"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.

C'mon! Where's the Modesty?!?

It is simply human nature that at least once a day, we just have to go to the grounded lavatory and relieve ourselves. And it is much more so especially after a hefty lunch. Well, today is no different than what's normal, other than the fact that I am actually in downtown at my office instead of working from home.

I knew the time would come after having a huge Patty Melt for lunch at Poag Mahone's, famous for its burgers and anything beef. So much so that they even have a Poag Mahone's Burger Eater's Bill of Rights!

Anyway, as I'm the germaphobe type of a guy, I generally avoid using restrooms outside of the comforts of my home. But it didn't bother me today, because I knew the restroom at the I B M office is very nice and, dare I say, kind of upscale. I mean, it's even got a nice little couch, which I have only seen in women's restrooms at fancy restaurants! Not only do they provide nice cowboy hats (those silly protective paper you use to cover the toilet seats), but they also provide real toilet paper instead of thin sandpaper that is just as absorbent as a plastic sheet. I know it is definitely not Quilted Northern (my favorite!), but I think it is definitely Charmin. Two-ply, no less!

I view my number two breaks at the I B M office as something of a R&R moment. I would go in there, all nice, quiet and comfortable, pull my trousers down, and relax. While others may go on a couple cigarette breaks lasting 10 minutes each a day, the number two break is my equivalent. This is where I would take my time, no rush, and simultaneously get on the Internet with my cell phone and catch up on news on current events and popular blogs.

So earlier I went for my number two break. Although I had already gotten snug and comfortable, I had yet to begin my business before some guy who sounded larger than life waltzed into the decently-sized restroom. I was occupying the last stall, yet this guy chose to go into the stall next to me, of all the other possible choices! And we all know that men's dress shoes have this slight clicking sound to them, right? Well, this guy's strides were so heavy that I swear a woman in high heels was in the men's restroom!

I'm not a mean person, so I was not quick to judge. At least not on the mere loud clicking noises he produced with his suave, shiny shoes. But what happened next irritated the shit out of me. Literally!

I don't know about common etiquettes typically exercised in women's restrooms, but I believe what happened next was definitely beyond the boundaries of what I consider normal. First, he simply had to push so hard that his fart echoed throughout the walls of the restroom. I swear I thought the partition walls between our stalls shook. Next, he felt the need to high drop his things that you may have mistaken the restroom in an office high rise for the restroom in a swimming pool with a dive board, where a fat kid just jumped in.

Grr! What is this guy trying to prove?!? The toughest man on earth?!? Despite what he did, I tried to enjoy reading a blog. But he quickly interrupted me by yanking on the toilet paper so hard that the toilet paper holder rattled like a poor kid shaking a steel piggy bank violently. Without missing a beat, he blew his nose as if he was practicing for a tuba solo. What the hell is up with this guy?!? A competition to see who is the loudest?!?

And of course, it is simply natural, and biological, that once in a while a fart would come along when you go drop the kids off at the pool, so I let out a gentle fart. Sorry to say this, but I like modesty. Not to mention that I don't like pushing my fart out so hard that your ass cheeks hurt from the ripple effects of the sonic boom. But immediately after I let out a whimper of a fart, the guy next to me had the audacity to chuckle! Oh, this guy thinks I'm an import, eh?!? [Import cars typically have a joke of a horn, compared to American made cars that have authority sounding horns.] Then he proved my theory correct: He let loose a loud fart, again, as to assert his authority. Not to mention the misguided idea of being on top of the societal hierarchy.

I was so turned off by this jack ass that I simply wiped up and got the hell out of there. But while I was washing my hands, I heard him clean up and get out of his stall. As I looked at him through the mirror, this short guy just looked at me and smiled.

WTF?!? Obviously this crazy guy has got some issues! I can't believe some guy suffering from the Napoleon Syndrome was competing with me on shitting!

Worse? On the grand scheme of things, he was technically a coworker of mine, even though I don't know him. I might venture to guess that he probably was in sales.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Have you seen the new Harry Potter film? I have. It was pretty decent, except for the fact that I had no idea about who all were, except for the obvious three stars. Having not read any of the books, I have throughout the entire anthology of the Harry Potter misjudged who the antagonist was, until it was revealed way later.

