A year or so back, one of my friends at work was reprimanded by her boss for wearing a watch to a meeting with clients that was not professional enough. Now I do agree with the idea that, especially in consulting, you need to project an image of competence and success. After all, your client needs to be comfortable in spending lots of money to basically just get your advice. If you look like a disaster, you may undermine your ability to gain their confidence. But I'm not sure wearing a sport watch instead of a Tag Heuer is going to play much of a role in such image-building.
On this note, I recently read an article about Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson in Newsweek and found the following sentence particularly interesting:
"Paulson adheres tightly to the Goldman ethos: Make enormous amounts of money but don't act like it (though Paulson's stake in the firm was worth about $500 million when he cashed out in 2006, he wears a digital training watch, not a Rolex)."
So here is at least one example of success being projected without the assistance of a fancy watch. Although I do wonder if this is really some sort of psychological ploy by Paulson and his Goldman compatriots. By wearing a $50 Timex, instead of a $20,000 Tag Heuer, isn't he almost bringing more attention to his watch choice because he picked the unexpected for someone of his vast wealth and stature? He is almost making more of the point that he in fact can very easily make the choice to wear an outrageously expensive watch, or not.
Then again, I often think about these things far too much. Either way, friend, the next time someone criticizes your watch, just point out Paulson's selection.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Taking Trebek to School
I love it when I get to the gym around 7PM. It means I get to watch Jeopardy! (Seriously, I get excited). But this evening was extra fun, for the following reason:
Tonight, as I was watching Double Jeopardy (you know, round two, when all the dollar amounts are doubled), all three players got the same $2,000 question wrong. Trebek remarked, "No harm done. You all got it wrong and lost the same amount of money." But, sir, I object! This is not necessarily the case, especially late in the Double Jeopardy round.
Do you see why Trebek is in fact wrong that no harm was done? Let me pose a simple example. Let's say there are only two players, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds. They have come to the very last question in Double Jeopardy, which is worth $2,000. Sean Connery has $20,000 and Burt Reynolds has $10,500. If both players answer this question incorrectly and each lose $2,000, Connery will have $18,000, and Reynolds will have $8,500.
If neither player had answered the question, Connery would have had to bet $1,001 in Final Jeopardy to guarantee that he would win, earning a total of $21,001. This is because, if Connery bet nothing, and Reynolds bet everything, Reynolds would win with $21,000. But after both players got the final $2,000 question wrong, even if Reynolds bets everything and gets Final Jeopardy right, he will only have $17,000, which is short of the $18,000 Connery has. In other words, Connery can simply bet nothing and win the game straight up.
So, Trebek, what you have claimed is in fact erroneous. Losing the $2,000 can have a different impact on each player and can in fact completely change the dynamic of the game. I think a fictionalized Sean Connery said it best.
Tonight, as I was watching Double Jeopardy (you know, round two, when all the dollar amounts are doubled), all three players got the same $2,000 question wrong. Trebek remarked, "No harm done. You all got it wrong and lost the same amount of money." But, sir, I object! This is not necessarily the case, especially late in the Double Jeopardy round.
Do you see why Trebek is in fact wrong that no harm was done? Let me pose a simple example. Let's say there are only two players, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds. They have come to the very last question in Double Jeopardy, which is worth $2,000. Sean Connery has $20,000 and Burt Reynolds has $10,500. If both players answer this question incorrectly and each lose $2,000, Connery will have $18,000, and Reynolds will have $8,500.
If neither player had answered the question, Connery would have had to bet $1,001 in Final Jeopardy to guarantee that he would win, earning a total of $21,001. This is because, if Connery bet nothing, and Reynolds bet everything, Reynolds would win with $21,000. But after both players got the final $2,000 question wrong, even if Reynolds bets everything and gets Final Jeopardy right, he will only have $17,000, which is short of the $18,000 Connery has. In other words, Connery can simply bet nothing and win the game straight up.
So, Trebek, what you have claimed is in fact erroneous. Losing the $2,000 can have a different impact on each player and can in fact completely change the dynamic of the game. I think a fictionalized Sean Connery said it best.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Singles and socks
Have you ever been putting away your socks to realize that one of the socks is missing its mate? I'm sure you must have - socks are always mysteriously disappearing, or getting left in suitcases, or falling behind things. I have a lot of different socks, so it is usually quite apparent which sock has lost its partner (as opposed to having a lot of similar white socks for instance, in which case it would be difficult to identify which particular sock has been left single, instead having simply an odd number of similar looking socks).
When this happens, and it is quite a common occurrence, I often feel some regret or a pang of sadness. See, at the forefront of my mind is the realization that this sock will not be returned to its partner or worn again until the next wash cycle. And that assumes I can find the lost soul before I wash my socks again; if I cannot, who knows when these socks will be reunited and my feet can enjoy their cozy comfort.
I'd like to cast this as being disappointed at not being able to wear a pair of socks I like, but I think I must admit I'm also feeling a little sorry for that lonely sock, but that would be absurd, right?
When this happens, and it is quite a common occurrence, I often feel some regret or a pang of sadness. See, at the forefront of my mind is the realization that this sock will not be returned to its partner or worn again until the next wash cycle. And that assumes I can find the lost soul before I wash my socks again; if I cannot, who knows when these socks will be reunited and my feet can enjoy their cozy comfort.
I'd like to cast this as being disappointed at not being able to wear a pair of socks I like, but I think I must admit I'm also feeling a little sorry for that lonely sock, but that would be absurd, right?
Monday, December 01, 2008
A myth
The other day I was visiting my cousin and her new husband, and we decided it would be fun to play some Wii. First I played her husband in Wii golf and beat him handily in a 9-hole round (somehow managing 2 eagles in the process). Then I play my cousin in bowling. We tied the first game, so we played a second, that I won, but only by a thin margin.
Still, what was strange to me was that I had beaten them both. I have only played Wii a few times, and for the most part have sworn off video games altogether. They both seemed a little surprised, and probably a bit frustrated as well. I think truly I just got lucky. But then I started to think about my situation and mythology...
I imagined a curse that I think would make the ancient Greeks proud. Imagine a man who was incredibly talented and lucky. Everything he did he succeeded at, every competition he entered he won. He could have everything he wanted. Except one thing. He could not have the one thing he treasured above all else, his deepest and most passionate desire. Imagine it! Everything at your fingertips, but unable to have what you most want. Even the greatest of things would begin to become a cruel joke because the one thing desired more than it all would continue to be illusive. Soon the greatest victory would be overshadowed by bitterness of defeat at what mattered the most.
