Olive Drab To Corporate Greens

I had a slight epiphany today when I was sitting amongst chest high stacks of personnel folders that this is a job that I could very easily become stagnant in.

The Army is never short on giving you situations where you're kept on your toes. Depending on rank, you usually end up working one job for about 1-2 years, then you're reassigned to a new job, and possibly a new unit and/or new duty station. Your bosses are always either brand new or heading out the door, and you're always having additional duties heaped on your head.

I can remember at one time as Platoon Leader at Fort Leonard Wood, I was also: The Company Safety Officer, the Fire Prevention Officer, the Environmental Compliance Officer, the Automations Officer, the Motor Pool Officer, the Battalion Voting Assistance Officer, and the Unit Status Report Officer. No sweat. These hands never went idle.

Now, other then a few variations in my job, it's pretty much the same day in and day out. I can't comprehend how someone could have the same office job for 10 to 20+ years. I know that it was the old way that people used to be in a career for life, but I honestly think that's selling yourself short. If you don't diversify your resume, it's not going to help you much should your company tank.

Although, there is something to be said for not freezing your a$$ off in the field for 3 weeks every 6 months.

"This One Goes To Eleven"

fig. 1-1 Suprisingly I look better on a treadmill.....

In light of the fact that I completely used up most of my energy and decimated the treadmill this morning, I'm going to treat myself to the efficient use of bulletized items in todays entry:

Bunker Bed - Although 99% pointless for those not in a warzone, this magical sleepy bye bed comes equipped with armor strong enough to stop a round from a .357, AND, has the ability to return fire with everything from tear gas to "projectiles". Hermetically sealed with it's own rebreather, it also guards against any type of chemical or biological attack. Built in toilet to round it out? AWESOME. Price tag starting at about $135k? NOT AWESOME.

Kinky Education - All I have to say is, this is by far the most unusual school related celebration I've ever heard of. I've heard of onesies and twosies, but en masse? The Europeans always gotta out do us!

Questionable Science - This is a reason Iraq will fail to thrive...forever.

Dangerous Science? - Apparently the people pushing this lawsuit apparently are so afraid of anything going wrong, they don't see the MASSIVE potential scientific gains. Go ahead guy, ignore the fact that almost all physicists agree there is no danger, as long as you're safe right?

Soda Rock - I couldn't remember the title of this long awaited album for the longest time because it bobs in and out of the news like a buoy in rough seas. All I know is that it's going to take someone alot bigger then Dr. Pepper to release this missing relic.

Books or Battles

I never got into reading much growing up. I pretty much still don't read, and I place heavy blame on such tasty wonders as Great Expectations and Bartleby the Scrivener. My mother hates the fact that unlike my brothers, reading for me is pretty much work. And it's not for the fact that I don't have a creative imagination, I just prefer to relax by not doing the work of pouring over page after page of the same story. I think my problem is that if I'm reading, I'm assuming there something I need to know, and I like that text to get to the point.

Along those lines, I've read copious amounts of textbooks for school where they easily could have eliminated all the narrative and just had a couple dozen pages of definitions and examples. That would have made it easier.

As for "reading for fun"...nah. I'd rather sit back and have the "idiot box" just pander to me. Relaxing for me doesn't involve the active use of the part of my brain that controls creativity and imagination. If I'm using that part, then the fun is slowly running away.

See, the funny thing is, even in elementary through high school, when the teacher asked students to read out loud, I can confidently say I was probably one of the few students that could read it 100% fluidly, enunciate better, and say it faster then most.

Finally, I'm all about creative originality. I have a theory that those writers who all read the same "classic novels" (Whoever said Great Expectations was a classic needs to be punched) are all influenced from the same source. Not putting much support in this theory but just a thought.

Besides, video games are better. As depicted above, Sinistar can defeat any literary character, no matter how classic.

What!

A Toast To Nightmares!

Had a dream last night that the Spice Girls (well, all minus Posh) and I were on a road trip and staying in a hotel. During this time I announced to them that I thought they were one of the greatest all female bands and that it will be hard for any other group to be as good as they were.

That is the last time I polish off an old bottle of chilled strawberry-zook Zinfindel.

