Monthly Archive: October 2009

Oct 30 2009

Halloween: I don’t get it.

Okay, so tomorrow’s Halloween, right?  Do you have a costume?  Are you wearing said costume to work?  Are are mentally challenged?

Seriously.  I don’t get the Halloween thing.  I mean, sure, it was fun when I was a kid to dress up and go door to door trick or treating and making myself sick on candy for the next few weeks (or, more accurately, a few days with my sweet tooth.)  I can even understand, though I will never be caught dead doing it, people wearing costumes to costume parties.  What I don’t understand is how people can wear costumes to a professional workplace.  Exhibit A – three of my co-workers:

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Now, granted, I’ll give the two on the left props for originality…especially considering that we work publishing TV content.  (Ryan is dressed as McGruber from SNL, Nick as Brett Michaels from Rock of Love…with guyliner even.)  And Nate wins the award for the most elaborate costume, although that hardly counts, since he goes to pirate conventions dressed like that every once a month, it seems.  This year, I was shocked to find that more guys dressed up for Halloween than girls. 

But at work?  Really?  There’s just no way I can take you seriously when you’re dressed like a member of the cast of a VH1 Reality show.  You got a problem you need help with?  You’ll have to wait until Monday.  I can’t focus through the dying gasp of your professionalism.

Oh, and while we’re at it, what’s with girls dressing up like hookers for Halloween? 

"Why are you dressed up like a whore?"
"I’m not!  I’m a witch."
"Um, no.  You’re a hooker with pointy hat on."
"Nuh uh!  I’m a sexy witch."
"Look sister, I know a hooker when I see one.  In fact, there’s a dead hooker in the trunk of my car as we speak.  And you, miss thang, are a whore with a pointy hat."
"I also have a wand."
"Look, just go away.  If I wanted to see a whore with a hat, I’d have stuck a baseball cap on my ex-wife*."

* I’m just kidding.  My ex-wife and are actually on good terms.  She’s in the trunk of my car.

Look, if you have to use the adjective "Sexy" to describe your costume, then it’s not a good costume.  Unless you happen to be using it as an adjective for "Male Swimsuit Model."  Fortunately, we didn’t have any sexy nurses, sexy schoolgirls, sexy witches, sexy stenographers, sexy angels, etc. in the female workforce today.  During one of our conference calls today, however, the contact from the other company said that his secretary came to work dressed as a "punta loca" (translated: Crazy Bitch. His words, not mine)–a latina gangsta girl.  Is that the impression you want to be making, even on Halloween Eve?

I know I’m an old curmudgeon already, but I just don’t get it.  I don’t.  And I REALLY don’t get decorating for Halloween.  Exhibit B – The Lobby of my Building:

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This is a brand new building–one of six massive new buildings built to house the Entertainment and Devices division of the company (Xbox, Zune, etc.)  That huge white thing at the top of the picture is a two-store high LED curtain that probably cost enough money to pay for the salary of at least three of the people working on my team for a year.  The Atrium is a huge, beautiful four-story high space with a glass ceiling, with massive planters full of real tropical plants scattered around in cozy little seating areas.  So what better way to decorate for Halloween by filling the atrium with cotton batting fake spider webs and giant inflatable fabric  pumpkins.  Because nothing says "I wear a mullet, my car is up on blocks, and I have couch in my front yard," better than 4-foot high giant inflatable lawn ornaments being used for decorations in a professional workplace.

Aside 1: Giant Inflatable Lawn Decorations are never appropriate under any circumstance whatsoever.  If you use Giant Inflatable Lawn Decorations, you are, by definition, tacky and white trash.  Now you know.  This also holds true for giant inflatable snow globes, nativities, motorized reindeer, or those really heinous plywood cutouts of silhouettes or ladies bending over in the garden showing their underpants.

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(By the way, don’t do a search for "Lady Bending over in a garden" in Google unless you’ve got SafeSearch turned on.  Just trust me.)

Aside 2: White-trashy decorations are bad enough, but can someone please tell me why it’s okay for us to put up Halloween decorations in the workplace at all.  Sure, it’s okay if you decorate the brand new building in Nuevo-redneck decor to celebrate an opportunity to dress like a sexy witch prostitute, but, by company policy you can’t put up any decorations in December to celebrate a holiday that promotes Peace on Earth and Goodwill Toward Men…both of which were apparently acquired by Google at the end of 2004.  That offends my sensibilities.  Not in the self-righteous religious way, but in the "Why can’t you decorate for a holiday that has a less horrendous color scheme" sort of way.  Orange totally makes me look pasty. 

Besides, everyone knows that, after the age of 12, October 31st is good for one thing, and one thing only: going to your local superstore (Target, Fred Meyer, etc.) and looking at the Christmas decorations.  Because starting on November 1st, it is the patriotic duty of every red-blooded American man and woman to deck the friggin’ halls already.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get a dead hooker out of my trunk so I can go get my new Christmas Tree tomorrow.

Oct 25 2009

Fall Colors, Food, and OCD – It’s a party!

Well, it’s Sunday night, nearly 11:15 at night, and the weekend is nearly over.  These things just NEVER last long enough, do they?  There’s just too much to get done.

The weather in Redmond has finally turned (rather like that two month old milk I’ve got in the back of my fridge that I’m afraid to open and throw out, because I’m fairly certain that doing so would be rather akin to unleashing the bowels of Hell in my apartment kitchen–there’s just not enough Bath & Body Works Clean Linen air freshener and Wall Flowers in the world to cover up what I’m certain is a stench formulated specifically for stripping the mucous membrane from my eyes.)  And with the onset of rainy weather in the fall comes the annual wrist slitting ritual beautiful fall colors.

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I’ve never been any place where the fall color are as vibrant as they are here.  It’s almost as though nature were making a valiant, yet ultimately fruitless, attempt to offset the misery of the omnipresent suicide gray that will haunt my every waking moment for the next six months.  (Sometimes, it’s not too great having a window at work for the four hours of "daylight" you get a day.)  The cloudy, gray skies are PERFECT for portrait photographers, but I really struggle with my moods when I never get to see the sun…and let’s be honest–I struggle with my moods even when I’m at risk of getting skin cancer by just looking out the window, so winter-depressed Matt is a real barrel of fun.

