I don't know if I told a lot of people around me, but I stopped going to Blockbuster. I boycotted them after they were trying to charge me 70 something bucks in late fees for two movies. The whole thing is irritating because Blockbuster is not supposed to have late fees, but thats just a technicality, symantics, avoiding the little fine print - Franchise stores are different than Corporate stores. Blockbuster franchisees can charge you all the late fees they want even though the company on TV advertises something different. And guess what, the blockbuster thats 5 minutes from my house is a stupid franchise store. I'd have to try all the way to Burlington to find a Corporate store - thats not convenient! Whatever.
So my girlfriend and I have been using REDBOX which I discovered in Denver through a friend, when I was cooped up in a hotel for three weeks during some work training. Redbox is pretty awesome. I was skeptical obviously at first because it was wierd to go rent movies from a machine but I figured if you get movies in the mail through one of those other scam companies, its worth it to at least try. So we did. It only costs a whole Dollar to rent one movie per day (plus tax). So if you watch movies fairly quickly, like me, you can watch it for the night and return it the next morning or you can hold onto it and it will only charge you a dollar a day. Eventually, you stop getting charged because the machine will just charge your credit card the cost of the movie which is like 15 bucks or something, at which point you own it. Technically and hopefully, you will never ever get up to a late fee of something ridiculous like 70 dollars. Its fair and simple. Thats what I like about it.
You should try it. Heather thought that they wouldn't have new releases, but I showed her that at our Redbox, they have new releases ever Tuesday and they have plenty of classics too. I got her hooked. Now I'm just trying to convince my brothers. Last time we rented Tyson and Gifted Hands. Let me know what you think ....
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Mr. Bedingfield, where did you go?
There was a really good CD out by Daniel Bedingfield. Never heard anything else from him after that. That cd was so good i would play it for hours straight in college while I would study.
I heard it (If you're not the one) on Delilahs radio show the other night driving in the car with Heather. I think she was surprised to know I knew that particular song and she was even more surprised to know that I knew all the words. She had never heard of him or the song and was laughing as I belted it out in the car at 11pm on a sleepy road in Medford, NJ.
Its always a shame that some talent goes away unnoticed and never comes back while not-so-taletented people keep shoving there exploits in your face trying to convince you that they're good. [clap, clap, clap, to Mr. Bedingfield].
I heard it (If you're not the one) on Delilahs radio show the other night driving in the car with Heather. I think she was surprised to know I knew that particular song and she was even more surprised to know that I knew all the words. She had never heard of him or the song and was laughing as I belted it out in the car at 11pm on a sleepy road in Medford, NJ.
Its always a shame that some talent goes away unnoticed and never comes back while not-so-taletented people keep shoving there exploits in your face trying to convince you that they're good. [clap, clap, clap, to Mr. Bedingfield].
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
new House, MD : Mayfield
No... thats not my address.. I'm talking about House.. the show with Hugh Laurie..
Yesterday was the 2 hour season premeire. I was glad to see a change of scenery for him but for me it seemed kind of weird to be in and out of that Phsyciatric hospital so fast. I mean maybe he was there for a month or so if it were in real time but for him to be there all in one two hour season premiere and then he gets released seems to short. It would have been neat if they stretched his stay longer and the writers got more in depth with some of the characters in the episode like Dr. Nolan, his Physiatrist, or that married lady who was his love interest, who btw was Jason Bourne's girlfriend in one of those Bourne movies.
Greg House could have even diagnosed a few patients, saved a few lives, at least they could have stretched out him aggravating the patients and staff for a lot longer...
I just feel they could have done a better job with being a whole new scene... its basic writing isn't it? if you change the scenery, the plot also changes and same goes with the characters?
What did you guys think?
Yesterday was the 2 hour season premeire. I was glad to see a change of scenery for him but for me it seemed kind of weird to be in and out of that Phsyciatric hospital so fast. I mean maybe he was there for a month or so if it were in real time but for him to be there all in one two hour season premiere and then he gets released seems to short. It would have been neat if they stretched his stay longer and the writers got more in depth with some of the characters in the episode like Dr. Nolan, his Physiatrist, or that married lady who was his love interest, who btw was Jason Bourne's girlfriend in one of those Bourne movies.
Greg House could have even diagnosed a few patients, saved a few lives, at least they could have stretched out him aggravating the patients and staff for a lot longer...
I just feel they could have done a better job with being a whole new scene... its basic writing isn't it? if you change the scenery, the plot also changes and same goes with the characters?
What did you guys think?
Brave New World: Shake Shack
This past Sunday I was fortunate enough to spend a day with my friends and we went to NYC with no plan at all other than to get on the train and see the big beautiful apple. On this journey however we ended up at the Shake Shack near Madison Square. It was a nice setting: a big grey building with grey contemporary lettering nearly hidden in camoflouge against the natural darkenss of the parks trees, birds chirping and watching overhead, and of course a serpent - like line that wrapped around the sand of the parks bottom.
