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Making Change: A Shopping Tale

Living It Up, Money, Ramblings, Rants No Responses »

Sep 252011

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination. ~Oscar Wilde

One of the perks of my new job is that once a year, I get a bonus which is a percentage of my annual salary (assuming we meet our revenue projections.) This is the first time I’ve ever had a job where that was the case. Our fiscal year ended in June, and I have been waiting with anticipation to determine whether or not we reached our revenue targets, and more importantly, when we would be getting our bonuses.

Last Tuesday, the bonuses were delivered. And lo, there was much rejoicing.

Over the last year, finances have been pretty tight for me. My expenses increased pretty significantly when insurance rates went up (both health and auto/renters), rent went up, groceries and gas went up, and I got hit with a not-insignificant tax hit because of a foolish purchase I had made back in the middle of 2010. My piano, while greatly loved, was not purchased the right way—by saving up until I could afford it. So, to put it mildly, I haven’t been doing much in the way of shopping lately. I have managed to sneak in a couple of trips to Kohl’s for clothing, but that’s about it. Most of my paycheck these days go toward payin’ the bills.

That’s one of the reasons why I was so excited about this bonus. I had several things that I had needed (and wanted) to purchase, but couldn’t afford to do so without putting them on credit. Which I don’t do anymore. So, when my bonus check came last Tuesday, I was itching with anticipation about getting back into the shopping mindset for a while. Since then, I have learned something that is both simultaneously exciting and upsetting: I have grown to hate shopping.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I started on Tuesday, when I purchased a new cell phone. (Discussed in the previous post.) My old one was falling apart. I purchased my new phone on Tuesday during my lunch break. And I love it. A lot.

That kept me engaged for Tuesday. Wednesday, I refocused my efforts on the amazingness that is Amazon.com. I love Amazon. I have multiple wishlists that I use to track all the things I would buy if I had the money. I always go there first to check for pretty much anything that isn’t food. I have a Prime membership, so I get free two-day shipping. And I can even get same-day delivery on most of my purchases, because I live in an area where Amazon Fresh, their grocery delivery service, is available.

Amazon’s purchases were pretty fun. I got new ink for my large-format photo printer, and 17X22” paper, to print up some large prints of my photos to frame and hang up. I figure for the cost of the ink, paper, and generic frames, I can get about 10 times more artwork than if I had to pay to have it printed up elsewhere. I got a soil moisture detector ($5!) so I could make sure I don’t overwater my plants. I bought bluetooth receivers for both my home stereo and my car, so I could listen to music through my phone without having to deal with plugging in the headphone jack over and over again. (That’s how I screwed up my last phone). I bought some amazing Drinking Chocolate and refills for Luke the Dog’s™ Everlasting Treat Ball. I bought a second battery for my camera, and another pair of waterproof headphones as a backup for swimming. Oh, and I got a 32gig MicroSD Card for my phone so I could put more music and videos on it. That was done on Wednesday, through Amazon. The ink for the printer was, by far, the most expensive of my purchases, so I had done pretty well.

Thursday, I actually paid all of my bills ahead one month. You know…just to see what that felt like.

Friday, I did some more shopping on Amazon, but didn’t buy anything, because I wanted to leave stuff on my wish list for people to buy me for Christmas.

And then came the weekend:

The best purchase of this bonus season is this awesome sideboard that I purchased for my dining room.

It’s oak, 78” long, and has the most beautiful wood grain. Since my existing furnishings are contemporary, this should fit right in, and now I can finally get all of my cooking stuff out of the pantry so I can use it for, you know, food. I can also finally get my microwave off that ugly printer stand in my dining room. Best part of this buy? It was on clearance, so I got it for $500. Actual big boy, solid wood furniture that doesn’t come in a flat-pack box or need to be assembled with an Allen wrench, and it only cost me $500! (It was originally $1,100.)

So, I was pretty excited about finding this buy, but by now, I was getting awfully tired of consumerism. It used to be that I found the hunt for the right thing to be exhilarating. But even though I had managed to find this really cool thing for a great deal after going to five different furniture stores, I didn’t get that rush I normally get. I was starting to get an inkling that, perhaps, my year without shopping had changed me fundamentally.

As if to drive that point home, I went to the mall. I don’t go to the mall very often, but once upon a time (a year ago) I loved going to the mall and shopping for clothes. If I ever needed confirmation that I was a changed man, this did it. Just setting foot inside the mall send me off the cranky old man deep end. Everything drove me crazy. The music in all the stores was terrible and too loud. None of the clothes fit my new, Reubenesque frame, every single sales person wanted my email to sign me up for a loyalty program. And, behold, my wrath was kindled mightily against a new foe. A foe that embodies the full evil of American retail. My anger, which had been smoldering gently, burst into wildfire flames, fanned by the noxious aroma permeating the air surrounding the softcore porn shop, Abercrombie and Fitch.

I mean, really. There’s a picture in the entrance of a naked man, the lights are low, there are dark shutters across all the windows, and there’s a reek of cheap (yet still expensive) perfume, as though the store was trying to cover up the scent of human feces, mildew, and desperation. If I were walking by that and I didn’t know Abercrombie and Fitch sold clothing (something I’d never assume, since none of the people in the photos visible from the front of the store are ever wearing a stitch of clothing), I’d assume that it was a gay bathhouse.

I actually went inside A&F this time. Ludicrously overpriced merchandise, which I could barely see because it was so dark, awful caterwauling coming from the sound system, and that horrible, horrible odor that the pump into the store. I get wanting your store to smell nice, but A&F is like the 14 year-old using his dad’s aftershave for the first time to go to the big dance. Just a quick dab behind the ears A&F. You don’t need to bathe in it. And more importantly, I don’t want to have to taste it if I happen to walk within a 200 foot radius of the front door of your store. I was eating an Auntie Anne’s preztel, and I couldn’t taste it over the Eau du Rotted Flesh and Rosewater fog from your porno-shack.