One of the nice things about the icky weather, however, is that weekend mornings are made for sleeping in late and snuggling up in the blankets.  And since the sun never comes up anymore, you can sleep in much more easily, since you have no idea what time it is unless, like me, the first thing you do when you gain consciousness in the morning is check your email, Facebook, and Twitter on your iPhone while making your morning ablutions at the porcelain shrine.  And sometimes, you get to snuggle up with that someone special.  I, for instance, awoke in the arms of a big, hairy man this morning:

 

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Don’t ask me how Luke got himself wedged under the covers so thoroughly, but he did, and my bed was extremely warm and toasty (and furry).  And once he found a warm spot, there was no breaking him free.  It took a misleading promise of a cookie to abandon his stake-out. When we finally did get outside, we were greeted by an absolutely stunning morning fog just starting to evaporate off the lake.

 

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And since the sun doesn’t actually rise until 11:48 AM these days, and goes down by 3:12 PM, I don’t have to go out of my way to catch either sunrise OR sunset (don’t you dare start singing Fiddler on the Roof here, Topol).  It’s easy photography for the habitually lazy!

Saturday involved a trip to the last farmer’s market of the year to get the apples necessary to make Matt’s World Famous Apple Pie (patent pending), to get a tub of cheese curds (also known as squeaky cheese), and to say goodbye to my sole source of fresh fruit and vegetables for the last five months.  (I’m all about buying fresh, local, and in season.  I couldn’t care less about "organic."  That whole organic thing is a bunch of hooey anyway.  I’d just as soon not have food filled with bugs, thanks.  I get my protein from e-coli-tainted beef and salmonella-tainted chicken instead.)  I’m sad to see the Farmer’s Market close down at the end of the season.  It’s more than just a grocery shopping trip, it’s a weekend event and, for me at least, a signal that the weekend has finally begun.  Plus, they have the most incredible crepes, tamales, and Sausage and Pepper Sandwiches at the Farmer’s Market.  And pies.  And fruits.  And there’s this really adorable 382-year-old Japanese woman who does these intricate and massive watercolor paintings that look like they belong in a major gallery, and she paints them right there at the market. 

Then I spent several hours finishing up a video game that’s held my attention for the last week.  Great game called Uncharted 2.  I’ll probably post about this game later, because it was more like playing a really arresting 15-hour Indiana Jones movie…but with no Crystal Skull, Aliens, or Shia LeBoeuf.  (By the way, does he know that his last name means, "The Beef?"  At least if someone asks "where’s the beef?" the answer won’t be "Under the Pickle."  It’ll be "Starring in yet another crappy and soulless Transformers movie that is even more destructive to the physical and mental well-being of young minds as DDT was to bird eggs.")

Today involved some audiobook work (new book coming on Wednesday!), going to Best Buy & Video Only with Billy to look at TVs (for him, not me), and for an HD Webcam (for me, not him.)  So now, if anyone wants to chat with me via Skype and see my bloodshot eyes  rapidly accelerating balding  triple chins  pretty, smiling face, you can call me on Skype at DrChumley (at) gmail dot com.  I can’t guarantee I’ll answer if you call, but I might.

We went to P.F. Changs (Motto: Your one-stop-shop for crappy "Chinese" food, fortune cookies, and painful, extended diarrhea) where I got diarrhea Lettuce Wraps and diarrhea Orange Peel Chicken, neither of which were worth eating.  Oh yeah, and I also got diarrhea.  Then we came back to my place and played more video games.

Oh yeah.  And I let my OCD finally win the better of me today.  I organized my sock drawer.  And not only did I organize it, but I undid all of my socks and folded them together rather than wrap the elastic over the other sock like I normally do.  Normally, I wouldn’t care, because I replace my socks frequently.  I once had a roommate to used to say that, when he was rich, he was never going to wear the same pair of socks twice, because he liked the feeling of brand new socks so much.  I co-opted his dream, so I don’t really care if my socks’ elastics wear out because I just go and replace them.  But I needed a change in my life.  And since I haven’t won the lottery, become a raging alcoholic, found a boyfriend, or stopped spending ridiculous sums of money on electronics that I don’t need, I figured the least I could do would be to re-fold my socks in a more appropriate manner.

 

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I have six columns of socks.  The first two columns are for the full-length white socks that I wear whenever I wear jeans to someplace other than a funeral.  (I know it’s tacky, but I haven’t earned my gay fashion certification yet.  Plus, I work at Microsoft.  I’m fashion forward just by not wearing said white socks under sandals.) (P.S., if any of the people reading this blog wear socks with sandals un-ironically, you are hereby forbidden from reading my blog ever again and must stay at least 1,000 feet away from me at all times.) You may be thinking, "wow, the bottoms of his white socks are really dirty."  First, you need to stop being so judgmental.  Secondly, I never wear shoes inside my house.  Thirdly, I often walk outside in only my socks like I was still five years old, even though my mom (Hi, Mom!) told me repeatedly not to when I was a little kid.  Fourthly, if it bothers you so much, you know what you can get me for Christmas.  I wear Hanes socks, size 7-12, Mid-Calf Length.  The ones with the gray toes and heels. 

Column 3 is the ankle length athletic socks I wear with shorts or when I’m working out.  I also used to wear them in modern dance classes on occasion, since I hate dancing barefoot on a cold floor.  But since I don’t dance anymore, I don’t work out, and I almost never wear shorts, these socks are largely still white.  Column four is socks in the brown color pallette.  Column five is Black/Gray, and Column Six (not pictured) is Blue.  The big empty space is for the socks which are currently sitting in either the dryer or the washing machine. 

I realize that I just spent the last 463 words discussing my sock organization methodology.  This is because I am a dork. 