At one point, and I don't remember which year, I honestly thought that Professor Severus Snape was a bad guy. After all, he looks pretty menacing, especially when he is a tough teacher who was not kind and constantly suspiciously looking. And I've always thought Draco Malfoy was an important antagonist, causing bewilderment on my part as to why he was still a Hogswart student. Now I understand he is just a pain in the ass at school.

All this time, I never really realized that Lord Voldemort is the big, bad evil guy in the whole thing. And I just learned exactly what the hell a Dementor is! I think... And all this time, I had no idea that Patronus is some kind of an all-powerful magic, or charm. I thought it was the Hogwart's version of the Patron vodka. But can someone please explain what the hell are Muggles and Death Eaters? My friend Sabine talks about Harry Potter as if I should already know what these or who they are.

Oh, and one final thought. Was it just me, or did anybody else notice lots of similarities of cinematography or dialogue or situation between this and many other popular movies? Not sure what I'm talking about? Let me elaborate:

ONE: Doesn't the opening scene with the dark clouds coming over remind you of that Psycho Tom's movie, War of the Worlds?

TWO: When Harry Potter was rescued by Advance Guards from Privet Drive, they all got onto their magical brooms and started flying. Didn't that scene look reminiscent of the opening sequence of the original Walt Disney's Peter Pan?

TWOpointB: Why do magical brooms make sounds akin to turbocharged, fossil fueled engines? You'd think magical brooms would be quiet like the stealth planes, instead of loud, crude engines that go vrrrooommm.

THREE: When Harry was roaming about in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, he happened upon a little housekeeper. As soon as I saw that little hunched fella, I immediately thought of the little scary looking fella who always say, "My Precious" in the Lord of the Ring movies.

FOUR: Seriously... For those of us who are older, did Rubeus Hagrid's "big" half brother strike a similar resemblance to Alfred E Neuman from MAD? Honestly! Just take a look!

FIVE: Were you just like me, when during the climax (hee hee, I love the word climax) of the whole movie, did the whole mind thing between Potter and the Dark Lord remind you of Star Wars theme?

SEVENminusONE: I thought a franchise as popular and profitable as Harry Potter would not need to depend on product placements. But did anybody else notice in one scene in the mess hall or cafeteria a box of cereal called Cherri Owls, with colors that are strikingly similar to that of Honey Nut Cheerios?

Yeah, call me weird... I may not understand the big picture of the story and lack the skills to follow who is who, but I notice silly little shits like the things I've mentioned above. Sheesh...

Paranormal Activities From the Interweb?!?

So yesterday, I had a horrendous dream about getting bald. Then I got a an email after I woke up from WebMD about hair loss! Coincidence? I thought so. But not anymore.

Last night, or technically super early this morning, I watched Pursuit of Happyness. And today, Facebook's gift of the day is a Rubik's Cube! (If you have no idea how the two are related, then I highly recommend watching the movie.)


If these two strange phenomena are not coincidence, then hell, I'm going bald!!! But I'll gladly take that, because in some years' time, I'll be selling a minority stake in some business that I in the future will create, thus providing me with a healthy profit!

While I'm at it, I better make sure I have Chinese take out for dinner tonight. Who knows what the Fortune Cookie will predict for me. =)

That Funny Guy

Have you ever encountered that special person in your life who is so unique and can make you blow soda out of your nostrils when you laugh? No, I'm not talking about the special someone in the romantic sense. Just some regular person, be it a friend or coworker or whatever who have just the quirkiest sense of humor.

I have encountered many funny people in my life, and it is their funniness (holy shit, funniness is a real word as my spellchecker just approved without haste!!!) that has morphed me into the little package of uniqueness that I am. But I have never met someone who is so dry, funny and insulting till I started working at my current client site. Worse yet, I don't know him personally, and we don't hang out after work.

For some odd reason, he is only funny when he insults me. Even odder is the fact that instead of getting all worked up and upset, I laugh my ass off! This guy makes it a point to insult me at least once a day. If he didn't and it was near the end of the day, he'd come by and ask, "I haven't insulted you today, have I?" before going into deep thinking mode.

I've tried to compile a list of what he had said to me that were funny, but he only say funny shit when I'm busy working and couldn't write them down. And my memory isn't all that great to begin with. Maybe it is because he is older, way older than me, that lends him the great choice of words and delivery that makes it funny and thought provoking.