(And don’t even get me started of A&F Kids. Why are they using naked 15 year old boys to sell clothing to 8 year olds?)

I spent three hours in the mall, and I realized that shopping—especially clothes shopping—is a young person’s game. I only have two days a week to relax and do what I want to do. That time is valuable to me. More valuable than going through racks of 70% clearance items in Chartreuse and Burn Orange just to find the one button-up shirt that doesn’t cost $87 and have the smell of Abercrombie and Fitch so deeply permeated that the only way you could get rid of it would be to burn the damn thing.

And, quite frankly, I just don’t care about looking good the way I used to. I mean, if I did, I would pull my ironing board out more than once every six months. I wouldn’t eat McDonald’s twice a week, and gorge on Jello Popcorn. (Mmmmm. Jello Popcorn.) I wouldn’t cut what’s left of my hair by myself. But I just don’t care anymore. Also, men’s clothing is SO BORING. It all looks the same. It didn’t matter which store I went into. You could have taken the clothes from Urban Outfitter, and stuck them in American Eagle, or the clothes from The Buckle and put them in Aeropostale.

And the net result of this whole shopping jag? I got a button-up shirt, a hooded sweater, and two t-shirts. And a hat. I couldn’t find the jeans in the size I wanted. I couldn’t find decent underwear. And apparently, the color scheme this year is the mid 1990s-era red, green, and blue plaid…rather like the couch that my aunt and uncle gave me for my college apartment. Sorry, but I’m just not going down that road again.

So, lessons learned:

Shopping isn’t very much fun anymore. So you shouldn’t feel too bad about not doing it
If you have to shop, use Amazon.
Abercrombie & Fitch is the Hellmouth, and their perfumed air is the signal of the forthcoming apocalypse.
I am officially too old and too fat to look good in any clothes that could possibly be considered hip, cool, or stylish.
I am officially too cheap to spend the kind of money that cool, hip, or stylish people would to wear the kinds of clothes they wear
It’s way more fun to shop for furniture than for clothing
Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, looks good in a changing room mirror
I really like the color purple.

Now, if I can just keep these lessons learned in the front of my mind, I won’t feel so tempted to go out shopping again at Christmas time.

An Interesting Day

Ramblings No Responses »

Sep 202011

Sometimes, I wish I were Jewish. I mean, I’ve got enough guilt to be Jewish, and then I would be able to let out a world-weary sigh and say “Oy! What a day!” without sounding like I’m trying too hard. But alas, my name is not Armstrongstein, so I’m stuck.

Nevertheless, Oy! What a day!

I started the day early. I woke up before my alarm, mostly excited because it was a) payday and b) the day we get our annual bonuses. I’ve been waiting for my bonus for months now, and I have spent it probably 50 times over in my head. Fortunately, I got most of that out of my system back in July, so now it’s not burning as big a hole in my pocket. As I lay in bed, I picked up my iPad and logged into my bank account, only to find that I had not, in fact, gotten my bonus. That really set me on edge for the morning.

So, since I was up early, I got ready and went into work. I had planned, instead, to go into work late because I was going to the Sprint store right when it opened to get my new phone. But, since I hadn’t gotten my bonus, I couldn’t do that. So work it was. When I got to work, I discovered that they were doing the bonuses as paper checks this year because, “there were too many to do as direct deposit.” Now granted, I don’t know a lot about the intricacies of payroll, but that seems a little counter-intuitive to me. But whatever. I got my bonus!

So, at lunch, I went to the bank, then went to the Sprint store and picked up my phone. I only have two words to say about this new phone. HAWT. I know that looks like only one word, but trust me, the way I say it, it’s two. (Use your imagination.)

Of course, once I got the phone, I was pretty much worthless for the rest of the day at work. When you are a gadget whore, and you work for a technology company full of similarly-minded gadget whores, then people tend to flock to see your new technology. Of course, my new phone wasn’t as exciting as the new Ferrarri that one of my co-workers bought last week, but still, new tech is new tech. I spent the better part of the afternoon playing with it and getting it set up.

Since it was a slow day, and I had gotten to work early, I decided to take off and head home a little early. I met one of my neighbors after I walked Luke the Dog™, and we drove down to some random dude’s house to purchase and cart back half a cord of firewood.

I would like to take a moment to point out that 100 years ago, it would have taken me at least a week to chop down a tree, cut it into lengths, and then split the wood. It would have forced me to exercise and work up an appetite. I would have been outside, enjoying the fresh air, and probably sweating like a fiend while trying to avoid getting eaten alive my mosquitoes and horse flies. Instead, I spent 15 minutes looking on CraigsList, sent an email, got an email back with an address, got into a car, typed the address into my new phone, drove to the guy’s house, and just loaded up the back of a station wagon. Presto: in about 30 minutes time, I had enough firewood to last me most (if not all) winter long. Note to self: don’t complain about having a boring job. Just be glad you don’t have to chop wood all day. Although, if I did, I’d probably have a pretty rockin’ bod.

In any case, after moving a half-cord of wood not once, but three times and getting it stacked on my patio, I forced myself to watch about 15 minutes of Glee to see if it had gotten better from last season (it hadn’t.) I watched The History Detectives because, apparently, I’ve given up on life and have settled into a rut of watching PBS shows about antiques to cement my status as everyone cranky, shut-in grandmother. Who moonlights as a lumberjack.

Actually, that’s not fair. My grandmother is way more active than I am. (Note to self: go bowling with Grandma).

Then, finally, famished from my 30 minutes of physical exertion moving 18” segments of split logs, I decided that I needed a banana split. So I loaded Luke into the car, went to DQ, ate my banana split (I almost abbreviated that as BS, but then I realized that just sounds wrong), and came home. And now I’m writing this blog post. And I’m about to take a bath to try to wash off all this tree sap. And then go lay in bed and play with my phone some more.

What a weird day. If I hadn’t gone to work in the middle, it would have seemed like a great weekend day. Instead, it feels sort of like the weekend, but it’s only Tuesday.

Which kinda makes today suck a little. But at least I got my bonus.

