What a Shitty Weekend...

Don't get me wrong. The fact that I ran a rather decent race in the Shamrock Shuffle 8K race in a nasty, cold and slushy winter storm had nothing to do with my God awful weekend. And neither did the fact that I lost my company pager during the race contribute to my shitty weekend. In fact, the race in the increment weather was probably one of the few highlights of my weekend!

It all started on Friday. There is this one person, who we shall simply call AM, who I consider a friend. More so as an acquaintance than a friend, but if asked to join her for beer, I wouldn't turn her down. Anyway, AM learned of an alumni reception event that I was attending from a mutual friend who I invited. So on Friday, AM invited herself by asking if she could tag along.

Despite having RSVP'ed already, I had to go through a couple hassles to add AM to the guest list. I figured, why not? The more the merrier. Now, mind you, I have never attended one of these alumni receptions before, so I was nervous and excited. If you know me well, you will know that I have had no qualms about attending events on my own. But this was so exciting that I actually asked a friend to tag along. Plus another one who self-invited.

Come Saturday. The event started at 17:00. My friend and I were already there by 17:15. But guess who decided to show up a quarter till 19:00? AM. This alone was not a problem whatsoever, but the problem is this. She came upstairs, sat at our table, and the first thing out of her mouth was: "The Pitt game starts at 19:00."

And so it began...

In the five minutes she was up there at the reception, she would not stop talking about the game, and wanting to get real food at the bar downstairs, despite the facts that there was plenty of munchable appetizers that were a couple cuts above other receptions, and her mentioning this when the Vice President of University Advancement who was the host of the reception was standing near our table. Worse, AM kept on talking about not wanting to miss the game, but end every statement of her wishes with, "But no rush, John."

What the f**k?!? Here was a guest, who showed up nearly two hours after the reception started, who didn't even attend Missouri State University, who invited herself without being asked, who had the audacity to enter her name in the door prize, started acting like an immature girl! Worse, AM attended neither Pittsburgh nor Villanova.

AM was so annoying, who by the way is 30 years old, that I simply told her that she should go downstairs and I would join her later. This, after trying to appease her by having the bartender turn on the TV so that the game could be viewed, followed by, "But this isn't basketball atmosphere" from her.

Oh man, what a bitch! An immature one at that, too. And sadly, this wasn't the first time AM pulled an immature act on me either.

Fast forward to Sunday. After running the wet and cold Shamrock Shuffle 8K, a few of us went to Fireside Inn for lunch. Everything was hunky dorey, and when we were done, I gave two of my friends a ride to their homes. First stop, AE.

Oh, let me interject here with a quick side note from when I picked up AE to lunch. I had asked which way to turn when we got to the end of her street, and her delayed response was, "Oh, turn right. Sorry, I'm not very good at giving timely directions." End side note.

Not knowing her neighborhood well, and she had been joking about how she only lived "a couple blocks" away from the restaurant, I kept on asking for directions on which way to go. AE started talking about "Clark-y" when we turned onto Ashland, because she thought it was Clark. She told me to cut over whenever, and I did, while she continued talking. But she neglected to tell me to turn on Clark.

Thinking that she only lived "a couple blocks" away, I thought it wouldn't hurt to go on down the side street, and turn into the alley and drive the "couple blocks" to her street. When I got through the first alley, and began to turn into the second alley, she yelled at me with, "What are you doing?!?"

Mind you, during this whole time, she did not give me any directions as to which way to turn. Turned out, now that I've looked at Google Maps, we were nine blocks away from her street!

So, after lunch, without asking, my friends got in my car, assuming I would give them a ride home. True, I was happy to do so without being asked. But I did not need to be yelled at when I was lost. Worse, after explaining that I wanted to go through the second alley to get to her street in the next block (which was really nine blocks away), she kept on yelling at me with nonsense such as, "Why did you want to turn that way," and "Well, that's not the way to go to my place." Instead of yelling, maybe she should've given me directions?

What really pissed me off was that we were driving in a car. In her neighborhood. If we had turned the wrong way, what's the worst that could happen? Take an extra 23 seconds and 0.05 miles out of my way to get to her house, right? Did it warrant the yelling, and the continued badgering like a grumpy mother who is never satisfied with her children's accomplishments of an A- grade point average?

Seriously, it was a shitty weekend. Shitty, shitty, shitty.

But I did 44:44 in the 8K race, which netted an average of 8:59 pace. Not bad after being sick and injured, and not running for a while now. At least that, I'm happy about, despite not being anywhere close to last year's 39:01 finish.

Let's hope this new week gets better.

A Legal Question

So... A friend forwarded me an email wanting to know if the following falls within a certain legal framework:









"Is this statutory rape???"

A Letter to the High and Mighty

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Seriously!"


Let's take a moment and go further back in time. I woke up later than usual this morning, and I had to go to the gym before going to work. As usual for situations like this, I would browse through my BlackBerry on Nokia to see what's on the docket for the day, and ensure that I have the flexibility to work out and shower. If not, I'd just shower and go straight to work. But this morning, I was all clear.

Throughout my workout, I constantly kept an eye out at my BlackBerry on Nokia, checking it routinely to ensure no new meetings pop up for the day. Everything was fine, so I went to the locker room and showered. As soon as I got out of the shower, as luck would have it, my cell phone and pager rang off the hook! Apparently, the vendor had set up a conference call, and I was a critical person for the call, and the vendor forgot to add me into the invitee list. Great...

As I stood in front of my locker buck naked, another fellow gym user came in from his workout. His locker happened to be next to mine. I paid him little attention, other than to get out of his way so as to provide more room for him, and started dialing into the conference call on my cellular phone's speakerphone.

As the call progressed, I continued to dry myself and put my clothes on. And finally, when I was doing my hair, the last thing of my getting ready for work, the aforementioned guy (henceforth to be called The High and Mighty) returned from the shower and started getting dressed next to me. Throughout the entire time, The High and Mighty kept on giving me the eye, and like a spoiled rotten girl throwing a temper tantrum, did things loudly while using his locker.

When The High and Mighty got dressed and prepared to leave, he slammed his locker as hard as he could, then finally opened his lips to say condescendingly, "Seriously? Speakerphone in a locker room?"

I knew it wasn't the best etiquette I've displayed, but considering the situation, I had no choice. So I responded, "Seriously, yeah. When you get paged for an emergency, I'm sorry. What else should I do?"

The High and Mighty shot back, all the while walking away from me, "You could've gone downstairs."

Just then, I had to unmute the call and respond to some of the discussions, so The High and Mighty left the locker room. But I was nearly done with my routine, so I hurriedly responded to the discussion, muted the call, and then put on my coat jacket. I tried to catch up with The High and Mighty, who was about 15 yards ahead of me, but he had his iPod on. He would look back at me once in a while, but not want to continue the discussion. And judging from the way he was dressed and the heavy backpack filled with leather bound books that he carried, I assumed that he was probably a law student at Northwestern University.

When he stepped out of the gym, The High and Mighty turned east. Alas, my work is westward. So in the interest of getting to work in a timely manner, I gave up on him. Hence this letter to The High and Mighty now.

Dear High and Mighty,

My many apologies for my social faux pas at the locker room. I want you to understand that I normally and typically would frown on people who carry on a phone conversation (or conference call) in the middle of a locker room as well. I knew it wasn't right, and my sincerest apologies.

But mothereffer, what bothered me was the fact that you saw me buck naked, and you heard and saw my phone and pager going off, to which I was frantically trying to respond to. Please don't flatter yourself into thinking that I like to show off my personal package instead of prioritizing putting on my underwear first.

When you returned from your shower, you saw me half naked, but you also clearly saw my badge that clearly stated that I work for a hospital. You of all people know that a majority of the patrons at this gym are employees of this hospital: doctors, nurses and technical staff like myself. It is not like their badges (and pagers) are always hidden from view when entering or leaving the gym. Northwestern University law students come in at a distant second when it comes to patron demographics. You knew that. It was in your gym discount orientation package. In fact, the entire make up of the patrons at our gym are affiliated with either the hospital or your school!

Here's the thing. You have every right to feel offended that I was on a conference call on speakerphone, but seriously, do you have to behave like a little pussy ass girl with a temper tantrum? I gave an honest response, asking what I should've done if I got paged into an emergency. Your response was ill thought out, and without any forethought. How can you expect me to just "go downstairs" when you clearly saw me get paged while I was buck naked and all wet? Your response was so f*cking dumb that I wonder how much your precious daddy had to donate to the school for you to get in.

I know the odds of getting paged in an emergency just as I have stepped out of the shower are pretty slim in the future. But I do know that the odds of this happening to someone in a professional walk of life are higher. So I hope that you will write a project plan on how to deal with this situation when you, The High and Mighty, have become a professional yourself (assuming you graduate some day) and encounter the very same dilemma as I had today. If you can make a better decision and act better than I have given the situation, please do share this with the world. Obviously, just "going downstairs" buck naked cannot be considered a good action plan, because it would involve having the risk of getting arrested for indecent public exposure.

So seriously, I am very interested in how The High and Mighty can act better in this situation.

Sincerely,

John.