I had heard so much about the Shake Shack: from my cousin who took the Path in from Jersey City just to get a cheeseburger and a shake, and from various colleagues who say rationalize their long travelled trips to get a burger and fries. So as I waited in line, I mused. I though how ridiculous is it to stand in line for over an hour in a park for a Shack-cago dog and a Rootbeer Float? I'm in NYC, the big apple, a culinary capital, with thousands, maybe millions, of eateries, many with no lines, many more with better food.... HOW INSANE is it that I'm standing in this line waiting....?!? similar to standing in line at church trying to get the body of Christ on Christmas day or Easter. It was ridiculous. But I thought to myself, if the food is amazing, it would all be worth it, and if all these people are here waiting - its got to be good right? And how come so many people know about this place and its this small?
First of all, its everybodys delight to know about a secret hole in the wall place that only a few people know about so that they can discover and then pass that secret on to the world. They want to be the gatekeepers of the worlds great things. By simply being able to tell their friends about a great place to eat, they themselves will look like the knowledgeable foodie and go to guy on all things hip. So thats why we try places that we hear about. We want to know about a secret place that sells the forbidden fruit, and we want to be the ones that tell everyone. That's why all of us stood in line on that Sunday, midafternoon, on a perfect, cloudless day. I waited over an hour for a hotdog and float when on any other occassion I would never even wait five minutes at a restaurant, thinking to my snobby self that I can spend my good hard earned money somewhere else... somewhere that doesn't make their guests wait. And in the end... I was ... not sad... but not delighted either. If anything The Shake Shake woke me up.
The Shake Shack spoke to me that Sunday. It said tell us why you are stupid! Please tell us why. I knew it was stupid to be there in that line and I still did it, reassuring myself along the way. It reminded me of a book I read in high school.... A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (1931), where in part of the book Huxley describes the mass of people standing up and sitting down during some kind of ceremony, over and over again, mindless.... That was us - the mindless mass of species waiting in a park for the same thing... all because something or someone had told us that that it was somehow better. Many of us were tricked to go there.... "go try it out at least if you're ever in the city." You think to yourself you come all the way to the city and you don't know that much, so you should go to that place that your buddies have been telling you about.... if you don't go, you're missing out.
I went. Wasn't that great. I missed out on something better.
When did we become such food snobs? Why do we really take advice from people not qualified to give it and why do we think that certain foods are better than others? I told my friend Phyllis that hot dogs were N.G. - NO GOOD. Society has told me to hate hot dogs because they are made from leftover meat. I mean look at it, it doesn't look natural, how can it be okay for you? But i've been doing research since I ate my hot dog at the shake shack... hot dogs are made of good quality meats AND some are made of not so good meat... you have to know what you are buying. The best I have seen is Hebrew National all beef franks, no fillers, no preservatives and nothing but the best cuts of meat, 100% beef. I don't know what was in the hot dog I ate at the Shake Shack but at least i'll know to be on the look out for better hot dogs if I can now.
To answer the question of snobbery.... we are snobs because we want the best. Nothing wrong with that. We just have to be a little more careful on who and where we get our information from.
I had heard so much about the Shake Shack: from my cousin who took the Path in from Jersey City just to get a cheeseburger and a shake, and from various colleagues who say rationalize their long travelled trips to get a burger and fries. So as I waited in line, I mused. I though how ridiculous is it to stand in line for over an hour in a park for a Shack-cago dog and a Rootbeer Float? I'm in NYC, the big apple, a culinary capital, with thousands, maybe millions, of eateries, many with no lines, many more with better food.... HOW INSANE is it that I'm standing in this line waiting....?!? similar to standing in line at church trying to get the body of Christ on Christmas day or Easter. It was ridiculous. But I thought to myself, if the food is amazing, it would all be worth it, and if all these people are here waiting - its got to be good right? And how come so many people know about this place and its this small?
First of all, its everybodys delight to know about a secret hole in the wall place that only a few people know about so that they can discover and then pass that secret on to the world. They want to be the gatekeepers of the worlds great things. By simply being able to tell their friends about a great place to eat, they themselves will look like the knowledgeable foodie and go to guy on all things hip. So thats why we try places that we hear about. We want to know about a secret place that sells the forbidden fruit, and we want to be the ones that tell everyone. That's why all of us stood in line on that Sunday, midafternoon, on a perfect, cloudless day. I waited over an hour for a hotdog and float when on any other occassion I would never even wait five minutes at a restaurant, thinking to my snobby self that I can spend my good hard earned money somewhere else... somewhere that doesn't make their guests wait. And in the end... I was ... not sad... but not delighted either. If anything The Shake Shake woke me up.
The Shake Shack spoke to me that Sunday. It said tell us why you are stupid! Please tell us why. I knew it was stupid to be there in that line and I still did it, reassuring myself along the way. It reminded me of a book I read in high school.... A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (1931), where in part of the book Huxley describes the mass of people standing up and sitting down during some kind of ceremony, over and over again, mindless.... That was us - the mindless mass of species waiting in a park for the same thing... all because something or someone had told us that that it was somehow better. Many of us were tricked to go there.... "go try it out at least if you're ever in the city." You think to yourself you come all the way to the city and you don't know that much, so you should go to that place that your buddies have been telling you about.... if you don't go, you're missing out.
I went. Wasn't that great. I missed out on something better.