For example... Lately I've been taking the lifestyle path like Al Gore following his presidential bid loss to Dubya: I decided that shaving was overrated. After all, work has been super busy and I didn't think I would have the opportunity to date anyone while I'm engaged at this current client site. So yesterday, out of the blue he popped up along my cubicle, and asked, "What's the matter? Having troubles at home with your girl?" Of course it took me a while to figure out what he meant. And most of the time, he would have to explain. In this case, he was referring to the existence of my long overdue peach fuzz pine pricks on my face.

Other smart things he had insulted me on, but with a funny twist? My pink shirt, my "ugliness" whenever I decide to sit in another client's cubicle (belonging to another Asian), my sports injuries on Monday mornings after a weekend of brutal sports, etc. Well, today, while discussing a serious technical issue and possible remedies, he quipped: "Now I know you're a true consultant. You know what they say about consultants?" Of course, curiosity got the best of me. And I have only myself to blame for asking why. "A consultant knows how to fuck a girl a hundred different ways, but doesn't have a girl to fuck with."

Damn! How can you possibly be insulted when it is so funny? Damn...

Well That Was Awkward

I had a stressful day and night yesterday... Instead of leaving work at a normal time and hitting a bar with BBQ buffet and all-you-can-drink domestic beer, I ended up working. All night. Till 03:30 in the morning. It is now around noon, and I had just woken up. And what am I going to do? Eat breakfast, shower and go straight to work. Is this okay? Is this even legal, where all you do in your waken moment is work? Sigh...

Anyway, for some odd reason, I had a terrible dream. I suspect it had something to do with the stress I endured yesterday. I dreamed that I woke up and got in the shower to get ready for work, and once done, found myself screaming in front of the mirror because A) I was in the bathroom of the old house in Indonesia where I used to live as a kid, and B) I had a tiny shiner on top of my head! It was as if someone had shaved a tiny circular spot on the top of my head, and it was pure white while the rest of my hair remained intact.

I began to frantically worrying and did everything I could to figure out why I had suddenly gotten male pattern baldness. I looked through pictures of my immediate families, and we are not exactly stricken by this genetic "problem." Then I began to question whether or not my dad is my biological father, and suspect if he had been the victim of paternal discrepancy. I was so worried that my heart was beating faster and faster.

Then my eyes opened wide. Staring at the ceiling, I slowly readjusted half a globe back to Chicago, while some loud music was playing on my alarm radio clock. Sweat was beading throughout my body, and although I was still tired and groggy, I forced myself to get up and look in the mirror. Phew! My top mop was still all there...

Then as usual, I ran through my routine activities immediately after waking up: log into MySpace (rejected some jerkoff pretending to be a hot girl with links to porn sites wanting to be my friend), Facebook (another high school friend found me), Google News (Springfield, Vermont is the winner of all 14 Springfields in the United States to premiere the Simpsons movie), and email. When I finally got to my personal email, I was shocked to see this from WebMD:


Is this a harbinger or mere coincidence? The worry continues...

What da...?!?

As usual, I went downstairs to the atrium of my client building where I work to buy a big bottle of water for the day. I was sort of in a hurry, but in the little bit of time I had at the little store in the atrium, I managed to persuade myself into buying a box of Junior Mints as well.

All was well when I came up to the seventh floor. By now I had drank a few sips of water, as well as wolfed down the entire contents of the Junior Mints in record time. I was just going about my business at work, until a client came over to the desk where I sat. He wanted to ask about something, but inquired instead: “What is that?”

I looked at where he was pointing, and quickly exclaimed: “What da...?!?” Below is a picture of what we both were referring to.


At first I was hesitant to physically investigate it, for my mind was running wild about all the possible disgusting things the stocking boy at the store would do to the products in the middle of the night while refreshing the inventory. Finally I used my pencil to take a poke at it, which I then suspected that these bottled water probably came in a box, and the white stuff at the top was probably the excess glue used in sealing the boxes.

After my sudden relief from such a potentially horrible situation, it quickly turned funny. So I sent the picture over to my friend/coworker, to which he responded, “Is that lotion on the bottle?” After telling him of my suspicion, he added, “Seamen brand all natural glue?”

I suppose from now on I have to be more careful in what I pick out of the fridge before I pay for it, huh?

Don't Jump!

Well, the project here in Los Angeles has been super craptastic that it is stressing me out. It's not the work itself, but rather the freaking politics, muscle flexing, who-can-pee-the-highest competitions, and incompetent project managers. Actually, it is just one project manager.