And then I was reminded of some lyrics from one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs:
I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
----------------
Now playing: Nickel Creek - Green And Gray
via FoxyTunes
Still, what was strange to me was that I had beaten them both. I have only played Wii a few times, and for the most part have sworn off video games altogether. They both seemed a little surprised, and probably a bit frustrated as well. I think truly I just got lucky. But then I started to think about my situation and mythology...
I imagined a curse that I think would make the ancient Greeks proud. Imagine a man who was incredibly talented and lucky. Everything he did he succeeded at, every competition he entered he won. He could have everything he wanted. Except one thing. He could not have the one thing he treasured above all else, his deepest and most passionate desire. Imagine it! Everything at your fingertips, but unable to have what you most want. Even the greatest of things would begin to become a cruel joke because the one thing desired more than it all would continue to be illusive. Soon the greatest victory would be overshadowed by bitterness of defeat at what mattered the most.
And then I was reminded of some lyrics from one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs:
I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
----------------
Now playing: Nickel Creek - Green And Gray
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The billboard ad
Yesterday I was driving by Philly and saw a really clever billboard. It read:
Don't Advertise!
You might run out of product.
Don't worry, it took me a second, too.
Don't Advertise!
You might run out of product.
Don't worry, it took me a second, too.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The journey
I step out the front door, bundled up in several layers to try to keep warm. It is very early in the morning, still dark out, and very quiet. It is the kind of quiet you only get very early in the morning, after the late night revelers have finally called it quits, but before the early birds have crawled out of bed. It is an eerie and still quiet, like you are the only person in the city and time has stopped. A palpable solitude. I look all around me. Sure enough, not a single person. Perhaps I should have stayed in bed longer. Doesn't matter - I wasn't able to sleep anyways.
I walk down the street, hang a right, and begin heading north. I'm finally starting to wake up and a hint of excitement begins to build in my chest, but it is just a whisper. After I walk a few blocks, as yet having seen no one, I spot one, then two solitary souls up ahead of me, also sauntering north. As I carry on, one at a time, I begin to see a few more people, and then a couple. There is now a slight spring in my feet, as the grogginess slowly fades away, in part because the cold is seeping through my layering to my body. Despite the dozen or so people I now see spread over the blocks in front of me, it is still very silent.
People continue to slowly materialize out of the dark all around me, and I can just make out a few words exchanged here and there. Then, behind me, I hear a rather boisterous group turn onto the street. They aren't really that noisy, but relative to the silence before, they sound almost as if they are shouting. It's still too early for me to try to make conversation, but I perk up a little more and quicken my pace.
I take a left, walk a few blocks, and then take another right, headed north again. My brain is only starting to function , so I'm just guessing and following others. There still isn't much of a crowd, just small pockets of people, and everyone now is taking lefts and rights almost at random, slowly moving across the grid of the city towards the northwest.
And then I hear a faint noise in the distance, almost like music blaring on outdoor speakers. I walk another block; the music slowly grows louder and now I can see lines of people moving in the same direction, towards a faint light in the distance. As I walk another block, it strikes me how bizarre it all is. Thousands of people now, very orderly streaming in the frigid and black early morning towards distant lights and music. The whole scene is surreal: it's like something out of a sci-fi movie, maybe Close Encounters of the Third Kind or War of the Worlds.
As I get closer to the crowd and then become one amid the current, my energy level and emotions jump start, and the hair on my neck and arms stands on end. I have to mentally check myself to save my physical and emotional energy. But now I am finally there - my journey through the streets of Philadelphia has brought me to the start of a much longer and more intense journey through Philly. Marathon number 2 is about to be underway...
I walk down the street, hang a right, and begin heading north. I'm finally starting to wake up and a hint of excitement begins to build in my chest, but it is just a whisper. After I walk a few blocks, as yet having seen no one, I spot one, then two solitary souls up ahead of me, also sauntering north. As I carry on, one at a time, I begin to see a few more people, and then a couple. There is now a slight spring in my feet, as the grogginess slowly fades away, in part because the cold is seeping through my layering to my body. Despite the dozen or so people I now see spread over the blocks in front of me, it is still very silent.
People continue to slowly materialize out of the dark all around me, and I can just make out a few words exchanged here and there. Then, behind me, I hear a rather boisterous group turn onto the street. They aren't really that noisy, but relative to the silence before, they sound almost as if they are shouting. It's still too early for me to try to make conversation, but I perk up a little more and quicken my pace.
I take a left, walk a few blocks, and then take another right, headed north again. My brain is only starting to function , so I'm just guessing and following others. There still isn't much of a crowd, just small pockets of people, and everyone now is taking lefts and rights almost at random, slowly moving across the grid of the city towards the northwest.
And then I hear a faint noise in the distance, almost like music blaring on outdoor speakers. I walk another block; the music slowly grows louder and now I can see lines of people moving in the same direction, towards a faint light in the distance. As I walk another block, it strikes me how bizarre it all is. Thousands of people now, very orderly streaming in the frigid and black early morning towards distant lights and music. The whole scene is surreal: it's like something out of a sci-fi movie, maybe Close Encounters of the Third Kind or War of the Worlds.
As I get closer to the crowd and then become one amid the current, my energy level and emotions jump start, and the hair on my neck and arms stands on end. I have to mentally check myself to save my physical and emotional energy. But now I am finally there - my journey through the streets of Philadelphia has brought me to the start of a much longer and more intense journey through Philly. Marathon number 2 is about to be underway...
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
She likes it bossy
Are you ever polite to inanimate objects? I often use the voice command on my blue tooth to call people from my cell when I am driving. I always feel a little bad demanding it to "call so and so." In my delirium driving home from the gym at 10:15 tonight, I asked my blue tooth to "please call mom's cell." She told me that she couldn't understand. I guess she just likes it bossy.
Monday, November 17, 2008
My new favorite word
These days people often use the word "ambivalent" interchangeably with "indifferent." But I've recently come to learn that a better definition of ambivalent is to feel two opposing or conflicting emotions towards something, or to simultaneously have both positive and negative feelings about something. (And I know I just used a split infinitive, and I don't care - I actually like them sometimes.)