When did we become such food snobs? Why do we really take advice from people not qualified to give it and why do we think that certain foods are better than others? I told my friend Phyllis that hot dogs were N.G. - NO GOOD. Society has told me to hate hot dogs because they are made from leftover meat. I mean look at it, it doesn't look natural, how can it be okay for you? But i've been doing research since I ate my hot dog at the shake shack... hot dogs are made of good quality meats AND some are made of not so good meat... you have to know what you are buying. The best I have seen is Hebrew National all beef franks, no fillers, no preservatives and nothing but the best cuts of meat, 100% beef. I don't know what was in the hot dog I ate at the Shake Shack but at least i'll know to be on the look out for better hot dogs if I can now.
To answer the question of snobbery.... we are snobs because we want the best. Nothing wrong with that. We just have to be a little more careful on who and where we get our information from.
Monday, September 7, 2009
No such thing as FREE lunch...
I know I always talk about my dad. But thats because he is a big influence in my life. He inspires me and pisses me off at the same time. On this labor day I check in because my dad has recently been annoying enough to inspire a blog.
My dad was born in the 50s. Most people of that era were financially responsible for lots of reasons, mainly because they were products of great depression parents, and probably because financial ir-responsibility fertilized by unfair marketing tactics by credit card companies and loan companies did not yet exist as prevelantly in his time as they do now. Anyhow my father is financialy responsible. So responsible in fact, that his children view him as frugal.
And while I defend my father for being frugal for his justified reasons reasons like having a family and having money set aside for emergencies, I cannot defend him and I will not stand and listen as he makes comments about people spending money on things like dinner or haircuts. Yes.. haircuts. And movie rentals. And donuts.
To illustrate the situation... My sister asked my dad if he got a haircut, a simple question for most people. My dad retorts back, "It was free, I don't have money like you." I was close by at the dinner table and didn't say anything even though anger built inside my face. I was turning red. My sister didn't even respond. Nobody does anymore. We used to try to convince him that spending money here and there would not send us to hell, but my father being the way he is just doesn't want to hear what we have to say.
At the dinner table, I had chinese food in front of me. Chinese food that my mother bought so that we could eat dinner. That dinner cost money. My dad had some earlier before I sat down to eat. He didn't ask where it came from or who bought it or how much it was. He never goes to the store to buy food, thats my mothers job in his eyes. We never say anything when my father buys something like a truck that stays parked in a lot, or a rental property that sits in the Philippines useless to us, or when he buys electronics he has no idea how to use like a dvd recorder. My dad buys things. That's my point. And sometimes I want to stand up and say to him when he says stuff like "i'm not rich", you have a ton of money to waste on your stuff and I have money to waste on mine.
My point is... relax when people spend their OWN money. Or at least keep the comments when its called for. Don't just bust out with some comment that you've been holding in at an inappropriate time like when someone asks you if you got a haircut. There is no such thing is free. So he didn't get a free haircut. Because it cost me thirty bucks or so to buy those clippers way back whenever I bought them... and my brother had to drive 30 minutes over to our house which costs gas and my brother took time out of his day to cut his hair and listen to his grumbling. So... while the haircut was free in fact for my dad, it costs his kids a whole bunch just so he got his haircut today. It cost me my feelings and now I write this blog.
Nothing is going to change my dad's frugality. And me and my siblings are going to continue to spend money on normal things, things we want to spend money on, the American way. Checking in with my readers to tell them my situation is really the only thing I can do....
My dad was born in the 50s. Most people of that era were financially responsible for lots of reasons, mainly because they were products of great depression parents, and probably because financial ir-responsibility fertilized by unfair marketing tactics by credit card companies and loan companies did not yet exist as prevelantly in his time as they do now. Anyhow my father is financialy responsible. So responsible in fact, that his children view him as frugal.
And while I defend my father for being frugal for his justified reasons reasons like having a family and having money set aside for emergencies, I cannot defend him and I will not stand and listen as he makes comments about people spending money on things like dinner or haircuts. Yes.. haircuts. And movie rentals. And donuts.
To illustrate the situation... My sister asked my dad if he got a haircut, a simple question for most people. My dad retorts back, "It was free, I don't have money like you." I was close by at the dinner table and didn't say anything even though anger built inside my face. I was turning red. My sister didn't even respond. Nobody does anymore. We used to try to convince him that spending money here and there would not send us to hell, but my father being the way he is just doesn't want to hear what we have to say.
At the dinner table, I had chinese food in front of me. Chinese food that my mother bought so that we could eat dinner. That dinner cost money. My dad had some earlier before I sat down to eat. He didn't ask where it came from or who bought it or how much it was. He never goes to the store to buy food, thats my mothers job in his eyes. We never say anything when my father buys something like a truck that stays parked in a lot, or a rental property that sits in the Philippines useless to us, or when he buys electronics he has no idea how to use like a dvd recorder. My dad buys things. That's my point. And sometimes I want to stand up and say to him when he says stuff like "i'm not rich", you have a ton of money to waste on your stuff and I have money to waste on mine.