Where Did Summer Go

Living It Up, Money, Ramblings, Random, The Technology Whore 1 Response »

Sep 192011

One of my favorite songs is a song written by the inestimable Alan Menken, and with Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz that originally appeared in the movie “Life with Mikey.”

Where did summer go?
How’d I miss the change of seasons?
All at once the wind blows rough.
It’s cold enough to snow.
In the street below
People laugh, they got no reason
Don’t they know
It’s cold enough to snow.

And while this song is actually about how miserable the singer is that his or her love has gone away that it simply feels cold enough to snow, the lyrics above fairly accurately depict how I feel about the current state of the weather. If I liked to exaggerate and be melodramatic. Which I do.

I woke up a week ago, went outside, and said out loud to Luke the Dog™, “It feels like Halloween.” Just the day before it had been in the upper 70s and sunny. The next morning, it just all felt different. Like, I suppose Halloween. I don’t know if it was the quality of the light, the fact that it dropped 25 degrees, it was cloudy again, or that yesterday when I had awakened at this time, it was light, and today it was still dark outside. But it’s like summer ended in one fell swoop and it was instantly fall.

Now, I normally like autumn (although, as I’ve mentioned, I do rather loathe Halloween), but for the last two years, the summers up here in Seattle have been just this side of miserable. The first two summers I spent up here were beautiful, dry, and LONG. The last two years, they didn’t start until late July and were over by early September. What used to be a 5 month-long summer has, for the last two years been a 2 month-long summer. I’m just not ready to go back into another 10 months of cloudiness and incessant drizzle. I hope we get another little blast of Indian summer coming up here soon.

Despite all that, I’m starting to get into the autumnal mood: rather like preparing to hibernate. I’m starting to get into a “projecty” mood, focusing on things like writing a book, recording audiobooks, working on websites, working on that album project I started, like, five years ago. You know, the kind of thing you’d be stupid to spend your time indoors doing during the summer. I’ve also been “putting up” the last few remnants of my garden in preparation for closing it down for the winter. I made a huge batch of tomato sauce last night, and I’ll probably make another batch or two in the next week or so. I also cut the corn off the cobs and froze it. I’ve got to do something with all of the Anaheim, Poblano, and Jalapeno peppers that I got this year. I’m thinking about making a green chile sauce that I can use on Green Chile Cheeseburgers and with slow-roasted pork and beef for tacos.

I’m also going to purchase a half-cord of firewood tomorrow. I have a wood-burning fireplace in my apartment, and dangit, I’m going to use it. Last year I spent $5 for those little plastic-wrapped bundles of firewood from the grocery story. That, and those stupid engineered fire logs. That is not going to happen again this year. So, if any of my Seattle-area friends want to come over for some hot chocolate, a fire, and a good movie (Lord of the Rings is particularly enjoyable with a roaring fire in the grate), or perhaps a bit of S’mores making, then casa de Matt y Luke the Dog™ will be the place to be.

In other news, I am about to buy a new cell phone. If you know me, this shouldn’t seem like such a big deal. I buy a new cell phone about every 10 months. But this time, It’s a HUGE deal. This is the first time since I owned a cell phone when I was actually eligible for an upgrade without paying the early termination fee. I have owned this phone for two years and over three months. It’s astonishing. But it’s time. My phone’s headphone jack doesn’t work, so I can’t use it to listen to audiobooks/podcasts/music. It doesn’t get good reception, so I can’t use it to make phone calls. It’s slower than Michelle Bachman trying to speak coherently, so I can’t use it to run apps. It can’t connect to my wi-fi, so I can’t use it to surf the net. So, really, I have a portable alarm clock. So, I’m finally getting a new phone. And I’ve waited so long, I’m actually giddy about it. And more than a little proud of myself. I actually exercised a bit of self-restraint when it came to the purchase of technology. Also, can we just say how far we have come in cell phones. Below is my cell phone history:

There was one other one in there, but I couldn’t find a picture of it. *Sigh*.

Alas, the new phone will be hawt. To wit:

For the tech nerds:

1.2 gHz dual-core processor
1 G Ram
32 Gigs Storage (16 built in + 16 in MicroSD card)
8MP Camera on the back (can to up to 1080p video)
2MP front-facing camera for video calls
Android 2.3.4
4G

It’s been very hard for me to not go out and buy a phone for so long, so I’ve decided that since I’ve done such a good job, I’m going to make a little celebration of it. I’m going into work late tomorrow, because I’m going to go to the store and buy my phone as soon as it opens. ‘Cuz that’s how I roll.

And also, ‘cuz I wanna.

So, yes, perhaps summer is over. But the coming of fall does happen to coincide with Bonus season!

A Project Manager’s Vacation

Ramblings, Vacations and Road Trips 3 Responses »

Sep 022011

In my world, PM doesn’t mean post meridian, pretty mental, post-menopausal, or pepperoni meatlog. Well sometimes it means pepperoni meatlog, but that’s not what this blog post is about. No. In my world, PM stands for Project Manager. In other words: me.

When I got my MBA in project management two years ago, I didn’t realize that project management, while I don’t necessary love it, is something that I’m naturally very good at. It’s a special skill…and one that you either have or you don’t. You can hone your skills, but if you’re not the type to make a good project manager, you’re probably never going to be able to develop an ability to be a good project manager. It’s just part of your makeup or it isn’t. Like a sense of humor. Or washboard abs.

When it comes to project management, I have the PM gene. Which would be good and fine if that meant that my project management ended when I packed up my laptop and went home from work, but it never does. I project manage my life. I think in terms of priorities, work items, schedules, and available resources. I have a Gantt chart inside my head.