When I learned this new definition, my hair stood up on end, because it seems to perfectly capture my sentiments about so much these days. I see a beautiful sunset and am filled with joy, and yet I am also filled with sadness because I have no one beside me to turn to and share it with. It makes for an incredibly complicated emotional state. To feel so full of life and yet so empty. I don't understand why so much of life is richer when there is someone to share it with, and the closer you are to that person, the richer it is. But I have a hunch we were designed like this: as God put it, "It is not good for the man to be alone."
It's sort of like when you are in a room full of people and feel overwhelming loneliness, or alone in the woods and overflowing with love for people. In the first case, you wonder why you can't be lonely on your own; in the latter, you wonder why there is no one to share all your love with. I even feel this way towards romantic love, eros (the way C.S. Lewis means it, to "be in love", not just sexual love). I am both frightened by it and enraptured by it. I want nothing to do with it and yet desire it intensely. In a word, I am ambivalent towards it, but certainly not indifferent.
Here comes the sun
And the rain
All at once
How it sing
----------------
Now playing: Jason Mraz - Forecast
via FoxyTunes
When I learned this new definition, my hair stood up on end, because it seems to perfectly capture my sentiments about so much these days. I see a beautiful sunset and am filled with joy, and yet I am also filled with sadness because I have no one beside me to turn to and share it with. It makes for an incredibly complicated emotional state. To feel so full of life and yet so empty. I don't understand why so much of life is richer when there is someone to share it with, and the closer you are to that person, the richer it is. But I have a hunch we were designed like this: as God put it, "It is not good for the man to be alone."
It's sort of like when you are in a room full of people and feel overwhelming loneliness, or alone in the woods and overflowing with love for people. In the first case, you wonder why you can't be lonely on your own; in the latter, you wonder why there is no one to share all your love with. I even feel this way towards romantic love, eros (the way C.S. Lewis means it, to "be in love", not just sexual love). I am both frightened by it and enraptured by it. I want nothing to do with it and yet desire it intensely. In a word, I am ambivalent towards it, but certainly not indifferent.
Here comes the sun
And the rain
All at once
How it sing
----------------
Now playing: Jason Mraz - Forecast
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Lips (too much lip)
This past Saturday I took the NJ Transit to NYC to see my cousin, who I hadn't seen in about 8 years. It's intriguing how much people change, and yet how little.
While I was riding on the train to Penn Station, back resting against the side of the train in order to spread my legs out a little towards the aisle, I looked up from my book, in my never-ending curiosity, to check out my fellow passengers. I noticed a cute brunette sitting on the the opposite side of the train, one seat back. She had on one of those old brown hats, somewhat similar to the one Jason Mraz wears in his music video for I'm Yours, and a black top. Very simple, but attractive. I noticed she was playing with and picking at her lips. In my hopeless romanticism, I imagined she was about to be re-united with some love she had been apart from for the past week. She was excited to press her lips against his, and in excited expectation was making sure her lips were perfect for the soft collision.
I looked up a short time later and noticed she was still playing with her lips, running her fingers along them and then picking at them with her fingernails. It was starting to get a little distracting and seemed to be a little more than just preparation for a long-desired kiss. As I looked up periodically throughout the rest of the hour-long train ride, I noticed she was continually touching her lips. By the end of the ride, I was somewhat disgusted with her lip obsession.
I hope the kiss was still great. But seriously, girl, give it a break! I hope he is less annoyed with your habit than I am. And think about it: you are riding on the NJ Transit, one of the dirtiest places known to man, sticking your hands all over your lips and mouth. Not exactly hygienic.
While I was riding on the train to Penn Station, back resting against the side of the train in order to spread my legs out a little towards the aisle, I looked up from my book, in my never-ending curiosity, to check out my fellow passengers. I noticed a cute brunette sitting on the the opposite side of the train, one seat back. She had on one of those old brown hats, somewhat similar to the one Jason Mraz wears in his music video for I'm Yours, and a black top. Very simple, but attractive. I noticed she was playing with and picking at her lips. In my hopeless romanticism, I imagined she was about to be re-united with some love she had been apart from for the past week. She was excited to press her lips against his, and in excited expectation was making sure her lips were perfect for the soft collision.
I looked up a short time later and noticed she was still playing with her lips, running her fingers along them and then picking at them with her fingernails. It was starting to get a little distracting and seemed to be a little more than just preparation for a long-desired kiss. As I looked up periodically throughout the rest of the hour-long train ride, I noticed she was continually touching her lips. By the end of the ride, I was somewhat disgusted with her lip obsession.
I hope the kiss was still great. But seriously, girl, give it a break! I hope he is less annoyed with your habit than I am. And think about it: you are riding on the NJ Transit, one of the dirtiest places known to man, sticking your hands all over your lips and mouth. Not exactly hygienic.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Fish out of water
I have been told that I am "quite a catch" about one too many times. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, the next time someone tells me this, I may very well go throw myself into the Delaware River. My premise: I must be taking people too figuratively. Maybe I will have more luck if I take them literally.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Revelation
My favorite Frost poem, because no matter how much we fight it, we were never meant to keep it all bottled up inside.
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone really find us out.
'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone really find us out.
'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The red tray
Two years ago, I did a terrible thing. I stole a red lunch tray from Subway. Now my theft was entirely unintentional. But that is no justification for my action. Today I finally took the opportunity to rectify my wrong.
See, on a Fall day much like today, back in 2006, I went with some co-workers to Subway. I ordered my sub for "here", with the expectation of eating right outside the restaurant and enjoying the beautiful weather. But when we walked outside, we noticed all of the tables were taken, so we decided to carry on to the square a few hundred yards away. I noticed everyone else had gotten their meals "to go", but I figured I could eat in the square, and then quickly return my tray. But once we got to the square, we noticed all of the tables had been put away for the Winter. To my dismay, the decision was made to walk all the way back to the office and eat there. I was faced with a challenging decision: either walk back to Subway, return the tray, and then hurry back alone, or carry on with my tray and stay with my friends. I chose the latter. Once back at the office, I found myself stuck with one bright red Subway tray. I had stolen it. I could not look myself in the mirror for the rest of the day. But I vowed I would return it at the earliest opportunity.
I did not live up to my vow. That tray sat in my office for close to 2 years, and amassed enough dust to prove it. But today, in view of the whole world, I walked back to Subway with my dust-covered tray. My friends thought I was a fool. Why did I still have this tray? Why on earth didn't I throw it away, or even recycle it? But, I tell you, that tray was not my tray to wantonly dispose of. Yes, it would have been easier to just toss into a garbage can, and my office would have looked better without that bright red dusty tray. But today I endured the shame and disgrace, and returned it to its rightful owners. And I feel that a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And my office looks a little sharper.