My point is... relax when people spend their OWN money. Or at least keep the comments when its called for. Don't just bust out with some comment that you've been holding in at an inappropriate time like when someone asks you if you got a haircut. There is no such thing is free. So he didn't get a free haircut. Because it cost me thirty bucks or so to buy those clippers way back whenever I bought them... and my brother had to drive 30 minutes over to our house which costs gas and my brother took time out of his day to cut his hair and listen to his grumbling. So... while the haircut was free in fact for my dad, it costs his kids a whole bunch just so he got his haircut today. It cost me my feelings and now I write this blog.
Nothing is going to change my dad's frugality. And me and my siblings are going to continue to spend money on normal things, things we want to spend money on, the American way. Checking in with my readers to tell them my situation is really the only thing I can do....
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good days count...
On good days, I write. On bad days, I also write. Today was one of the good days. And although it feels like I seldom have good days, thats probably not so true. I don't have evidence to stand on for either side of the argument except that I assume that on good days I'm out and about and enjoying life... and for the most part I, like most people, just expect to have good days. Besides, we only remember the bad times right? Like when we got sick that last season for two weeks after we got tricked into getting the flu shot because it was free of charge... we remember that and every sequence of not being jovial and how we wasted away in bed. But we only ever look back on our days and say, "wow, I haven't gotten sick since that time I got the flu shot, " WHEN... we are sick again... right? and we never actually appreciate the long periods in between and all the fun we had. Nobody ever does that. Well, thats what it seems like for me anyway. I'm sick it seems like at least twice a year, usually more. And everday I am not, IT IS A GOOD DAY. So today I write...
There's something in the spring air, comingled with all the pollen and dander... its excitement. I feel again a sense of new beginnings, kinda how New Years shoulda felt. Supposedly we are still in a recession... but I don't feel it. I'm at the mall a lot and see people out shopping and I see cars on the road and I see jobs being offered. Where's the recession? I guess they are saying it because credit lending is tighter than it was? But so what I think! Credit being tighter is a good thing and promotes responsible spending and promotes positive savings and just enough spending. They also say that we are still in a recession because nobodys buying houses.. well, its Spring now, so I think people will start buying houses. My brother just bought a new house. This other girl that I know just bought a townhouse. One of my best friends, he's doing a lot renovations to his house. So from where I sit and see, people are doing exactly what they were doing before and all along - living. I don't appreciate the media scaring people and throwing scary words out there about our economy, if anyting they are influencing spending habits in a negative way on both micro and macro scales. Some may say that unemployment is still up... my response to that is that whenever large industries like the auto industry and the financial industry and the real estate industry have re-organizations and large scale movement thats whats gonnna happen. But you still need people to run America and buy America and live America. What that mean is... that people still need to go to the grocery store and get gas and people still need to work at the grocery store and gas stations and all these people need other services and other things to survive so there will always be jobs.... its the economy... UP and DOWN... I'm not scared. If people were responsible in the first place they wouldn't or shouldn't be either.
So... I'm thankful for my health. Because it always come back to that. If you are not healthy, then you can't even work. And if you can't work, then you can't eat and you won't have shelter and you won't have health insurance and you can't do anything really except get more sick. Today is a good day because i'm healthy and my family seems to be doing okay ... and people around me seem to be doing okay and life... well... life is moving. Life is moving... forward.
And although there were some recent deaths to loved ones, those events were also reminders that my life IS special... that my life counts for something and that everday I am with those that I love, those are special days. Those are blessed days. Because when we are facing death in the face for the last time, we will look back and we will recount our life.... we will look back on the memories of love and the memories of tragedy.... we will look back on the days of triumph and the days of defeat... we will look back on those that we helped and those that we could have helped more.... and we will certainly look back and ponder, "was my life good?"
Good is your definition. Nobody can tell you what "good" is. Nobody can ever pretend to know every moment in your life and recap that for you. Nobody can ever pretend and tell you what you lacked or what you deserved. Only you can ever know these things. And only you can ever judge yourself in those final minutes. What will you do until then?
Make your days good, make them count.
There's something in the spring air, comingled with all the pollen and dander... its excitement. I feel again a sense of new beginnings, kinda how New Years shoulda felt. Supposedly we are still in a recession... but I don't feel it. I'm at the mall a lot and see people out shopping and I see cars on the road and I see jobs being offered. Where's the recession? I guess they are saying it because credit lending is tighter than it was? But so what I think! Credit being tighter is a good thing and promotes responsible spending and promotes positive savings and just enough spending. They also say that we are still in a recession because nobodys buying houses.. well, its Spring now, so I think people will start buying houses. My brother just bought a new house. This other girl that I know just bought a townhouse. One of my best friends, he's doing a lot renovations to his house. So from where I sit and see, people are doing exactly what they were doing before and all along - living. I don't appreciate the media scaring people and throwing scary words out there about our economy, if anyting they are influencing spending habits in a negative way on both micro and macro scales. Some may say that unemployment is still up... my response to that is that whenever large industries like the auto industry and the financial industry and the real estate industry have re-organizations and large scale movement thats whats gonnna happen. But you still need people to run America and buy America and live America. What that mean is... that people still need to go to the grocery store and get gas and people still need to work at the grocery store and gas stations and all these people need other services and other things to survive so there will always be jobs.... its the economy... UP and DOWN... I'm not scared. If people were responsible in the first place they wouldn't or shouldn't be either.