One Gut Wonder

I found this video tooling through youtube and thought back on it. I've seen other videos of people attempting nefarious food based challenges such as the gallon of milk in an hour challenge, or the tablespoon of cinnamon challenge. Apparently the people that attempt these believe they are the .001% of all humans on earth that can actually pull this off. Without going into serious explaination of biology on how these feats cannot be done, I can tell you that from an eyewitness account, the after effects are not worth the possible glory you might obtain by doing them.

A military challenge we all tried (when we were bored, which was quite a bit in the field) was the 2 MRE crackers in 2 minutes , which in this post, the Marine actually pulls it off. While not impossible and no harm will likely come to the body, it's still harder then hell because the crackers are dry as sand.

Back to the video at the top however. This guy seems a bit more sane then the other (search youtube for "100 cups of coffee"), as the other guy attempted it in 8 hours using a French press (really dumb because that coffee has more caffine). I am, although, not going to stick up for this doofus either.

*BIOLOGY TIME! YAY!*

The average cup of coffee (8 oz.) typically contains 86 mg of caffine provided it is drip coffee and not French Press. This man is attempting to drink 100 cups of coffee in 24 hours. Let's look at this caffine guy in depth.

The lethal dose of caffine for a human is anywhere from 3-20 grams. The duration of caffine in the body lasts between 1.5-5 hours depending obviously on age, body weight, and metabolism. A lethal dose of caffine effective causes a heart attack, and in some extreme cases of too much stimulants, literally rips the heart itself apart from beating too hard. This is why the cases of people actually taking whole bottles of No-Doz, then falling over dead, is not a mystery.

So, his challenge is to ingest 8.6 grams of caffine within a 24 hour period. To do so, he would not be able to drink more then 4 cups every hour, and this is barring any sleep. However, this is also stating that his body could tolerate this dosage, as the low end of lethal is 3 grams of caffine.

So in short, all this being said, impressionable youtube kids everywhere, I wouldn't suggest this one. Even as I am an AVID supporter of caffine, the idea of my very core exploding doesn't really strike me as being worth so many seconds of fame (nor is the idea of puking up a gallon of milk).

How Am I Always Back Here

SPECIFICATIONS:

Diameter: 102 mm
Height: 196 mm
Weight: 3.2 kg
Explosive content: Reported between 0.42 kg and 0.56 kg of Composition B with a RDX booster charge.
Operating pressure: 10.8 kg pressure, 6 kg pull.

DESCRIPTION:
The Valmara 59 is a large cylindrical Italian bounding Anti-personnel mine. It is the first in the "Valmara" family of mines produced by Valsella Meccanotecnica, and was followed by the Valmara 69 and VS-JAP. The mine's body is plastic with a distinctive five pronged head. The central prong has a hole, to allow the threading a trip wire. The inner body of the mine has a main charge surrounded with approximately 1,000 steel cubes, below which is a steel wire connecting it to the base of the mine. When the mine is triggered a small charge lauches the mine into the air approximately 45 cm before the steel wire is pulled taught, the jolt of which pulls a striker into the detonator. A secondary time fuse triggers the mine after three seconds if it has not detonated after being triggered.

The fragments produced by the mine are lethal to range of 25 meters are capable of penetrating light armour. Source

***Now allow me to put this in context. I would rather play soccer in a parking lot littered with these then to go clubbing in downtown Seattle.

You Just Got Maxium Served!

FINALLY, not just someone sees it myway, all of Maxium agrees that Sarah Jessica Parker, Sandra Oh, Amy Winehouse, Madonna and Britney Spears are all pretty not hot. But to build on this list, I'm going to be bold in saying the most "shocking" one apparently is they titled Parker the most uggo. And I know why.

Despite the fact that she claims to be okay with this, it's pretty much the biggest slam you can get when the nation's leading men's magazine titles you as Queen Fugly. That's right up there with Websters listing your name as a definition for something, because man when this hit the news, I could hear every guy for 10 square miles going "yep, I could definately see that".