Take, for instance, vacations: the whole thing is a project that needs managing, and I manage the hell out of it…up until the moment I walk out the door to start my vacation. Then the PM gene gets turned off temporarily. Take my upcoming trip to visit my folks in Utah:

The whole process starts about a week ahead of time, when my brain starts determining the individual work items that need to be done, and the predecessors and successors for each trip. For instance, I figure out how much food I’m going to need to take on the trip, and I give myself a task to go grocery shopping. If I drive, which I will on this trip, then I will need to bring along a small cooler to keep my lunch and dinner fixin’s so I don’t have to stop and get fast food. Of course, this means that I need to get a cooler, because my existing cooler is too small for my needs. I will also need to start making ice for the cooler about five days before the trip to have an adequate supply of ice by the time I have to leave. So, the act of bringing food on the trip then turns into:

7 Days before trip

Buy cooler, ice cube trays, gallon-size zip-top bags

5 Days before trip

Begin making ice

2 Days before trip

Go grocery shopping (with an entirely pre-planned list)
Make Crystal light with the 6 bottles of water.
Refrigerate 3, freeze 3

1 Day before trip

Gather the non-refrigerator items in a plastic bag and set them by the door
Gather all the refrigerator items in one area of the fridge
Gather all the freezer items in one area of the freezer
Stop by the garden to pick the lettuce that you’re bringing home for the family

Day of the trip

Put the frozen and refrigerated items in the cooler
Load cooler and bag of non-refrigerated items into the passenger seat of the car.

All of this happens in my head. I don’t have a list where I write down all of my tasks or their predecessors. It just happens.

Now, imagine that going on with all of the following:

Do all the laundry
Do all the dishes
Make sure the house is clean so you come home to a clean house
Take the dog to the vet
Write the instructions and gather info for the person watching the dog
Ensure that all of the work tasks for the following week are covered
Charge the camera battery
Get the car cleaned
Get the oil changed
Clean out the trunk
Pack your clothes
Water the plants
Get someone to water the garden
Clean out the fridge before leaving
Load up the Zune
Put audiobooks on the phone
Get cash
Pack the change jar (you never know)
Charge the phone
Charge the laptop
Pack all the chargers and cables
Charge the electric razor and toothbrush
Pack the toiletries
Unhook and pack the Xbox, Kinect, and games
Turn in the time off form to the HR department
Load up iPad with sheet music in case you’re asked to play/sing
Bring along the hard drive of all the TV/Movies
Fill up the gas tank
Lock all the windows and doors
Notify the neighbors I’ll be out of town
Fill out the mail hold form and submit to the post office
Pay the rent
Pay all bills due during my time away so I don’t have to think about it.

Now imagine that each of those has several component tasks that must be prioritized, scheduled, and executed on time. I do this all naturally. In my head. This doesn’t stress me out at all. I don’t see it as insurmountable.

I have also never (ever) forgotten to bring anything, charge anything, pack anything, or do anything. I am NEVER packing at the very last minute. (I’m leaving tomorrow, I packed two days ago—everything but the toiletries which I still need). I mean, who has time to blog the night before they get up at the butt-crack of dawn to drive 800 miles? I do. I finished my tasks two hours ago. I’m going to shower tonight, so tomorrow I’ll wake up, put on my clothes, load the car (everything is sitting by the front door ready to go), and leave. It’ll be 15 minutes from the time I wake up until the time I am on the road.

I am project manager. Hear me roar.

Now, lest you think I suck all the fun out of my vacations by doing this, I do need to mention that I don’t have any major plans for the entire time I’m on vacation. Hell…I’m not even entirely sure which route I’m going to take to get there or back. It’s just the preparation phase. It certainly makes for an easy transition. And it certainly helps that I don’t have to consider anyone else’s needs in this process…it’s infinitely easier when I’m planning this for one. And not having kids also helps. But nevertheless: My name is Matt, and I’m a PM.

When Things Just Seem a Little…Off

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Aug 062011

I normally love the summers here in the northwest. It’s sunny, warm (but not overly so), pleasant, and happy. There are farmers markets, and the dog park, and grilling out, and sitting by the lake, and playing video games, and going on long walks. Weekend naps in a sunny spot on the couch are interspersed with patio dining at my favorite café. It’s normally a great time.

This year, I’m not really sure what’s up, but it seems to be a very “off” summer. I’m just not feeling the love that I normally feel, and I’m a little frustrated/upset/concerned by it.

Weather: I know a lot of other people have had it a lot worse this year, but we have had just foul weather this year. It’s been one of the coldest and wettest summers on record. We’d had maybe two weeks worth of sunny weather.

Loneliness: I’ve been doing pretty well lately with being on my own. (I can never say or write “on my own” without hearing the song from Les Miz.) For some reason, though, I’ve been having a much harder time of it the last few months. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m yearning to share my life with someone. It’s not friendship that I’m after. I’ve got some great friends, both locally and distant, but rather companionship and, dare I say it, romance. (Geez, can that sound any more melodramatic?)

Emotional Upheavals: This hasn’t affected me too much directly, but it seems to be taking place all around me. In the last couple of months, I have two friends who broke up after 10 years of being together, a neighbor whose cat had to be put down suddenly, another neighbor whose dog was killed by a car in the parking lot of their complex, a neighbor couple who got a divorce, and another couple who have separated. I have an employee who had a close family member die. A couple of friends who are fighting pretty severe depression right now, and I have recently found a lump on my dog’s stomach that I’m worried may be cancer (which, coincidentally, I can’t afford to have checked out for about another month and a half.) I have a grandmother whose health is declining very steadily, and whose deep unhappiness weighs on my mother. I have always tended to be a sympathetic, if not empathetic, person, and other people’s suffering does affect my mood.

Blasé, Blasé, Blasé: Nothing interests me these days. I don’t care about any movies or TV shows all that much, I’m just going through the motions with my garden. Work is just there. I’m not interested it cooking or baking. Music is frustrating me, but not enough to make me do anything about it. I can’t get into the books I’ve been trying to read. My attention span for video games is microscopic. I really miss the feeling of being “in the zone,” and I haven’t been able to get into any zone lately.