So... I'm thankful for my health. Because it always come back to that. If you are not healthy, then you can't even work. And if you can't work, then you can't eat and you won't have shelter and you won't have health insurance and you can't do anything really except get more sick. Today is a good day because i'm healthy and my family seems to be doing okay ... and people around me seem to be doing okay and life... well... life is moving. Life is moving... forward.
And although there were some recent deaths to loved ones, those events were also reminders that my life IS special... that my life counts for something and that everday I am with those that I love, those are special days. Those are blessed days. Because when we are facing death in the face for the last time, we will look back and we will recount our life.... we will look back on the memories of love and the memories of tragedy.... we will look back on the days of triumph and the days of defeat... we will look back on those that we helped and those that we could have helped more.... and we will certainly look back and ponder, "was my life good?"
Good is your definition. Nobody can tell you what "good" is. Nobody can ever pretend to know every moment in your life and recap that for you. Nobody can ever pretend and tell you what you lacked or what you deserved. Only you can ever know these things. And only you can ever judge yourself in those final minutes. What will you do until then?
Make your days good, make them count.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
To the hospital with my Dad...
I was recently in the hospital for some tests. I was only supposed to be there for the day but my blood pressure dropped in the middle of one of my tests real low so they had to admit me. I ended up staying for two days. It sure was aggravating. My father had come along with me for the ride because I knew I wouldn't be able to drive. My father hasn't changed in the 28 years i've know him or the 18 years that we've been going to the hospital to have these routine checkups. He loves to tell everyone and anyone who wants to hear the story of what happened to me. He wants everyone to know that we're "pros" to this hospital thing and that we somehow should be treated differently, as if we should be treated better.
The thing that my father doesn't understand is that nobody really cares. It's probably tough for him to swallow that, but its true. Its important to him and our family because we live it everyday and it is something we just are used to. But these people who work in the hospital... they don't have a personal stake in our visit. If we didn't come in today to have these tests done, somebody else would be on the roster. I'm just a name on a list. And these nurses that meet me in the morning are just part of my morning and they probably won't see me for the rest of the year. They don't know the struggles that i'll have for the rest of they day. They themselves have their own struggles for the rest of their day. They are trying to just do what they have to do for their job or to get to lunch or to be done for the day. For me... its kinda the same. I'm trying to get the test all done with just so I can go home quickly, but I have to live with the results of the test or/and the problems throughout day that happen to me.
Usually i'm in my bed laying down, tired and groggy. My father talks and talks and talks. He loves to talk. Partly he talks to comfort himself that everything will be okay, and partly he talks to kill the quiet in the room. My heart monitor in the room will start beeping and he will come up with some solution onto why its beeping.... he'll say "the leads are off" or "the monitor is sensitive"... finally he'll ask me why its beeping... and I just ignore him. I know exactly why its beeping... Its beeping because my pressure is too low. When the systolic or the top number drops below 100 the alarm goes off. The problem is that nobody seems to care. Nurses hear it alarming and passerbys hear it alarming, but nobody writes it down and nobody does anything to change it.... so it just beeps... and my father sits and talk about it.... and i'm forced to listen.
Hospital stays are never fun. People go to the hospital because they are sick. Most people when they are sick need rest. The doctors and nurses even tell you to get rest. The problem is, hospitals function so that nobody ever goes to sleep. The nurses on shift have to stay awake the whole time because they are supposed to be taking care of you. The nurse's aids do the same. The intern doctor staying for the night is probably running around somewhere trying to save somebody's life when really he wishes he could just fall asleep for 15 minutes. For sure, I know that I, the patient can't sleep. The door is always wide open so you can hear the clamor outside in the hall and bustle of the hospital floor. Even if the door was closed, most of the hospital rooms i've been in, i've had a roommate.... and its almost guaranteed that every roommate watches tv really loud. And even if he wasn't watching tv, he'd be snoring or talking to doctors or on the phone yelling, or his oxygen machine is loud. And even still yet, If i didn't have a roommate, the nurses come in to make sure i'm okay once an hour and the nurse's aides wake me up to check my vitals every half hour to an hour.
Then morning comes... and the med students and interns want to wake you up at 5:30 am to see how you slept and listen to your heart and lungs. They don't even know what they are listening to, they just do it, because it is what they are supposed to do. And God forbid all the students and doctors come and talk to you all at the same time... they come in right after the other, just so they can get an "exlusive" report on how you are today and so they personally can listen to your heart and lungs and touch your feet for edema. Then the lady comes to draw labs... and of course she can't find a good vein so she pokes and prods and messes up your arm just to call for backup and somebody else does the same thing. Then breakfast comes, then they want you to go down for some tests somewhere, and then other doctors come in...
There is no rest in a hospital. That's why people end up staying longer than they have to. Its stressfull and dirty and frustrating.
I have been dealing with all of this for 18 years of my life. And when my father comes the few times that he does with me on these hospital trips and stays, I lay in my bed and chuckle deep down inside. He thinks he's a "pro" because of the experiences he's had with me. That must mean i'm better than a "pro", i must be a "master" or something. I've learned long ago to talk to only the people i need to at the hospital, because i've come to understand the hierarchy and the process. My dad is going about it all the wrong way.... but i'm not gonna interupt him. He can talk all he wants. I'll just lay there, ask for a pain killer, and go to sleep.