PS: I am also sorry that your penis is smaller than mine.

PPS: I hope that when you get old and fat (should you develop some kind of a health problem) that you'll suffer a massive coronary heart attack while your doctor (or the ER doctor) is buck naked in his gym shower, and that he will take his sweet ass time to get dressed and "go downstairs" to respond to his/her nurse's emergency page regarding your health because he/she believed that proper etiquette trumps emergencies.

The Miniature Earth...

Are Americans In General STUPID?!?

Okay, aside from the current president, I don't think Americans in general are stupid. Sure, Americans have for years been lagging behind citizens of other countries, including third world and developing nations, on math and science, but I have for the longest time defended the notion that in general, Americans are not exactly stupid.

I have taken this stance even before I became an American citizen myself back in 2005, including way before as in when I was merely an international student in college (1996 through 2001). Sure, the other kids in class tend to sit next to me so they can copy my answers, and I was always the one who answered questions thrown out by the professor, but I typically attributed why most American students wouldn't dare raise their hands to the fact that Americans are typically shy when speaking out in public, including public forums such as classrooms.

But today, I'm starting to think that maybe, with a slight possibility, that Americans in general might be stupid. Case in point: Aluminum. First of all, despite the fact that the ancient Greeks and Romans have used aluminum compounds for different purposes, Humphry Davy in 1808 discovered aluminum in its base metal form. He called the pure metal aluminium. In every country where the Roman alphabet is used, this common metal is spelled with an i at the end, except for the United States! What the hell??? But I am not going to go into this spelling debate, as there is something more important at stake for this topic...

So what prompted me today to get on this topic? Well, I went down to the Corner Bakery Café to get a simple lunch: pesto pasta with bread. When I got back to my cubicle and began eating, I noticed that although my pasta was still hot, my grilled bread has quickly turned cold. And there is a very legitimate reason, because my grilled bread was wrapped in aluminum foil with the wrong side facing out!!!

Okay, for the average reader, you probably are wondering why that mattered. Trust me, the majority of my friends would share the same reaction as you, which quite frankly, is helping me make my case here. Do Americans lack the urge to be curious? I mean, when I saw aluminum foil for the first time when I was a kid, aside from learning quickly that the edge can slice my skin open, I immediately noticed that one side of it is shiny and the other side is dull! Of course, I quickly learned in junior high why that is so. But let's not get into that just yet.

If you have no idea why I'm going off and off on some stupid aluminum foil, let me dare you to try an experiment. Go bake some lasagna in the oven, with two separate casserole dishes. Give each dish the same ingredients and the same amount. And make sure the dishes are of the exact same size, shape and manufacturer. Now, cover one casserole dish with an aluminum foil with the shiny side up, and cover the other with the dull side up. Leave both on the same rack, and bake both together per the instructions as far as time and temperature goes. What do you think will happen? Let's get back to this later...

The incident with the Corner Bakery Café today wasn't the first of its kind to happen to me. There was once when a friend, who will remain anonymous, who baked some delicious food with the aluminum foil with the wrong side up. Thankfully, the food was not frozen, and it was quick to cook. Nobody got salmonella out of that. Then there was this one time when I went to a non-chain deli store and ordered a nice, warm Italian sandwich. Since the store wraps their sandwiches in aluminum foil, I noticed that they were wrapping everybody's warm sandwiches with the wrong side up!

My favorite aluminum story of all? The 2005 Chicago Marathon. Whenever the Chicago Marathon ends up occurring during cold weather, race organizers have always provided finishers with warming blankets. Warming blankets are nothing more than the thinnest and cheapest version of emergency fire blankets used by fire fighters. Anyway, in 2005, I noticed that all marathon finishers were given warming blankets with the Chicago Marathon and LaSalle Bank logos printed on the wrong side! Of course, nobody wore the blankets with the logos inside and the non-logo side outside, so everybody was wearing it the wrong way, save for a few runners which I proudly commend for their brilliancy.

[Please note: A few years ago, a team of firefighters in California died in a passing forest fire that they couldn't beat due to lack of training. Basically, if the wind kicks up and you cannot outrun the fire, you are trained to pull out the emergency fire blankets and cover yourself in it and stay on the ground. This will only last you a few minutes, but most fast blazing forest fires will blow by within the average few minutes. Anyway, autopsy revealed that this young team of firefighters burned to death because they didn't have the necessary training, since they wore their emergency fire blankets made of aluminum the wrong side up!!!]

So let's get back to the basics. I learned in basic, generic science class in seventh grade that the shiny side of aluminum reflects heat, whereas the dull side absorbs heat. Sure, it was covered again in chemistry as well as physics in my high school years, but it was first taught in basic science in seventh grade! [Note that I went to a school that uses American curriculum.]

In the case of my grilled bread for lunch, had the food preparer used the aluminum foil with the dull side out and the shiny side in facing my bread, the grilled bread would still have been nice and warm by the time I got upstairs. That's because the shiny side would have reflected the heat from the bread back into the bread!

In the case of my friend who cooked that chicken, had my friend baked the chicken with the shiny side in and the dull side facing the oven, the food would have been cooked significantly faster. And I wouldn't have accused my friend of trying to poison me with salmonella.

In the case of the 2005 Chicago Marathon, nobody got to stay warm except for the handful of runners who actually wore their warming blankets with the dull side out, and the shiny side (with the logos) in. Basically, their body heat escaping the bodies would have been reflected back into their own body, while the dull side facing out would have absorbed as much heat from the sun as possible. 95% of the finishers were probably wondering why they continued wearing defective warming blankets when they know they still remained cold.

So can you guess what would have happened to your lasagna casserole? If you guessed that the lasagna covered with the dull side up would have turned out perfect, you're right. And the one with the shiny side up? Well, you better learn how to heat up lasagna in the microwave if you have guests waiting for dinner.

Long story short: How the hell can so many people make this damn mistake? Seriously! How can the company that makes warming blankets allow the logos to be printed on the wrong side, and have 35,000 such blankets distributed?!? You would think that a company that specializes in the manufacturing of warming blankets would have caught this mistake if it was done by them! Worse yet, if it was specifically ordered by the race organizers like that, the manufacturer should have given a warning and try to correct the problem!

So, back to my question. Are Americans in general stupid? Something as simple as a piece of effing aluminum foil cannot even be used correctly! What's next? Using Q-Tips® as toothpicks, and plastic Saran® wraps as condoms? You decide... Before today, my answer had always been no. But today, I am sooo on the fence on this one...

If I get food wrapped up the wrong way in aluminium ever again, I swear on the baby lord Jesus, I am going to sit there and provide a free lecture!

"Asian Fucker"

I had the misfortune of staying at work till 20:43 today. As I left work and walked towards my downtown parking garage in the bone-chilling cold, I stopped by a grocery store along the way to warm up just a bit and pick up some bananas. Afterwards, it was just like any other commute home, sans traffic.

When I finally got to my corner, I turned and drove into the garage. Fortunately, there was another vehicle in front of me. I thought, she could roll down her window and swipe her access card to open the garage, while I keep my windows shut and stay warm and cozy. As the garage door opened, her car began inching forward, and I along did the same. But suddenly, she stopped her SUV with just a foot left to clear the door.

Bewildered, I waited patiently. I thought maybe she had dropped her access card in her car, and had to bend down to pick it up. I've done that myself several times. But then, a near minute had passed. Then I saw through her rear windshield that she was holding onto her cellular phone, all lit up like she was either texting or on a call. I thought, Great! Her car died in the driveway to the garage!!!

But then suddenly, she put her vehicle into drive, and moved forward an inch before stopping yet again. Hmm... That's odd. I got out of my SUV to check things out, thinking maybe she might need some kind of assistance.

When I walked up to her door, I noticed that her window was still down. But before I could say anything, I got barked at with, "I'm not letting you in! I don't know who you are!"

I was taken aback. So I kindly replied, "Uhm, miss, I live here." To that, she ordered, "I don't care, but you need to swipe your card! Or I'm going to call the cops!"

With that, I was even more shocked with such un-neighborly conduct. When most of the residents in my building recognize me, and when all of the staff and the association board members especially know who I am, I was a bit irritated by this yahoo I have never ever seen before in my four years of living in my building.

So I walked back to my car, grabbed my access card, and walked back up to her SUV. Her window was rolled up, so I tapped her window and did better than swiping my access card. I showed her my access card. You have to understand, our building uses the most non-standard and quite arguably the oldest access systems known to men, that any tenant in possession of the access card can recognize that it is the same.

Suddenly, she flung her door open! I jumped back just as the top corner of her door frame barely missed my face. Then a loud crash. Her door slammed into the garage door rail. I looked down to see if there was any damage, but before I could adjust my eyes, this woman jumped out of her car and got in my face.