Today was a good day for me, because all my stress went away. And on top of that, the project manager I don't like was caught with making a seriously unwise decision that he had been cooking in the last two weeks. I mean, I'm just a technical guy, but whenever I argue against his proposed plan, he would throw a hissy fit, and run to my own project manager bitching about how I have an attitude problem, not being a team player, and why I just can't do whatever he tells me merely because he's a manager. So yeah, I was very happy when somebody who he reports to bitched him out publicly. Justice served! John, 1; Evil Project Manager 666.

So with the evil project manager being put back in its proper place, instead of having to work over twelve hours today, Saturday and similarly on Sunday, my workload has lightened up significantly. Furthermore, whatever the project manager was trying to have me do additionally was not part of the contract scope.

Hence my sitting here buck naked in my hotel room wearing the thick and super comfy Hilton bathrobe. Ah, what a day! I thought about heading up to the Skybox Lounge on the top floor to get myself a celebratory drink, but decided to relax in my room first. After all, I went in to work at 07:00 this morning, thinking I had to do a major undertaking, but instead came back by 17:30. Not bad.

While taking stock of the beautiful view from my room on the Executive Floor of the Hilton Glendale, I noticed something strange on my full length window wall. Is that a latch?!? If memory served me right, you don't typically see any kind of latches on full glass window walls of buildings. In fact, they usually seem permanently set and unmovable.

Of course, curiosity got the best of me. Instead of lying down on my bed for fifteen minutes, I started screwing around. Click! Oh shit, I thought! This glass better not fall down to the street eighteen stories below. While holding firmly onto the handle, I gently nudged the window outward with my other hand. Phew! At least it's not going to fall out for sure. So I tried sliding it to the left next. Nope, nothing. Then I switched my force in the opposite direction.

Whoa!


I suddenly felt woozy, and then fell backwards on my ass. God almighty, I just opened my wall! You see, I have a tremendous fear of height when not fully enclosed, like in a plane, or a hotel room. The fact that there was a gap in the wall of my room made me queasy and weak at the knees. WTF?!? Aren't hotels supposed to superglue all windows shut? Apparently not this Hilton, which actually allowed you to slide open the entire freaking wall!

Not that I'm suicidal or anything, but I'm kinda glad that I discovered this little anomaly AFTER the stress from the past couple weeks at work and taxes had subsided. Otherwise, I could very well have been tempted to just jump out the window.

Lucky me!

Ooo, I forgot to mention this. Another bit of good news is that I won't be traveling to Los Angeles anymore! No more having some punk ass project manager getting into my face all the time, and no more superficial people and traveling. Yay!

Cheap Thrills to Amuse Myself

I travel fairly frequently for my job. Most of the time, I enjoy it, and at other times, not so much. I actually prefer flying out of town to driving an hour to work. But oft times, my travels are non-eventful and deadly boring. So I would have to find things to amuse myself.

Like today. Like right now while I'm writing this on the plane.

Since 9/11, the Federal Aviation Authority have imposed a fairly simple rule on air travel, among other complicated ones. This particular rule I'm referring to is the ban on loitering around in the forward alley of the plane, or forming a line while waiting for the lavatory in the front galley. I suppose that is to prevent would-be terrorists from pep-rallying at the footsteps to the only entrance to the cockpit. I think that is a good rule.

For almost six years, I have heard that rule announced time after time after time. But some people just don't get it. Like the two people who actually came up to wait in line for the lavatory. As I sat here and observed them, I debated in my mind if I should remind them of the rule announced once before takeoff, and again once the captained turned off the "fasten seatbelt" sign.. If I did, they might retort with, "Who are you, the airline police?" So not wanting to come off as a busybody, I stayed mum. Besides, watching the flight attendant chew their asses out would be interesting.

Of course, this time, the two people formed a line when all the flight attendants were in the back of the plane. One of them appeared to know the rule, as she fidgeted nervously and looked around trying to make sure she won't get caught like a naughty kid in grade school who would squirm knowing his own guilt when the teacher demanded, "Who threw that spitball at Julie?"

Before a couple minutes, a lazy flight attendant decided to remind them of the rules over the public announcement system. "Per FAA rules and regulations, passengers are not permitted to form a line in the forward galley. If you need to use the lavatory, you can wait in the back of the plane." The woman who was acting all guilty realized she had just been busted, so she started to return to her seat. But she found an empty seat in the first row, so she decided to wait while temporarily while occupying the seat termporarily.

