best?
Granted that can be a hard choice when you’re picking between slimeball and slimeball.
To me this election is one more indication that the political system in Canada just doesn’t work. I like living in Canada for the most part. All you need to do is wake up on a frosty morning and watch the sun come over the mountains and you’ll know why. But when it comes to politics and the way this country is run, it almost makes me want to go get involved and fix it myself (and the thought of me in politics is scarier for me than you).
I’m tired of living in a country of political dithering. We have essentially four parties full of people who are now getting paid to not make decision that affect our lives every day. Again. Didn’t we just have that? Didn’t it just not work?
Why, as Canadians, do the majority of us feel we have to have a minority government? Do we feel that the term minority means it’s politically correct to vote it in? The hippies and tree huggers our there are all paranoid in their tinfoil hats that Stephen Harper is going to start introducing capital punishment for gay people – here’s a news flash: the goal of any political party, and any politician, is to get itself/himself/herself re-elected: Harper maybe a beady eyed freakazoid but he’s not about to cut off his meal ticket nor that of his party.
Yes majority governments in the past have screwed up. And yes they will screw up again in the future.
Out of this whole process one thing I have seen. Democracy is government by the people; the people were indecisive – and so for the next 3 or 4 years so too will its government. Our new motto: Canada – we think we’re indecisive, but we’re not too sure.
But I guess this complaint is coming a day too late.
But I did vote.
So I do get to complain.
Observastions of Life: In this new section I will try to post little tidbits of things I've observed. Today's observation: Men - If there's a wet patch just in front of a urinal in the men's washroom, assume it's not water. Ladies - if you notice a wet patch just in front of the urinal you're in the wrong washroom.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Eyeballs & Lego
So the Thanksgiving weekend is over and I’m fairly sure I weigh more than I did before it began (that’s a scary thought for those of you who know me I’m sure). I spent a little too much time being in a foul mood this weekend rather than being thankful though.
Saturday morning I woke up and the world wasn’t as clear as it used to be. Now I’m not talking about some philosophical quandary I was finding myself in; not some existentialist angst that was keeping me from seeing the world as it truly is. Nay! What I’m talking about is Iritis.
No, it’s not a Roman playwright.
Iritis is an eye condition wherein the iris of the eye (hence the Iritis) becomes inflame. The side effects are redness of the eye, a change in the color of the eye (sometimes), an aversion to sunlight, the need to drink blood… okay that’s actually vampirism… and in this case crappily reduced vision.
To put it bluntly I have my very own fog bank inside my right eye. So today I call the eye doctor and in the next day or so I get to go back and cross my heart hope to die he’ll stick a needle in my eye.
But as they say when one sense falters another picks up the slack.
My sense of Lego (that’s the 11th sense… the senses run like this: sense of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, ESP, humour, fashion, fair play, self and Lego) apparently has grown exponentially, having discovered this weekend that I have the ability to construct some fairly cool Lego constructs where last weekend had troubles fitting two blocks together.
On Saturday Duncan and I were having fun with the Lego – just two boys playing on the floor with blocks. I was able to build a fairly involved raised train system for his Thomas the Tank set… essentially turning Thomas into a skytrain (and he instantly turned grumpy and had technical defects).
The boy was impressed enough to have me come back in as a special guest block builder again on Sunday and Monday (on which I actually constructed my first Lego house complete with roof.
Throw some turkey in there and that was my weekend.
Saturday morning I woke up and the world wasn’t as clear as it used to be. Now I’m not talking about some philosophical quandary I was finding myself in; not some existentialist angst that was keeping me from seeing the world as it truly is. Nay! What I’m talking about is Iritis.
No, it’s not a Roman playwright.
Iritis is an eye condition wherein the iris of the eye (hence the Iritis) becomes inflame. The side effects are redness of the eye, a change in the color of the eye (sometimes), an aversion to sunlight, the need to drink blood… okay that’s actually vampirism… and in this case crappily reduced vision.
To put it bluntly I have my very own fog bank inside my right eye. So today I call the eye doctor and in the next day or so I get to go back and cross my heart hope to die he’ll stick a needle in my eye.
But as they say when one sense falters another picks up the slack.