Woman (screaming): Get away from my car!
John (calmly speaking): Well, here's my card. Can we go now? I am cold.
Woman (screaming): Step away from my car! Get out of my face!
John (calmly speaking): Uhm, I'm not in your face, and there's more than a foot between us.
Woman (screaming): I tell you! Swipe your card, or I will call the cops!
John (calmly speaking): Are you serious? [Chuckles and smiles at woman.] Seriously? I live here. For a long time. Just ask Omar. (I saw Omar, one of our building engineers, in the lobby when I drove into my driveway.)
Woman (screaming): I don't care who you know! I don't know who fucking Omar is!
John (a little bit irritated): You don't even know who works in this building?
Woman (screaming): I don't care! Get out of my fucking face! Or I call cops!
John (sarcastically laughing): Lady, I don't want to fuck your ugly face.
Woman (screaming): This is the policy. You must swipe your access card. Or I call the cops!
John (calmly speaking): You go right ahead. This is a private property, and there is nothing the cops can do when they get here. Don't you know that?
Woman (screaming and pointing her finger at John's face, damn near poking him in the eye): Oh yeah! I call cops now! [Dialing some numbers that did not match up to 9-1-1.]
John (laughing): Really? Seriously, just ask Omar who I am! I don't even know who you are!
Woman (screaming): I don't care, you Asian fucker!
John: ...
Woman (screaming): I call the...
John: Did you just play the race card, you racist?
Woman (screaming): Yeah, you fucking Asian fucker!
John: Oh my gosh! You're a racist!
Woman (screaming): You're going to jail! I call the cops!

By this point, I became quite angry with this woman. I was speechless. Truth be told, there was a split second when I felt the urge to take a step forward and slam my forehead into her filthy mouth. But then I realized that I gotta be smarter than that. So I just laughed at her and shook my head in disgust.

John: I can't believe you don't even know who Omar is!
Woman (screaming): I don't care who Omar is. I don't know who he fucking is!
John (walking to the window and motioning the woman towards him): That's Omar! And look, Ronnie (doorman) is here too!
Woman (refuses to walk over to John): I don't know who Ronnie is!
John: What? You don't even know our own doorman?!?

So I turned away, and waved at Ronnie. I asked Ronnie to come out and talk some sense into this woman. Just as Ronnie got up, his phone rang. As soon as he picked it up to answer, I heard the crazy woman screaming to somebody else. I took a step back, and realized that she just called the doorman instead of the cops.

When Ronnie finally hung up, this crazy woman had a smirk on her face. I just stood there, and watched her. Finally, Ronnie appeared, and I quickly said, "Hey, what's up Ronnie!" He asked what's going on. Before I could begin saying a word, this woman started screaming and began lying about the events that transpired.

I had enough of that crap, so I decided not to say anything and stepped back. With each lie that got spouted out of her filthy mouth, I was behind her gesturing at Ronnie with the she's crazy sign with my index finger circling around my ear, and gesturing the male masturbation hand signal. Ronnie finally interjected with, "Lady, you have a serious road rage issue. I know John. He is a good guy, and he lives here. Just park your car."

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! This woman became livid! She started screaming at Ronnie even more incoherently. I turned to get into my car, but just then, another resident pulled up into the driveway behind me. This guy looked confused. I turned towards the woman and yelled, "Hey lady! There's another car behind now. Do you want to ask him to swipe his access card? Or can we all just get in now?!?"

The woman turned and looked at the other car. Then she started screaming about how there is a policy and everybody needs to follow it, and that she will not let anybody through the garage door. Ronnie shot back with, "I know who they are. You cannot enforce security policies. If you have an issue, file a complaint with the board."

The woman finally realized that she was fighting an uphill battle. So she got in the car and peeled off into the garage. Finally! As I pulled forward, Ronnie leaned into my car and said, "Just ignore her. She's just being Queen Elizabeth." I was confused, but just laughed and drove on.

When I parked my vehicle, I noticed that this woman was only a few spots away from me, and that she was still in her SUV! I thought, Great! She's so going to key my car! But I didn't care. I proceeded to walk past her car and go about my way.

I went to pick up my mail, then walked to the lobby to chat with Ronnie. I asked why he referred that crazy woman as "Queen Elizabeth." It turned out that she is really into royalty, and acts like she is one. He said that I should ignore her, and that she was... Then he cut himself short before saying, "Never mind."

So I jumped in and told him that I was calm for the most part, until I came this close to head butting her in the face just for calling me an "Asian fucker." Ronnie's eyes got really big, and I saw the most white out of him ever! (Ronnie's black.) He then proceeded to tell me that he wanted to warn me that he thinks she is a Nazi, but didn't want to start rumors. But since she had already called me what she spewed out, he felt more assured.

I prodded him with more questions as to why he thought that. He then told me that about three years ago, just about the time she was thinking about buying a condo unit in the building, she had asked him about how many blacks, Asians and Mexicans were living in the building. And that she has a huge reputation in the building. Not a good one, for sure.

My jaw dropped to the ground. I was in disbelief.

Then Omar came over and told me that when she moved in, she asked him the same question. Omar said that he scolded her by saying that his granddaughter is black and that color didn't matter. (Omar is white.)

Un-effing-believable!!!

Suddenly, I saw her appear on the security monitor at the front desk. She had finally gotten out of the garage, with luggage bags in tow. She waited by the freight elevator, while Ronnie explained to me that she works as a flight attendant for American Airlines. Interesting. Then I noticed on the security monitor that she looked towards the lobby, then ditched the freight elevator. At first I thought she wanted to have a second confrontation with me, but she simply went to pick up her mail.

Ronnie continued telling me the background of this woman, about how cheap she was. Like not wanting to pay the move-in fee when she first bought the condo, never mind the fact that the fee has been written into the by-laws forever and a day.

Finally, I noticed that she had propped half her luggage against the elevator door, and went back to get the rest from the mail room. I quickly bid adieu to Ronnie, and said, "If she's a racist, I'm going to make her ride the elevator up with an 'Asian fucker.'" So I ran to the elevator just as she got in and pressed the button.

The crazy woman looked up and saw who I was, and started screaming, "I am not fucking using this elevator with you. You can have it!" She began moving all her luggage out of the elevator car, and I just stared at her and said, "Wow, you truly are a racist, aren't you?"

"I don't want to share it with a fucking Asian fucker!"

Un-effing-believable... I was simply amazed as I rode the elevator up by myself sans crazy bitch. I cannot believe that I have a Nazi living amongst us, a building just as diverse as Chicago itself. Especially in 2008. More prodding later on revealed that this crazy woman came from Czechoslovakia, and owns unit 1504. That is exactly six floors beneath my very unit. And apparently, she parks in space number 42. I took a picture of her Ohio license plate, and am considering getting some background information on this racist bitch.

Maybe I'll do some secret gift giving and send her a copy of The Schindler's List Collector's Edition DVD or something like that. =) You know, cos I'm just a nice guy. Or one who only sleeps with Asians, so she thought.

GDMFSOB!!!

Well, as happy and excited as I was with my first ever participation in a national vote in February 5, I am now just as pissed in the polar opposite! You see, the privilege of being a registered voter includes the privilege of getting summoned for jury duty.

The summons indicated for me to call today after 16:30 to check and see if I really do need to go tomorrow for my summons, and wouldn't you know it? Those who are fortunate enough to have their last names begin with "the letter B as in Bravo through M as in Mike" indeed are summoned to appear tomorrow morning.

Son of a...!!!

At first, I thought maybe I can not show up and just say that in Chinese cultures, my American middle name is technically my last name in Mandarin, but I suspect that if I follow through with that plan, I might end up with a pretty warrant out in my name.

Then I thought about showing up in court with one of those Halloween props where I would have this butcher knife lodged squarely in my head with fake blood dripping down either sides of my temples, but I was warned that the court police officers or whoever they are do not take kindly (or gently, for that matter) to such acts of bravado.

In the end, I just realized that perhaps the best thing to do is simply grumble and mumble in disgust and speak some French as fluently as possible while I come to terms of my fate tomorrow.

Although I have never been summoned for jury duty before, I suspect that my day will be filled with boredom that perhaps I ought to bring with me a copy of the USA Today, Chicago Tribune, a novel, and some trashy celebrity gossip magazines. Somehow I suspect that the possession of porn magazines or my Internet-enabled cellular phone is highly discouraged, if not frowned upon.

God, tomorrow is going to suck so bad! Never has civic duty sound and feel as exciting as watching paint dry...

If you don't hear from me by the end of the day tomorrow, send help. Look for an Asian man in the Richard J Daley Center courthouse with an overgrown moustache and mold/mushroom growing out of his ass.

Dirty Dancing

As I was driving to the gym in the butt crack of dawn earlier this week, I heard over the radio about how some Chicagoland school district canceled the remaining school dances for 2008 because of "dirty dancing." At first I chuckled, but then the radio DJ's said something about how the middle school students were bumping and grinding and showing too much skin.

It's funny, because the night before that, I was actually screwing around on YouTube, and watched a few videos. Then I came upon this funny video of three dudes lip syncing to the song, Barbie Girl. Then at the end, I got curious as to what YouTube suggested you should also watch that are related.

I was shocked to see that someone had put up a video of a fifth grade talent show! I wasn't necessarily shocked at the mere fact that someone posted this video on the Internet, but that three fifth graders were doing a dance to the Barbie Song as a talent show! I want to know who the dumb ass teacher who approved the use of this crap music, especially when the lyrics include: "You can brush my hair, undress me anywhere; imagination, life is your creation;" "Kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky;" and "You can touch, you can play, you can say I'm always yours."