Tonight, I also made my amazing Turkey Meatball Soup with Orzo pasta so I would have a much more healthy alternative for dinners this week.  The guy in the drive-thru at Dairy Queen remembered my name when I pulled up to the window on Friday night, and I realized that, while I’ve always wanted to have a place where I could be a regular, and walk in and order "The Usual," I don’t want that place to be Dairy Queen.  Strawberry Cheesequake Blizzards aside.  You know, that, and I’ve got to loose another 15 pounds before Thanksgiving so I don’t become too fat at Thanksgiving Dinner to get into and out of my car, as my Thanksgiving Dinner is going to consist of the following:

· Carved Turkey with Rosemary Black Pepper and Lemon Rub

· Pike Place Market Ale and Honey Glazed Baked Ham 

· Old Fashioned Onion Gravy

· Cranberry Cinnamon and Orange Sauce

· Annabelle’s Savory Celery, Sweet Onion and French Bread Stuffing

· Corn Bread Oyster Stuffing

· Whiskey Barbecued Pulled Pork

· Maple Vanilla Bean Sweet Potatoes

· Country Style Red Skin Garlic Mashed Potatoes

· Sautéed Autumn Vegetable Medley

· Brussels Sprouts with Shallots and Crispy Bacon

· Butternut Squash, Spinach, Ricotta Cheese and Walnut Cannelloni

· Baked Macaroni and Cheddar Cheese with Seasoned Fine Herb Bread Crumb Crust

· Dungeness Crab Bisque

· Lobster Champagne Bisque with Fennel Chantilly

· Northwest Seafood Stew and Sun Dried Tomatoes and Basil

· Black Bean and Cojito Cheese Quesadilla with Pico de Gallo

· House Smoked Wild Salmon with Honey Run Glaze

· Chilled Prawns Cocktail with Horseradish Tomato Cocktail Sauce

· House Smoked Penn Cove Mussels

· Olive Oil Poached Albacore Tuna with Watercress and Red Bell Pepper Garlic Pesto

· Roasted Cauliflower Salad with Curry and Garlic Dressing

· Spanish Red Snapper Escabéche

· Deviled Eggs with Dungeness Crabmeat

· Orzo Salad with Green Vegetables and Green Goddess Dressing

· Caesar Salad with Focaccia Croutons and Parmesan Dressing

· Thai Noodle, Beef, Mint, Cucumber Salad with Lemon Dressing

· Greek Vegetable Salad with Feta and Kalamata Olives

· Red Cabbage and Apple Slaw with Brown Sugar Dressing

· Roasted Winter Vegetable Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette

· Tomato, Basil and Fresh Mozzarella Salad

· Caramelized Onion and Three Cheese Tart

· Balsamic Onions with Smoked Tomatoes and Arugula

· LePuy Lentil Salad with Chicken Cilantro Meatballs

· Ricotta Tortellini Salad with Autumn Squash and Crispy Sage

· Refreshing Fruit Platters

· International Cheese Selection with Sesame Crackers

· Roasted Potato Focaccia

· Walnut Bread

· Challah

· Savory Scones

· Cilantro Jalapeno Corn

· Bacon Muffins

· KASPARS SIGNATURE DESSERT BUFFET

o Pumpkin Pie

· Pecan Sweet Potato Pie

· Crème Brûlée

· Cranberry Tiramisu

· Rustic Apple Tart

· Cheesecake

· Cookies

· Chocolate Mousse

· Banana Betty

· Many More!

Jealous?

Well, I believe I’ve let both my parenthetical and my strikeouts run amok in this post, so I’ll leave it here.  Because tomorrow, I’ve got to go back to work. 

Sometimes I hate being an adult.

Oct 22 2009

Et Tu, iPhone

It may come as a massive shock to you, dear readers, that I am something of a technology whore.  I work hard for the money…so hard for it honey, I work hard for the money so I can go out and piss it away on technology gadgets that I don’t need, use, or sometimes even want.  (Wait…that’s how the song goes, right?  Or have I been mis-hearing the lyrics for all these years.)  Never is this more true than in the cell-phone realm.  I have owned a cell phone for 10 years now.  I started off with VoiceStream Wireless, a carrier that was later bought by Deutche Telecomm and turned into T-Mobile, in 1999, the year I got back from my mission.  It was part of my post-mission, credit score rape-and-pillage technology binge in which I bought a DVD Player ($400), a VCR ($200), A Computer ($800), a 19" Monitor ($400), a portable DVD player ($600), and a new 27" TV which I only bought because my existing TV didn’t have the proper inputs to allow me hook up my DVD player to get the best possible picture, and which provided me with on my worst (and only) cases of buyer’s remorse.  In fact, I felt so bad about buying it, I told everyone that I WON the TV in a drawing at Circuit City for the floor model so they wouldn’t lecture me about spending money so frivolously (LAME!)

 

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This was my first phone.  My first plan was only a 60 minute plan because, "I’m only getting this phone so I can be available if my agent calls me at the last minute to come and audition for a job.  I need to be reachable at all times.  I’ll never use it to place calls until it’s after 7PM and I’m on my free evening and weekend minutes."  The price for this plan was $20 a month. (Okay.  Stop laughing now.)  Three days later, I called up Voicestream and I told them that I needed to up my plan to 600 minutes a month. 

Since that time, I have never once made it all the way through my contract before getting rid of my phone and moving on to a new one.  Less than two years after I got phone #1, I got #2–a little flip phone so small it was nearly impossible to dial numbers.  Then I moved to The Suck Pit of all Human Existence Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, where T-Mobile didn’t get service, and I switched over to Cingular.  Then I moved back to Michigan, where Cingular didn’t get service, and I switched back to T-Mobile.  But T-Mobile didn’t get service at my parents’ house, so I got Sprint.

Then I moved to Utah, and Sprint screwed me over (and not in the good way) so badly I vowed that I would never rest until I could see the look in the eyes of Sprint’s CEO as I ripped his heart out of his chest with my bare hands and showed it to him while it was still beating.  Then I switched to Verizon…for my first foray into the SmartPhone arena.

 

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This thing was a beast, but I convinced myself that the $400 price tag was worth it because, "I need to be able to keep track of my voice lesson schedule."

Then I moved up Seattle, and Ye Old Verizon started dropping calls and/or failing to allow calls through.  So I went back to T-Mobile.

Then, a year ago, I did something of which I’m not proud.  I bought an iPhone 3g, and in doing so, proved to the world that I do, in fact, suffer from severe brain damage left T-Mobile and switched to AT&T.  The iPhone itself is a great piece of technology, especially if you don’t need your phone to place calls, deliver voicemail messages, send and receive text messages, not crash, hold a charge for longer than 52 minutes, or cost less than the price of meals for a family of Ethiopian children for the next seven years.  I wanted in on the tech bandwagon, and so I got an iPhone.  And it was a love-hate relationship.  I loved to hate the phone, and moreover, I really loved to hate AT&T (motto: Why let you phone calls when you will pay us $90 a buck a month for nothing?)

Then, when the Palm Pre came out, I decided that the Sprint CEO had suffered enough, and I decided to go back to Sprint…and I couldn’t have had a better experience.  The phone was great, the people were friendly, the pricing plans were so much cheaper than they had been.  The only problem was that I didn’t get any reception at all in my house.  In fact, my phone was roaming from within the apartment.  Not okay.  So back the Pre went, and cancelled went the Sprint Plan.  Fortunately, I hadn’t ported over my number yet, though.  I’d have to suffer through with the iPhone.