The other woman, however, looked around, and thought she could outsmart the flight attendant. I imagined her thought to go like this: I don't see the flight attendant up here, and I don't see one back there in plain sight. I'll pull a fast one on them. No one will be wiser. So she stepped into the curtailed area where people board the plane, where a partitioned wall separates the first row seat from the entryway.

It wasn't seconds later when the announcement system crackled back on with a similar warning. It was obvious the message, while addressed to the entire plane, was really meant for that girl hiding up here. Still, she didn't budge.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Uh oh, here came the flight attendant.

He finally confronted this woman, and politely asked her to return to her seat, while swinging his arm in big waves like an annoyed high school kid being forced to volunteer as an usher at the local theatre by his parents. And the funny part of this whole thing happened. She actually pleaded her case with him, as to why she absolutely had to wait up there. Again, his arm swung around, ending with his palm facing up, fingers pointed at some random seat in the back. I laughed so hard inside, wondering why she was so dumb to even argue once she was caught.

Then there was this woman sitting next to me. Hey lady. If you're reading this, mind your own bee's wax! Would you like it if I leaned over and read your newspaper? I would venture far enough to say that she probably had a rough day. She's a traveling businessperson, much like myself, and she ordered alcoholic drinks. So far, she has had four gin and tonic drinks. Hey, I'm not here to judge. Whatever hell she went through while in Los Angeles, I'm sure the alcoholic deserved them. But she would open up her purse and pay with pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters!!! The first drink was paid with so many coins that she had to hand them over to the flight attendant with two hands! What the...? And so it went on like that, till the fourth drink when she actually paid with more quarters than the smaller denominational coins.

That didn't bother me at all, but I could only imagine what was going through the flight attendant's mind. I would have done the same too, as I absolutely hate carrying coins. So much so that I just chuck them into my laptop case. That's why I can't ever sneak up on people when I've got my bag strapped on, as all that jingling would give me away like a wind chime.

Ah, the things that I find amusing. Yes, I'm a weird person. Now I just hope the guy in the lavatory would pee all over himself we're suddenly bouncing around in this sudden, unexpected turbulence. Evil me!

Didn't Learn a Lesson. Apparently...

Remember that restroom nap-taking guy? Well, apparently he didn't learn any lesson from my barge-in the other day, save one.

I walked into my personal restroom sanctuary just some minutes earlier, and again the lights were off, indicating that nobody have entered or exited it for at least fifteen minutes. A quick scan through the floor at each toilet stall indicated no feet, therefore no one being there. Being the nice guy that I am, I will not use the designated handicap toilet just in case if someone with a wheelchair came in, so I tried to get into the regular toilet.

I pushed the door. It was firm and unyielding. WTF?!? I peered between the cracks.

Oh! My! Goodness!!!

I don't know if this is the same guy, but there is a guy squatting on top the toilet, with his head between his knees and arms crossed! SLEEPING!!! No wonder there was no feet visible.

Seriously!

It was kind of funny the first time, but I'm beginning to think this is a serious problem. I mean, I'm not going to divulge the name of my international corporate client, but if I was a manager employed by the client, this is a whole new low in corporate waste! Aren't all of us in this building professionals? WOW! Inconceivable!

Possibly a Dull Drum New York Marathon?

Marathon. It is not an easy sport to compete in, either professionally or recreationally. It is 26.2 miles, or 42.195 kilometres. It is a test of human endurance. Anyone who can finish it no matter the time achieved deserves to be called a winner. At least that's in my point of view.

So far in my lifetime, I have only done one marathon. I did horrendously with 5:59:24, when I had a goal of 4:30. To my credit, I did not train for two months leading up to the Phoenix Marathon while nursing a foot injury from running in New York City in October. I mean, I was still on pace to finish in my goal time up through mile 17, but it went downhill fast afterwards when I kept on getting sharp shooting pains in my right knee.

For the P.F. Chang's Rock 'n' Roll Marathon of 2006, I brought my craptastic iPod Nano, which I did not know had an extremely short battery life until about half an hour into the race. For the rest of the five and a half hours of the race, I was bored to death. I learned quickly how important music can be for recreational runners like me. Not only did I have to deal with boredom, but motivation was lacking. I needed some upbeat tunes to keep me rolling. After all, I am not an elite athlete where a six ounce electronic gadget strapped to my arm not only will weigh me down, but disturb the aerodynamic airflow of my body!

