Don't Forget to Bring a Swimsuit

It's not quite Towelie from South Park (Don't forget to bring a towel!), but it's good advice. Let me set up a scenario. You've got a wedding in Miami Beach. You go. It's a short trip, so you try not to get adjusted to East coast time, opting instead for Miami Beach time, going to bed at five or six in the morning, and sleeping in to noon or one in the afternoon. Let's suppose you get back to your hotel after the Sunday evening wedding, maybe around eleven. You find a piece of paper from the Miami Beach public works department telling you that the water will be turned off Monday from 11-3. You decide to go to bed a little after one, which still won't mess with your time zones for when you go back to the West coast. The next morning you wake up just after ten, slowly getting ready for your seven hours of plane rides back to the Northwest. At 10:30 you go to step into the shower to find that the public works department has accidentally broken the water line as they were exposing it for the work to be done, and now you're without running water. Maybe you're right next door to a corner market, and can buy some bottled water for a sponge bath in your hotel. Better yet, you throw on the board shorts and hike across the road, and walk down the boardwalk a few blocks until you find one of the outdoor beach showers. You could stand there scrubbing like a homeless person in the street. How nice. Then the water you buy at the corner market is just the finishing touch back in the hotel. Success.

Now suppose you board the plane, and find that at least a couple of people in the immediate vicinity did not make the same effort. Imagine sitting in that vicinity for five hours and twenty minutes to San Francisco. Hopefully the last leg to the NW will be better.

That was Monday.

I Want to Kick Down a Door

I want to kick down a door so bad I can hardly stand it. It's only been the last few days that I've been perseverating on this, but I want to do it. I'm not angry. I'm not in a destructive mood. I understand that there's really no way this is going to happen, but it's one of those things I'm dying to try.

You see it done on T.V., and sometimes it works better than others, but I'm pretty sure that as these things go, I'd be good at it. And not just kicking. I'd like to ram through a door with my shoulder. Hell, even those battering rams that SWAT teams use would be kind of cool, but I'd prefer just me. And a door. And I win.

I'm not always a destructive person. My profession is helping put people back together, but how fun is it to bust stuff apart? Everybody takes things apart. When we were kids we'd take apart dead watches. That's not what I'm talking about. More like Limp Biskit said, give me something to break.

I can't be alone on this. Surely other people want to break down a door. Not figuratively. Literally. I want to break stuff. Especially a door. And I don't want to get in trouble for it.

Almost Perfect

Have you ever been in the grocery store and stopped cold, wondering if what you just saw was about to change your life forever? Exclude any people you may have been attracted to, and answer again. This was my situation tonight. In the last few weeks I have become a convert to Greek yogurt. It tastes more complex, is better for you, and is kind of new and exciting. Then imagine you combine the phenomenal fig with Green yogurt and you've got something amazing going on.

Well, the yogurt didn't blow my mind, but it was pretty good, and it's a good effort. I vote for putting fig in everything.

Damn You Stars!!!

I've got a beautiful TV, and only two channels worth watching. I'm forgoing cable for streaming Netflix and rabbit ears. I watch some Hulu as well. Well, tonight I was cruising back to the pad thinking I was going to tune into some ABC for some How I Met Your Mother when, much to my surprise, on comes Dancing with the Stars. Regardless of how I feel about watching past seasons, when I see that my one true love and former winner is the new cohost, I admitted to myself that I would not change the channel, and might even keep watching.

Brooke Burke, you slay me. The show, at least in the beginning, is full of beautiful people, but you reign supreme. I've missed you since the days of Wild on E. I didn't watch you dance a couple of years ago, so I must pay homage to you be watching you host.

Friday Morning Television

Before you pass judgement, let me explain that the TV is background while I spend time on the phone with banks and HR departments which have become the thorns in my side.

First show - Let's Make a Deal. Remember when Wayne Brady was kind of cool? Who's Line is it Anyway was a good vehicle for him. Pretty good show. The spot with Richard Simmons was the stuff of television legend. Later Brady's spot on The Chappelle Show was sweet.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

This morning Brady looks a little beaten down. It's a list drop to be sure. Can you really ever make it back from being this show's host? It's not like life is bad or anything. Paying gig, not breaking your back. You wonder if he's really loving it. Is this where he'll spend his last years in show business?

Next up is The Price is Right, with Drew Carey, also from Who's Line. Drew took an intermediate step, as he was the host of Who's Line, but he's in the same boat, but without appearing so tired. Bob Barker owned that show, love him or hate him (I hear he's a dick). Big shoes to fill.

I don't really feel sorry for them. They have easy gigs that pay them probably way too much. They don't have to do any patient charting or anything like that.

Hey, I forgot why I started writing today in the first place! At the beginning of The Price is Right a guy won a car. The little chubby guy goes running towards the car, and by it, the beautiful woman showing it off (what do you call them? They look like FemBots from Austin Powers). As he approaches she leans forward with her hands up at arms length, but slightly above shoulder level. She is obviously encouraging a high-five while creating the maximum separation between them, but it's funny how if her hands were about six inches lower, as it would have been if off camera, that she would be giving him the stop sign.

Enough of this crap, the phone calls are finished.

Issues Resolved

Two years ago, when I was publishing drivel at a faster rate, I shared my conflict with the Olympics. For two weeks the summer games test me. I have four years to recover. "Why not two years?" you ask. I'll tell you. Almost all of the athletes look the same. Their snow suits covering their finally tuned bodies, or their bobsled pushing huskiness.