See, on a Fall day much like today, back in 2006, I went with some co-workers to Subway. I ordered my sub for "here", with the expectation of eating right outside the restaurant and enjoying the beautiful weather. But when we walked outside, we noticed all of the tables were taken, so we decided to carry on to the square a few hundred yards away. I noticed everyone else had gotten their meals "to go", but I figured I could eat in the square, and then quickly return my tray. But once we got to the square, we noticed all of the tables had been put away for the Winter. To my dismay, the decision was made to walk all the way back to the office and eat there. I was faced with a challenging decision: either walk back to Subway, return the tray, and then hurry back alone, or carry on with my tray and stay with my friends. I chose the latter. Once back at the office, I found myself stuck with one bright red Subway tray. I had stolen it. I could not look myself in the mirror for the rest of the day. But I vowed I would return it at the earliest opportunity.
I did not live up to my vow. That tray sat in my office for close to 2 years, and amassed enough dust to prove it. But today, in view of the whole world, I walked back to Subway with my dust-covered tray. My friends thought I was a fool. Why did I still have this tray? Why on earth didn't I throw it away, or even recycle it? But, I tell you, that tray was not my tray to wantonly dispose of. Yes, it would have been easier to just toss into a garbage can, and my office would have looked better without that bright red dusty tray. But today I endured the shame and disgrace, and returned it to its rightful owners. And I feel that a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And my office looks a little sharper.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
My body is like a furnace
Today, after finishing a tough 20 mile run, I started shivering and couldn't stop (this is a semi-normal experience after tough workouts). The ice bath afterward didn't help. Now, several hours and several slices of pizza later, I am feeling pretty hot, even though my window is open to 59 degree weather. Seriously, it's like I am a furnace. I burned all my fuel and my fire was out. Then I restocked it with pizza, and half a gallon of milk, and its burning too hot. Strange but fascinating.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The cool old guy
Today as I was walking to the car from the gym, my attention was caught by a song that sounded familiar. I looked around for the source of this familiar tune, and noticed it was coming from a pick-up truck at the end of the parking lot with the driver's side door open. Half-way seated in the truck was an older guy, probably 60 or so, bandanna on his head, singing and jamming away to John Mayer's Atmosphere. It was absolutely hysterical, and yet so cool. How on earth this guy ever even heard of John Mayer, much less a little known song like Atmosphere, I have no idea. But I love that song. It almost makes me cry every time I listen to it. All I know is that was one cool old guy, even with the bandanna.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Sing boldly
The other day I was driving to work, windows down, listening to music and singing along. I was at a stop light, and as I looked in front of me, I noticed a pair of eyes peering back at me through the rear view mirror. She seemed to be staring, really. Of course, when I say I was singing, I mean I was singing, emotively and loudly. I thought it was kind of funny that this woman was staring at me. I like to think she was cute, mid-twenties, digging my facial expressions. In reality, she was probably 40 and wondering what the heck was wrong with me. Maybe I was embarrassing myself, but I don't really care.
Recently when I drive on interstates, I have been doing it with my windows rolled all the way down, singing full volume. Sometimes I arrive at my destination slightly hoarse.
You only live once. Have some joy. Keep singing, boldly, and at the top of your lungs if you like.
Recently when I drive on interstates, I have been doing it with my windows rolled all the way down, singing full volume. Sometimes I arrive at my destination slightly hoarse.
You only live once. Have some joy. Keep singing, boldly, and at the top of your lungs if you like.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
A joke full of wisdom
My friend and I were having a conversation about God, and one of the things I mentioned is coming to terms with the fact that often God's timing and our timing are not the same. My friend told me a great joke to this point, and I think it may be one of the wisest jokes I have ever heard. Perhaps you, as well, have heard it:
A very upright and holy man lives in a town that is under threat of flooding. A police officer comes to the man, and says that the town will surely flood, and that the man should leave immediately, or else almost definitely drown. The man responds that God will save him. As the flood waters rise, the man is forced to ascend to the upper floor of his house. A boat comes by his house, and the people in it yell to the man to board their boat so that they can take him to dry land and safety. He again refuses, proclaiming that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and the man is forced to climb onto the roof of his house. Soon a helicopter hovers over him, and the rescuers shout down to the man that they will lower a basket to him. If he gets in it, they can save him from the flood. But the man yells back that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and eventually the man is overcome and drowns.
Upon entering Heaven, he asks God, "why did you not save me? I trusted you."
God replies, "I sent every possible opportunity to you."
A very upright and holy man lives in a town that is under threat of flooding. A police officer comes to the man, and says that the town will surely flood, and that the man should leave immediately, or else almost definitely drown. The man responds that God will save him. As the flood waters rise, the man is forced to ascend to the upper floor of his house. A boat comes by his house, and the people in it yell to the man to board their boat so that they can take him to dry land and safety. He again refuses, proclaiming that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and the man is forced to climb onto the roof of his house. Soon a helicopter hovers over him, and the rescuers shout down to the man that they will lower a basket to him. If he gets in it, they can save him from the flood. But the man yells back that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and eventually the man is overcome and drowns.
Upon entering Heaven, he asks God, "why did you not save me? I trusted you."
God replies, "I sent every possible opportunity to you."
Sunday, August 31, 2008
"Can I call you cute?"
I was hanging out with some friends this weekend, when one of their moms, upon meeting me, said (asked?), "can I call you cute?" I'm not really sure what to say to that. I think I went with the Tom Cruise approach: I just laughed. My friend seemed a little embarrassed, and immediately slipped in a "sorry about that." But honestly, that's okay. At least somebody is calling me cute. Actually, I seem to get this on a fairly common basis from moms. Apparently, I am really attractive to women in their mid-life. Maybe I've found myself in a modern day version of The Graduate. Or maybe not. Hopefully not.
On a similar note, I have a profile up on Match again, and in it I clearly say that I am only looking for serious Christians. I mean, it's in my frickin' headline, even! Somehow, girls just don't get it, despite how explicit I am. Today I get a wink from a girl, and I read her profile, only to discover that she was raised Catholic, but hasn't been to church in 4 years. Sorry, but that's not taking God seriously. And I'm not going to date a girl who just goes to church for or because of me. It's only going to work if we both go to church for God, and share that common approach to life. Somehow these girls just don't get it. I suppose they think that God isn't important to them, so this really isn't important to me (which, of course, doesn't make any sense, because in my profile I specifically state that God is central to my life). Alas, more attention from girls that do not interest me. There seems to be a lot of that these days. But the ones I want attention from are nowhere to be found.