Tired: About three weeks ago, I started exercising, and I’m doing very, very well. I usually swim 4-5 miles a week, and take a hip-hop dance class on the weekend. I’m losing weight, slowly and surely. But I’m not feeling more energized or healthy. In fact, just the opposite. I’m feeling lethargic, unrested, and weak. I’m not sleeping well, despite going to bed earlier. My naps are longer, but I find myself waking up even more exhausted. I keep hoping that I turn the corner with this energy thing, but I’ve exercised a lot before, and I know that, as long as I exercise, this tired feeling just comes with the territory.

The thing is, I’m not miserable. I’m not even really unhappy. It just feels like something’s missing right now, and I don’t know what. And it’s driving me crazy. I want what little of this summer that is left to be great. Who knows. Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I should try to stop having any expectations at all, so I won’t be disappointed when they are not met.

Or maybe I just need a big bowl of ice cream.

I said a-hip, hop, a hip to the hop

Ramblings, Television, Vacations and Road Trips, Whine 1 Response »

Jul 242011

Some random thoughts:

***

So, I took a hip hop dance class yesterday. It was pretty tragic. Turns out that I still have a pretty good mind for choreography. I could totally remember what steps came next, I just couldn’t make my body do them fast enough. Also, I did jumping jacks as part of the warm-up for the class. Apparently, jumping jacks are really bad for your lower back, because the act of doing jumping jacks hurt so badly I could barely stay upright. I’m going to blame having to counterbalance my gut for the back problems.

***

My staycation ends in about 90 minutes, and I don’t want it to. This has been perhaps the single most relaxed, enjoyable, and fulfilling week of my entire life. I cooked, baked, gardened, played video games, did laundry, worked in the garden, watched TV, saw Harry Potter twice, saw Captain America, saw another movie I can’t remember (it obviously made a big impression on me), took Luke swimming, got a gym membership, swam a mile and a half, took a dance class, got the car cleaned, and took lots and lots of naps. It was awesome.

I’m not looking forward to the state of my inbox when I return tomorrow.

***

I re-hired my cleaning lady this week. I’m having her come once every two weeks instead of once a week like before. And I’m going to be getting rid of my cable television shortly to help cover the cost. Part of me feels bad because I know a lot of people can’t afford to pay someone to come to their home and clean, but at the same time, I’ve just decided that this is one of the perks of being single. There are a lot of things I can’t do because I’m single, but being able to afford to hire a cleaning lady is one of the things I can do. So I’m going to do it, and I’m not going to feel guilty.

Also, she rocks. She cleans my apartment better in three hours than I can do by myself in two days.

***

Back with Siskel and Ebert/Ebert and Roper were on TV, I used to love watching their movie review shows. Then, of course, Siskel died and Ebert lost his lower jaw. So, instead, Ebert and his wife are now producing a new movie review show for syndication.

Me no likey. Look, I get it. People who love film really love film. And many of them love “art” film. They’re more interested in “films” than “movies.” I really do get it. But the problem is, I don’t really care that much about most art film. When I spend $15 to go to the movies, I go to the movies for entertainment. I get next to nothing out of the two chowderheads Ebert hired to host the show. Christi Lemiere has, ostensibly, the worst taste in movies of all time. I mean, she actually gave a thumbs up to Mr. Popper’s Penguins. And don’t even get me started on that pompus windbag, Ignati Vishnavetsky. Iganti is the ultimate in movie hipsters. He just did his “5 Best movies of the year so far” list, and not a single one of his films was even remotely approachable. And I think it’s great that he cares so much for the art of cinema. It’s just completely WORTHLESS to me as an interested viewer. It’s unfortunate, because I really like watching movie commentary—I just can’t stand the commentary of these two.

Instead, I guess I’ll just have to keep sticking with one of the best movie reviewers out there: Mr. Eric D. Snider. At least he doesn’t have his head so far up his own rear end that all he ever watches and reviews are limited release art films that are more torturous to sit through than a Jr. High Production of Shakespeare.

A Hairy Situation

Ramblings No Responses »

Jul 232011

The horrifying image to the left is the direct result of a failed experiment. 10 days ago, I awoke, showered, and did my regular morning ablutions—including shaving. I thought to myself that it would be interesting to see what would happen if I just didn’t shave the entire time I was on vacation during the upcoming week. So, I shaved that morning on Wednesday, 10 days ago, and I haven’t shaved since.

As you can see, it didn’t go so well, for a whole variety of reasons.

I just flat-out don’t look good with facial hair
Holy double chin, Batman!
The density of the hair follicles on my face mean that, no matter how long I allowed my “beard” to grow, it would still look like my face was suffering the effects of radiation poisoning.

Here’s the thing: I actually don’t like facial hair all that much. There are very, very few people in this world on whom facial hair actually improves their appearance. And I always though, “Hey! If I had facial hair, I wouldn’t have to shave!” This is patently untrue. Because, at the very least, you must to beard maintenance and edge cleanup. Otherwise, you just get that “I live at home in my mother’s basement and spend all day arguing with people on the internet about comic books and playing dungeons and dragons” neck beard.

It makes me sad that facial hair is coming back into vogue. Especially that funky “I have five days of stubble, but I always have five days of stubble, so obviously, I’m doing something to keep my beard from looking like it’s a real beard instead of just five days of stubble, which seems like more work than just shaving” beard. Ladies, you can step in here and back me up (or disagree), but don’t you find clean-shaven men so much more attractive? And worst of all, we’ve been here before. Did we, as a culture, not learn anything from the collective fashion disaster that was the 70s?

So, to my co-workers who have been hounding me to grow facial hair so I can join their little clique of the facial hair fraternity, I say pbbbbbbth. a) I look ridiculous with facial hair. b) The only facial hair that I could grow would be a Chester-the-molester pornstache, which is NOT a look I want to rock. c) Peer pressure doesn’t work on me. You have to care about fitting in, and I’m a lost cause there.

So, my 10-day long experiment is coming to a close. It’s time to lather up the shaving gel, put a new blade in my Mach 3, and get this hideous growth off my face.