I know, I know...she's made the best dressed list and all that crap on MSN and various fashion specials in mainstream media, but let's face it, who decides what's fashionable? Sure as hell isn't straight guys. Who decides who is the most elegant? Nope! Chicks and gay men again! Who decides who's HOT for the actress/singer bunch...okay, now it's guys.

So in the off chance that she or her camp would ever read this blog, allow me to offer a letter of explaination:

"Dear Mrs. Parker,

I'm sorry to read that you were unable to see this bombshell dropping from the sky. I'm furthermore disappointed for you to be unable to accept the fact that you have been nationally rejected by straight males as being even possibly sexy. Yes, you'll always have the red carpet fashion and the gays will always be screaming how fabulous you are...but no, unfortunatly the truth has come to light for the fact that men will never be dying to even get a chance to oogle you.

Now in an attempt to soften this colossal blow to your ego, allow me to explain on behalf of men nation wide why this happened. It's not the fact that you don't have implants, nor the fact that you don't have a rock hard body , nor the fact that you don't have 'full lips' or a 'bodacious butt'. It's the fact that you remind us all of that awkward girl in high school. Yes, that girl that sat next to me in biology, with the sticker from her banana at lunch time pasted on her head in an odd attempt at vying for attention. You're the girl that joined the really weird clubs like Environmental Club or the Recycling club. You were also the weird girl that only hung out with the really douchy older guys in band or choir, despite the fact that you always seemed to sway on the side of hemp and patchouli. You were the girl, who at your prime in high school, always tried a little too much to separate yourself from the pack...not based on your skills and abilities, but rather just through the mere fact of making yourself seem odd. You listened to waaaay too much Bjork, Tori Amos, and Sinead O'Conner. You learned 3 different instruments, and you drove a beater Subaru. You were, for all other terms, 'that girl'. Yikes.

You see Mrs. Parker, it's not the fact that you're not feminine, you are. It's the fact that you're feminine in such a degree that only attacts anyone but your standard-industry run-of-the-mill straight guy. Your unusual sense of self depth attracts the hippies, your unusual (and somewhat caustic) sense of fashion attracts the gays, and your Sex and the City persona attracts skanky females. There is nothing about you that is attractive to regular straight men, you're too f#*king far in left field for us to even consider you. At best, we would classify you as sister material.

And in being ranked over the others, let me break it down really quick:

Amy Winehouse - Trainwreck girls still attract guys, especially ones that broadcast that they get drunk waaaay too much

Sandra Oh - Asian girls, regardless of ug fact, are a well documented fetish for some guys

Madonna - She had her prime, and sometimes all you need to do is close your eyes and dream

Britney - Again, I cite trainwreck, plus, well, I guess that's all she really has for now....

As for Maxium destroying your husbands "taste in women", well...after all, it's Matthew Brodrick..I mean really, who's he really going to get? Given, I liked "Ferris", but that doesn't invest enough in his personal stock to get him far.

So again, I wish to express my sincere condolences on this bombshell. I wish the fact that you look like all American straight male's 12th grade English teacher could have been conveyed to you in a better way, but at least this way you can say you're "the best" at something.

Warmest regards with a beer in my hand,

Azurael"

Might Be Down, But Still Not Out

So despite a colossally bad week in general to include such wonders as being devistatingly hungover and having my washing machine completely break on me, I'm attempting to keep a positive attitude.

This became more difficult to figure on then I'd previously though this week when I realized my cats had fleas last night. "Fleas? How the hell did they get fleas? They're inside all day." After doing my research, I discovered these little bastards latch onto stuff and you can track them into your house.

Continuing my research, everything I've read now points to the fact that I have to "flea bomb" my entire apartment, not once, but twice, three weeks apart, to make sure I get whatever generation egg is being laid now. Bug bombs make me nervous in general. The idea of a can spraying a condensed pesticide into and all over my apartment just sounds counter to what any person should do. However, fortunately I hate fleas bad enough that I'd be willing to go so far as to take a hand held steam cleaner and scorch every square inch of my carpet by hand.

That fun is going to wait until the weekend when I can detonate the bug nuke and leave the house for a few hours. Tonight will be my energetic attempt to follow the anti-flea shampoo instructions, lather up my cats, and make sure they stand there while the lather soaks in for 5 minutes. Yeah, that won't be messy.