On a similar note, I have a profile up on Match again, and in it I clearly say that I am only looking for serious Christians. I mean, it's in my frickin' headline, even! Somehow, girls just don't get it, despite how explicit I am. Today I get a wink from a girl, and I read her profile, only to discover that she was raised Catholic, but hasn't been to church in 4 years. Sorry, but that's not taking God seriously. And I'm not going to date a girl who just goes to church for or because of me. It's only going to work if we both go to church for God, and share that common approach to life. Somehow these girls just don't get it. I suppose they think that God isn't important to them, so this really isn't important to me (which, of course, doesn't make any sense, because in my profile I specifically state that God is central to my life). Alas, more attention from girls that do not interest me. There seems to be a lot of that these days. But the ones I want attention from are nowhere to be found.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Where am I?
I just got back from a 3 week vacation this past Saturday. The vacation was quite necessary. It was great to just get away from things for a while, see old friends, adventure with close friends, visit my college church, hang out with my pastor, and just love on some people using some muscle and sweat. It didn't all turn out quite as I had planned, but I think I made the best of it.
When I finally got home Saturday night, I was absolutely exhausted. It felt awesome - I was overwhelmed to be back in Princeton, but relieved as well. That night I slept like a brick, and woke up with plenty of time to make the 10:30 service Sunday. I was still pretty cooked Sunday night, but then something really freaky happened.
I was sleeping like a brick, when all of a sudden, in the middle of the night, I woke up. It was almost pitch dark, but I could faintly discern the outline of my surroundings. And I had absolutely no idea where I was. Now I have had similar experiences, but much less intense. This night, my heart started racing, and I felt almost a panic stirring in my chest as I wondered where on earth I could be. For some reason I thought my buddy psychlist was also in the room (probably because I spent many a night sleeping inches from him in a tent, and several more in his apartment). Then I started to wonder why I didn't have any clothes on with someone else in the room (I do like to sleep naked, but not normally with others in the same room). Of course, I was in one of those dreamy stupors brought on by deep sleep, and that just made the puzzle of my whereabouts that much more confusing and disconcerting. My very location and orientation within the room made little sense to me. I didn't have the slightest clue where I was, and that is a frightening thing to face.
It felt like forever, as I disconcertingly tried to ascertain my location, but it was probably only a few minutes before I finally realized where I was. A huge wave of relief went through my whole body. I was "home", whatever that means. And I was alone. It took me several more minutes to calm down, and then I passed out again, in peace.
When I finally got home Saturday night, I was absolutely exhausted. It felt awesome - I was overwhelmed to be back in Princeton, but relieved as well. That night I slept like a brick, and woke up with plenty of time to make the 10:30 service Sunday. I was still pretty cooked Sunday night, but then something really freaky happened.
I was sleeping like a brick, when all of a sudden, in the middle of the night, I woke up. It was almost pitch dark, but I could faintly discern the outline of my surroundings. And I had absolutely no idea where I was. Now I have had similar experiences, but much less intense. This night, my heart started racing, and I felt almost a panic stirring in my chest as I wondered where on earth I could be. For some reason I thought my buddy psychlist was also in the room (probably because I spent many a night sleeping inches from him in a tent, and several more in his apartment). Then I started to wonder why I didn't have any clothes on with someone else in the room (I do like to sleep naked, but not normally with others in the same room). Of course, I was in one of those dreamy stupors brought on by deep sleep, and that just made the puzzle of my whereabouts that much more confusing and disconcerting. My very location and orientation within the room made little sense to me. I didn't have the slightest clue where I was, and that is a frightening thing to face.
It felt like forever, as I disconcertingly tried to ascertain my location, but it was probably only a few minutes before I finally realized where I was. A huge wave of relief went through my whole body. I was "home", whatever that means. And I was alone. It took me several more minutes to calm down, and then I passed out again, in peace.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Ghost Runner
Tonight, when I arrived at the gym, the rain had seemingly passed, and there appeared to be some moonlight to be had, so I decided to do a night run. It turned out to be a good run, although incredibly humid (currently at 97%).
Around mile 4, I started up one of the steepest hills of the route, when a runner suddenly appeared out of the dark coming directly at me. He came into view out of the black so fast it startled me. He was shirtless, with a white fro, running at almost full speed, breathing very hard, with wild eyes. He looked almost feral, running as if filled with fear. A couple minutes later, I turned down a dead end street, to do a loop, when out of the dark, the same shirtless runner came at me again, from the dead end of the street! It's simply not possible that he looped completely around, ran down the street, and was headed back out in the short amount of time I took to get to this street. It was absolutely bizarre. Deja vu of the creepiest sort. I call him "ghost runner".
Around mile 4, I started up one of the steepest hills of the route, when a runner suddenly appeared out of the dark coming directly at me. He came into view out of the black so fast it startled me. He was shirtless, with a white fro, running at almost full speed, breathing very hard, with wild eyes. He looked almost feral, running as if filled with fear. A couple minutes later, I turned down a dead end street, to do a loop, when out of the dark, the same shirtless runner came at me again, from the dead end of the street! It's simply not possible that he looped completely around, ran down the street, and was headed back out in the short amount of time I took to get to this street. It was absolutely bizarre. Deja vu of the creepiest sort. I call him "ghost runner".
Monday, June 16, 2008
Realize
The newest Colbie Caillat single, Realize, is a great song. It's a little understated, with her folksy acoustic guitar vibe, but I really dig the way the lyrics fit so neatly into the melody. The other day, I wanted to listen to it at work, so I looked it up on YouTube and saw the music video for the first time. Wow, they really nailed this song with the video - especially the ending. I don't think there is much that is more romantic than someone waiting on the doorstep for you.
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Cleaning Lady
This past Saturday, I was driving home from downtown Princeton, when I decided to get some comfort food, because I was in some sort of a funk. After leaving CVS with chocolate squares in hand (dark chocolate, of course), I got back in to my car, which was parked directly in front of a bank. The bank building is kind of modern - it's a fairly small building, one story, and two of the four walls are all glass. Once seated in my car, I looked up, straight into the bank through one of the window walls, and noticed that there was a cleaning woman in the bank.