I Want To Pump…Me Up

Health, Ramblings, The Technology Whore, Videos 5 Responses »

Jul 212011

The other day, I was going down several flights of stairs. Despite my extra bulk, I am still fairly light-footed (or light in the loafers, depending on your point of view) and I was flying down the stairs at a fairly decent clip. About halfway down the stairs, I noticed something: My manboobs were bouncing up and down. (And don’t worry…I just added the word manboobs to my computer’s dictionary)

Well, I have two word to say to that: Not. Okay.

I’ve given up my delusions of ever looking like an Abercombie and Fitch model. I don’t even need to look like Chris Evans post-transformation in the trailers for Captain America. (Seriously? How is that man even possible?) But I am just not okay with bouncy manboobs. Or plumber crack, which is another malady with which I have been struck recently. I tell you what: between my saggy manboobs and my plumber crack, I’m looking all kinds of sexy these days.

And I FLAT OUT refuse to buy bigger jeans. I’m just NOT going to do it. I will walk around naked from the waist down before I go up ANOTHER jean size. In fact, I’ve decided I’m not going to buy any more clothes at all until I can get my weight back down to around 180-185.

So yesterday, I finally buckled. I broke down and renewed my membership to the YMCA gym here in Bellevue. It’s actually a very nice facility, and unlike most of the commercial gyms, I can go to the gym without getting an inferiority complex. Because most of the people who go there are older and fatter than me! Huzzah! (In case you were wondering, yes, I really am that petty in real life)

One of my all-time favorite Simpson lines: “Gym? What’s a Gym? Oh. A Gym.”

The main reason why I chose to go to the YMCA, though, is because of their pool. Of all of the forms of exercise, I loathe swimming the least. I used to swim competitively in Jr. High and my freshman year of High School before I discovered theater, and ~~ruined my life forever~~ chose that over athletics. In all honesty, though, it was probably for the best. Suppressed gay feeling + uncontrollable hormones + swim team = potential public humiliation and lifetime emotional scarring.

Anyway, most of the swimming pools around here are salt water pools instead of chlorine pools. And the gyms keep them around 88 degrees so as not to shock the systems of the dinosaurs who think that water aerobics is real exercise. (PS: It’s not.) Having swam (swum?) in chlorine pools my whole life, it doesn’t feel like swimming if the water’s not cool and I don’t come out of the water with an eau du stale chorine clinging to my skin and hair. The YMCA has a decent, clean chorine pool that they keep at a nice, cool temperature. So, while it is a little more expensive that a membership to 24 Hour Fitness, and there’s not as much eye candy to look at, the pool more than makes up for it.

As much as I like swimming, though, it’s got one major problem: swimming laps is boring as hell. The whole time, you’re chasing walls while hearing nothing but the roar of water rushing past your ears and the sound of your own thoughts. And I go out of my way in life not to be left alone with my thoughts. Those little buggers are destructive and hateful, and they should be kept locked up at all times so as not to wreak havoc on my delicate mental sensibilities. If you’re really unlucky, you get a song stuck in your head, and spend the entire session swimming to that song. Currently: Turning Tables by Adele. Perfect tempo for stroke rhythm. But hearing it in your head for an hour would be enough to drive Adele herself off the deep end. (Pun Intended)

Once I had decided that I was going to re-up my membership, I decided to see if perhaps I couldn’t come up with some alternative to an hour of mental Turning Tables. My sanity is already hanging by a thread. I didn’t want to start carrying around proverbial scissors. So, I went to Amazon and searched for “Waterproof MP3 Player”. How very fortuitous. A company called H2OFriendly buys off-the-shelf iPods, opens them up, and waterproofs them from the inside using a proprietary process. Then you just clip this little thing on the back of your goggles, use one of several different varieties of waterproof headphones, and you’re good to go.

So, after renewing my gym membership yesterday, I decided that today I would take the new iPod for a spin. Or a swim, as the case may be. I loaded it up with an Audiobook, and went to the gym.

Cue the freakin’ choir of angels, y’all.

This. THIS. This is the device I have been waiting for all my life. And I just didn’t know it. It was SO AWESOME to go swimming with an audiobook playing the whole time. I swam for 30 minutes straight, and hardly realized that any time had passed at all. I finished my 1000 meters, looked up, and was shocked to see how long I had been swimming. It was amazing. AND, the waterproof headphones make a water-tight seal in your ear canal and block out all the sounds, so it was very peaceful and quiet.

And yes, I know that 30 minutes for 1000 meters isn’t very fast, nor is it very much. But the last time I went swimming after having not been swimming in years, I overdid it and ended up barfing up my lunch in the locker room after about 600 meters. Not something I wanted to reenact this time around. I’m very, very out of shape. It’s going to take a while to work back up a shape other than manbooby blob.

I also found out that the gym now has a hip-hop dance class on Saturday afternoons, which I’m excited to take. I’m going to look like a mega-idiot, but that’s okay. It’ll be fun. More fun that the new age hippie that teaches the yoga class, anyway. “When I am in that place in me, and you are in place in you, then we are one. Namaste.” Yeah, well, namaste this, Earth mother. I just want to stretch out, not become one with you or any of the other 80 year old Korean women in this class.

Anyway, I’m super excited for getting back into some sort of exercise regiment. I’m even going to try to start going to the gym BEFORE work most days. I’m going to see if perhaps being physically fit and active again will help me to not be so cranky and crabby at work.

And who knows: maybe I’ll get my body back to some semblance of sexiness so I can attract something other than mosquitoes, self-esteem issues, and chubby chasers. I’ll be holding my breath. (Get it? It’s an underwater joke!)

And now apropos of absolutely nothing at all, I provide you this awesome clip.

It’s totally immature and juvenile, and I’m not even remotely ashamed to say I nearly peed my pants from laughter.

33

Being Existential, Media, Philosophizing, Ramblings, Whine 1 Response »

Jul 092011

In case you were one of the 3,493 people who wished me happy birthday on Facebook, via email, or over the phone, I did, in fact, have my birthday this week. On Thursday.