This Is Bad Medicine

I should have made New Years resolutions...and one of them would have been promising to laugh like this at all times in public.

I Was Green, But Not With Envy

Harp Lager is to me as though you took that "Hallelujah" song, found a way to condense it into a liquid, and had it bottled by Amy Lee herself. It's tastiness and appeal is further compounded because not only is it waaaay better out of the tap, it's almost impossible to find except for a few select Irish pubs in and about Seattle. This beer, in my book, trumps all other beers without question, and I'll always choose this over anything else, any day.

That being said, I can go on to say this. Yesterday was St. Patrick's day. I celebrate this (but don't go buck wild) because I am a bit Irish on my father's side. I was talked into heading to a bar yesterday for happy hour. After being told it had 160 Beers On Tap, and Harp being one of them, I was sold. "One hundred and sixty?" I thought, "with that much beer, I bet that have enough backstock of Harp not to worry about the St. Patrick's day rush".

WRONG.

No sooner then two beers into happy hour, I was informed they were "out" of Harp. Looking immediately between the time on my watch and the fact that all the waiters were wearing goofy-f#$king clover and/or beer shaped hats, I pondered how this could be possible. How can I be at place that boasts having an almost unrivaled beer selection, ON Saint Patricks day, be out of the one of the three Irish beers??? (Guiness and New Castle being the other two).

Suffice to say, that's where my drinking came to an end. And with a broken washing machine capping off my night, I'd say yesterday was a pretty awesome.

Am I Winning?

Everyday when I wake up, I have a point scale to figure out if my day is going good or bad. I subconsciously tally it out at the end of everyday to decide if I can go to be happy or not. This point scale is called "cool points". I've been known even to award or take them from other people, who ironically don't know what I'm talking about, but they get excited nonetheless. So let's review this day thus far:

o Woke up on time - Add 5 pts
o Woke up sober and/or not hungover - Add 10 pts
o Actually got a treadmill at the gym - Add 10 pts
o Gym was not 1k degrees - Add 5 pts
o Had to run next to a woman who had a freaky gait on the treadmill - Subtract 5 points
o Witnessed a guy literally lying on a racketball court reading a paper - Subract 5 points
o Realized paper reading guy is worthless to society - Add 5 points
o Cat climbing my bare leg while shaving - Subtract 10 points
o Punted cat across bathroom - Subtract 10 points
o Realized PETA wasn't watching - Add 5 points
o Instilled discipline on cat - Add 5 points
o Ran late to get out the door - Subtract 5 points
o Got to report HOV violator - Add 5 points
o Making coffee at work, spilled entire filter of coffee grounds on breakroom floor - Subract 20
o Tried to clean up with paper towels, epic fail - Subtract 10 points
o Pushed it all under the counter and got out before anyone saw me - Add 5 points
o Coffee I ultimately made tastes like nasty crap - Subtract 10 points
o Still recieved massive buzz from one cup of said nasty coffee - Add 5 points
o Won first game of MSN Texas Hold'Em online - Add 10 points

***So far, I've managed to break even. Planning on drinkin' some beeeeyah tonight, so hopefully I'll end this day on the plus side.

I Prefer 9 Lives To Loyalty

"Cat's are better beeeeyoottch!"

As previously blogged, I'm a cat owner. I come from a family of cat owners. Why do we like cats? Simple. We all hate dogs.

My family all has various reasons why we're not big on dogs, but I'm pretty sure I have the longest or at least the most well thought out list.

- History With Dogs - My first vivid interaction with a dog was getting my face gnawed on when I was six by a German Shepard because I had been playing with my friend too roughly. Several shots later, the MP's picked up the dog, and the dog was "accidently" put down by "mistake". Later on, all in Idaho, I've been accosted by several dogs while I was working a paperroute, coming home from a friend's, or running. Intimidating when I was in Elementary school, I now look forward to going toe to toe with a dog who's forgotten who the top of the food chain is.

- Stink - Dogs stink. Not just when they duke, or when they breathe...they just generally stink. Albiet yes, on occasion, my cats stink, but not when they get wet.