A more evolved observer might not have these dilemmas, but I have apparently not grown up that much in the last two years. We are, however, left with the faces. Lindsey Vonn is kind of pretty, but I'm pretty sure that her face and head is bigger than mine, and that bothers me in admittedly superficial ways. In the women's moguls, I am not ashamed to say that I was fully cheering for Jennifer Heil (silver medalist from Canada) instead of the Americans. Jennifer Heil was the hottest athlete at the games. Yes, I know she looks a little like a rabbit, but it works.

I guess I have been forgetting about figure skating, but I have a few problems that make it hard for me to fully appreciate it. It is primarily a judged sport, which leaves too much to subjectivity. The ladies are too young looking to factor into my neurosis, and they wear those nude colored whatever you call them, and those always kind of creep me out. My career is movement, so I'm not saying I can't appreciate some of it, but I can't really get into it.

I don't have any more commentary on these games, except to say that for all the flack that curling gets, I was really hoping to catch some matches. After all, how much figure skating can a guy take?

Nobody Is From Portland

A week or so ago I arrived in Portland, and am very excited about it. I was warned by all kinds of fellow Californians that the people in Oregon hate Californians, but the truth is, I haven't yet met many people who are from here. The apartment manager was from Northern California. The leasing agent from Southern California. The guy who delivered my bed from California. I think the guy who sold me the bed was from here, but he's the exception. The friend of a friend I met up with is from the Mid-West. Her boyfriend from Australia. The last two were the ones who told me that nobody is really from Portland. I suspect that another acquaintance or two that I have yet to meet up with are actually from Portland, but right now I don't feel like a trespasser.

Another thing, my registration sticker is hopefully in the mail from SoCal from when the housecleaner hid it. My tags are expired, and I was pulled over a couple days ago for having a license plate light out in addition to expired tags. Dude let me go. Combine that with the hot lady cop who pulled over to see if things were alright as I was changing my tire three weeks ago and the fuzz aren't too bad.

I was going to go register my car today, but when looking online there was extra steps to registering if you did not hold title, so I decided to pay off the car instead. If I can slap the sticker on in the next day or so that will buy me another 80 days of driving without having to go to the DMV. But the nice thing is that when I do have to go, at least my car will be paid for.

Oh, one thing could suck. Apparently Multnomah County is the only county in Oregon that does smog checks. I have a feeling that with the modifications done to my little ride that we might not pass. I guess we might be going to PDX Tuning after all... But that can wait until I'm getting paychecks.

Respect Mike Rowe

This video is good. Respect Mike Rowe. And some other people.

Inverse Relationship

As a general acknowledgment of recent inactivity on this blog, I will point out that there is an inverse relationship between the stuff I've got going on and the number of blogs I put up. That's also why my blogs aren't really about anything. Hopefully these things that must be keeping me busy will soon be the subjects of some blogs in the near future. Hopefully I will be putting some pics up on the other blog in the next few days as well.

The Naked Run

I have just returned from my first run in my Vibram Five Fingers, and they were nothing short of spectacular. After wearing them to work for a couple of days, and another day out to eat, I finally took them on their maiden voyage. After researching the consensus on how far to go on the first run, I decided I would run out one mile, and walk the mile back home. Half a mile in I was pretty sure I would run round trip. Two miles is not impressive, but I've been warned about the week long debilitating calf soreness of the first run.

It has been a year this month since I did the Portland Marathon. I'd never really enjoyed running, but found I could enjoy runs up to six miles. More than that and the planning realities of waking up early, going to bed early, planning hydration and the such discouraged me. Furthermore, there was something that never really seemed right about distance running. A year and a half ago I discovered ChiRunning, which made a lot of sense to me, biomechanically, and greatly improved my ability as well as my enjoyment. I went through at least three pair of running shoes, not wearing any of them out, but never feeling comfortable. I felt a sensory disconnect from my feet and the road. I tried buying some Nike Free 3.0's, but was unable to find them in my size. I settled on a close relative, and while an improvement, were still too much shoe.

Somewhere along the way I became interested in the mechanics of barefoot running, but never really considered it as an option, thinking it the domain of hippie running whack-jobs that smelled like B.O. and patchouli oil. I was nonetheless intrigued, and academically curious. Eventually I stumbled across the VFF's, and new I would buy some.

And buy some I did. They do not blend in. Most will stare or ask questions. Opinions are divided. Some say that feet need the support and cushion of running shoes, yet there is no evidence that this is true. In fact their is more evidence to the contrary, if people examine their unfounded truisms. The more cushioned the shoe, the harder the foot hits the ground. When I would run with my roommate, he would hit the ground harder than me, although I outweighed him by fifty pounds.

What happened next was just like I expected. I ran, and did not fight my shoes. I did not find my shoes fighting me. I have not run more than two miles since last year's marathon, and have not enjoyed any of those infrequent runs. But today, in the first day of my experiment on myself, I enjoyed running. I have been having the armchair runner debate about form and technique for some time, and am now turning myself into my own guinea pig.

Right now barefoot running is getting considerably more press. I have Born to Run by Christopher McDougall right in front of me. The websites below offer more information on barefoot running and Vibram Five Fingers.

birthdayshoes.com

livingbarefoot.info

Hazard of deceptive advertising of athletic footwear.