My sense of Lego (that’s the 11th sense… the senses run like this: sense of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, ESP, humour, fashion, fair play, self and Lego) apparently has grown exponentially, having discovered this weekend that I have the ability to construct some fairly cool Lego constructs where last weekend had troubles fitting two blocks together.
On Saturday Duncan and I were having fun with the Lego – just two boys playing on the floor with blocks. I was able to build a fairly involved raised train system for his Thomas the Tank set… essentially turning Thomas into a skytrain (and he instantly turned grumpy and had technical defects).
The boy was impressed enough to have me come back in as a special guest block builder again on Sunday and Monday (on which I actually constructed my first Lego house complete with roof.
Throw some turkey in there and that was my weekend.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Frenzy
With the current happenings transpiring on a daily basis who can you turn to for a concise summation for the state of the worlds financial markets? Well not me! But I wouldn’t be so quick to turn to the media either.
Television. Newspapers. Radio. Every corner of the media is blasting us these days with tales and dire predictions of an economy that is in full recession, possibly about to enter a full recession, is going to weather the recession just fine or what recession? But here’s the real news flash: the media doesn’t care if there is a recession or not (nor does it care if it creates one) the media cares only about selling itself.
Here’s a scenario: Husky Bob is 40 years old and has some disposable income in his pocket. The world seems fine. Then all of a sudden Husky Bob hears a vague “news” story by a supposedly respectable newsmonger that maybe things are just possibly not as good as they seem; Husky Bob feels that maybe Husky Bob should be holding on to his disposable income. Then Husky Bob hears that people aren’t spending as much (Husky Bob doesn’t make the connection that Husky Bob is one of those people) and starts to get worried. Then Husky Bob hears that his stocks are dropping because the earnings from all those companies that Husky Bob bought shares in aren’t doing so well because all the Husky Bob’s out there aren’t buying anything (now to be fair to Husky Bob’s company, it probably did beat analyst’s expectation just not by as much as had been expected – when you figure out how that works, let me know please). All of a sudden Husky Bob is in full panic mode now – the wing flaps are drawn, the fuselage is about to rip off and he’s already sucked all the oxygen out of his tank.
And it all started with that one little story.
These days there isn’t one story out there about how the global economy sucks; there are hundreds if not thousands. In Canada we went from weathering the US financial crisis to, a week later, being prepared by the media to pull up our bootstraps “cause time’s are gonna be rough.” We were insulated from the recession until the media kept hammering at its audience that we were not insulated; fear was mongered. As Dingo would know, I know fear mongering when I see it.
If you want to help the economy, no matter where you are, don’t watch the news, go buy something – here’s an idea: go buy a donut! You get instant gratification from sugary goodness, the donut store gets your money which it passes on to the people who provide the ingredients and its own employees (who go out and spend it), those who provide the goods for the donuts pass that money on to their suppliers and their employees (who go out and spend it) and so on and so forth until the economy is on a roll… or a donut.
It is no longer about telling the story; it’s about selling the paper or the ad slot: the message has been lost to the medium.
Television. Newspapers. Radio. Every corner of the media is blasting us these days with tales and dire predictions of an economy that is in full recession, possibly about to enter a full recession, is going to weather the recession just fine or what recession? But here’s the real news flash: the media doesn’t care if there is a recession or not (nor does it care if it creates one) the media cares only about selling itself.
Here’s a scenario: Husky Bob is 40 years old and has some disposable income in his pocket. The world seems fine. Then all of a sudden Husky Bob hears a vague “news” story by a supposedly respectable newsmonger that maybe things are just possibly not as good as they seem; Husky Bob feels that maybe Husky Bob should be holding on to his disposable income. Then Husky Bob hears that people aren’t spending as much (Husky Bob doesn’t make the connection that Husky Bob is one of those people) and starts to get worried. Then Husky Bob hears that his stocks are dropping because the earnings from all those companies that Husky Bob bought shares in aren’t doing so well because all the Husky Bob’s out there aren’t buying anything (now to be fair to Husky Bob’s company, it probably did beat analyst’s expectation just not by as much as had been expected – when you figure out how that works, let me know please). All of a sudden Husky Bob is in full panic mode now – the wing flaps are drawn, the fuselage is about to rip off and he’s already sucked all the oxygen out of his tank.