Here it is, Saturday night, at 9:30, and this young lady is cleaning the bank. And she was actually doing a really thorough job, too, even lifting up the phone and papers to dust under them (I wish our cleaning people did half that much). And on top the day and hour, this woman was actually quite pregnant - I'm terrible at judging this sort of thing, but she looked pretty big to my eyes. I'd guess 8+ months.
I started to feel slightly guilty for being in a funk. My problems are silly. Here is this woman, working on a Saturday night, pregnant (I started to wonder about her - is she married, is her husband employed, is the guy even around), and doing a really bang up job. I'm not sure I would clean under the phones on a Saturday night, especially if I was carrying an almost full-term baby in my belly. I watched her for a few minutes, but I think she noticed me staring at her. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so I drove off, but the whole thing stuck in my mind. It was beautiful in a way, and sad, and comforting, and humbling.
Here's to you, cleaning lady - all the best with the baby and everything!
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Now playing: Blessid Union of Souls - I Believe
via FoxyTunes
Here it is, Saturday night, at 9:30, and this young lady is cleaning the bank. And she was actually doing a really thorough job, too, even lifting up the phone and papers to dust under them (I wish our cleaning people did half that much). And on top the day and hour, this woman was actually quite pregnant - I'm terrible at judging this sort of thing, but she looked pretty big to my eyes. I'd guess 8+ months.
I started to feel slightly guilty for being in a funk. My problems are silly. Here is this woman, working on a Saturday night, pregnant (I started to wonder about her - is she married, is her husband employed, is the guy even around), and doing a really bang up job. I'm not sure I would clean under the phones on a Saturday night, especially if I was carrying an almost full-term baby in my belly. I watched her for a few minutes, but I think she noticed me staring at her. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so I drove off, but the whole thing stuck in my mind. It was beautiful in a way, and sad, and comforting, and humbling.
Here's to you, cleaning lady - all the best with the baby and everything!
----------------
Now playing: Blessid Union of Souls - I Believe
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, May 18, 2008
No Such Thing
I woke up this Sunday morning rather early for me - 8 AM - to a surprisingly sunny and blue sky. I was surprised, because I thought for sure today was going to be rainy. Checking the forecast, I learned soon it would be a dreary, rainy day, and so I decided, despite my fatigue from a hilly 5o miler on the bike the previous day, that I would go running before the showers set in. I had, after all, been a bit neglectful of my running shoes the past couple of weeks since the Broad Street Run (where I ran an unexpectedly quick 1:06.29 - 10 miles at a 6:39 pace). Anyways, my run was from home, so necessarily hilly, and I found my legs quickly filling with lactic acid and feeling quite heavy.
When I finally got home, I was starving, but only had enough milk for one bowl of cereal (not enough food at all!), before I rushed off to church. After church I was pretty deliriously hungry, so I set off for the Princetonian Diner, where I knew I could get some quality breakfast fare with good sized proportions. I wanted company, but in the end I guess I turned out ok, because being just 1, I was able to get a seat at the counter without having to wait with the rest of the crowd. The guy next to me mumbled something about not being able to think straight because he hadn't eaten anything today and had gone on a 15 mile bike ride. I mumbled back in agreement, because I was fairly knackered myself after yesterday's ride and my hilly 7 miler a few hours before, and only had one thought on my mind: the Desperado (two fried eggs on top of a skillet full of sliced potatoes, peppers, spicy sausage, cheese, and salsa).
And the meal was extremely satisfying, but my favorite part of brunch had nothing to do with the food. My waitress walked up to me while I was single-mindedly shoveling my brunch away, and asked, "are you an actor? People keep asking me, and they are calling me on the phone." Or something like that - I'm not really sure what she was talking about. Maybe I should have pretended to be someone famous, but I'm not sure I'd play the part well, so I unfortunately had to dispel her hopes and tell her I was no such thing. The guy next to me said I could have at least gotten a free meal out of it. But honestly, having someone mistake me as an actor, however wrong they may have been (I never found out who they thought I might be), was satisfying enough. I guess if I ever decide I want to go the 55 year old diner waitress route, I'll be fairly successful. Not sure how well that translates to the ladies I tend to like, though.
In other news, I have begun reading Pride and Prejudice again. I told myself I was going to read some nonfiction after Anna Karenina, but I find myself compelled to re-read P&P. I'm afraid it's not a good sign, but I should be able to breeze through it fairly quickly, I hope.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin, but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before its too late
When I finally got home, I was starving, but only had enough milk for one bowl of cereal (not enough food at all!), before I rushed off to church. After church I was pretty deliriously hungry, so I set off for the Princetonian Diner, where I knew I could get some quality breakfast fare with good sized proportions. I wanted company, but in the end I guess I turned out ok, because being just 1, I was able to get a seat at the counter without having to wait with the rest of the crowd. The guy next to me mumbled something about not being able to think straight because he hadn't eaten anything today and had gone on a 15 mile bike ride. I mumbled back in agreement, because I was fairly knackered myself after yesterday's ride and my hilly 7 miler a few hours before, and only had one thought on my mind: the Desperado (two fried eggs on top of a skillet full of sliced potatoes, peppers, spicy sausage, cheese, and salsa).
And the meal was extremely satisfying, but my favorite part of brunch had nothing to do with the food. My waitress walked up to me while I was single-mindedly shoveling my brunch away, and asked, "are you an actor? People keep asking me, and they are calling me on the phone." Or something like that - I'm not really sure what she was talking about. Maybe I should have pretended to be someone famous, but I'm not sure I'd play the part well, so I unfortunately had to dispel her hopes and tell her I was no such thing. The guy next to me said I could have at least gotten a free meal out of it. But honestly, having someone mistake me as an actor, however wrong they may have been (I never found out who they thought I might be), was satisfying enough. I guess if I ever decide I want to go the 55 year old diner waitress route, I'll be fairly successful. Not sure how well that translates to the ladies I tend to like, though.
In other news, I have begun reading Pride and Prejudice again. I told myself I was going to read some nonfiction after Anna Karenina, but I find myself compelled to re-read P&P. I'm afraid it's not a good sign, but I should be able to breeze through it fairly quickly, I hope.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin, but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before its too late
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A Concerned Fruit Consumer
Dear Maker of Dole Fruit Bowls,
I really like your fruit bowls, especially the Cherry Mixed Fruit ones. I eat one almost every day as a snack in the afternoon. Those cherries really make a difference, too. You guys do a great job of putting just enough cherries in there so that you can get one for each spoonful.