Last Sunday, I finally had enough when, for the seventh time in as many hours, I had to shut off my iPhone and turn it back on just to get it to connect to my apartment Wi-Fi.  So, I went to the AT&T Store.  Unfortunately, the iPhone’s warranty is for one year, and I had owned this particular iPhone for one year and six days.  Meaning I was SOL.  So I had one of three options

* Cancel my contract, pay $175 and go to another provider where I would have to pay a minimum of $200 for a new phone and sign a new two-year contract

* Suffer with my existing iPhone for another 6 months until I could upgrade for free

* Suck it up and pay $500 for a new Phone that actually, oh, I don’t know…WORKED. 

Any guesses as to which one I chose?

That’s right boys and girls, I paid through the nose for a new phone.  And what did I get? (Geez, I’m such a sheep). 

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I got another iPhone.  I really don’t like the iPhone all that much, but there just isn’t another phone out there yet that has the flexibility and utility of this stupid piece of overpriced, overdesigned, and really over-hyped equipment.  At least this one has more memory, a faster processor, and is blissfully absent the propensity of hanging up on me and/or failing to delivery my voicemails than my old iPhone 3G.  (Not that anybody ever calls me unless they want something from me, but, you know…)  Also note that I have since loaded a thoroughly mediocre audiobook on my iPhone for listening enjoyment in preparation for my next Open Book Audio Podcast.  Oh yeah, didn’t you know?  I host a podcast now with my business partner, Andrew.  It’s funny, exciting, and trenchant…just like me.  Oh, and humble.  Don’t forget humble.

Anyway, so yeah, I got an iPhone.  And I work at Microsoft.  Isn’t that ironic?  (Answer: No.) But at least I got it with a snazzy new case:

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Now, I just need to see if I can make this phone last long enough that when, in a year and a half from now when I am ready to fire-bomb the AT&T Wireless building that I pass on my way to Dairy Queen and/or Coldstone, I will be able to a) find a better non-iPhone phone and b) not have to pay my early termination fees. 

There’s a first time for everything.

Can you hear me now?

Oct 20 2009

Un-break my Fart

It’s impossible to buy a plunger and look dignified doing it.

It’s 10:00 PM in one of those multi-purpose grocery/hardware/toys/clothing/everything stores, there’s only one checkout lane open, and the store is full of ugly single people who don’t have anyone to go home to, cutesy couples who think that late-night grocery shopping is fun date night material, and one very tired guy with a pint of ice cream that you know he’s getting for his pregnant wife.  And then there’s me, with a plunger and a bag of apples. 

"Why apples," you ask?  You’re so considerate.  Thank you.  Because they didn’t have Fleur de Sel Caramel Ice Cream (They’ve been out of stock for TWO WEEKS!!! GRRRR!)  But really, the main reason is that, even if you really only need a plunger, it’s just not okay to go to the store and get only a plunger.  No, because if you’re at the store, and you check out with only a plunger, the clerk at the store is going to think one thing: "What’s the matter Mr. Farty McPoopyPants?  Is sumfin da matter wif yer toilet?"  And even if, theoretically, that were true, that’s just not the kind of impression you want to leave when you check out at the store.  I mean, really, there are standards. 

Ergo the apples.

(I suppose now is the time that I should insert a disclaimer that the remainder of this blog post will be about poop.  You can enjoy the obviously high-minded and scientific discourse, or surf on over to http://dailysquee.com to fill your head with pictures of cute animals instead.)

Apples are the perfect ruse because if you check out with a plunger and apples, the clerk won’t think, "It’s 10PM at night and you’re getting a plunger…obviously it’s for your up and coming Halloween costume."  (The clerk inside my head can be very sarcastic.)  Instead, the clerk will simply think, "This man must have needed apples for a last minute baking project to bring to a work office party.  And how nice that he could get a plunger at the same time–he’ll probably use it to help his little brother from the Big Brothers/Big Sisters Foundation build a science project for the school fair involving a baking soda and vinegar volcano.  What a good man.  I would have thought otherwise if it were just the plunger, but since he has apples, I’m absolutely certain that there is not some hideously unfortunate plumbing issue requiring immediate attention."

The simple logic of it is really quite astounding.  The clerk needn’t think about about how the plunger may be used.  He needn’t be disgusted by having an unprovoked mental image impinge upon his psyche.  He needn’t know that my body is having it’s second straight day of a violent and bowel-wrenching reaction to a desperate attempt to eat healthily by incorporating fruits and vegetables into my diet that haven’t been wrapped in pastry, blended into ice cream, and/or deep fried first. 

(As a side note: It was all I could do not to stop at DQ to get a mint oreo blizzard on my way home from the store just to settle my stomach.  Then I realized how terrifying it is that a mint Oreo blizzard would, in fact, settle my stomach, and I continued on…thoroughly disgusted at myself for getting to the point where a fast food milkshake with cookie chunks could be considered an appropriate replacement for Pepto Bismol.)

And best of all: the theoretical "hideously unfortunate plumbing issue requiring immediate attention" resolved itself without any intervention from an upside down rubber bowl on a stick.  So, now, I have a plunger. And I don’t need to clean it.  And I need to figure out where to store said plunger so as not to give the impression that I am C. Everett Poop, Pooper Man, The Poop Nazi, a hula-poop, Poop Doggy-Dog, Poopie Goldberg…(I could keep going, but I’ll stop).

And speaking of poop (were we speaking of poop?), one time in college, I had a roommate named Shawn who had the unfortunate habit of farting loudly and on purpose…a habit he mistakenly believed was humorous.  He also had the unfortunate habit of dancing hip-hop.  One day, in the living room of the apartment, he was choreographing a routine for the halftime show of a Utah Jazz game, and he said, "Hey Guys," lifted up his leg, and farted loudly.  Then he immediately said, "Uh-oh" and ran into his bedroom.  His farting gag had gone horribly awry, and as a result, not only had he pooped in his pants, but said poop had also run down the back of his leg and had even gotten into his shoes, which were, after Shawn took a shower, thrown away.  (I’d like to take a moment to mention how glad I am that I didn’t share a bathroom with Shawn while we were roommates.)