And it all started with that one little story.
These days there isn’t one story out there about how the global economy sucks; there are hundreds if not thousands. In Canada we went from weathering the US financial crisis to, a week later, being prepared by the media to pull up our bootstraps “cause time’s are gonna be rough.” We were insulated from the recession until the media kept hammering at its audience that we were not insulated; fear was mongered. As Dingo would know, I know fear mongering when I see it.
If you want to help the economy, no matter where you are, don’t watch the news, go buy something – here’s an idea: go buy a donut! You get instant gratification from sugary goodness, the donut store gets your money which it passes on to the people who provide the ingredients and its own employees (who go out and spend it), those who provide the goods for the donuts pass that money on to their suppliers and their employees (who go out and spend it) and so on and so forth until the economy is on a roll… or a donut.
It is no longer about telling the story; it’s about selling the paper or the ad slot: the message has been lost to the medium.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
I’m … Not… Canadian?
With the start of October comes that one thing that all true Canadians have been longing forward to: the start of hockey season. But for me, it’s different.
You see as someone who’s never really been a fan of hockey I could give less than a damn about who scored what hat trick (and why the hell is one person scoring three goals called a hat trick anyway?) on whom and who beat whom and who’s playing really well “between the pipes.” Does that make me less Canadian than the average Canadian – probably.
I’m not knocking the people who quietly enjoy hockey, nor those who vehemently enjoy hockey, nay, Heaven forefend I would judge them so for their blind devotion to a sports team (I like sports, just not all sports); the people I do mock are those who think that as a non-fan of hockey I’m somewhat less than Canadian.
What makes a Canadian – officially to be a Canadian you kind of have to be born in Canada. I’ve got that part covered. You have to put up with the exact same politicians no matter their party or platforms, been doing that for nigh on thirty three years now. To be Canadian you also have to pay an exorbitant amount of taxes into a system that likes to misuse them and then spend more of those same taxes on useless committees to find out how they were misused. I’ve been doing that. I AM CANADIAN.
Maybe I’m not Canadian because I don’t look down my nose at Americans. I don’t think we’re better than they are. I don’t think our system is necessarily better than theirs; I don’t think beautiful landscape ends at the border between us and them. Maybe some of the problem is that I was raised by both an American and a Canadian. Sure the US has got its share of problems, now more than ever, but tell me what nation is perfect and I’ll show you a future politician trying to sell you something; and it will be you.
Maybe I’m not Canadian because my sport of choice is the NFL football. The CFL vs. NFL are really just a microcosm for this whole Canadian vs. American thing you know: the CFL uses more land than the NFL (10 yards), you get points in the CFL even when you don’t accomplish anything, the CFL has just a few teams (provinces) vying for a “championship” while the NFL has considerably more. Sure the CFL is fast, but that’s because if you stop you’ll get really cold (or the mosquitoes will fly off with a Bluebomber).
I tend to surround myself with people who feel the same; the Joe Vanoski and the Instant Death Overtime exchanges come to mind (you know who you are).
This winter I’m going to sit around and say, once again, to my coworkers that I’m not a big hockey fan; I will pay attention to the morning scores so that I can talk with my coworkers (some vague part of me cares about their interests and doesn’t mind talking to them about it) but while I’m listening to them extol the virtues of Luongo, my mind will be asking itself this: Who are the Bears playing this weekend?
You see as someone who’s never really been a fan of hockey I could give less than a damn about who scored what hat trick (and why the hell is one person scoring three goals called a hat trick anyway?) on whom and who beat whom and who’s playing really well “between the pipes.” Does that make me less Canadian than the average Canadian – probably.
I’m not knocking the people who quietly enjoy hockey, nor those who vehemently enjoy hockey, nay, Heaven forefend I would judge them so for their blind devotion to a sports team (I like sports, just not all sports); the people I do mock are those who think that as a non-fan of hockey I’m somewhat less than Canadian.