Seriously!!! As if the song wasn't crappy to begin with, it is riddled with crap lyrics, and degrading to women. And some dump ass teacher thought that the song is appropriate for use in a talent show? WTF?

So yeah, in a nutshell, I wasn't really that surprised to hear about the canceled dirty dancing. Kids nowadays are so much different than when I was in fifth grade. Or middle school...

Link to the news article about the Frankfort Park school district dirty dancing.
Link to the stupid talent show video.

Yet Another Possible Career Choice

I like to keep my options open. Even though I'm an IT professional at the moment, and have been in the last seven years, I have always allowed the possibility of other career tracks in my mind. For example, possible options if I ever get sick and tired of computers include: Durex or Trojan product tester, Sleep Number Bed tester, wine taster, porn star, doctor (specializing in gynecology), food critic, or travel reporter.

Well, after reading a news report yesterday from CNN Asia, I think I can expand my list of possible career tracks to include space astronaut. The only reason why I never aspired to become an astronaut other than the fact that I failed horribly with my physics major in college was because I heard food choices in space suck. I mean, have you ever tried one of those space ice creams that astronauts eat? I'd much rather lick your kitty's little poop hole while she's got the runs! [Okay, maybe not that bad, but the space ice cream is pretty close.]

Now, I can consider becoming an astronaut because according to CNN Asia's report, after a couple years of research, Korean food will be on the menu in space! If there are no Asian foods in Chicago, I will die of suicide if I have to eat American or Russian food day in and out. But now, there's Kimchi! I better go back to Physics school soon if I want to become an astronaut.

Don't Diss My City!

I love lists and rankings. It gives me a sense of competitiveness, you know? Before I transferred to a school based on the American curricular system in the seventh grade, each student was ranked against each other in the same grade. Being ranked last doesn't necessarily mean that you can't advance to the next grade, as it also takes into consideration your overall grades, but in my case, I have consistently ranked dead last with no eligibility for "promotion." Well, maybe with the exception of my second grade, which for some odd reason I placed second.

If you have not noticed, Forbes.com takes pride in their gazillion lists they put out every year. Some people enjoy tracking their published list of the richest people in the world, and other stuff. I personally enjoy tracking lists that involve health or lifestyle, such as Best Cities For Singles. But on January 29 of this year, Forbes.com issued a new list for America's Most Miserable Cities.

According to Forbes.com, this is their methodology used in the ranking:
"We looked at the 150 largest metropolitan areas in the U.S., which meant a minimum population of 371,000. We ranked the cities on unemployment, personal tax rates, commute times, weather, crime and the number and proximity of toxic 'Superfund' sites. We added their ranks together to establish what we call the Misery Measure.

The data used in the rankings came from Portland, Ore., researcher Bert Sperling, who last year published the second edition of Cities Ranked & Rated along with Peter Sander. Economic research firm Economy.com, owned by Moody's, also supplied some data."

So yeah, I was unpleasantly surprised that Chicago even made it to the top 10 most miserable cities in the United States. We were ranked sixth. The worst part of it all, which was more insulting than surprising, was that Los Angeles is ranked less miserable behind Chicago! Personally, I hate Los Angeles with a passion. That's infuriating...

Here's the summarized rankings I've compiled together: click here for link.

A January Reader's Digest

Well, well, well. I guess I took quite a hiatus from blogging in the month of January. And it is not without reason, of course. You see, I had to take a last minute business trip to Seattle on the final week at IBM. It's kind of hard to prepare for an exit while you're on the road, you know. And then there were the sleepless nights working my butt off to make sure all unfinished business with IBM is taken care of.

So yeah, I started my new job on January 7! New business clothes? Check. Orientation? Check. Setting up direct deposit for my paychecks? Check. Getting my new laptop? Check. Requesting and confirming all new user IDs? Check. Set up pre-tax deductions of $123 a month for garage parking in the heart of downtown? Check. Department-specific orientation? Check. Meet teammates? Check.

What came next really caught me off guard. Almost immediately, I was swamped with work. As the only expert in the team, I was tasked with making sure one of our vendors is doing what they're supposed to be doing, and call them out if something is wrong with either the strategy or the planning. Well, guess what? Their proposed strategy and planning were filled with so many big holes that I even wondered what value we were getting from paying them huge dollars! Of course, I had to be the bad guy for asking the vendor to rework the strategy and plans, only to end up with me redoing the strategy and planning myself and asking if the vendor agrees. Grrr…

Then on Monday, January 14, I got into an automobile accident while leaving work. Chicago Cab number 4576 and my Freelander made contact. We were both stopped at the red light in our respective lanes, and for some reason when the light turned green and after we had begun driving forward, the cabbie drove into my lane and forced me to jump the curb with half my vehicle on the sidewalk! And the best part about all this? He turned into my lane just so he could drop off a passenger!!!

Of course, with my jaw on the floor in disbelief, I finally snapped out of it and jumped out of my car and gave chase on foot. Hell would freeze over before he could take off! After confronting the cabbie, I asked the passenger that was just dropped off if he could be my witness. Yes was the answer, and I was a happy man. Until the point in time when the cabbie and I went to the police station. The cabbie lied up and down and tried to pin the blame on me. But in the end, after the cabbie and I gave our version of the story and demonstrated how it all went down with two Matchbox vehicles, the police officer said while pointing at the cabbie, "Well, this is easy! You're unit 1." I guess in Chicago, they designate vehicles by unit, and a designation of unit 1 simply means that that vehicle is the striking vehicle, which 95% of the time meant at-fault. Of course, fault will have to be determined by the insurance companies. But this was good enough for me.

So a good part of my January was spent on taking my Freelander in for an appraisal, setting up an appointment to have my vehicle fixed, and picking it up. What a pain in the ass that was!

And then there was January 19, the day of my 30th birthday. Unbeknownst to me, Rosa had planned a huge surprise party for me. She nonchalantly asked me to dinner and told me that it was just going to be Cesar, Sabine, she and I. I was supposed to arrive at 19:00, but because it was unbelievably cold that day, I decided to run my 13 miles on the treadmill. I actually hit the wall around mile 10, so I started slowing down for the remaining three. Of course, that all snowballed into my arrival at Morseland at 19:50.

When I first walked in, I saw Cesar and Sabine on the table. As I approached the table and explained why I was running late and inquiring as to why they wanted to be there at 19:00 sharp despite my calling him at the gym to push dinner back to 19:30, I noticed Myke sitting next to him. My initial reaction was bewilderment, because they're my friends, but not in the same circle. Then I started noticing his wife Sharyl, and quickly said hello before asking, "What are you guys doing here?"

Just as I asked that question, I noticed Cliff sitting there. I looked at him funny, and said, "Hey Cliff..." Then it finally dawned on me that I was staring down a looong table filled with familiar faces! And then, "Surprise!!!" Wow! I was pleasantly surprised, even though I have never celebrated my own birthday or broadcasted it. I just personally believe that it is not as important of a date as, say, Memorial Day, or Independence Day, you know?

So good food, great dancing and wonderful music were had by all that evening. Of course I, on the other hand, had 11 shots of hard liquor of assorted types in a matter of just two hours. Needless to say, the tasty (and expensive, I might add) seafood jambalaya dinner I had turned out to be a total waste, because it didn't take long before I had to go to the bathroom and vomit. After that, I felt super fine, just as if I had not touched any alcohol. Unfortunately, the downside to vomiting your entire dinner out is the fact that I got hungry right away. So after the party, on my way home, I made damn sure that Rosa stopped by a McDonald's so that I could order a McChicken Sandwich® and six pieces of Chicken McNuggets®. Yeah, I was that hungry.

Another thing that contributed to my blogging hiatus in the month of January was the NFL playoffs. The Chicago Bears may not be in the playoffs, but I still love football. And I passionately despise the Patriots, mostly because I can never stand Tom Brady. He is by far one of the whiniest quarterbacks in the NFL. And to add to my despise for the Patriots, they actually got caught cheating at the beginning of the season! I have no sympathy for cheaters. In fact, I only wish for cheaters to lose every single time. And worst of all is Bill Belichick's very unsportsmanlike behavior throughout the season. After annihilating a weaker team, common courtesy still dictate you exchange at the very least a few words and a bare minimum of a handshake. He was so cocky that he never did either of those throughout the season!

Because of all that along with my passion for football, I followed every single post season game the Patriots was in, and rooted for Jaguars and Chargers. That in turn left no room (or time) for me to write fanciful blogs to keep you apprised and/or entertained.

The next thing that kept me away from my blogging duties was the mere fact that a majority of my friends' birthdays are in January. I cannot even begin to count how many times I have gone out to eat and celebrate birthday dinners, not to mention having Mexican food two weekends in a row. Thankfully, I like Mexican. But it certainly wasn't friendly to my digestive system nor was it good for my marathon training. There was even a week in January when every single evening was filled with some good activities!