But this is about me, and my digestive issues.  So anyway, now I have a plunger.  I didn’t have to figure out how to clean it after usage.  And best of all, now I’m not quite so full of s*#$

Oct 19 2009

You Know You’re Getting Fat When…

I had a realization forced upon me today.  I’m getting fat.  Nonsense, you say.  How is that even possible?  You’ve always been so slim and fit. 

Well, to be quite honest, I don’t like your tone.  Nobody likes sarcastic remarks.  You can just keep your snotty comments to yourself, thank you very much.

So this morning, I went to a yoga class for the first time in an effort to get some use out of the $50 a month I’m spending on my gym membership.  (This is the third time I’ve gone to the gym since I got the membership in May, thus averaging in a per-visit cost of $100).  Also, I went in an apparently vain attempt to begin my process of slimming down just in time to gorge myself sick for Thanksgiving/Christmas/Ramadan/Hanukah/Kwanza/Tet/New Years Holiday Corridor.  I didn’t hate it, which, as a person who considers typing 50 words a minute to be strenuous exercise, is a big thing for me.  I even almost felt refreshed.  I came home, ate a healthy breakfast of Fiber One cereal (they’ve stopped showing the annoying commercials, so the boycott has ended).  I took a quick nap, and then went to go take a shower, before which I decided to, um, see a man about a horse, as they say. (That means "poop.")

As I dropped trou, and sat down, I heard a crunching sound, and a sharp pinch on my Rush Limbaugh-sized ass. 

That’s right folks.  I sat on the toilet and snapped the toilet seat in half.  And it wasn’t one of those flimsy little plastic seats that bends if you look at it cross-eyed.  This one was made out of wood.  (Well, fiberboard, to be exact.)  And my bulky backside broke it with its bare butt-hands.  (Man, that is some awkward alliteration.)  I can see the headline now: Bulky Behind Breaks Bathroom.

So, I called the office, explained to them that I was going to need to get the toilet seat repaired because I’m a lardo, then I consoled myself by eating 10 Oreos in quick succession.

The yoga is really going to pay off.  I can tell.

Oct 16 2009

A Little Work Gratitude

I don’t really know what it was about this last week at work, but it lasted a year.  It was a rough week.  It didn’t require exceptionally long hours, but the nature of work was just mentally exhausting.  Being more of an operational team rather than a software or project-based team, it can get rather discouraging, because you never get to be "done" with a task.  The train has to keep rolling, and our team is the one shoveling the coal.  So, as soon as we get to the bottom of one coal car, there’s another one right behind it. 

That’s not really the way I work.  I tend to be far more project-based in my personality.  I really miss having that sense of accomplishment after something is done and I’m able to look back on it with a little bit of pride and feel like I made a contribution.

But, as frustrated, and exhausted, and angry as I have been over certain aspects of what I’ve been doing lately at work, I really feel as though I need to take a step back and express a little gratitude for my job.  You know, to put things into perspective a bit.

The Workspace

When I first started on this team two years ago (it was two years ago September 12th, even though, for some unknown reason, my boss thinks it wasn’t until October 22nd) we were working in the "Microsoft Studios" building.  There were five of us crammed into a room that had originally been the room for the copy machine, and was far too small for five people.  It wasn’t the best work environment.  Then, about a year later, we moved into Building 87.  (The local Microsoft Workforce is approximately 7 times larger than that of the town in which I grew up…right around 70,000 people.  There are well over 100 different buildings on the local campus).  Building 87 was cubicle hell.  It was a massive warehouse that had been retrofitted into an entire rolling landscape of cubicles.  It was, perhaps, my least favorite place I ever worked.  Then, this spring, we moved into a brand new mini-campus built especially for the Entertainment and Devices division: Studios West.  We’re in Studio C.  One of the best things about the design of this building is that it merges cubicles with a much more private office feeling.  This is my workspace

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The entire wall behind me is of west-facing windows, which look out onto a nicely manicured planting bed, a rolling lawn, and an artificial turn soccer field.  (Computer Nerds + Soccer = Hilarious Lunchtime Hijinx).  Having a full window, allows me to have lots of greenery, which is excellent, because it helps me remember that working in corporate America doesn’t automatically smother all life.

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Also on my wall of windows is my really cool fountain

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Which just makes me happy.  (To be honest, I’ve gotten more compliments on my fountain than I have on my work…not sure if that’s a comment on the quality of my work, or the overwhelming coolness of the fountain.)

Another thing which makes me happy:  Multiple Monitors. 

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Those would be three 24" widescreen monitors.  Also note the USB Powered Orange Siren Lights, which never get used.  Yes, there is an Easy Button (circled in red), and yes, I do appreciate the irony of working at Microsoft and having an iPhone on my desk.  I just wish I appreciated the iPhone.  The phone itself is okay, but man is AT&T service atrocious.

I also have a few decorations which really make me feel as though I’m at home:

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Yes, those are Muppet stuffed animals.  I have Fozzie, Gonzo, Kermit, and an Animal Antenna Ball (which I can’t use on my car because my car doesn’t have an Antenna).  I got them when I went to Disneyland to see the Muppet 3-D adventure, thus finishing my quest to see all of the Muppet movies created by Jim Henson while he was still alive.  Also pictured is the butt of my Jibber Jabber doll that I bought with Jamelah one weekend when we went to Toys ‘R Us at Paka Plaza (later renamed Jackson Crossing).  For those who don’t know, the Jibber Jabber is a doll with a very long neck that you can use to practice your shaken baby syndrome skills.  And best of all, the head has these special velocity sensitive noisemakers that make the doll sound like you’re strangling him.  I’m not sure why Ertl, the company than manufactured them, thought that this was a toy appropriate for children, but I’m glad they did, because the Jibber Jabber doll has made made me happy for nearly 15 years.

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And then, perhaps my favorite desk decor is a gift I was given by one of my providers for Christmas two years ago:

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Waiter Mickey sits on the corner of my desk, sharing my message of peace, joy, and love to the world (and everyone who comes to my desk hoping I’ll solve their problems).  I used to put mini candy bars on Mickey’s platter, but then I realized that a) I didn’t want to spend my money helping me and my teammates get even fatter than we already are and b) I don’t actually want people coming by my desk all day long.  So I did the next best thing.

All things considered, when it comes to office workspaces, I’ve got it pretty good.  True, I can’t close my office door and block out the world, but honestly, if I did have an office door, I wouldn’t be able to close it anyway, because I spent 90% of my day answering questions and fixing bugs and the like, so people would be coming in and out all day long anyway.