What makes a Canadian – officially to be a Canadian you kind of have to be born in Canada. I’ve got that part covered. You have to put up with the exact same politicians no matter their party or platforms, been doing that for nigh on thirty three years now. To be Canadian you also have to pay an exorbitant amount of taxes into a system that likes to misuse them and then spend more of those same taxes on useless committees to find out how they were misused. I’ve been doing that. I AM CANADIAN.
Maybe I’m not Canadian because I don’t look down my nose at Americans. I don’t think we’re better than they are. I don’t think our system is necessarily better than theirs; I don’t think beautiful landscape ends at the border between us and them. Maybe some of the problem is that I was raised by both an American and a Canadian. Sure the US has got its share of problems, now more than ever, but tell me what nation is perfect and I’ll show you a future politician trying to sell you something; and it will be you.
Maybe I’m not Canadian because my sport of choice is the NFL football. The CFL vs. NFL are really just a microcosm for this whole Canadian vs. American thing you know: the CFL uses more land than the NFL (10 yards), you get points in the CFL even when you don’t accomplish anything, the CFL has just a few teams (provinces) vying for a “championship” while the NFL has considerably more. Sure the CFL is fast, but that’s because if you stop you’ll get really cold (or the mosquitoes will fly off with a Bluebomber).
I tend to surround myself with people who feel the same; the Joe Vanoski and the Instant Death Overtime exchanges come to mind (you know who you are).
This winter I’m going to sit around and say, once again, to my coworkers that I’m not a big hockey fan; I will pay attention to the morning scores so that I can talk with my coworkers (some vague part of me cares about their interests and doesn’t mind talking to them about it) but while I’m listening to them extol the virtues of Luongo, my mind will be asking itself this: Who are the Bears playing this weekend?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Flavour of Politics
With elections occurring in 2/3rds of North America, breakfast cereal makers have jumped on that topical bandwagon. Here’s a list of new cereals that are set to come out before and after the ongoing electoral campaigns:
Spuri-Os: These little wheat crisps are shaped like the snide comments politicians hurl at each other in ongoing “debates.” They include such gems as: “Oh yeah! Your teenage daughter is pregnant!” and “hangs with terrorists.”
Jeeri-Os: The same as Spuri-Os but with chocolate!
The Box of Everything: Much like a politician’s rhetoric, which oft promises everything but delivers nothing, the Box of Everything promises to have whatever you want in it – but is actually empty. “Just use your imagination! It always… imaginates!”
Vice Krispies: Instead of the historic “Snap Crackle Pop” you’ve come to know and eat because it’s the last thing in the cupboard and you haven’t had a chance to get to the store yet, Vice Krispies will have sound bytes from the winning Vice President.
Puff D-Feat: Remember that bag of puffed crap that your parents bought you? You know the one that was as tall as you and tasted like nothing (until you coated it with sugar trying to pretend you weren’t poor and it was really Sugar Crisp?); this is that, but the bag will now be the size of the losing candidate. Much like the Puffed Wheat of old, Puff D-Feat will deflate upon the addition of milk (proving that like politicians it’s filled only with air).
Frosted Flakes: Think of a frosted flake – it’s essentially a piece of dried something with frosting on it to make it palatable. Think of political party’s platform – it’s essentially dry with some frosting on it to make it palatable. Any questions?
Tricks: That’s fairly obviously related to the political venue.
Flavor Minute: This unique brand of cereal will seem like the best choice at the time, but the minute you eat it, it will taste just like everything else.
In the upcoming election(s) I can’t and won’t tell you how to vote. You probably should vote (for complaining rights alone) but as to what you do with your vote – that’s your own choice. We’re just trying to make this time of indecision a little easier to swallow.
Spuri-Os: These little wheat crisps are shaped like the snide comments politicians hurl at each other in ongoing “debates.” They include such gems as: “Oh yeah! Your teenage daughter is pregnant!” and “hangs with terrorists.”
Jeeri-Os: The same as Spuri-Os but with chocolate!
The Box of Everything: Much like a politician’s rhetoric, which oft promises everything but delivers nothing, the Box of Everything promises to have whatever you want in it – but is actually empty. “Just use your imagination! It always… imaginates!”