Anyway, I've got my heart set to run three of the world's most renowned marathons before I die: Chicago, New York City and Boston. I've registered for the Chicago Marathon of 2007. The New York City Marathon is hard to get into, as it is not only limited to 37,000 participants, but a lottery system is employed. At least it is still easier than the Boston Marathon, which you have to qualify for by your time in a sanctioned marathon race. So after Chicago this year, I will be setting my eyes on doing the New York Marathon.

But now I am debating whether or not I will even consider participating in the New York Marathon for 2008 and beyond. It all depends on a piece of legislature being introduced by New York State Senator Carl Kruger. His proposed law? A ban on the use of electronic handheld devices such as BlackBerries and iPods while crossing streets in major cities; and if caught, a fine of $100 will be assessed. Granted, this proposed law is to protect pedestrians crossing major streets while oblivious to the world surrounding him or her, which I totally understand. Besides running on public trails, I tend to have no desire to wear earphones in public mostly because I can't stand being unable to hear what's going on in the world around me.

If this law becomes effective, then I certainly won't be able to endure running the New York Marathon without music. I know, this is a bit silly, considering that the law may not apply to race courses on closed roads, but still, you and I don't know the specifics of the proposed law, nor do we know how the legislature will be interpreted should it become law.

So yeah, the New York Marathon may have a slight possibility that it will be a dull drum one for us recreational runners. =)

That Lucky Dude, Commander Bill Oefelein

Alternate Title: Psycho Astronaut

A select few of my friends know that at some points in my life, I have been stalked by women. Most guys always tell me, "Dude, that is really cool a chick was digging you!" But I can assure you, it is not a very comfortable situation to be the stalkee. Yes, I just made that word up. You always wonder in your mind, What the hell is wrong with her to do such and such things?

Well, meet Captain Lisa Nowak. This respected NASA astronaut is a married woman and a mother three. But I suppose like most people, her love and dedication to the man she married went on the wayside. She became interested in Commander Oefelein, also from NASA. The extent of their romance is unclear at this moment, but apparently it is strong enough that she had to go all psycho and jealous because Air Force Captain Colleen Shipman was also involved with Commander Oefelein.

Yes, you got that right! A love triangle! This is the true, real life soap opera! What makes the whole situation soap opera-ish is the fact that Captain Nowak considers Captain Shipman a rival. {Side note: You always hear of boys fighting for the girl, but I hardly ever hear of girls fighting for the boy. In fact, why doesn't that ever happen to me?} But a problem exists, besides the fact that there are two girls and just one boy. Nowak and Shipman are about 950 miles apart. Nowak lives in Houston, and Shipman in Orlando.

What was truly unbelievable was the fact that Captain Nowak drove over 950 miles to confront Captain Shipman, but her rage was so hot and determined that she wore diapers so she wouldn't have to stop for the restroom during the long drive!

But wait! It gets juicier!

When Nowak finally got to Orlando, she pepper sprayed Shipman after playing the sympathy card by crying when Shipman refused to talk to her.

And it gets funnier (or worse)!

Nowak then walked away, donned a wig and a trench coat, and brought with her a mallet, a buck knife with a four inch blade, a BB gun, and gloves. All right before getting arrested by the fine Orlando police officers! WTF?!? I cannot even imagine what she planned on using all those indispensable tools for, especially when under a disguise!

When I first saw this story at work, Captain Nowak was charged with attempted kidnapping. But now, it seems like they have upgraded it to include attempted first degree murder charges.

Now, that is chilling! But wait, aren't NASA astronauts supposed to undergo extensive mental evaluation, especially when assigned to space missions? After all, she was out in space just some months ago! If this proves anything, it simply is the fact that love, as twisted as it can be, can drive people to do very strange things.

For more news and updates on this interesting love triangle involving space geniuses, just do a search on "Lisa Nowak" at Google News.

What I want for my birthday!

Considering that my birthday has just passed, I've got my eyes set for the gift people should get for my birthday next year. I want the Swedish self-cleaning toilet!



Of course, if it is too pricey for my friends to buy me this neat gadget, I'll be more than happy to settle for a two-in-one gift: a pet kitty and its amazing talent.

Watch Out! I May Be Gay!

I consider myself a Christian. I subscribe to the basic universal beliefs of my religion for the most part. But in this modern day and age, I also believe in respect, tolerance and coexistence. There is certainly no room for ignorance and bigotry in my world. My God does not hate or discriminate.