It started off with the realization that on my next birthday, my IQ, Waist Size, and Age will all be the same number.

*rim shot*

But seriously, this year’s birthday was not so much fun, I have to say. I went to work for the first half of the day. I had originally planned to take the whole day off and have some fun. But mandatory work meetings cropped up, so I rolled into the office and did my due diligence. (I’m such a dedicated employee…)

At lunch time, I took off for the day, and went to putter around in my garden for a little while. I did a tiny little bit of weeding, and watered the place, then I harvested another plastic grocery bag full of lettuce. I was bringing the salad to a little dinner gathering with some friends on Friday, and I wasn’t going to have time to harvest it then, so I had to get it the day before. Then I took a nap, woke up, took Luke for his walk, and then got ready for my big birthday evening.

A month ago, I had purchased tickets for the first night of the new stage version of Disney’s Aladdin. They’re doing an out-of-town tryout to see if it’s something they’d like to workshop for Broadway. Plus, I had a friend from college who had come out to Seattle to be in the show, so I wanted to go and support her. I was going with another friend of mine who used to be my next-door neighbor. He was going to get out of work at 6:30, then we were going to drive into the city to get dinner and see the show.

Well, his assistant over-booked him with clients, so he wasn’t able to get to my place to pick me up until about 7:15. At that point, we had to rush to get into the city, park, and pick up the tickets before the 8PM curtain. So, we ended up not getting any dinner.

I realize I may hurt some feelings with what I’m about to write next, but the show was really bad. Really bad. First the good, though. The cast had some of the best voices I’ve heard on stage in a long time. Everyone (with one major exception) sang quite well. The guy who played the genie was amazing. He saved the show. The production values and lighting were spectacular. The big problem was the script. Apparently, they were still doing rewrites up until the day of the show. And they still REALLY don’t have it.

I understand that when you adapt a movie to the stage, you have to make some changes. I totally get it, and I don’t begrudge them the changes. However, they changed the basic personalities of the major characters. Instead of being a smart-alec street rat who does, in fact, break the law on purpose, they turned the new Aladdin into this after-school special who just wants to do good because he promised his mom he would before she died. (I mean, really.) Jafar became this poncey, effeminate joker who didn’t provide any menace at all. (There was no real, scary bad guy). Jasmine was a spoiled brat with no real, redeeming qualities. And, most painfully, instead of being palled up with a monkey, Aladdin was a member of a band of street musicians, who served as a sort of Greek chorus. That, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but the other three members of the “band” completely pulled you out of the story. The writers went the cheap direction, bringing in all sorts of modern references when the chorus broke the 4th wall. An typical example:

Band Mate #1: So, Aladdin was in trouble. Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Band Mate #2: What are you talking about? There’s no ranch here?
Band Mate #3: I’ve got some Hidden Valley (pulls out a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch).

What made Aladdin the movie so effective was that it was immersive. The characters grew and changed. Even though the actual scenario was fantastic, the character’s reactions to it were based in reality and grounded thoroughly. The soul of the film was completely massacred by the script for the stage version. And the acting style was SO OVER THE TOP. With the exception of the genie, there was no subtlety at all. It was like watching a theme-park show version of Aladdin. And I didn’t for one moment believe the relationship between Jasmine and Aladdin. Watching them “fall in love” was like watching a 14-year-old gay boy dancing with a girl for the first time at a church dance. (And trust me, I know what that looks like.)

I would love to see Aladdin make it to Broadway, but NOT this version of Aladdin. It was painful. Apologies to my friend who was in the show. I wish I could be more complementary about the whole thing. I will say that the cast was quite good (except for Jasmine) and, if the script was re-written, I really think the show could do well.

In any case, we finished the show, and then went to look for a place to eat, and everything was closed. Even Denny’s. AND IHOP. I thought those restaurants never closed. So, my big birthday dinner was eaten in truck in the parking lot of Wendy’s. And I’m thankful to my friend who took me there, but it was just a little disappointing.

The biggest problem was that, for the first time in a long, long time, I really fell into a birthday pity party. I’ve been actively trying not to evaluate my life too much lately. I’m trying to get out of my head and just enjoy my life as it is. And I’ve been relatively successful. It’s the reason why the number of blog posts I write has dwindled so significantly. Without complaining about my loneliness or lack of a partner, I don’t have a lot to talk about. But after the show, I got into one of those ever-dangerous contemplative mood pockets.

This is the first big professional show that I’ve seen since I retired from performing. It was also the first time that the desire to quit my job and go back to performing hit me so hard. It was a real, physical pain in my chest. I spent half of the intermission nearly hyperventilating when I thought that I would have to back to work and sit in that little office in front of a computer all day long, every day for the rest of my life. I wanted nothing more than to go back to my hotel room, stay up until 2AM, sleep in until 10 or 11, go to the gym, then go back to the theater at 5:00 for another show and repeat it for the next two months before moving somewhere else and starting the whole process over again.

Then, after I got home, I fell into the “I’m So Lonely” hole of which I seem to be constantly skirting the edges. My mind spiraled into this black hole of thought that usually goes something like this:

* I’m so lonely. I need to find someone to share my life with
* I don’t know how to even go about finding someone. It’s a skill I never learned
* Even if I did know, it wouldn’t matter, because I am so fat and ugly
* I’m going to be fat and ugly forever, which means I’ll never find anyone
* And because I’ll never find anyone, I’ll never learn how to find someone
* Etc., etc., etc.

Look: I’m not saying its logical. Or even correct. And I’m certainly not saying it’s a healthy train of thought. But it is the train of though to which I seem to have purchased a season pass. It was particularly bad that night, however, because I was realizing that, at the age of 33, there are so many things I have never experienced. And, the older I get, the less and less likely it is that I will ever get a chance to experience them. I was freaking out, because in a lot of ways, I’m still an emotional adolescent.

And then, to wrap it all up, Luke the dog woke me up at 5AM on Friday morning to run outside, eat grass, and puke. It was the perfect end to the perfect day, pretty much all the way around.