Vice Krispies: Instead of the historic “Snap Crackle Pop” you’ve come to know and eat because it’s the last thing in the cupboard and you haven’t had a chance to get to the store yet, Vice Krispies will have sound bytes from the winning Vice President.
Puff D-Feat: Remember that bag of puffed crap that your parents bought you? You know the one that was as tall as you and tasted like nothing (until you coated it with sugar trying to pretend you weren’t poor and it was really Sugar Crisp?); this is that, but the bag will now be the size of the losing candidate. Much like the Puffed Wheat of old, Puff D-Feat will deflate upon the addition of milk (proving that like politicians it’s filled only with air).
Frosted Flakes: Think of a frosted flake – it’s essentially a piece of dried something with frosting on it to make it palatable. Think of political party’s platform – it’s essentially dry with some frosting on it to make it palatable. Any questions?
Tricks: That’s fairly obviously related to the political venue.
Flavor Minute: This unique brand of cereal will seem like the best choice at the time, but the minute you eat it, it will taste just like everything else.
In the upcoming election(s) I can’t and won’t tell you how to vote. You probably should vote (for complaining rights alone) but as to what you do with your vote – that’s your own choice. We’re just trying to make this time of indecision a little easier to swallow.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
i h8 dentristy
I went to the dentist on the weekend.
These days it feels like I see the dentist more than I see my wife (which if I was female and single wouldn’t be a horrid thing because that guy is making some good money off chumps like me); every other weekend it feels like I’m strapped in that chair with some medieval equipment shoved down my pie hole while this guy is sticking his sharp implements in my face trying to get at the root of my problems… oh wait, I should have used that for the root canal.
This time I was in for what was to be a 20 minute crown appointment, but the time before that I made the mistake of mentioning to Doc Dentist that I was having some sensitivity in another tooth. So the Fuehrer of Fluoride got in there, sprayed some cold water and sure enough there’s that old sensitivity. Turns out I have a cavity two teeth down.
Tangent: All the dental work I’ve had to have recently is redoing the dental work done by the last dentist I went to: that Molar Mauler mangled two teeth on the top and I’m waiting for the one on the bottom she did to go The root canal, and now crown, came about because the Tooth Fury did a crappy filling, which fractured, and the refilling got infected. This new cavity is, once again, a left over from the Demented Dentist’s drilling. To her, wherever she be, I have this curse for her: May all your teeth fall out but one, and in that one may you have a cavity.
So the current resident Deft Dentist’s shoots a needle in the side of my face and a few minutes later his sidekick, Helga Hygienist gets in there and tries to clamp the rubber damn on to the nearest tooth. Unfortunately the cavity is in the furthest tooth back, so she’s stretching my jaw beyond constraints hitherto experienced by man. I’m not kidding, I think she actually hooked my bottom lip around my shoe.
So eventually, Olga the Oral Auger clamps in that damn dam (apologizing all the while) and I’m off to the races. Happily I’m as numb to the pain by this point as a public employee is to your cares.
While the Dentist of Tomorrow is in there he’s mentioning things like “oh, it’s so soft, that is not good” and “ahh finally” while I’m lying in the chair listening to my jaw vibrate to the oral orchestra being played with drills and scrapers. Finally he puts a “temporary” filling material on the tooth. He tells me afterwards that it might not be temporary; this type of material is only used in low-pressure areas, which this part apparently is, and that if it sticks then he won’t have to go back there. If it doesn’t stick that means I’m going to end up eating it (literally) so I’m hoping it stays in place for more reasons than one.
With all that work done I go talk to Rita Receptionist who tells me that I need to do part 2 of the cleaning that they did months ago. So I’m back in November. Oh and the crown was a temporary too just to make sure it stays in place so I’m back in two months after November. Going to the dentist is exactly what I want to be doing in my spare time.
But whatever, I agree to the appointment because it was not going to appointments that got me in this mess in the first place. “Take some Advil” says the Frau Fluoride as I leave: “That filling might hurt when the freezing wears off!”
That last comment turned out to be the Oral Understatement of the century – by the time I got KFC (I’d been having a 2 month long popcorn chicken craving) my mouth was sorer than the average politicians (I assume their mouths are sore from all the regurgitated crap).