But we need to talk about your packaging. Maybe it's just me, but every time I try to open one of your bowls by pulling back the plastic covering, I inevitably spill some. That's right, your bowls gleak syrup on me every time I want to eat one. And it's not like I am new to this either - I've been eating these things for over a year now. I try hard not to spill, but it's really just impossible. It's almost like you guys are rigging the things on purpose. It's not like I'm going to stop eating your delicious little fruit bowls, but I'd really appreciate it if you guys made an effort to make your bowls a little less prone to spillage. It's really kind of embarrassing for me.
Thanks for looking into this, and keep up the good work!
I really like your fruit bowls, especially the Cherry Mixed Fruit ones. I eat one almost every day as a snack in the afternoon. Those cherries really make a difference, too. You guys do a great job of putting just enough cherries in there so that you can get one for each spoonful.
But we need to talk about your packaging. Maybe it's just me, but every time I try to open one of your bowls by pulling back the plastic covering, I inevitably spill some. That's right, your bowls gleak syrup on me every time I want to eat one. And it's not like I am new to this either - I've been eating these things for over a year now. I try hard not to spill, but it's really just impossible. It's almost like you guys are rigging the things on purpose. It's not like I'm going to stop eating your delicious little fruit bowls, but I'd really appreciate it if you guys made an effort to make your bowls a little less prone to spillage. It's really kind of embarrassing for me.
Thanks for looking into this, and keep up the good work!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Juno
Juno was released today on DVD. I try to only get movies I will watch several times, and Juno qualifies because it just felt like one of those timeless movies that is so deep and so light at the same time that you will keep coming back to it over the years to both stir and pacify the soul.
There are literally dozens of great lines from the movie, but this one, from Juno's dad, really struck me tonight:
"In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."
This sounds like a pretty amazing concept, but it seems a bit frightening, too. Almost like hero worship, like you can do no wrong in a person's eyes. I don't think that's what is meant though. Furthermore, love must require some level of effort. You cannot simply take someone's love for granted. But I think in the end, while you may have to work to keep a love afire at times, that certainly shouldn't be the status quo. If you are always working, and never sense what is described in this quote, maybe it's just not worth it. Everybody, I think, needs to feel loved just for who they are.
----------------
Now playing: Matchbox Twenty - Long Day
via FoxyTunes
There are literally dozens of great lines from the movie, but this one, from Juno's dad, really struck me tonight:
"In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."
This sounds like a pretty amazing concept, but it seems a bit frightening, too. Almost like hero worship, like you can do no wrong in a person's eyes. I don't think that's what is meant though. Furthermore, love must require some level of effort. You cannot simply take someone's love for granted. But I think in the end, while you may have to work to keep a love afire at times, that certainly shouldn't be the status quo. If you are always working, and never sense what is described in this quote, maybe it's just not worth it. Everybody, I think, needs to feel loved just for who they are.
----------------
Now playing: Matchbox Twenty - Long Day
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, April 10, 2008
A dollar!
Today I found a dollar in the back pocket of my jeans. I've actually found that same dollar in my pocket for the past several days. I keep putting it back. I like repeatedly being surprised by it and feeling a dollar richer.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
A strange farewell
One of the better managers I have worked with had his last day in our Princeton office today, before transferring to Europe. As I was saying goodbye, I remembered a funny comment he made a couple years ago.
See, I keep a lot of food in one of my cabinets at work. Mostly healthy stuff, like oatmeal, fruit, granola bars, and nuts. One day my cabinet was open when this guy stopped by, and he noticed my rather sizable supply of snacks. He paused for a minute, and then I'll never forget what he said: "Well, I know one thing about you. You are probably always regular." If you are going to do potty humor, that's about as classy as it gets.
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Now playing: Avril Lavigne - Hot
via FoxyTunes
I need a girl who wants to sing this to me.
See, I keep a lot of food in one of my cabinets at work. Mostly healthy stuff, like oatmeal, fruit, granola bars, and nuts. One day my cabinet was open when this guy stopped by, and he noticed my rather sizable supply of snacks. He paused for a minute, and then I'll never forget what he said: "Well, I know one thing about you. You are probably always regular." If you are going to do potty humor, that's about as classy as it gets.
----------------
Now playing: Avril Lavigne - Hot
via FoxyTunes
I need a girl who wants to sing this to me.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Sleeplessness
I never was the type of person to suffer from sleeplessness. No matter what was on my mind, I could always get a good night's sleep. Even after fairly traumatic events in my life, I have always been able to fall asleep after, at most, an hour of restlessness. I always wondered what it was like to have something weighing so heavily on you that, despite physical and mental exhaustion, you could not manage to fall asleep. Well, I no longer have to wonder.
About 3 weeks ago, I experienced a few relatively sleepless nights. I was sick at the time, and also having girl troubles, but I wrote it off as simply being due to my illness. It got worse a few days later, plus I started taking Mucinex D, which happens to be a stimulant with potential side effects (I only learned later) including agitation, nervousness, and, as seems obvious with a stimulant, sleeplessness. But the girl situation had also worsened. Still, I simply thought the cause of my inability to sleep was the combination of emotional distress, a cold, and (stimulating) medicine.
But now I find myself writing a blog entry at 4 in the morning. I can't sleep at all. I got in bed exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. And yet I couldn't sleep. It was a very strange experience. My mind wasn't even racing, as often happens when I'm having trouble falling asleep. My thoughts were vague and unfocused. Although they kept coming back to the same thing - the aforementioned girl, whom I had just happened to see this very evening for the first time in 2 and a half weeks. I suppose I was angry at first that I couldn't fall asleep. But there's no one to blame. It's just life, I guess - now I can at least empathize with others when they tell me they can't sleep. I just hope this is temporary. I'm going to be an absolute wreck tomorrow. It's the strangest thing though, because I am wide awake right now. I don't see myself falling asleep anytime soon. How can this be? The heart is a deep and mysterious thing, and I'm in a part of mine quite new to me.
Or maybe it was just the tiramisu...
(but I doubt it)
Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room and...