The thing that my father doesn't understand is that nobody really cares. It's probably tough for him to swallow that, but its true. Its important to him and our family because we live it everyday and it is something we just are used to. But these people who work in the hospital... they don't have a personal stake in our visit. If we didn't come in today to have these tests done, somebody else would be on the roster. I'm just a name on a list. And these nurses that meet me in the morning are just part of my morning and they probably won't see me for the rest of the year. They don't know the struggles that i'll have for the rest of they day. They themselves have their own struggles for the rest of their day. They are trying to just do what they have to do for their job or to get to lunch or to be done for the day. For me... its kinda the same. I'm trying to get the test all done with just so I can go home quickly, but I have to live with the results of the test or/and the problems throughout day that happen to me.
Usually i'm in my bed laying down, tired and groggy. My father talks and talks and talks. He loves to talk. Partly he talks to comfort himself that everything will be okay, and partly he talks to kill the quiet in the room. My heart monitor in the room will start beeping and he will come up with some solution onto why its beeping.... he'll say "the leads are off" or "the monitor is sensitive"... finally he'll ask me why its beeping... and I just ignore him. I know exactly why its beeping... Its beeping because my pressure is too low. When the systolic or the top number drops below 100 the alarm goes off. The problem is that nobody seems to care. Nurses hear it alarming and passerbys hear it alarming, but nobody writes it down and nobody does anything to change it.... so it just beeps... and my father sits and talk about it.... and i'm forced to listen.
Hospital stays are never fun. People go to the hospital because they are sick. Most people when they are sick need rest. The doctors and nurses even tell you to get rest. The problem is, hospitals function so that nobody ever goes to sleep. The nurses on shift have to stay awake the whole time because they are supposed to be taking care of you. The nurse's aids do the same. The intern doctor staying for the night is probably running around somewhere trying to save somebody's life when really he wishes he could just fall asleep for 15 minutes. For sure, I know that I, the patient can't sleep. The door is always wide open so you can hear the clamor outside in the hall and bustle of the hospital floor. Even if the door was closed, most of the hospital rooms i've been in, i've had a roommate.... and its almost guaranteed that every roommate watches tv really loud. And even if he wasn't watching tv, he'd be snoring or talking to doctors or on the phone yelling, or his oxygen machine is loud. And even still yet, If i didn't have a roommate, the nurses come in to make sure i'm okay once an hour and the nurse's aides wake me up to check my vitals every half hour to an hour.
Then morning comes... and the med students and interns want to wake you up at 5:30 am to see how you slept and listen to your heart and lungs. They don't even know what they are listening to, they just do it, because it is what they are supposed to do. And God forbid all the students and doctors come and talk to you all at the same time... they come in right after the other, just so they can get an "exlusive" report on how you are today and so they personally can listen to your heart and lungs and touch your feet for edema. Then the lady comes to draw labs... and of course she can't find a good vein so she pokes and prods and messes up your arm just to call for backup and somebody else does the same thing. Then breakfast comes, then they want you to go down for some tests somewhere, and then other doctors come in...
There is no rest in a hospital. That's why people end up staying longer than they have to. Its stressfull and dirty and frustrating.
I have been dealing with all of this for 18 years of my life. And when my father comes the few times that he does with me on these hospital trips and stays, I lay in my bed and chuckle deep down inside. He thinks he's a "pro" because of the experiences he's had with me. That must mean i'm better than a "pro", i must be a "master" or something. I've learned long ago to talk to only the people i need to at the hospital, because i've come to understand the hierarchy and the process. My dad is going about it all the wrong way.... but i'm not gonna interupt him. He can talk all he wants. I'll just lay there, ask for a pain killer, and go to sleep.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
This is a man's world... BUT...
My beautiful, smart, talented girlfriend went to college. Actually, she went to a University but, she went to a "special" college within that large university. She went to Douglas College at Rutgers University in New Brunswick. It is well established and a very good women's college. It has a history for promoting women's rights and progressive ideas. And it has, i'm sure, improved her knowledge and understand of this historically "man's world" and shaped her into the wonderful woman that she is today...
BUT...
What I want to know and what I can't seem to understand is... How come women want to be treated "equal" when it benefits them but want to be treated like a woman in a situation when it is best for them, as in... "you take out the trash cuz i'm a girl, you should lift this big heavy box because you're supposed to, you should open the door for me, make sure the toilet seat is down, etc."?
Last night, my girlfriend and I went out to meet some dude friends of mine at a bar. Some of my friends were checking out some girl across the way. I wasn't really googly eyed about her, actually i wouldn't have even noticed her if wasn't for someone pointing her out. But when I happened to look in her direction later in the night, I got smacked in the forehead. WHAM! Right dead above the eyes, hard like a softball hitting the ground. I was pissed! I was red with anger and had to consume it like a shy teenager who just got spit on by a bully. She insulted me in front of my friends AND she hit me. How is that okay? I don't think it is.