Besides working late a lot of nights due to poor vendor showing, I also had to work late a couple nights to sort out my benefits elections. Coming from IBM, I am accustomed to health insurance benefits that even leave something to be desired for in my new health benefits offerings, considering that I work for a premier healthcare system in the Chicagoland! But after a couple nights of careful consideration, I have finally made my elections. It all boiled down to picking the lesser of four evils, basically. But I'm covered now, so that's good.

And the final thing that has kept me preoccupied for the most part of January is the running. Although I'm not officially registered for a Spring marathon, but I'm training as if I have a marathon coming up. In an effort to keep the traditional annual winter weight off, I decided to train with Danielle. She's got a marathon to run in April, but I'm just keeping up with the training. It's only easy for me, because she's a much slower runner than I am. In January alone, I've ran 10, 11, 13 and 13 miles for each of my long runs on Saturdays. Ain't that shit crazy?

So folks, there you have it! My entire January summarized. And no, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. And I'm still alive and kicking. Kind of. Hopefully now I'm able to return to my regularly scheduled blogging patterns. =)

"You Sure Know How to Stuff Someone's Christmas Stocking!"

That was the first thing my manager said to me over the phone right after he had messaged me over our corporate instant messaging service to call him when I had a minute.

What would precipitate this, you might wonder. Well, I certainly did not send him a Christmas gift that he had always wanted. In fact, the statement above is more of sarcasm than anything else. Whether it was said in a jovial or serious tone was hard to tell, because of his deadpanning voice, although he did assure me that it was a joke after a five second silence.

You see, I finally received the long-awaited letter in the mail on Monday, Christmas Eve. The letter said something to the effect of, "Bla bla bla, congratulations, bla bla bla, welcome, bla bla bla, January 7." In other words, I have been extended an offer of employment at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, a premier employer in Chicago.

Anyway, excitement aside, the offer letter came in the narrowest of times. If I were to start on January 7, then Christmas Eve effectively would be two weeks exactly. So I had to put in my two weeks' notice this Monday, lest I ask to start on January 14 instead.

And because it is quite typical for people to be out shopping or spending time with families on Christmas Eve, I didn't want to call my manager on Monday afternoon. Instead, I emailed him my resignation letter, and ended with the offer for him to call me up on my personal cell phone at any time he feels like it. Of course I knew he was in for a shocker come Christmas day, but it was the lesser of the two evils, you know?

Unfortunately, I did ruin my manager's Christmas, because I saw last night that he had read my email. He just chose to communicate with me today. What can I say? This is an awesome opportunity. And here are the reasons why:

1. Northwestern Memorial Hospital: This is Northwestern Memorial Hospital! Not only is it a leading hospital in the nation, but it is also a company that takes pride in its community involvement, which is something I sorely miss with my traveling job that I've had for the past seven years.

2. Chicagoan Transition: I moved to Chicago on June 21, 2004, and I have never been able to enjoy the benefits of being a Chicagoan. In my line of work, I travel out of town four or five days a week, for almost every single week of the year. The only exception was this year, when I landed the Zurich/Farmers Insurance project, which kept me in the Schaumburg suburb for the most of January through July. Although that was good in the sense that I didn't travel, but that didn't count because it was worse than traveling out of town. Not only did I not get a meal allowance, but I spent more than an hour each way driving to and from work! My days were longer, and to make matters worse, a lot of the work involved my participation on weekends. I didn't handle the Tuesdays and Wednesdays as my weekends.

3. Personal Activities: Now I can partake in sports leagues! The only reason why I began running is because I found out pretty quickly in the first year of my career that it was quite hard to play basketball or football when I was on the road. Aside from the fact that I couldn't locate a gym or field, I also couldn't find people to play with. With running being a single person sport, I decided to get into it. But now, I can join sports leagues, which often have games during the week. On top of that, I now can get myself involved in volunteerism to better my community, something which I could never do.

4. Girls: Please don't get me wrong, as there is absolutely nothing wrong with the girls from out of town (or from Chicago for that matter), but I'm quite looking forward to dating girls here in Chicago. Granted, I've only been in a relationship with out of town girls twice (or was it thrice) in my seven year career, but it was certainly not easy leaving the girl on the weekends nonetheless. And on the flipside, when I wasn't seeing anybody from out of town, the girls here in Chicago either would suspect my leeward ways, or be sick and tired of not seeing me more often. Well, with my new local job, I get to hear the true reasons why I'm not a keeper for them. Maybe I'm truly a fugly looking ass? =)

5. Real Holidays: One thing about my line of work is that most companies would prefer to let their own employees off for holidays, and pay companies like IBM to send out someone to do something like a major upgrade during the holidays. In the last seven years, I have had my share of working through holidays, without extra pay. Well, come January 7, working through holidays will be no more. Guaranteed! In fact, I won't have to worry about having to do any major work during major weekends either, because Northwestern Memorial Hospital, being a major hospital in the downtown area, has a policy of change freeze during both holidays and times when the city expects lots of tourists, such as during events like Taste of Chicago and the Chicago Marathon. The idea is that during such times where there are many tourists, the hospital naturally will see more patients than it normally would otherwise, so the stability of their computer systems become more critical. One of the surest ways to maintain stability is to not introduce any changes, such as a system upgrade, during peak visitors periods! In other words, I get to participate in big Chicago events without having to worry about working! Yay!

6. Park and Shop: Okay, this one may be kind of gay, but hear me out on this. As long as I'm an employee of Northwestern Memorial Hospital and living outside of certain designated downtown area, I'm eligible to get a spot in one of several downtown parking garages for $123 a month (pretax income)! I have access to my spot 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and 365.25 days a year! I might not even drive to work and opt to bike in during non winter days, but the prospect of having a prime parking spot reserved for me in the heart of downtown certainly will alleviate a lot of aches when needing to get to downtown without relying on the reliable CTA buses and trains. How awesome is this?

7. Almost a Dream Job: This is almost a dream job! When I moved to Chicago, I had every intention to work for Northwestern Memorial Hospital. But I had to wait, because I knew at that time that their hospital systems were running on Hewlett Packard's VMS operating system, and my expertise is on IBM's AIX operating system. I knew for a while that sooner or later, Northwestern Memorial Hospital will be making the switch, but it was only a rumor for years. Returning to healthcare is something I've always wanted, because there is something good in knowing that I indirectly affect peoples' lives. I enjoyed that dependency. Not to mention that there will always be plenty of eye candy at the cafeteria during lunch while watching fresh interns waltz in by the groups! Now, this is almost a dream job because my true dream job is to sleep-test every single mattress made by any of the major (preferably upscale) mattress companies or write/report for traveling shows. Seeing that I never run across such a job posting in the papers or on monster.com, I suspect that my dream job probably doesn't exist.

Now, on the flip side, there are definitely some cons in taking this dream job...

1. Visiting Cities: I will no longer fly out to different places across the Americas, and visit all the beautiful cities (and not so beautiful ones like Detroit or Cleveland). In my seven year career as a consultant, some of my memorable cities include Denver (where I dated Patrycja), Montreal Canada (where I had hooked up with a hot girl from a local dance club), Seattle (once while working for Cerner, and now while for IBM), New York City (where I dated Mariola), Baltimore, Toronto Canada, Petoskey Michigan, and New Orleans (where I had to escape Hurricane Evan the Terrible and drive for hours to Houston). Now, I'll be stuck in Chicago, and the only way I'll ever visit other cities would be personal vacationing.

2. No More Freebies: Definitely no more per diems or meal allowances. I have to pay for my own food from now on. On top of that, no more frequent flier points from Southwest Airlines (which I typically get about 10 free round trip tickets a year), and once my Southwest Airlines Companion Pass expires this coming February, I will never be able to fly someone with me for free. No more earning hotel points for personal use on vacations. Definitely no more Diamond VIP status at Hilton properties, which provided me with free upgrades to their best rooms, access to their Executive Lounges for free breakfasts, hors d'oeuvres and drinks at night. At least I can still redeem my hotel points for vacationing though...

3. Higher Cost of Living: Now that I won't be traveling, I won't be driving rental cars with gas paid for by my clients. I now need to budget in monthly gasoline expenses, which was pretty much negligible in the past. Furthermore, I'll also have to factor in higher expenses for toiletries, like shampoo, soap and toilet paper. As someone who is quite regular when it comes to human waste excrements, the frequent toilet paper buying will be quite painful.

4. Environmental Impact: A couple years ago, I justified the purchase of my Land Rover because it was the smallest SUV and that I wouldn't be driving it often while I am constantly out of town. But now that I'll be living in Chicago all the time, I can only imagine driving my Land Rover more frequently now. I don't want to waste money to buy another vehicle, but I feel the need to buy a hybrid vehicle. This is still a toss up right now.

5. Discounts: I know this may be trivial to some people, but I have come to enjoy the discount benefits from IBM and its affiliation with so many companies. I get significant discounts from places like General Electric, Panasonic, Apple, Sony, Sharp, mortgage companies on home loans, Ford Motor Company, General Motors, Chrysler, Audi, AT&T, and many, many more. A lot of things I currently own were acquired, or services currently use came courtesy of the IBM discount program. I'm going to miss this very, very much.