While running 5.5 miles after returning home from work tonight, I learned of something interesting. Apparently a "Christian" website, Love God's Way, has published a list of "Gay Bands" warning parents of possible homosexual influences on children. Seeing that the list includes some of my favorite bands, I'm just left wondering why I haven't jumped over the fence and play for the other team after all these years. Could it be because the website author is full bull crap?!?

I seriously wonder if the author of the "Gay Band" list even knows the lyrics of all the songs of each artist to assist in determining the qualifying gay factors. John Mayer? Frank Sinatra? Phish? Nirvana? Eminmen [sic]? Oh, and by the way, if you're going to put some artist in some list for some silly reason, it is highly recommended that the artist's name be spelled correctly. Here is the list in verbatim as of 2007.01.25. And I'll just put [sic] here to denote all the author's misspellings below. =)

The Spores (endorse suicide)
Scissor Sisters
Rufus Wainwright
Merzbau
Ravi Shankar
Wilco
Bjork
Tech N9ne
Ghostface Killah
Bobby Conn
Morton Subotnik
Cole Porter
The String Cheese Incident
Eagles of Death Metal
Polyphonic Spree
The Faint
Interpol
Tegan and Sara
Erasure
Le Tigre
The Gossip
The Magnetic Fields
The Doors
Phish
Queen
The Strokes
Sufjan Stevens
Morrissey(?questionable?)
The Pet Shop Boys
Metallica
Judas Priest
The Village People
The Secret Handshake
The Rolling Stones
David Bowie
Frankie Goes to Hollywood
Man or Astroman
Richard Cheese
Jay-Z
Depeche Mode
Kansas
Ani DiFranco
Fischerspooner
John Mayer
Angel Eyes
The Indigo Girls
Velvet Underground
Madonna
Elton John
Barry Manilow
Indigo Girls
Melissa Etheridge
Eminmen
Nirvana
Boy George*
The Killers
Lou Reed
Lil' Wayne
Motorhead
Jill Sobule
Wilson Phillips
DMX
Lisa Loeb
Ted Nugent (loincloth)
Dogstar
Thirty Seconds to Mars
Lil' Kim
kd lang
Frank Sinatra
Hinder
Nickleback
Justus Kohncke
Bob Mould
Clay Aiken
Arcade Fire
Bright Eyes
Corinne Bailey Rae
Audioslave
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Panic at the Disco
Elton John(really gay)

Yes, I'm a Little Weird

First, think of a glass of milk and a glass of orange juice on a table. Now hold that thought.

A reminiscent thought came to mind earlier today. It was a flashback to the summer of 2004 when I was working on a project in New Orleans. Ah, the good old days. Fleeing to Houston by automobile with my coworkers when Hurricane Ivan the Terrible threatened New Orleans. The super long hours I put in to make up for my project manager's lack of management skills. The good times I had at the French Quarter getting sloshed with my coworkers. And the time I spent training my protégé new to the position to become as smart and skilled as I was.

One afternoon, said protégé and I went to the cafeteria for lunch. He got his food faster than I did, so he squatted on some prime real estate table at the atrium. I finally came out of the checkout line and joined him. "Uhm, that is really weird," he said as I sat down. "Why do you say that?" "Your choice of food for lunch is just unbelievable!"

You see, my fast food tray had the following items: 1) a tiny carton of two percent milk, 2) a to-go size box of cereal, 3) a small tray of sushi with six pieces, and 4) a bottle of V8 juice. Yeah, you're probably asking yourselves as well, "What the hell?!?"

Well, I was hungry. And after eating butter-laden Southern food meal after meal for days on end, I wanted something healthy. But I knew cereal alone, even with two boxes of it, would not hold me over for even two hours. Hence the sushi.

Why was I thinking about this today? While at work here in Schaumburg, my coworker and I went down to the cafeteria. He had a salad, and I had a Shrimp Po'Boy from the grill, along with two side items for an extra $1.29. They were French fries and steamed broccoli. What? you say? Well, I wanted something healthy to balance out all the fried stuff. And I love broccoli!

Seriously, if you think hard about it, it isn't really all that strange or weird. Let's think back to the milk and orange juice. Would you drink both together in one sitting? You might say that it's disgusting, right? So if that is weird, then why is it perfectly normal to have a glass of orange juice along with your cereal and milk in one sitting? You see my point, right?

So really, I'm not weird after all! =)