It's like that V8 commercial where all those wives are bonking their husbands on their heads because they pass on all the vegetables.... why is that okay? why is it okay for a woman to put her hands on a man and hit him and disrespect him? God forbid I ever put my hand on a woman... even if it was a joke... even if it was to smack her ass and say nice jeans. God forbid that and society forbid that because for some reason it is not okay to hit a woman in anger or in admiration. Hitting a woman is disrespectful and demeaning to them... that's what woman have marched for and signed petitions for and withheld their "treasure" for... RESPECT.... and now on a drizzly night in some bar in Moorestown NJ... I was getting bonked on the head and disRESPECTED in front of my dude friends and in front of the whole bar.
So what ended up happening...? Well... Nuthin'!! There was nothing I could do except take it and swallow the pride sticker that got smacked on my forehead. I was quiet in the car and we talked about it for a few minutes... but I know it won't change anything. I know i'll still get bonked on the head for supposedly doing stupid things. I'll still get told about how women have the right to be treated equal to men and i'll still have to hear all the women I know talk about how they need a man to take care of them and love them and be there for them... whatever... somebody should just stab me in the forehead with the double edged sword that all you women wanna secretly carry and use like a ninja... it's ridiculous.
At work... we all get paid a certain amount to work... if your job required you to carry a box of clothes or to lift something heavy or to take the trash to the dumpster... don't ask me to do it. I'll do it when its my turn... not every other day..... not once a week... when its my turn. That's what's fair.
On Valentines Day, don't expect to get flower and candy and expect a man to pay for dinner... because if the relationship is "equal" he should be getting something too.... and i'm not talking about "treasure", i'm talking about what men really want... gadgets.. like an ipod or a bb gun or some comic books. Thats what would be fair.
If there are any men out there that want to do another million man march... please let me know... because we can go to DC or even to Douglas college and we can march and have speeches and talk about how we have equal rights... and our rights should not be discriminated by so-called feminists who want all the cards in the deck.... I'll be in the back of the crowd... marching... making sure my girl doesn't see me.
BUT...
What I want to know and what I can't seem to understand is... How come women want to be treated "equal" when it benefits them but want to be treated like a woman in a situation when it is best for them, as in... "you take out the trash cuz i'm a girl, you should lift this big heavy box because you're supposed to, you should open the door for me, make sure the toilet seat is down, etc."?
Last night, my girlfriend and I went out to meet some dude friends of mine at a bar. Some of my friends were checking out some girl across the way. I wasn't really googly eyed about her, actually i wouldn't have even noticed her if wasn't for someone pointing her out. But when I happened to look in her direction later in the night, I got smacked in the forehead. WHAM! Right dead above the eyes, hard like a softball hitting the ground. I was pissed! I was red with anger and had to consume it like a shy teenager who just got spit on by a bully. She insulted me in front of my friends AND she hit me. How is that okay? I don't think it is.
It's like that V8 commercial where all those wives are bonking their husbands on their heads because they pass on all the vegetables.... why is that okay? why is it okay for a woman to put her hands on a man and hit him and disrespect him? God forbid I ever put my hand on a woman... even if it was a joke... even if it was to smack her ass and say nice jeans. God forbid that and society forbid that because for some reason it is not okay to hit a woman in anger or in admiration. Hitting a woman is disrespectful and demeaning to them... that's what woman have marched for and signed petitions for and withheld their "treasure" for... RESPECT.... and now on a drizzly night in some bar in Moorestown NJ... I was getting bonked on the head and disRESPECTED in front of my dude friends and in front of the whole bar.
So what ended up happening...? Well... Nuthin'!! There was nothing I could do except take it and swallow the pride sticker that got smacked on my forehead. I was quiet in the car and we talked about it for a few minutes... but I know it won't change anything. I know i'll still get bonked on the head for supposedly doing stupid things. I'll still get told about how women have the right to be treated equal to men and i'll still have to hear all the women I know talk about how they need a man to take care of them and love them and be there for them... whatever... somebody should just stab me in the forehead with the double edged sword that all you women wanna secretly carry and use like a ninja... it's ridiculous.
At work... we all get paid a certain amount to work... if your job required you to carry a box of clothes or to lift something heavy or to take the trash to the dumpster... don't ask me to do it. I'll do it when its my turn... not every other day..... not once a week... when its my turn. That's what's fair.
On Valentines Day, don't expect to get flower and candy and expect a man to pay for dinner... because if the relationship is "equal" he should be getting something too.... and i'm not talking about "treasure", i'm talking about what men really want... gadgets.. like an ipod or a bb gun or some comic books. Thats what would be fair.
If there are any men out there that want to do another million man march... please let me know... because we can go to DC or even to Douglas college and we can march and have speeches and talk about how we have equal rights... and our rights should not be discriminated by so-called feminists who want all the cards in the deck.... I'll be in the back of the crowd... marching... making sure my girl doesn't see me.
Where'd you get them jeans?
I am back.
After a brief, but always too long, furlough, crzysmooth returns. Many things have happened while I was away. A buddy of mine is on Blogger [blogspot] writing blogs so I decided I'd relocate the musings of crzysmooth here from its native MYSPACE to give it a fresh look and to be able to share it with more people in a different format. Also, several friends have started to write blogs as well, creating an urge to get back to my rightful place in the mix.... a place where I can stir the other pota-toes in the soup.