- Furniture Destroyers - Anywhere from chewing up the legs of chairs to literally eating a door. Yes again, I'll admit that my cats occasionally tear up the side of my (crappy) old couch, or a small part of my carpet. But they are no where capable of actually ingesting an entire item of interior decor.

- Owner Killers - As a rule of them, I will never make a pet of an animal that has the ability to harm me or worse. Cats I'm pretty confident I can take down with a single hit, dogs...well, reference "History with Dogs".

- Bills - I've seen and done the math. Dogs cost roughly double of cats, unless you get the jumbo sized dogs (i.e. Newfoundlands or Great Danes)...then not only are you looking at an increased cost of dog food...but you're also looking at giant vet bills when they're diagnosed with their genetically inherited arthritis and weak hearts.

- Drool - The only time I've ever seen a cat drool is when they get into something they shouldn't have (i.e. weeds and other plants). I've seen dogs drool quick enough to fill up a milk carton in about 3-5 minutes. Yuck. All I have to say is Turner and Hooch, and you get the point.

- Dook - ALL cat dook size = about the size of an adult thumb. MOST dog dook size = about the size of a fist. Discuss.

- Noise - I can't recall the last time I've called the police to complain about a neighbors cat. However, I can attest to all of the countless hours growing up listening to our neighbors dog bark at a regular interval that could only be matched by a metronome.

Honestly I could go on for hours, but I won't. Mostly because it's been a long week and my hands would be better suited holding a beer. Don't get me wrong, I think everyone should own the animal of their choice. Some dogs I can relent to seeing as pleasant. However, I'll stick with the more fiscally conservative choice.

I'm out!

"The More I Blast, The More I Bleed"

Vindictiveness has been something that's plagued me since the early days of the teenaged anx we all have the opportunity to go through. I can remember very vividly my mother telling me that if I were to continue to be a angry, hateful person that I would grow up cold and alone (or something to that effect, I was seething pissed off at the time she said it).

Unfortunately, being grumpy ALL of the time does tend to wear on the body a bit. I've calmed down quite a bit since going through the awkward years, yet I still seem to get stoked about seeing people getting what they deserve. This would probably explain why I loved working the road so much as an MP. When I was there overseeing a processing of a criminal, I made sure that everything was done by the book to maximize the possibility that this person would end up going into the justice system. However, as statistics proved, this rarely happened.

I chalk that up to one reason why I decided against going Seattle PD. The biggest one in fact, because it drove me nuts to have to have a daily battle against both politics and watching our own prosecutors eliminate cases because they had "better stuff to do". Watching my soldiers dump not only their time, but also their safety into apprehending criminals, just to have those people walk free because of little things such as forgetting to complete a form properly.

This also ties in to the fact that I indeed have a tendancy to get too passionate about things. Anyone who knows me, I'm pretty sure would describe me as exactly the opposite, but actually, I just excel at bottling stuff up and plinking it away in the cellar that is my soul. I'm honestly not a hateful person. But I would say that I am a very competitive and driven person, and unfortunately, that bleeds over into a vengeful streak a mile long. When people say or do things that isn't right, I'm the first in line to cheer when karma whammies them upside the head.

And when you talk s#%t to me when we're playing a board game, you better bet your sweet a$$ that when I win, I'm going to do the dance of joy with myself while singing of your failure.

I'm Straight But Ready To Snap My Fingers

I'm going to go out on a limb here and despite my recent post, I'm a gonna talk about fashion for a second. Pardon the fact that this may be a rant, but as previously discussed, I do take fashion as a back burner interest that I try not to widely broadcast at the risk of a good a$$-whoopin.

Moving forward with the solid caveat that; Yes, I am a straight man and No, I do not have a foot fetish, I'm posting this to vocalize support for the fashion designer that created this somewhat pricey footwear.

Developed by Antonio Beradi, these "heel-less high heels" are being slammed all over the net as being the fugliest footwear so far developed in man kind.

First of all, I seriously question those people who think these are bad...because I'm sure they think that flats are just the most wonderfully artistic shoe ever created (which I consider are dull, unimaginative, and make the wearer look lazy). The main criticism (which ironically is not the price) is the fact that people seem to think that they will fall immediately on their butts when their calves reach muscle failure. What they fail to realize through research is that these shoes are deceivingly built to support the wearer through the extended column that meets at the point of the foot where weight becomes distributed towards the toes.