The time when kindness falls like rain
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Now playing: Counting Crows - Anna Begins
via FoxyTunes
About 3 weeks ago, I experienced a few relatively sleepless nights. I was sick at the time, and also having girl troubles, but I wrote it off as simply being due to my illness. It got worse a few days later, plus I started taking Mucinex D, which happens to be a stimulant with potential side effects (I only learned later) including agitation, nervousness, and, as seems obvious with a stimulant, sleeplessness. But the girl situation had also worsened. Still, I simply thought the cause of my inability to sleep was the combination of emotional distress, a cold, and (stimulating) medicine.
But now I find myself writing a blog entry at 4 in the morning. I can't sleep at all. I got in bed exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. And yet I couldn't sleep. It was a very strange experience. My mind wasn't even racing, as often happens when I'm having trouble falling asleep. My thoughts were vague and unfocused. Although they kept coming back to the same thing - the aforementioned girl, whom I had just happened to see this very evening for the first time in 2 and a half weeks. I suppose I was angry at first that I couldn't fall asleep. But there's no one to blame. It's just life, I guess - now I can at least empathize with others when they tell me they can't sleep. I just hope this is temporary. I'm going to be an absolute wreck tomorrow. It's the strangest thing though, because I am wide awake right now. I don't see myself falling asleep anytime soon. How can this be? The heart is a deep and mysterious thing, and I'm in a part of mine quite new to me.
Or maybe it was just the tiramisu...
(but I doubt it)
Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room and...
The time when kindness falls like rain
----------------
Now playing: Counting Crows - Anna Begins
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Pasta Sauce Shoes
Yesterday I went to the gym, per usual, and decided to do some grocery shopping post-workout. I arrived home probably around 10pm. It was extremely cold - wind chills probably in the single digits. Like every other knuckle-headed guy, I try to carry all of my groceries in a single load (with my gym bag, too, of course). I'm not sure if this contributed to the catastrophe, but it can't have helped. As I step away from my car, bags precariously grasped by my fingers (or fingertips), I hear an odd noise, but I figure it is just food stuffs shifting around. I mean, seems reasonable, as I am carrying 30+ pounds of groceries. Sadly, soon I am to learn what this ignored noise portends.
As I near the door, I hear a rip and smash. I realize immediately that one of my jars of pasta sauce has fallen through the sturdily constructed, unblemished, thick plastic bag the store has generously provided for me to safely and dependably carry my purchase home. Before I can make any more brilliant decisions, another jar falls to the ground - crash! At this point I do manage to muster the wherewithal to put the rest of my stuff down. However, I now have 2 broken glass jars filled with pasta sauce on the sidewalk. On top of that, it's like 15 feet outside my landlords door. I start thinking, "Man, my landlord has a lot of dogs. If they start trying to eat this pasta in the morning, all the glass could really mess them up."
So, for the next 40 minutes, I tried to quietly clean up all this pasta sauce and broken glass, on my hands and knees half the time, with a headlamp on my head. My hands were so cold, I couldn't really feel them, and was somewhat concerned that I was cutting them on the glass, but couldn't really tell in the dark, with my hands buried in red pasta sauce. (Luckily, no damage was done.) I was returning from the gym, so all I am wearing is semi-sweaty sweats over my gym clothes. And it's Antarctica outside! Plus I'm starving. I've had better evenings.
The next morning, I am packing my gym bag, and noticed that one of my running shoes is covered in pasta sauce from the debacle the night before. I am in a rush, so I through them in a plastic bag and head off to work. Tonight, I headed back to the gym. Upon changing into my gym clothes, I notice that I look pretty ridiculous with pasta sauce all over my running shoe (not to mention they are all red, which could be a little disturbing to some, not realizing it was just supposed to be part of the previous night's dinner). I try to clean them off, only to notice that - shocking - the pasta sauce is frozen to it, having sat in my car all day! So the next thing I know, I'm running on the treadmill, doing intervals no less, as pasta sauce is slowly melting off of my shoe. After my run, I proceed to the stretching area and begin stretching, only to notice that now the pasta sauce has completely melted and is now getting all over the stretching mat. And I can't be sure, but it seemed like a few people were looking at me with weird expressions, either because I'm dripping pasta off my shoes, or because they figure I have the baddest ass blister they have ever seen bleed through a shoe.
Epilogue: I did use one of the provided wipes to clean off my mat. And I managed to clean my shoe, somewhat. It is still red. And it smells like pasta.
As I near the door, I hear a rip and smash. I realize immediately that one of my jars of pasta sauce has fallen through the sturdily constructed, unblemished, thick plastic bag the store has generously provided for me to safely and dependably carry my purchase home. Before I can make any more brilliant decisions, another jar falls to the ground - crash! At this point I do manage to muster the wherewithal to put the rest of my stuff down. However, I now have 2 broken glass jars filled with pasta sauce on the sidewalk. On top of that, it's like 15 feet outside my landlords door. I start thinking, "Man, my landlord has a lot of dogs. If they start trying to eat this pasta in the morning, all the glass could really mess them up."
So, for the next 40 minutes, I tried to quietly clean up all this pasta sauce and broken glass, on my hands and knees half the time, with a headlamp on my head. My hands were so cold, I couldn't really feel them, and was somewhat concerned that I was cutting them on the glass, but couldn't really tell in the dark, with my hands buried in red pasta sauce. (Luckily, no damage was done.) I was returning from the gym, so all I am wearing is semi-sweaty sweats over my gym clothes. And it's Antarctica outside! Plus I'm starving. I've had better evenings.
The next morning, I am packing my gym bag, and noticed that one of my running shoes is covered in pasta sauce from the debacle the night before. I am in a rush, so I through them in a plastic bag and head off to work. Tonight, I headed back to the gym. Upon changing into my gym clothes, I notice that I look pretty ridiculous with pasta sauce all over my running shoe (not to mention they are all red, which could be a little disturbing to some, not realizing it was just supposed to be part of the previous night's dinner). I try to clean them off, only to notice that - shocking - the pasta sauce is frozen to it, having sat in my car all day! So the next thing I know, I'm running on the treadmill, doing intervals no less, as pasta sauce is slowly melting off of my shoe. After my run, I proceed to the stretching area and begin stretching, only to notice that now the pasta sauce has completely melted and is now getting all over the stretching mat. And I can't be sure, but it seemed like a few people were looking at me with weird expressions, either because I'm dripping pasta off my shoes, or because they figure I have the baddest ass blister they have ever seen bleed through a shoe.
Epilogue: I did use one of the provided wipes to clean off my mat. And I managed to clean my shoe, somewhat. It is still red. And it smells like pasta.
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