The Money

If I am being completely honest, I think I can honestly say that I’m not doing work that I’m passionate about.  There are many days where I wake up wishing I didn’t have to go to work.  But that idea that you’ll find that one job where you wake up every day excited to get to work, and where you just love absolutely every minute of what you’re doing…yeah, I think we can mark that one off of the to-do list as being completely unrealistic.  And, when it comes to my job…the money’s pretty darn good.  I’m not a Microsoft Employee.  (Getting a full-time position at Microsoft is about as hard getting rid of Tracy on the Biggest Loser.)  I don’t get much paid vacation, and I don’t get to go to the company store and get cheap gadgets, and I don’t get health insurance, but the money is pretty darn good.  It’s nice, for the first time, to be able to buy the things I want without having to put them on a credit card…most of the time.

The People

My team is fun.  It’s 40 people between the ages of 20 and 41, most of them pretty smart, funny, talented, and sarcastic.  In addition, we have developed a team-wide irreverence which allows us to operate in a, shall we say, somewhat less than formal business environment.  Tempers flare, people get frustrated, but overall, it’s a good group.

The Location

Redmond, Washington is a beautiful place, and the many campuses are well maintained, lush, green, and very pretty.  But the best part my office is that it’s a five minute drive from the parking garage (the worlds largest underground parking garage, BTW) to my beautiful lakeside apartment.  This means I get to go home every day and eat my dinner leftovers from the night before while I watch HGTV (motto: All ur Masculinity R Belong to US) and play with my puppy.  I even get to take the occasional nap, which I often have to do because I can’t sleep at night time.  It also allows me the luxury of sleeping in more in the morning.  I can wake up 45 minutes before I have to be at the office, and still have time to shower, walk the dog, eat, and brush my teeth before walking about the door.

The Flexibility

I was able to work full time while doing school in the evenings for two years, resulting in the arrival of this:

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It just came in the mail Tuesday with a copy of the official transcript.  4.0 GPA BABY!  While I was in school, my boss and my co-workers listened to me whine about it endlessly, but also provided me with the flexibility to get this degree completed.  (I just wish the company could have paid for it :).  These student loans are probably going to last longer than my real teeth.)

Conclusion

So, as much as I complain about my job–and let’s be honest, I do–it could be a whole lot worse.  I could be making $7.75 an hour with no paid vacation, working with people I hate, doing something that makes me question my reason for living, spending 3 hours a day in commuter traffic, sitting in a dark, windowless room in a dark and dreary cubicle, and being chained to my desk while a large man in a loincloth beats monotonously on a giant drum at the head of the ship.  Now if we can just get past this launch so I can get my weekends back.  Because as nice as my office is…I don’t want to be there any more than I have to be. 

Oct 14 2009

Fall Can Fill You Up the Most

For the last several days, I’ve spent a great majority of my time wallowing in the schizophrenic ramblings of a crack-head nineteenth century nutcase working on the audiobook version of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.  So, I’m spending all day in front of my computer at work, then I come home and sit in front of a computer for another 4-5 hours cutting out breath noises and listening (and re-listening) to the horrifyingly manic randomness of Wonderland.  As a result, I haven’t been able to spend anywhere near as much time on writing blog entries as I would like…and considering how I left things previously, there’s a lot about which I’d like to write.

With summer officially banished from the great Northwest, I’m thoroughly enjoying the onset of Autumn, which everyone knows is, without question, the best of the four seasons.  It’s Gladys Knight to the Spring, Summer, and (mildly retarded) winter Pips.  The leaves are starting to change colors.  The air gets that light, sweet, heady perfume of wet leaves and moss.  There’s a slight crispness to the evenings and early mornings.  And, of course, the best part of Autumn: the food.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love me some food regardless of what time of year it is.  (Hell, as the mounds of fast-food bags and empty paper cups in the passenger seat of my car can attest, it can barely classify as food, and I’ll eat it with gusto and pleasure…I’m talking to you Taco Time’s Chicken Baja Tacos.)  But this time of year, I can eat fresh, organic, honest food, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. The gardens are surrendering the last of their bounty, the peaches are just winding down, the apples just coming into their own.

Oh, the APPLES!  Apples are, as a stand-alone fruit, simply orgasmic.  I’m not talking about those mealy, nasty, gross apples you get at the grocery store in mid-February.  The ones with an airbrushed perfect skin, shiny wax coating, and the internal fiber of Glen Beck and Amy Winehouse on a PCP bender together. (Use your imaginations if you dare).  I’m talking about the farmer’s market, u-pick, perfectly imperfect apples.  The ones with the dusty covering of fruit bloom, the firmness of Chris Evans’ abs, and a sweet, epic, glorious flavor that’s part acid, part sugar, and part angel tears.

Of course, as good as apples are, they are only enhanced by some minor additions, some of which I have been so kind as to photograph for your edification:

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When it’s the middle of March and I’m ready to slit my wrists and bleed out in the middle of the interstate completely naked because of the six straight months of rain feeling a little down, this is the plate of which I dream…my happy place if you will.  When I’ve reached my wit’s end at work due to the epic mountains of ludicrous CYA corporate bureaucracy, I dream of this.  One large Honeycrisp Apple sliced, and dipped into T. Marzetti’s Caramel Dip.  If there is a better food in the world (except Fleur de Sel Caramel Ice Cream), I defy you to name it.  For the next two months, this will be my breakfast, snack, and post-dinner palette cleanser.

Of course, apples aren’t just the main course.  They can make a wonderful garnish as well.

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(By the way, don’t I have the cutest plates?  Thanks mom & dad!)

These are mammoth homemade buckwheat http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Buckwheat-Magnet-C11750430.jpeg pancakes smothered with a sauce of fresh Gala Apples peeled, sliced, and sautéed in butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar until al dente.  Of course, because I have yet to figure out the whole portion control thing, I made a batch of pancakes meant for four people, and then ate 3/4th of it all by myself…then didn’t eat again for another 12 hours. 

So, for those of you keeping track, my life for the last weeks have consisted of 18+ hours a day in front of the computer, with occasionally forays to shovel apples, caramel, carb cakes, and occasionally Fleur de Sel Ice Cream down my gullet.  In other words, I’m bringing sexy back.