I got home and promptly took some Badvil – this is the Costco brand of ibuprofen. The stuff that’s 400mg per pill rather than the wimpy 200mg in the actual Advil. Then I tried to take a nap. I must have slept but it was very uncomfortable – I kept drooling on my pillow and dreaming of water features. When I woke up the neighbour Theresa was over and she played Florence Nightingale and offered up some Tylenol 3’s.
I took a couple of the T3s and after about 20min that dulled the pain down to a tolerable level. It lasted long enough to make it through Carole’s birthday party.
But since that appointment my jaw hurts and my head hurts; that was 4 days ago now.
I like my dentist… but I hate going to see him.
These days it feels like I see the dentist more than I see my wife (which if I was female and single wouldn’t be a horrid thing because that guy is making some good money off chumps like me); every other weekend it feels like I’m strapped in that chair with some medieval equipment shoved down my pie hole while this guy is sticking his sharp implements in my face trying to get at the root of my problems… oh wait, I should have used that for the root canal.
This time I was in for what was to be a 20 minute crown appointment, but the time before that I made the mistake of mentioning to Doc Dentist that I was having some sensitivity in another tooth. So the Fuehrer of Fluoride got in there, sprayed some cold water and sure enough there’s that old sensitivity. Turns out I have a cavity two teeth down.
Tangent: All the dental work I’ve had to have recently is redoing the dental work done by the last dentist I went to: that Molar Mauler mangled two teeth on the top and I’m waiting for the one on the bottom she did to go The root canal, and now crown, came about because the Tooth Fury did a crappy filling, which fractured, and the refilling got infected. This new cavity is, once again, a left over from the Demented Dentist’s drilling. To her, wherever she be, I have this curse for her: May all your teeth fall out but one, and in that one may you have a cavity.
So the current resident Deft Dentist’s shoots a needle in the side of my face and a few minutes later his sidekick, Helga Hygienist gets in there and tries to clamp the rubber damn on to the nearest tooth. Unfortunately the cavity is in the furthest tooth back, so she’s stretching my jaw beyond constraints hitherto experienced by man. I’m not kidding, I think she actually hooked my bottom lip around my shoe.
So eventually, Olga the Oral Auger clamps in that damn dam (apologizing all the while) and I’m off to the races. Happily I’m as numb to the pain by this point as a public employee is to your cares.
While the Dentist of Tomorrow is in there he’s mentioning things like “oh, it’s so soft, that is not good” and “ahh finally” while I’m lying in the chair listening to my jaw vibrate to the oral orchestra being played with drills and scrapers. Finally he puts a “temporary” filling material on the tooth. He tells me afterwards that it might not be temporary; this type of material is only used in low-pressure areas, which this part apparently is, and that if it sticks then he won’t have to go back there. If it doesn’t stick that means I’m going to end up eating it (literally) so I’m hoping it stays in place for more reasons than one.
With all that work done I go talk to Rita Receptionist who tells me that I need to do part 2 of the cleaning that they did months ago. So I’m back in November. Oh and the crown was a temporary too just to make sure it stays in place so I’m back in two months after November. Going to the dentist is exactly what I want to be doing in my spare time.
But whatever, I agree to the appointment because it was not going to appointments that got me in this mess in the first place. “Take some Advil” says the Frau Fluoride as I leave: “That filling might hurt when the freezing wears off!”
That last comment turned out to be the Oral Understatement of the century – by the time I got KFC (I’d been having a 2 month long popcorn chicken craving) my mouth was sorer than the average politicians (I assume their mouths are sore from all the regurgitated crap).
I got home and promptly took some Badvil – this is the Costco brand of ibuprofen. The stuff that’s 400mg per pill rather than the wimpy 200mg in the actual Advil. Then I tried to take a nap. I must have slept but it was very uncomfortable – I kept drooling on my pillow and dreaming of water features. When I woke up the neighbour Theresa was over and she played Florence Nightingale and offered up some Tylenol 3’s.
I took a couple of the T3s and after about 20min that dulled the pain down to a tolerable level. It lasted long enough to make it through Carole’s birthday party.
But since that appointment my jaw hurts and my head hurts; that was 4 days ago now.