Secondly, the idea behind fashion is new stuff, innovation. Yes, I'm sure all these fashion critics love their goofy-as-hell pointy stilletos (which I'll still never understand the concept behind showing off "toe cleavage"...because that's freakin' weird), or their frumpy-as-f#$k Uggs, which are even MORE slovenly then flats! I guarentee once several key celebs start sporting these bad boys to award shows six to eight months from now, designers and critics will be eating their own words.

Looking beyond the fact that these shoes may be uncomfortable, they're accomplishing exactly what both fashion and art desire to elicit...emotional response. Be it good response, bad response...any response means that this has succeeded at being original and inventive. If people gave it the standard "meh" that normal foot wear gets, then I would agree that this is a failure.

I think these are a pair of rockin' kicks...and yes, you heard a straight guy rant fashion here first.

How Many Flavors?

I remember when the Internet started to grow from a regular text based screen that used a crappy dial up modem. I remember when America Online and Prodigy were first introduced, and how awesome they were.

My favorite memory was the fact that if no one sent you email, you had none in your inbox. No SPAM. No horribly misspelled names and subject lines, no attempts to sell me pharmaceuticals or porn. Those were the days before capitalism stuck it's foot in the Internet's a$$.



And now, I'm getting spam on my cell phone. Dude.

Apparently My Wheel Wasn't Squeaky Enough

For the first time literally in about eight years, I've finally received a pay raise based on actual work performance. See, while working at Kmart, I didn't work in that hole long enough to get a raise, and the Army only increases pay for three things: 1) time in service 2) rank and 3) cost of living adjustment.

Yes, not since the days of the steakhouse back in college have I actually gotten a pay raise based on actual positive work performance. I felt pretty good about getting this because I feel that I am hand-over-fist better then my predecessor, and that I've lead the way in terms of taking care of the workforce here, especially for this being my first actual year of HR work.

However, there's a drawback to being HR during pay raise time...and that would be seeing a breakdown of all other departmental raises. Now I'm not one to argue against paying for experience and performance, but when I see a person who already gets a six figure income get a double digit percent pay increase on top of regular commission checks that literally matches my annual salary, I start to question my net worth to the organization. I notice more so that people that have been here less then a year get raises comparable to everyone else's.

Furthermore, I think it's extra funny that the individuals who did the "get me up to market value or I quit routine" mostly got their desired pay increase. Despite my better judgement of character (and decade plus experience in leadership theory), I figured we wouldn't want people working here that are just in it for the fast buck.

Bottom line, I'm going to keep my pie hole shut. Mostly for the fact that as HR, it's only my position to advise management on the fundamentals of congruity of pay increases. I also realize that I should only worry about myself and my merits.

However, in all actuality, I know that if any one of the other employees saw this readout...they'd crap a brick.

Painting The Grass Green

Once again, daylight savings time is upon us for no apparent reason. Leftover from a time that we actually needed it, now I honestly think we're doing it just because we've done it for so long. We Americans pick the weirdest crap to continue on past it's usefulness.

Whatever. I'm just bitter because I prefer nighttime.

Over The Pins I Took The Guns

In line with the fact that I've been blessed with a less-then-manly skill, there's another thing that I grapple with everytime I don't have the forsight not to own up to. During my soul-searching time in High School, at one point I had seriously considered ditching the Army thing and becoming a fashion designer. I had learned up to that point that I was also uncannily good about coordinating clothing and actually developing looks. Hell, I'll be honest...I even dreamt up an outfit or two.

Other then the fact that this brought about a series of questioning my sexuality, it really pitted the " a job that will make me money" vs. "a job that won't make me money". Obviously I chose the Army. In hind sight, I believe I made the right choice. I say this for several reasons. The most obvious...my name is not "label material". Whereas people like Ralph Lauren have names that you can pronounce snootily (i.e. the rich say "Ralph Lau-ren" whereas normal people say "Ralph Looren"), my name you really can't do that with.