But it’s still better than eating mushrooms…

Alice in Wonderland Coverpage

Oct 12 2009

Alice in Whacked-Out Wonderland

Have you ever read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll?  I’m not talking about watching the Disney Movie (which is, in and of itself very disturbing).  I’m not even talking about the 1985 made for TV version of Alice in Wonderland where we are treated to this tremeondously horrifying song and dance routine by Sammy Davis Caterpiller Jr.

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I happen to be working on the audiobook version of Carroll’s novel, and I just have to say this: the man was obviously high when we wrote this book.  It. Is. NOT. Okay.

That is all.

Oct 11 2009

A Very Personal Blog Post

I started blogging in 2003. The whole term “blog” was fairly new in those days, and blogging hadn’t interested me too much. Then, I moved to Tennessee to work at a dinner theater in Pigeon Forge. I found myself very alone for the first time, and I didn’t really have much of a coping mechanism for dealing with it. So, I took to blogging as a way to express my feelings publically…almost as a means of therapy. To me, blogging has always been about way more than simply relating what I did today, or over the weekend (although I do that too). But to me, a feeling unexpressed is a feeling that isn’t truly felt. I don’t have an easily accessible outlet to expressing my feelings in my life, and the relative anonymity and safety by distance of the internet has long provided me with a certain amount of outlet. My posts in the past have tended to be far more personal than those on most blogs, and I’m okay with that. I’m not the kind of person who likes living a deeply private life, nor am I the person who is ashamed for the whole world to see my weaknesses or shortcomings, my significant eccentricities, my little hints of crazy, and my insatiable need for love and acceptance.

Despite my willingness to “put it all out there” on my blog, I have written most of my posts with my readers in mind. I have tried to write the kind of blog that will please my parents, siblings, extended family, friends, high school acquaintances, college classmates, former voice students, random strangers. I’ve censored myself significantly over the last several years because I didn’t want to write things that make people too uncomfortable, or that reveal too much about my personal life. I’ve been trying (with various levels of effort and/or success) to paint a picture of Matt as an idea, instead of Matt as a real person.

This really isn’t working for me anymore. The range and type of people that I interact with has widened significantly. I skim among several different crowds, never really belonging to any. And each of these crowds has a very different idea of who Matt is as a person, because none of them have seen Matt the whole person. They’ve only ever seen Matt the person I felt it was okay to show to that particular group. In addition, over the last year, I have found that some fairly seismic changes in my life, my point of view, and me as a person, have made it nearly impossible to continue writing the kinds of blog posts I have been writing for so long. As a result, one of my new resolutions is that I’m going to stop trying to create some “edited” version of myself. I’m just going to be me. I have spent such a large portion of my life hiding parts of myself in order to feel as though I belonged or was accepted. I have hidden parts of my life of which I was ashamed. I have done my best to hide decisions in my life because I was afraid they would offend, alienate, anger, upset, or hurt my friends and family. It’s exhausting, and I’m not interested in doing it any longer.

So what does this mean for you, my few loyal blog readers? (Actually, I get over 19,000 hits a month, so I imagine that there are a lot more people reading my blog than are commenting.) It means that the subjects of my blogs are going to change. I’m going to become a lot more open and honest, and I’m going to say the things I think and feel. (You mean I don’t NOW?) I’ll be talking about subjects that will make some people uncomfortable. I’ll probably use language that could offend some people (although I’m not the swearer I used to be…honest.) I imagine that I’ll probably lose a reader or two. I may lose a friend or two. I may even lose a family member or two. I honestly don’t know, and I can’t care anymore.

I don’t think it will come to much surprise to the people who have been reading this blog for any length of time that I am gay. I have known I was “different” since I was eleven or twelve years old. When I was 22, I came out to my parents and my sister, my bishop, and a counselor. Over the intervening years, I’ve come out to various people here or there, usually saying that, “I struggle with same-sex attraction.” For years while I was attending BYU, on my mission, teaching at BYU, performing around the world or country, working in a corporate environment, dealing with friends, dealing with family, dealing with bosses, teachers, friends, roommates, etc., I have had to keep up this juggling act of remembering who I’ve told what, and what I can say around which people, and what things it’s okay to admit to with what audiences, etc.

Moreover, my relationship with the LDS church, and more importantly, my relationship with God have changed significantly over the last year. I am now what you would consider “inactive” or, I believe the more PC term is “less active.” I don’t go to church. Unlike many of my gay brothers and sisters who no longer attend the church, I don’t hold any animosity or bitterness toward the church at all. I think that, overall, the church is still a significant force for good in the world. I believe that, if any church is true, it is the LDS church. I believe that miracles can and have come from the structure and the spirit and the authority of the church. From an intellectual and emotional standpoint, I fully understand the church’s and the gospel’s stance on homosexuality. For me, the church simply no longer held any positive benefit in my life. Attending church was doing more harm than it was good, and after much prayer, consideration, frustration, and anguish, I decided that attendance at church was not something that I was interested in continuing. This is not a decision I made lightly.

My relationship with God is on a much shakier platform. I won’t go into it in this blog post, because my personal spiritual journey is complicated enough to deserve its own book. Suffice it to say that my testimony of God’s existence, let alone his existence as a merciful being, is extremely uncertain. After decades of what I consider to be stony silence from the heavens, I’ve simply stopped trying to communicate. I feel angered, bitter, hurt, abandoned, and alone, and despite what I’ve been taught about the entire purpose of God’s existence and his gospel, I have found no personal Balm of Gilead. I don’t consider those who do believe to be misled fools, nor do I any longer consider those who don’t believe to be godless heathens. A person can only be ignored for so long before they stop trying to communicate, and that’s where I am in my life.

I turned 31 this year, and in my 31 years on this planet, I have lived a great many of them alone. I have the most wonderful and supportive family a person could possibly imagine. I recently had a phone call with my sister that makes me well up with tears every single time I remember it, because it was so honest, open, and accepting. I have the most miraculous parents a person could ever have. They may not love some of the choices I’ve made, am making, or will continue to make, but they will ALWAYS love me. But I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had a partner, a boyfriend, a real girlfriend (who didn’t live 1500 miles away and wasn’t some frantic attempt to “fix” myself), a spouse, a life-partner, or a soul-mate. I’ve even struggled just to keep friends, losing one after another as I develop inappropriate feelings for them or as their lives move on while mine stays stagnant.