I recently have become unemployed from my primary job like many Americans during this recession we are in... and it is in my interest to keep my thoughts and events captured in time so that I have some kind of record for posterity. Time will only tell who or what will become of this new endeavor. Either way, I, crzysmooth am back and ready to help...help myself...and to help others.
Today I wanna discuss something odd that I see occuring. I have recently entered the retail industry as a sales associate at a popular mall clothing store. Everyday I talk to people and try to help them find what they need so they can be - first of all, on their way quickly, and secondly so they spend a little more money in the store overall. Honestly, I don't really care about the money stuff and the sales... I just like BSing with customers that come in. But for some reason, everytime I start helping somebody out, the salesman in me starts to show his face... I soon want that person to start buying a whole bunch of stuff... like jekyl and hide... Its crazy. Its crzy-smooth. I start talking to them like we've known each other forever... I start telling them about what we have in the store... i ask them what they are looking for... I ask them what they need it for... is it for work? is it for just the weekends when they are outside gardening or at the park with the wife and kids? Soon enough, we are looking at a wall of denim and I'm explaining to them that the jeans we are looking at are cut individually from unique handpicked textiles and are washed in a special way to get the very specific look and feel that they are today. I'm explaining to them the pattern is laid down on the denim fabric and it is cut in a manner where the grains always move vertically throughout the whole jean and if you were to lay the jeans down you would be able to iron them if you wanted to and they would look like the jeans were cut in half on the sides... [basically, i'm telling them what jeans are supposed to look like if it has the correct cut]. And next thing you know... the person next to me is looking for a size so he or she can try them on because these jeans are now somehow SPECIAL. They usually buy them if they fit... they almost definitely buy them if someone tells them they look awesome and those jeans were meant for them. ha!
I love the hustle. I like convincing people what they already know. These people who stand and listen to me know they like the jeans... they just want some kind of justification on why the are spending all that money for them. That's all people ever want..... THEY WANT TO KNOW THAT THE DECISIONS THEY ARE MAKING ARE THE RIGHT ONES..... and i'm here to tell them that its okay. Its okay to spend a little for something they want. Its okay to indulge in themselves or for somebody else. Its okay to help this economy and get back in the swing of things...
But really... if they didn't want it... if they really didn't want it... they wouldn't even sit there and talk to me. They wouldn't even come into the store. Would they? Everybody has an idea what they want in life... sometimes they just need somebody else to sell it to them.
After a brief, but always too long, furlough, crzysmooth returns. Many things have happened while I was away. A buddy of mine is on Blogger [blogspot] writing blogs so I decided I'd relocate the musings of crzysmooth here from its native MYSPACE to give it a fresh look and to be able to share it with more people in a different format. Also, several friends have started to write blogs as well, creating an urge to get back to my rightful place in the mix.... a place where I can stir the other pota-toes in the soup.
I recently have become unemployed from my primary job like many Americans during this recession we are in... and it is in my interest to keep my thoughts and events captured in time so that I have some kind of record for posterity. Time will only tell who or what will become of this new endeavor. Either way, I, crzysmooth am back and ready to help...help myself...and to help others.
Today I wanna discuss something odd that I see occuring. I have recently entered the retail industry as a sales associate at a popular mall clothing store. Everyday I talk to people and try to help them find what they need so they can be - first of all, on their way quickly, and secondly so they spend a little more money in the store overall. Honestly, I don't really care about the money stuff and the sales... I just like BSing with customers that come in. But for some reason, everytime I start helping somebody out, the salesman in me starts to show his face... I soon want that person to start buying a whole bunch of stuff... like jekyl and hide... Its crazy. Its crzy-smooth. I start talking to them like we've known each other forever... I start telling them about what we have in the store... i ask them what they are looking for... I ask them what they need it for... is it for work? is it for just the weekends when they are outside gardening or at the park with the wife and kids? Soon enough, we are looking at a wall of denim and I'm explaining to them that the jeans we are looking at are cut individually from unique handpicked textiles and are washed in a special way to get the very specific look and feel that they are today. I'm explaining to them the pattern is laid down on the denim fabric and it is cut in a manner where the grains always move vertically throughout the whole jean and if you were to lay the jeans down you would be able to iron them if you wanted to and they would look like the jeans were cut in half on the sides... [basically, i'm telling them what jeans are supposed to look like if it has the correct cut]. And next thing you know... the person next to me is looking for a size so he or she can try them on because these jeans are now somehow SPECIAL. They usually buy them if they fit... they almost definitely buy them if someone tells them they look awesome and those jeans were meant for them. ha!
I love the hustle. I like convincing people what they already know. These people who stand and listen to me know they like the jeans... they just want some kind of justification on why the are spending all that money for them. That's all people ever want..... THEY WANT TO KNOW THAT THE DECISIONS THEY ARE MAKING ARE THE RIGHT ONES..... and i'm here to tell them that its okay. Its okay to spend a little for something they want. Its okay to indulge in themselves or for somebody else. Its okay to help this economy and get back in the swing of things...
But really... if they didn't want it... if they really didn't want it... they wouldn't even sit there and talk to me. They wouldn't even come into the store. Would they? Everybody has an idea what they want in life... sometimes they just need somebody else to sell it to them.
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