I like my dentist… but I hate going to see him.
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Coffee Scale
I’ve decided from now on I’m ranking my mornings on the assumption of how much coffee I’ll need to get through the day. Here’s how it works.
The baseline for the scale will be two. It’s two because the only time I can remember when I had less than two coffees per day was that 6 month period when I thought I could live without coffee. That was stupid.
I was going to call this a multiple coffee scale (MCS) but since everyday is an MCS that’s not descriptive enough. Instead I’d like to introduce you to the +2 Scale. Here are some parameters:
0+2 = 2 coffees per day. This is standard operating procedure and it means while I’m not super energetic, at least I’m not lagging.
1+2 = 3 coffees per day. This is most likely going to be a Monday (like today and today will be a 1+2 at least).
2+2 = 4 coffees per day. This is most likely a Friday because I’ve been up the night before playing World of Warcraft with my friends (if they were my friends they’d send me to sleep at a reasonable time rather than keeping me up saying: “just one more instance!”).
3+2 = 5 coffees per day. This is most likely going to be a Thursday when I have my 2-3 coffees during the day and then have a pot between 6-8 (because if I don’t I get cranky when I’m gaming).
Feel free to take this scale and add to it. I’m not responsible for any health issues caused by increased coffee consumption or “climbing the scale.”
The +2 Scale – Go as High as You Need to Keep Going!
The baseline for the scale will be two. It’s two because the only time I can remember when I had less than two coffees per day was that 6 month period when I thought I could live without coffee. That was stupid.
I was going to call this a multiple coffee scale (MCS) but since everyday is an MCS that’s not descriptive enough. Instead I’d like to introduce you to the +2 Scale. Here are some parameters:
0+2 = 2 coffees per day. This is standard operating procedure and it means while I’m not super energetic, at least I’m not lagging.
1+2 = 3 coffees per day. This is most likely going to be a Monday (like today and today will be a 1+2 at least).
2+2 = 4 coffees per day. This is most likely a Friday because I’ve been up the night before playing World of Warcraft with my friends (if they were my friends they’d send me to sleep at a reasonable time rather than keeping me up saying: “just one more instance!”).
3+2 = 5 coffees per day. This is most likely going to be a Thursday when I have my 2-3 coffees during the day and then have a pot between 6-8 (because if I don’t I get cranky when I’m gaming).
Feel free to take this scale and add to it. I’m not responsible for any health issues caused by increased coffee consumption or “climbing the scale.”
The +2 Scale – Go as High as You Need to Keep Going!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Stuff’n’Such
Happy Birthday to my wonderful wife Carole!
Deadlines: why do they call deadlines deadlines? I don’t usually make a habit of missing deadlines but in the few instances where I have missed one I haven’t died. Perhaps the term hearkens back to a time when the workplace was fraught with more danger than carpal tunnel syndrome affords. Maybe we should change the terminology we use to refer to these “deadlines.” Something tailored to your industry or something that would indicated the consequences: “Your boss will be really pissed with you”lines or “you don’t get to go to college” or something like that.. Deadline is really just a watered down term these days.
Reality TV: So I’m thinking about trapping a bunch of people in my back yard and they have to watch all 108 movies and/or TV shows with Michael Gambon in them (he’s one of the two actors that played Dumbledore in the Harry Potter movies (the one that’s not the other one)) and the last person left wins. I’m going to call it “Survivor: Gambon”
Coffee: Damn I love coffee.
Being a Really Useful Engine: So now that we’ve listed we’re going to have to make a big push to keep the place in some sort of semblance of cleanliness. It’s been 3 days since we were lucky enough to have someone come in and clean the place (thanks MiL & FiL!) and we’ve done a pretty good job. The true test will be tomorrow when the Duncaroo and I are home all day. But a really useful engine will keep going until the job is done and we will fight that endless fight against confusion and the delay of selling our home.
Deadlines: why do they call deadlines deadlines? I don’t usually make a habit of missing deadlines but in the few instances where I have missed one I haven’t died. Perhaps the term hearkens back to a time when the workplace was fraught with more danger than carpal tunnel syndrome affords. Maybe we should change the terminology we use to refer to these “deadlines.” Something tailored to your industry or something that would indicated the consequences: “Your boss will be really pissed with you”lines or “you don’t get to go to college” or something like that.. Deadline is really just a watered down term these days.