6. Different Hos in Different Area Codes: Totally kidding here. ;-)

Well, overall, I think my personal life will definitely improve by leaps and bounds. And for the first time in my life, I'll probably get to enjoy more of the culinary wonders Chicago has to offer instead of experimenting with all sorts of foods from all over the country.

This is definitely a brand new chapter in my life which I can safely claim that I'll gladly embrace. I can't wait till January 7 arrives. My new life will be...

Wait for it...

Legendary!

Hey... It's December 25...

Merry Christmas to my readers!

I'm not even entirely certain if I have any readers out there, but if you do exist, my apologies for long absence. A lot of things have been happening, but I wanted to assure you that most of the things happening in my life are time sensitive, especially in a public forum where anybody in the world can read my life. All good things come to those who wait! =)

And I wish you a wonderful New Year for this holiday season! Be safe, and have lots of fun!

A Break, Finally...

December brought a much-needed reprieve this time around. I was just a tad bit tired of traveling. Don’t get me wrong, Seattle was lots of fun, but the weekly commute was getting tiring. Instead of spending Sunday afternoons vegetating in front of the television watching the various NFL games, especially my beloved Bears, I was spending my Sunday afternoons cabbing it to the airport, and spending perhaps no more than 20 minutes standing near the entrance of an airport bar peering in at the television set.

I was originally supposed to fly to Seattle the first week of December, but something came up on the client's end that pretty much ended up with me being asked to cancel my travel plans. I worked from home instead. Then the second week of December is entirely dedicated to my first ever Mexican trip. Who can complain about going south for a week in the dead of the brutal Chicago winter?

Although the third week of December is not a vacation time for me, I won't be traveling still because I'll be "stuck" in Chicago attending a much needed training class. This is good, because the class will definitely increase my skill set and ante up my marketability. I certainly can't complain about that.

Then the final week of December will be spent on yet another vacation. You see, the problem is that at IBM, if I don't use up all my vacation time by the end of the year, I lose it all. Sure, it sounds like I'll be taking quite a lot of vacations in the month of December, but I definitely won't be able to use up all of my 15 days of vacation though. In fact, I'll be wasting about 12 hours of vacation, if I were to continue with my currently scheduled time-off.

But it's alright, though. Cos I certainly ain't complaining. =)

Why Don't Wii Play

So yeah… I blame my friend Changren for something... One thing.

The last time I played a video game was back in middle school. The first and last video game system I have ever "owned" was the NES, the Nintendo Entertainment System. If there is ever an item representing old school, that would be it.

Later on, in 2001, my first roommate in Kansas City bought a Microsoft Xbox system. He had some kind of a fighting game, along with Halo. He offered me to play Halo with him, and I sucked. Not only did I get some kind of a thumb pain syndrome, but the sheer number of buttons on the Xbox was a little bit daunting. Intimidating would be a better word.

Anyway, after just playing Halo on Xbox for about a quarter of an hour, I simply gave up. Screw this! I threw the controller on the floor, and exclaimed, "This is ridiculous! How the hell do you keep track of eight buttons on a freaking controller?!? What happened to the two buttons, just A and B buttons?!?"

So yeah, playing Xbox for 15 minutes hardly count as real playing. So the NES is the one and only system I've ever played. Now, fast forward to Thanksgiving 2007. Instead of staying home in Chicago and doing the whole turkey dinner thing, I chose to fly out to Seattle on a last minute whim and go kick off the skiing season with my friend Changren and his girlfriend at Whistler, British Columbia.

The plan was to drive up to Canada on Thanksgiving Day, relax that evening, ski on Friday and Saturday, then spend Saturday evening and Sunday morning chilling in Vancouver.

It was during the time while we were at Vancouver where the whole incident happened.

I'm kind of technology savvy. So I have known for a while that the new generation of video game systems has already come out from both Microsoft (Xbox 360), Sony (Playstation 3) and Nintendo (Wii). Yet, I am not one of those people who play video games. When I heard in the news about how long lines were when each of the aforementioned gaming systems went on sale, I laughed heartily. "Those foolish idiots," I'd say. Or something similar.

But while I was in Vancouver, we all went to Changren's friend's place, who happened to have a Wii. To kill time, we all started playing a little bit of Wii Tennis. Although I have never played the game before, but have the training in real tennis, I thought it would not take me long to beat my friend, who is a self-proclaimed "Best Wii Tennis Player."

Needless to say, I kept on losing. But the bigger amazement was the fact that the Wii was easy to play with. I knew how to operate the controller effortlessly in less than 15 minutes, compared to the myriad of confusing buttons in the Xbox I encountered back in 2001!

Alas, despite the short learning curve of the Wii, my friend whopped my ass in Wii Tennis repeatedly. I even tried going for best out of five instead of three, but still lost. And my desire to beat my friend suddenly turned into a scary craving for the Wii. I have lived all of my adult life pretty satisfied without some mind-numbing entertainment device that is hooked up to a television. But as soon as I returned to Chicago, I have suddenly resolved to getting my hands on a Nintendo Wii.

Unfortunately, a quick look-see through many websites and local retailers revealed that the Wii is so hugely popular, despite being out for a year now, that it is sold out. Worse yet, many respectable retailers are practicing near-illegal sales tactics: Bundling the Wii with a bunch of stuff, most of which are not desirable like crappy games, and selling at a higher "bundle" price. It may be a good deal if you so happen to enjoy all the games they bundle, but most likely they're simply crappy games I would never buy.

Facing such a situation like a crack addict unable to find affordable crack, I grew anxious and twitchy. Before long, I became desperate. A browsing through CraigsList revealed that those wanting a quick profit have managed to buy tons of Nintendo Wii and offer them for sale at a significant markup. A $250 gaming system going for $400 up to $550?!? Holy crap! That was worse than daylight robbery! I simply didn't realize that there was such a huge demand for the Nintendo Wii.

Then on Saturday the first of December, Rosa and I happened upon a Best Buy in Evanston while on a targeted shopping spree. I walked around the store secretly hoping that perhaps the demand for Wii affected only Chicago, not a tiny little suburb. Unfortunately, I soon knew enough that the inevitable had happened. Out of stock.

I was ready to give up and leave the store, but Rosa convinced me that I should talk to a store employee and see if perhaps they had any Wiis in the back. I was quite skeptical, but decided to ask an employee nonetheless, only because there were a couple of them talking amongst themselves who were within a few feet.

Of course, the answer was obvious. They were out. As I said my thank you and began to leave, one of them piped up and said, "But just so you know, we are getting 18 Wiis tonight, and they will be on sale tomorrow morning."

WHAT?!?

After asking repeatedly if they were for real and in fact will be getting stock, I got really excited. The thing that sucks about the whole situation, though, is the fact that I would have to go wait in line at the butt crack of dawn. And with just 18 units for sale, chances were pretty good that there will be more than 10 people camping out at the store that evening.

One thing about me is for sure. I'm not a morning person, and even as a crack addict shaking violently for the next hit, I probably wouldn't be waiting in line in the freezing rain for a bag of crack. But I found a way out. You see, another friend of mine had wronged me severely that I thought he could quite possibly make it up to me as he had promised. He could go wait in line for me!

Surprisingly, my friend agreed. But having a sense of doubt that he would be there in line as I had asked, I decided to go there myself. Besides, the prospect of getting my hands on a Wii was so nerve wrecking that I tossed and turned sleeplessly throughout the night. Even though I myself was late in getting to the Best Buy at Evanston, I quickly noticed that my friend had just gotten there too. But he wasn't in the line. Instead, he was texting in the car, while his brother tagged along. He wanted to let me know that there were more than 18 people in the line, and he was giving up and heading home.

So I told him that I was going to take my chances, and that he could leave. No sense for him to be out there in the cold when I was already there. I thought that there was a good chance that A) the store would only sell one unit per customer, and B) not every single individual in line was there for a Wii. I was pretty sure that the big family of five was probably only buying one, but I wouldn't know for sure. So I took my chances.

About an hour before the store was to open for the day, an employee came out of the store with a stack of paper, telling us that he will be passing out certificates guaranteeing those who possess them will be walking out of the store that day with a Wii, and that they wouldn't need to wait in line.

I got really nervous. With just 18 units and almost 30 people in front of me, I thought I was screwed. As I watched the employee inch slowly down the line, I counted the certificates. I hoped against hope that the people in front of me were groups or families who only wanted one. Then I counted 18. Crap!

But strangely, he was still passing out certificates. But I wasn't sure how many he had. Then suddenly, he stood in front of me, and gave me one. Hooray! But after the employee passed out a certificate to a guy at the end of the line, I noticed that he still had some in his hand. I asked him, "Just exactly how many do you have?" "We have about thirty-something left."

I instantly thought, "Maybe I can score one for my sister too!" So I called Rosa, woke her up, and asked her to get to the Best Buy, since she lived pretty close. And my other friend was probably back in bed, so I didn't bother calling him. As time went by while waiting for Rosa to show up, people started to trickle in, hoping to score a Wii. They were mostly shocked that they got one, because they seemed pretty dismayed at the line already there, despite half the people went home with their certificates (which were good till noon that day). Some didn't even bother getting in line, and instead turned around and got in the car. Normally, I would have helped them out and told them that they had more certificates, but not knowing how many were left, I wanted to make sure I get one for my sister.