The crankiness of the day has mostly passed, and I used my wallowing as an opportunity to develop a bit of a game-plan for dealing with some of the unhappiness that engulfed me on Thursday. I’m re-initiating my weight-loss/healthy eating/exercise regimen, since that’s one area that I actually can control. And next year, I’m going to do a better job of planning my birthday. Unless someone else wants to volunteer, in which case, just make sure I don’t get any alone time with my thoughts.

“Lefew I’m afraid I’ve been thinking.”
”A dangerous pasttime”
”I know.”

I’m Growing Boring

Being Existential, Hobbies, Philosophizing, Ramblings 2 Responses »

Jun 232011

I know. It’s been too long since I last wrote. I know this because I couldn’t remember what I wrote about last time, so I had to go to my blog website to remind myself. It’s a sign that I’m going too long between entries. But, over the last several months, I’ve come to a not-entirely-startling conclusion: I’m one boring guy. I mean, seriously. Even I make me yawn. Ever since I settled down into the life of a middle-aged spinster, not much happens in my life that is worth displaying, splay-legged, across the internet. My life is no longer Lady Marmalade. Gitchy gitchy ya ya blah blah is more like it.

I just don’t have very much going on in my life these days that is different than it was a week ago, or a month ago, or even a year ago. My daily routine doesn’t change. Neither has the weather, come to think of it. I weigh a little bit more, have a little bit less money. None of my vices result in crazy 140 mph drives of a windy canyon guard rail with a blood alcohol level of .196. In fact, my two main vices results in a little more weight and a little less money.

When your days are all pretty much the same, it’s difficult to come up with something worth discussing on a public forum. Granted, not that a lack of anything interesting has kept me from posting on my blog before, but one can only complain about one’s live so much before people stop reading your blog and start perusing Damn You Autocorrect instead.

The one little bright ray of metaphorical sunshine in my life, especially considering the lack of real sunshine in my life, is my garden. In the photo above, my plot of land lies between the rows of marigolds on each side, and all the way back to those little white plastic thingies all the way in the back. There’s also about 2 feet cut off the front of the garden because I couldn’t fit it into the shot with my crappy cell phone camera. (If this rain ever stops, I want to take my real camera out to the garden and get some good shots.)

My original garden plan has been altered by slugs, rabbits, deer, moles, voles, and my uncontrollable desire to try growing pretty much anything and everything. Currently growing or pending growth (just planted as seed)are the following: Parsley, Cilantro, Thyme, Chives, Carrots (to replace the Radishes), Kohlrabi, Butter Lettuce, Shelling Peas, Show Peas, Fingerling Potatoes, Leeks, String Beans, Drying Beans, Red Sail Lettuce, Peppers (hot and sweet), Eggplant, Tomatoes, Watermelon, Zucchini, Cucumber, Spaghetti Squash, and Corn.

In the last several weeks, I have truly come to believe that most of us have lost a very primal and important part of ourselves by becoming so removed from growing our own food and, perhaps more importantly, actually having to put physical effort into doing so. In my day job, I sit behind a desk and often feel impotent to influence or improve some of the problems that I deal with on a daily basis as part of my job. I star at a computer screen for 8-10 hours a day completely removed from “reality.” Yeah, it pays the bills, but it’s not real. At the end of the day, it’s hard to point to any one thing and say, “I did that. That was me.”

It’s one of the reasons I admire people who create things. My friend Bill, besides being a great photographer, is an amazing builder of props and costumes. (As is his wife, Brittany.) Recently, Bill built this prop of a weapon from World of Warcraft entirely from scratch.

(Photo by Bill Doran. You can read the making-of post here.)

Now granted, giant, life-sized replicas of weapons from a fantasy-based computer role-playing game may not be your thing, but you can’t argue that being able to build something like this from nothing is pretty darn impressive.

That’s how I’ve come to feel about my garden. I’ve put a LOT of work into this 400 square feet of land over the last two months. And I’ve really enjoyed almost every part of it. (I still loathe weeding, mom. So getting older still didn’t help me mature into loving that.) And when I’m done, I feel like I’ve accomplished something. I find that after a long day of mental taxation, I can’t turn off my brain. Working in the garden has become almost like meditation for me. I get to sweat a little bit, spend time outdoors, get re-connected with the dirt (because we boys never grow out of playing in the mud), and leave the launch schedules, software bugs, and status reports behind.

And, I have something real to show for it! Last Sunday, I harvested three gallon-sized bags full of beautiful lettuce from my garden. I gave two bags of it away, and just finished the third bag tonight. I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last week than I have in the previous three months put together…unless you consider French fries a vegetable. Did you know that lettuce actually has a flavor if you eat it shortly after it’s picked? I didn’t. But it does. It doesn’t just taste like crunchy water, but it actually tastes like something. It’s hard to describe, so I’ll give into a circular definition and say that it tastes like lettuce.

I think the real problem is, however, that I was simply born into the wrong time period. I should have been born in the time where I could be a gentleman farmer. I could hire skads of servants to work the fields for me while I meandered through the rows of vegetables writing poetry in my head, designing the new addition to my mansion, and developing new strains of plants that two hundred years later, suburban gardeners would pay through the nose for because they were now “heirlooms.” Besides, I don’t care what anyone says, I’d look smashing in knee-high stockings and knickers. I have fantastic calves.

Instead, however, I’ll have to put aside my fantasy of being a gentleman farmer and instead make do with being a gardening program manager. It doesn’t have the same ring or romance, but it does have So You Think You Can Dance and pizza delivery. It’s a trade-off. And perhaps if I ask nicely, Bill will let me borrow his warglaive when it comes time to harvest my garden in the fall…

Older Entries Newer Entries

Making Change: A Shopping Tale

An Interesting Day

Where Did Summer Go

A Project Manager’s Vacation

When Things Just Seem a Little…Off

I said a-hip, hop, a hip to the hop

A Hairy Situation

I Want To Pump…Me Up

33

I’m Growing Boring

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