Reality TV: So I’m thinking about trapping a bunch of people in my back yard and they have to watch all 108 movies and/or TV shows with Michael Gambon in them (he’s one of the two actors that played Dumbledore in the Harry Potter movies (the one that’s not the other one)) and the last person left wins. I’m going to call it “Survivor: Gambon”
Coffee: Damn I love coffee.
Being a Really Useful Engine: So now that we’ve listed we’re going to have to make a big push to keep the place in some sort of semblance of cleanliness. It’s been 3 days since we were lucky enough to have someone come in and clean the place (thanks MiL & FiL!) and we’ve done a pretty good job. The true test will be tomorrow when the Duncaroo and I are home all day. But a really useful engine will keep going until the job is done and we will fight that endless fight against confusion and the delay of selling our home.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
All of the Above
My work tried to get cute the other day – throw out a little quiz to the peons and figure out which of the monkeys are starting to think for themselves (at which point they’ll become management or trimmed from the tree). The what of the quiz is not important; the hub of this blog lies in the answer key.
After completing the quiz I patiently waited for the answer key to arrive; and then it did (very anticlimactic).
While making my way through the answers (I couldn’t remember what I’d actually popped in for the answers on the quiz by the time the answer key showed up and they didn’t actually grade me, so I’m a little unsure as to how I actually did on it) I came across #13. For the sake of not boring you to death I’m not going to recreate the question. The crux of this lies in the last two possible answers and the actual answer.
1) Here is where the question was.
a) Here is where the first answer was
b) Here is where the second answer was
c) Here is where the third answer was
d) Here is where the fourth answer was
e) None of the above
f) All of the above.
And the answer, was f) - all of the above. And that’s when my mental trouble started.
If all of the above is all of the above, all of the above includes none of the above. If all of the above is inclusive of none of the above then we’ve got ourselves a feedback loop. If they’d put none of the above below all of the above, there wouldn’t a problem – or if the first option was “none of the above” then there wouldn’t be anything above none of the above so all of the above would still be alright. Above all, none of the above should not be above all of the above because the presence of none of the above negates all of the above; when you select all of the above you are also selecting none of the above; one of the de facto rules of things are that they cannot be something and nothing at the same time.
They have essentially created an unsolvable riddle – and if anyone ever comes up with a logical solution one of the following will happen:
a) the world will end,
b) there will be plagues
c) Pets will talk
d) Blueberries will no longer be called blueberries but Rise and Shiners
e) All of the above.
f) None of the Above
After completing the quiz I patiently waited for the answer key to arrive; and then it did (very anticlimactic).
While making my way through the answers (I couldn’t remember what I’d actually popped in for the answers on the quiz by the time the answer key showed up and they didn’t actually grade me, so I’m a little unsure as to how I actually did on it) I came across #13. For the sake of not boring you to death I’m not going to recreate the question. The crux of this lies in the last two possible answers and the actual answer.
1) Here is where the question was.
a) Here is where the first answer was
b) Here is where the second answer was
c) Here is where the third answer was
d) Here is where the fourth answer was
e) None of the above
f) All of the above.
And the answer, was f) - all of the above. And that’s when my mental trouble started.
If all of the above is all of the above, all of the above includes none of the above. If all of the above is inclusive of none of the above then we’ve got ourselves a feedback loop. If they’d put none of the above below all of the above, there wouldn’t a problem – or if the first option was “none of the above” then there wouldn’t be anything above none of the above so all of the above would still be alright. Above all, none of the above should not be above all of the above because the presence of none of the above negates all of the above; when you select all of the above you are also selecting none of the above; one of the de facto rules of things are that they cannot be something and nothing at the same time.
They have essentially created an unsolvable riddle – and if anyone ever comes up with a logical solution one of the following will happen:
a) the world will end,
b) there will be plagues
c) Pets will talk
d) Blueberries will no longer be called blueberries but Rise and Shiners
e) All of the above.
f) None of the Above
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