Secondly, there's nothing special about me. I'm not French, I'm not gay, I wasn't raised under any special circumstances that would make me stand out as being an innovative designer, possibly beyond the fact that I have none of the above. I'm an Army brat from a military family.

Finally, I'd be paranoid that if I did make it famous as a designer, I'd end up being like Jaclyn Smith, and selling my wares only at Kmart. Now given, she does have talent, and she's probably making a grip of money...it's still Kmart. Same arguement about a McDonald's manager that makes a six figure income....that's good...but you still work at f#*king McDonald's.

'Nuff Said.

Azurael Fights With Effortless Effort

As of today, I've been in HR with my current job for one year now. Honestly, it hasn't been that tough of a job comparitively speaking to the hours I worked in the Army or the a$$holes I encountered at Kmart, but for some reason, I think most people are under the impression that I shovel copious amounts of work through this office everyday.

Given the ebb and flow in comparison to that belief, hell, I guess as long as I look like I'm doing some heavy lifting....it's all good.

The Buck Doesn't Even Get Near Here

It was only yesterday that I truly had an epiphany about several things as they relate to the battle of the sexes. The bottom line is that I believe men get a bad rap for several things. Given, I can't defend half the moronic things that my gender does on a daily (sometimes even hourly basis), but I will know when to stand up and wave the flag even if it means I'll ultimately get labeled as being a misogynist.

Myth #1 - Men are obsessed with their "junk"- Alrighty. Now although this idea is emphasized through guys buying larger then normal cars or large quantities of handguns, I refute this theory that men alone are obsessed with their junk while women are absolutely carefree about this. Wrong. It was only yesterday in the checkout line did I observe one magazine that literally had the headline saying "Secrets about your vajayjay". The more I thought about it, the more I thought about things like "the Vagina Monologues" and this atrocity. Women are seriously obsessed with their junk. I've never heard of a guy who is willing to go get his goods "manscaped" in the shape of a heart or whatnot, despite the fact that it would hurt like hell. Guys are happy with their junk (most are), but we're definitely not proud of our junk.

Myth #2 - Men are responsible for social beauty pressures on women - It's a long known fact that when women get gussied up to go out, they're not usually getting dressed up to wow the guys, they're dressing up to distinguish themselves from the other ladies. I've seen the coldest stares bounce between women at clubs and other social places. Fashion magazines cannot obviously be master minded by guys (or at least straight ones) because I can guarantee you that 90% of men don't know what the "smokey eyed" look is, nonetheless care. Women on the cutting edge of fashion are the ones responsible for putting the pressures on other women, because those other women think that just because guys think people like Angelina Jolie is hot, all women should look like her. So given all this, I refute the notion that porn objectifies women alone, or that high fashion culture is built on the shoulders of men, or that I somehow, through my attraction to celebrities such as Kate Beckensale or Rachel McAdams, will make a 15 year old teenie bopper a raging bulimic.

"Okay.....Who Brought The Dog?"

I've never considered myself to be even remotely lucky, unless it came to cards or the occasional crazy-a$$-wastepaper-basket-shot from across the room. I've always considered myself the walking version of Murphy's law. Usually not in the instance that horrible things befall me (i.e. my car bursting into flames), but more of subtle crap that would just annoy even a holy man to cuss.

Classic examples of this are:

o Flying home on leave in the Army and the plane breaksdown delaying me for hours.

o Having a hot first date and getting a flat tire.

o In ROTC, being assigned the M-16 that won't hold a magazine in.

o In Computer class, being assigned the computer that constantly gave the blue screen.

However, I've never been so lucky as to have them stop at this point...nope, I've got industrial strength examples of this type of luck:

o After arriving to Iraq with 3 other peers, being one of the only ones to be assigned to a unit that just got there, vs. the other units that got to go home about 6 months later.

o Surviving 5 years straight in the Army with zero injuries, then immediately after I get out...break my pinky and blow through about $6k getting it repaired, due to no health insurance.

o Getting a job at K-Mart.

o Thinking I could eek out a fart in drama class and it actually reverberated on the chair louder then the instructor....actually causing him to stop teaching.

I think I need to start investing in some horseshoes or something.