I’m tired of being alone. I want to be loved. I want to love somebody. I want to be able to fill my life with something other than credit card debt and ice cream in front of the TV. And most of all, I want to be loved for being ME, not for being some unreal, incomplete, pseudo-person that I’ve been pretending to be for the last 15 years of my life. I’m not a eunuch. I’m not asexual. I am a human man who happens to be attracted to men. And I’m a human man who is ready to find another man to share his life with me, and I with him. And I fear that, as I get older, balder, and fatter, I’m letting my chance to find love and happiness pass me by. I made a decision that, if the opportunity arises, I was going to go after love in my way, without worrying how the rest of the world would deal with it. I can’t worry about how my siblings will tell my beautiful nieces about gay Uncle Matt. I will mourn when I can’t go into the temple to see them married. I already mourn the fact that I can’t have children of my own. My heart breaks when I realize that my family and I are no longer on the same path of life, and each step that we make pulls us farther apart. I considered all of these things repeatedly and deeply. But I have come to the final conclusion that I need to be complete.

When I visited my family this summer on my vacation after graduation, my father asked me a question: “Where is your joy.” Even thinking of the answer makes me sick to my stomach. I have nothing in my life that brings me joy, and I haven’t for a very, very long time. I’m not sure that I ever have, since I was a small child. I desperately want to build a life that brings me joy. I want to build a life with someone with whom I can share my joy. I want to prove to the world and to myself that I don’t have to be the crabby, crotchety drama queen. When someone asks me how I’m doing, I want to be able to say with all honesty, “Great!” and mean it. The path I’ve chosen may not lead me to joy, but one thing is clear: I can’t find my joy living a half-life.

So, to my friends, family, loved ones, and supporters, thank you for being who you’ve been. Thank you for your support. It has meant a great deal to me over the years, and has prevented me from going off the deep end in a multitude of different ways. Especially those family member who have known that I am gay. To those who didn’t know (or didn’t have a really strong suspicion) I first have to say, “Are you blind!?!” And I need to apologize for not trusting you more. I honestly believe that so much of the fear that has controlled my life was unwarranted and unnecessary. To those of you who read this blog who were members of the LDS-SSA.org forums which I founded five years ago, I wish I could have been a better support system to you. But while I still believe that the gay LDS community desiring to continue a life in the church desperately needs that resource, I have chosen a different path, and couldn’t continue supporting it.

And I realize that some of you are busting to get to the end of this post so you can post your testimonies in the comments and try to convince me to come back to the church. I appreciate your conviction, and I even appreciate your testimonies. Just know that the life that awaits me from within the church is not a life I am capable of living, nor is it a life that I want to live.

And lastly, to any readers, be they family or friends, acquaintances or detractors, who want to judge me, insult me, disown me, or abandon me, now is your chance. I’m finally strong enough that I can afford to lose you in my life. If you think that I am less of a person because I’m a big ole’ queen then you a) obviously didn’t know me all that well to begin with, b) are a bigoted ass, and c) will leave me better off by leaving me entirely.

There is so much more I want to write and explain and discuss. I’ve got 20 years worth of pent-up feelings and emotions that need to be expressed, examined, and let go. And I promise that it will make for an interesting story over time. But this blog is not going to become the telling of the gripping Lifetime Movie, Matt: The Mormon Homo. I’ll still post my snarky rants, my funny stories, my movie, television, and product reviews, my emotional diarrhea, my resolutions, and my recipes. But yeah, I’ll probably swear a little more. And I’ll probably make some gay jokes, or I might talk about dates that I’ve gone on or my experiences in meeting men. If that pushes this blog outside of your comfortable reading area, I completely understand, and I’ll miss your visits to the blog and your comments. But this is who I am, and I’m not going to hide it anymore.

Besides, I need a place to post pictures when I get a new pair of totally cute shoes.

Oct 11 2009

Resolution Tracking 2009 – October Edition

I can’t believe I made it this long into October without posting my resolution tracking. Well, actually, I can believe it. I had a pretty miserable month. As we are winding down toward the end of the year, I’m officially marking some of these as fails, because there’s no possible way that I’ll finish them this year. That doesn’t necessarily mean, howevewr, that I’m going to stop working on them, just that I expect not to complete them this year.

1. Graduate with a 4.0 GPA – COMPLETE

2. Make it through the Hal Leonard Guitar Method Books 1-3- COMPLETE

3. Buy a pair of 32-waist jeans and be able to button them – FAIL

I’m becoming a fat tub of lard, and I am having a very difficult time coming up with the motivation to do anything about it. Even if I could, I would probably have to lose 15-20 pounds before I could go back to a size 32, and that’s not going to happen with Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas coming up. So, we’ll try Take 2 next year.

4. Spend less than an average of $50/month on dining out. – CLOSED

5. Cut grocery budget from $400/month to $300/month. – CLOSED

6. Find a new job – COMPLETE

7. Make it through the whole year without buying another computer. – FAIL

Justification, as they say, is just like masterbation. You’re only screwing yourself. I was able to justify to myself, for the purposes of my audiobook recording studio, the purchase of a new studio computer with special noise-reduction components (foam lined computer case, fanless CPU heatsink, etc.) Technically, I only purchased the COMPONENTS for a computer, then built the computer myself, so if I was going on the letter of the law, this wouldn’t be a fail, but in the spirit of honesty…fail.

8. Pay off all my credit cards…again – Partial Fail

I have four credit cards to my name: Capital One, Merrick Bank, Best Buy, and Dell. This year, I managed to pay off Merrick ($2,500), Best Buy ($1,500) and Dell ($3,000). I did not manage to pay off Capital One ($5,500). In addition, this week, I charged an additional $1200 to my Merrick card (again, for studio equipment.) Nearly all of the credit card debt I’m paying off is for business equipment (studio stuff, computer, quickbooks, disc duplicator, etc), but nevertheless, I will not get this all paid off. I am hoping to still re-pay off the Merrick Card, at which point it will get shredded and the account closed, credit score be damned.

9. Build a 3-month rainy day fund – Partial Fail

See #8 above. If you include my 401k, I would consider this a success, but a 401k isn’t supposed to be used for emergencies. I meant a three month rainy day fund in cash (or at least in a brokerage account). I need to do a lot of soul searching on the money issue and figure out what it’s going to take to get my spending under control. More on this later.

10. Write a novel – CLOSED

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This will be the last report that I make this year, as I have either closed, failed, or succeeded all of my resolutions. I will start working on a new list to post shortly. (I’m not going to wait for the new year.) Not a great batch for me.

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