Finally, Rosa showed up. And surprisingly, she got a certificate. In my jubilation, she reminded me repeatedly that I owe her big time, which I acknowledged. And then, my other friend called. Apparently not wanting to let me down, instead of returning home, he went to the Best Buy on Fullerton to get in line. I told him not to worry about it, because I had gotten a certificate.

Before I knew it, he was back in Evanston with his brother, waiting in line. There were only three certificates left, and my friend and his brother got two. And a funny thing happened. As the employee stood there with the last and final certificate numbered 78, everybody could see there were people just rolling in to score a Wii. Two cars drove past the employee so they could park, and a third car with kids were there by the curb. They wanted the employee to hand the last certificate to them, but the employee told them that they had to go get it.

Excitement quickly built up, one of the guys who had finally parked the car started walking over. The people at the end of the line started screaming, "Hurry up! He's only got one left." To everybody's amazement, the kids didn't even get out of the car. Instead, they were debating and asking the employee to just go over and hand over the certificate. Then the guy who had just parked finally started running over, and snatched the certificate. The kids then asked, "Do you have any more?" They were given a rude awakening. Everybody in the line could not believe that mere laziness stood in the way of them getting a Wii. Unbelievable!

Long story short, the store finally opened, and I got a Wii. And it is fun and crazy addicting. I cannot believe that in nearly 30 years of my life, I have never waited in line for anything, until now. Well, I don't count waiting in line for the embassy to open so that I could get a visa to Malaysia, as for some strange reason the embassy only process a set number of visa requests a day. Weird.

Anyway, that is the story on how I accidentally got the Wii. By pure chance. And I didn't even see the Sunday ad for Best Buy either.

Sa-wiit!!! =)

Oopsy Daisies!

Well, I thought my spurt of clumsiness at Whistler was short-lived, but unfortunately, that isn't the case.

Yesterday, one of my coworkers asked why I was wearing a temporary badge instead of my Boeing-issued badge at work while I was standing up. I looked at my badge while he pointed at it, and proceeded to explain that I had somehow lost my badge. Just then, I noticed that the badge holder had a cracked corner. Presumably from my fat ass bending over to sit down which caught the badge in between my two body parts.

Anyway, after I had explained myself, I went to fix the badge holder. Just like a hang nail you can't seem to ignore but to pull and yank at it, I similarly did so with the corner of my rather hard plastic badge holder. When I couldn't tear it off, I applied more pressure.

A few seconds later, the entire floor heard a loud ouch! following a rather distinctive snap. I had successfully broken off the corner piece, but totally failed to realize that the hard plastic would make for a rather sharp edge, thus slicing open a portion of my thumb.

At first I thought it was minor, just a little scratch. While my coworker sat there in his cubicle with a grin the size of the Grand Canyon and laughed his ass off, I jokingly accused him of being an insensitive ass for not worrying about my "injury." He challenged the severity of my scratch, so I went further with the joke and showed him my thumb.

He immediately stopped laughing after he took a look at my thumb. Noticing that it wasn't funny for him anymore, I decided that I should take a look at the thumb myself, and holy shit! I really did slice open my thumb!!!

Damn! When the hell is this clumsiness ever gonna stop?

Return of the Klutz

In my formidable years of high school, I had the reputation of being a klutz. Involuntarily, of course. Whether I was in a basketball championship game as a varsity starter, or playing the lead role in school plays, or just plain walking through the halls of school, something would inevitably happen to me. It could be varied, like tripping over my own foot, walking into doors, or accidentally hitting myself in the face while trying to open some silly thing.

Well, as an adult, I have outgrown my clumsiness. In fact, the last time I had a klutzy moment was probably in 1999, when during Thanksgiving break while stuck in the residence halls of Southwest Missouri State University, I sliced my thumb open with a super-sharp kitchen knife while cutting the packaging of an assemble-it-yourself furniture from Wal-Mart. That little stint had me visiting the Emergency Department of a local hospital.

Now, fast forward to this week. On Tuesday, I decided on a whim to fly out to Seattle and join my friends on a ski trip to Whistler-Blackcomb. The plan was to fly out on Wednesday and stay in Seattle that evening, then drive up to Whistler on Thursday, and ski Friday and Saturday before spending Saturday night and Sunday in Vancouver.

Well... As we were loading up my friend's car on the crisp, Thursday morning, I somehow jammed my toe on the post of the fence lining his front "yard." Boy, did it hurt like hell. So much so that I screamed bloody murder.

Then the next day (Friday), after a full day of skiing on Whistler mountain, we returned to the hotel room to chillax. While walking around in the living room, I somehow walked into the armoire holding the television. The corner of it jabbed so deep into my arm that I let out a rather loud yelp.

On the Saturday morning of our final day of skiing at Whistler, we headed down to the lobby to get our daily free breakfast consisting of "scrambled" eggs made out of instant, powdered eggs, children coughed-on cereal, and toasts touched by other guests who obviously thought the thongs were merely for display. Before we even got to the elevators on our floor, I somehow did not pay attention to where I was going and heard a big whack and my lights went out momentarily. Within seconds, I found myself staring at the ceiling, head throbbing in multiple pulses of pain, and my hand clenching onto my balls on the floor.

All I heard was, "What the..." followed by the uncontrolled laughter of my friend and his girlfriend. I had no idea what had happened, but my initial thought was maybe my friend played a cruel trick on me. But when I looked around to see what had happened, I realized that I had walked into a metal pole in the middle of a fire-controlling doorway. Apparently, I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking, and arranged myself a private meeting with said doorframe.

Ouch!

Then today, after lunch at Vancouver, we walked around downtown in the hopes of finding a route back to the parking garage which was separated by a closed off Santa Clause Parade route. While walking in the lower level of the side street next to the Royal Provincial Court's pavilion, I almost fell on my face when I didn't see a step in the courtyard. Apparently, unlike the United States, the Canadians don't bother with painting the edges of unexpected steps with bright yellow tape indicating a drop-off.

Just as I almost fell and screamed a wobbly whoa, my friend looked at me before quipping to his girlfriend, "You know, this guy is so clumsy that he has at least a major incident each day." And they giggled at my expense.

Now, while writing this in the car en route back to Seattle, I realized that indeed my old clumsy self has paid a visit in the last few days! It sucks, but at least it didn't result in serious injuries other than a big shiner on my forehead with a bump the size of Mount Rainier. As I slowly rub my bump soothingly, I slowly mutter to myself, "This shit's gotta stop soon."

Hello, A-List!

On Friday morning, I had the pleasure of having to wake up at 04:30 so that I could enjoy hitting the snooze button just five times, and hang up on four different phone calls that I had previously set up with wake-up call service. I eventually did rise by 05:07, just in time to brush my teeth, throw my clothes on, and leave for the airport. Although I thought I was quite speedy throughout the whole thing, it was 05:18 when I left my hotel room, which only afforded me 12 minutes to get to the airport.

Ever the lead foot that I am, I was instantly disappointed no more with the new Saturn Outlook SUV Hertz had triple upgraded me to, what with its 3.6 litre, 270 horse power V6 engine and 20 inch wheels. I drove like a mad bat out of hell, and surprisingly made it to Seattle Tacoma International Airport by 05:32! I have to admit, as a person not easily impressed, that was pretty freaking impressive, considering the mere 14 minutes covered the elevator ride, navigation out of the garage, snaking through the famed one way streets of downtown Seattle before getting onto I-5, and a cool 14.1 miles of highway on I-5. Nothing beats knowing you had just commandeered a half ton of steel, rubber and glass at Superman speeds!

I actually was disappointed with my rental car all week, despite enjoying all the creature comforts like leather seating, sunroof, heated seats and automatic climate control. You see, the Hilton Seattle parking garage isn't exactly accommodating for vehicles that size. Navigating around the garage each time I leave or return was a hair raising experience. Am I going to sideswipe that wall on the left as I turn the corner? Is my front going to bump the right wall as I turn the corner to avoid the wall on the left? With each wall and corner nicely decorated with rainbow colors of streaks and several poles bent over, I could tell that this garage had claimed many innocent drivers who didn't know how to drive, or at least unfamiliar with the dimensions of their vehicles. I was glad that after nine weeks of staying here in Seattle, I have not once made a love tap, or ass rape for that matter, between my different rental vehicles and the garage.

Anyway, on Thursday morning while I was on my porcelain throne, I read in the USA Today about how Southwest Airlines will begin its new boarding procedure, to which I had known for months but neglected to tie a virtual ribbon around my finger. And instantly, I realized that I had to check into my Thursday morning flight, because it was 08:00 already, and my flight was going to be at 06:35 the next morning. I wasn't in a hurry, because my experience has taught me that if I check into my flight within six hours of when they allow you to check in, chances were pretty good that I'd get the A group.

Boy, was I wrong.

Instead of the usual A, B and C groups which people can line up as early as they want so as to be the first in that boarding group to get a good seat, Southwest Airlines now assign numbers on top of the group based on when you checked in online. First come first serve. So if my flight leaves at 06:35 on Friday, everybody on that flight could begin checking in online at 06:35 on Thursday. The first 60 people to check in gets the A group, with each subsequent 60 in the B and C groups respectively. And the numerical assignment also indicates their place within their respective group, thus leaving ass holes like me out in the cold.

Because as a business traveler, I sometimes book my flight at the last minute, but I always made sure I checked in promptly 24 hours ahead so that I got into the A group, despite getting a 59, for example. (The numbers had always been printed on the boarding pass for years, but not for the same purpose as now.) Then I made damn sure that I get to the gate early enough so that I could be the first person in the A group by standing in line all alone. Of course, this would cause a snowball effect, because suddenly, even though the flight may not leave for yet another 75 minutes, everybody who had been comfortable sitting in their seats would suddenly get up and stand in line behind me. With seats at the gate abandoned, people were willing to stand in line for over an hour just to get good seats. I guess this is why Southwest Airlines decided to form the new boarding procedure. And now I'm the victim, if I got number 59 in the A group.

Apparently, the flight back to Chicago was filled with fellow loyal Southwest Airlines patrons, because when I checked in online after I cleaned myself up good from the cake making experience that Thursday morning, I got the B group. Yeah! I didn't even make it into the second half of the A group. And it had only been an hour and a half since the check in window of time opened! Group B?!? Luckily, I got position 5. At least I got to be the fifth person to board in the B group. But still, I was displeased!

Well, when I got to work that Thursday, I checked my email, which I had neglected on Wednesday evening because I was busy having a good time at dinner with my friends. I had received an email on Wednesday from Southwest Airlines, telling me that in addition to the new boarding procedures, they will also begin this thing called the A-List, and that I was close to getting in, but no banana. Well, they didn't exactly use banana, but they also wrote to say that once I became eligible, they will notify me first thing in their order of business. Okay, they didn't exact say that either, but something to that effect.

The A-List is another privilege of prestige, on top of the Companion Pass privilege, which I've had for years. Fly with Southwest Airlines enough to earn at least 100 points before a full cycle of rolling 365 days, and you get the Companion Pass for a year. Anyone I designate as my companion can fly with me for free. Anyway, the A-List privilege entailed that if a passenger had made 32 one way flights with Southwest Airlines in a rolling 365 days, then he or she would be eligible for the A-List, whereby Southwest Airlines will check you into your flight for you and get you into at least the A group, so you don't have to wake up at 06:35 24 hours before your flight to check in like for me.

Man, when I got that email saying I didn't make it, I tore up my copy of the USA Today in half, and stormed out like a little girl. Okay, I really didn't, but if I was a little girl who surprisingly enjoys reading newspapers first thing in the morning, then I would totally have done that. =) Sigh...

Of course, just as luck would have it, when I checked my email on Friday, guess what?!? I got another email from Southwest Airlines!



Hello, A-List!

Now it's Sunday evening, and I'm on the plane flying to Seattle. And I'm happy to report that I did not check into my 20:00 flight 24 hours ahead on Saturday, and I still got into the A group! Sadly though, is the fact that I was given position 49. That's pretty much the bottom of the A group, which still doesn't really earn me first dibs on the open seating policy. Or second, or third through the fifteenth dib. But for now, I think this will do. I feel like a rock star for being inducted into the A-List. Sa-weet!

Now, if only they would roll out the red carpet at the gate for the A-Listed passengers.

Grumpier Old Sore Man

Alternate Title: Hidden Nail, Crouching Toe

Alternate Alternate Title: This Ain't No Seattle Grace

Nothing beats fate taking another quick, hard swing at a downed guy. It's almost as if fate is taunting me while I roll on the ground crutching onto my sack of balls in pain before kicking me yet again in the nuts. Yeah, I love this feeling...

As if having to adjust to the new Southwest flight that departs on Sundays at 20:00 after Southwest Airlines discontinued the 15:50 direct flight wasn't enough, I had to accidentally leave my Shure noise-blocking earphones at home, thus making the four and a half hour plane ride for a miserable hell. Well, at least I spent part of the flight writing my previous blog.

And to sweeten the wholesome experience, I ended up visiting the Emergency Room on Monday instead of going to work.

Yippie yay. Give me a cheer...

As I rose out of bed in all of my naked morning glory, I hit the Snooze button for the final time and stumbled around the room. As usual when I stay at the Downtown Seattle Hilton every week, I'd look out the peephole of my door, hold my breath and listen hard for signs of any other hotel guests walking by my room. After all, the last thing I want to do is to accidentally flash some poor fellow patron with a good view of my other moustache.

When I thought things were in the clear, I cracked open the door a good foot apart, took a step forward, and bent down to get my fresh, crisp copy of the USA Today paper while my banana and plums hung out there as if they were ripen to pluck off the bushes. But yesterday, when I took that fateful first step after revealing my naked self to the hallway, I felt a sharp pain. I let out a brief OUCH! before hurriedly grabbing the newspaper and closing the door shut.

What the fuck was that?

I must've stepped on an exposed nail of a carpet tack strip! I bent down and felt the carpet with the palms of my hand, and felt nothing in the area of an inch from the edge of the door edge. Thinking it was just nothing and that I had an overly sensitive feet bottom that morning, I proceeded to the bathroom while I take my leisurely dump while reading my fresh newspaper.

Interesting... The United States is in a rock and hard place with Pervez Musharraf's recent abandonment of the Pakistani Constitution. What will Dubya do?

After I had read a couple more articles and wiped my ass in satisfaction, I prepared to get up from my porcelain throne before I suddenly noticed something in the bathroom rug. A red dot.

What the...?

I moved my right foot away and there was yet another red dot on the rug! Before long, a huge, giant light bulb came on in my head! I flipped my right foot over, and I found my big toe with broken skin and blood oozing out of the little hole.

Great! My suckiness apparently will be continuing into the new day...

While I was still naked (after I had wiped my ass and flushed the toilet), I began to do the whole CSI thing and investigate what had happened. Surely enough, I found a nail sticking out about a quarter of a centimeter from the carpet! Holy moly!!!

Instinctively, my recessive Asian genes became dominant suddenly and I decided to start taking pictures of whatever evidence I could gather. If it wasn't for Erin and her experience this past year with a hotel where it disclaimed any responsibility for the injury she had gotten during her stay, I would not have thought about being a savvy crime scene investigator. I needed all the ammo I could gather to force the hotel into:
A) paying for all my medical bill without making a claim against my health insurance,
B) comp'ing one night of my hotel stay if the whole ordeal was going to take the entire day, thus missing a day of work (which did happen), and
C) providing me with Hilton Hhonors points to compensate for my inconvenience.

As if luck would have it, fate picked the perfect day for me to get injured by my hotel room. All the managers were not available, as there was a board meeting which required all managers to attend. I asked to speak with the secretary of the General Manager, hoping that she could interrupt the meeting to inform some manager that one of their valued guests was injured and needed medical attention. Pronto. But no luck.

Grrr...

I tried to remember from my high school biology class about tetanus, and I knew I had to get a shot of some kind, and that there was a period of time I would be okay before getting lockjaw. In my mind, I thought it was 12 hours, so I told her that I would wait till the meeting concludes. The last thing I want to do is take the General Manager's business card to the hospital and inform the triage person that my bill will be covered by the hotel, and that the business card would be used as, uhm, collateral. Yeah right!

Soon enough, Joe, a controller in accounting decided to take matters into his own hands. He gave me $20 for the cab fare to and from the Swedish Medical Hospital, and gave me his business card so that the triage person could call him directly and obtain the necessary financial and insurance information from the hotel. So off I went.

Of course, after waiting almost an hour in the lobby, I finally got admitted. I couldn't believe it took an hour on a slow day. I'd hate to see how long it will take for me to even tell someone my name, address and date of birth during a busy night! And of course, after getting admitted, I waited and waited for almost another hour before being escorted to a room in the Emergency Department. And the kicker? I waited yet another hour in my room before a nurse even came to check my vitals before an attending could see me.

By the time all was said and done, it was almost 16:00 by the time I returned to my hotel. It was simply wishful thinking that it might be a quick ordeal and still allow me to go to work. So basically, I lugged around my laptop bag in the cab, then the hospital, for nothing! And I returned to my hotel room with a sore arm, because the doctor said that since it was a nail that I stepped on and the last time I had a tetanus shot was eight years ago, it was probably best to give me another shot.

Lucky for me, tetanus shots are one of the most painful vaccines. No, not painful as in when the needle gets inserted into your muscle, but the lingering effects for days afterwards. And I have never been afraid of needles anyway, as I was one of those odd kids who enjoys watching the needle go in.

When I got back, I talked to Joe and reiterated my list of demands. I should have added this to the list:
D) Buy me lunch.
After all, I had spent all day in the freaking hospital without food.

Well, it is now Tuesday, and I can say for sure that the CDC wasn't kidding in their pamphlet when they indicated that tetanus shots were one of the most painful vaccinations. My left are is sore and painful, as if I had been tackled high and hard on the field.

Now, I'm just a grumpy old sore man.

Below are pictures and (yes, I wrote and) videos!!! Enjoy!!!