Rants and Reflections

Dolphin Sex and Free Falling

Last night I felt like talking to Dede, but I didn't have anything to talk to her about so I asked her a couple of questions:

Question 1) If you had to be an animal or living creature other than a human, what animal/living creature would you be?  

Dede thought for a few seconds and said "a dolphin."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because they are smart" she said.

I thought that was a good answer.  She then asked me the same question.  I said "I think a dolphin is a good answer, so I would pick a dolphin as well."  She then said in an affectionate tone "oh, then we could be together and have a dolphin family."  She then got a puzzled look on her face and asked "do dolphins have sex?"

I googled the question.  It turns out dolphins do have sex.  Belly to belly.  Don't worry, I won't detail the entire anatomical workings or the sexual process.  If you are interested, there are several sites that describle the process in detail.  The article also indicated that dolphins are not monogamous, and sometimes have sex in groups.  Dolphin orgies.

"Eeeeewwww.  I don't want to be a dolphin anymore."  Dede said.  

"I'm sticking with dolphin" I said

Question 2) If you had to choose how you died from the following forms of death, which one would you choose:  burning alive, drowning, or being dropped from an airplane without a parachute.

"I would be dropped from a plane.  You pass out on the way down anyway."  Dede said

"I don't think you pass out.  I think you are alive the entire way down."

"Oh no, you pass out."  She said.

Back to google I went.  In my search I found one of the more entertaining articles I have read in a long time:  How to Fall 35,000 Feet - And Survive.

It turns out Dede and I were both right.  At 35,000 feet, you would be about 6 miles up.  Once out in the open, you will infact fall unconscious as hypoxia sets in.  What surprised me, is that you will wake up about a mile later (5 miles left to fall).  The article talks about how to give yourself the best chance of surviving.  It gives examples of those lucky few that have survived and lived to tell the tale.  It turns out that if you can manage to shield your landing with another passenger, your odds of survival go up dramatically.  Well, not dramatically, but it helps.  Between 1940 and 2008, 118,934 people have died in 15,463 plane crashes.  Only 157 people lived to tell about it (42 of those fell from higher than 10,000 feet).

Anyhow, should you ever find yourself headed down from 35,000 feet without a parachute, the fall will take about 3 minutes and 25 seconds and you will be awake for the last 2 minutes and 25 seconds of it.  The article gives you some tips on giving yourself the best chance to live through it.

So, we were both right.  She's my little dolphin lover.  

Ed

 

I love Doritos

Sammy was showing me how to use my special effect on my Mac.  Here is my first video.  

 

Lots of random thoughts

Thought #1

Last night I was trying to think of something to blog about when my daughter Rian came into the room.  I told her I didn't have anything to write about.  She immediately responded back to me in an arrogant adolescent tone "I never have problems coming up with things to write about".  She then walked out of the room.  While I didn't appreciate her tone, her comment caused me to think about why I couldn't think of anything to write about.  I then started to think about what Rian writes about .  She usually doesn't write about anything funny.  Her writing is usually filled with teenage angst and romanticised dreams of the future.  So, I guess what I really meant is "I can't think of anything funny or amusing to write about".  I can write about angst.  I have enough angst for an entire village.  As far as romantic dreams of the future, I don't have a lot of those.  I usually just think about death.

I guess the question is, do people really want to hear about the serious stuff?  My angst, my day to day struggles, fears, irrational throughts.  There's a lot going on there.  I have a lot to write about if that's what people want to read about.  Sure, there may be some smatterings of humor, but this thing is going to get dark in a hurry.  Something to think about.

Thought #2, 3, 4...

I was in the elevator today and noticed that I have a few pet peeves about elevator ettiquette.  I don't like it when people get on an elevator to go one floor.  If you are physically able and you are only going one floor, take the stairs.  Second, some people get on the elevator and are so important and in such a hurry that they feel the need to push the close door button repeatedly until the elevator door closes.  They insist on standing right next to the buttons, like elevator hijackers, and then they push the close door button several times until the door actually closes.  They repeat the same behavior at every floor.  As soon as the door opens, they start pushing the close door button.  By the way - I don't even think that button works.  It's like that cross-walk button to get the street light to turn green.  That button doesn't work either.  As far as I am concerned both buttons are there only to make people feel like we have control over something we don't.  The same people that invented those buttons are probably the same people that killed Kennedy.  One big conspiracy (that's only a joke by the way).

While I was thinking of my elevator pet peeves, other pet peeves came to mind.  First, I don't like it when people quote Yoda in church talks.  Seriously.  We've all seen the movies and we've heard the quotes a thousand times.  "There is no try, only do."  For the love - STOP!  It's not Jesus, it's Yoda!

Lastly, I am just tired of politicians.  It doesn't matter what side they are on.  I don't know what to believe anymore and I don't feel like they have the public's best interest in mind.  I think politicians have their own interests in mind.  Enough about that topic and enough for tonight.

Small Injustices

Okay - so I wrote this blog a year ago and I found today that I had never posted it.  I liked it, so I am posting it now...

It had been 5 years since DD had her last IUD implanted, so it was time for a replacement.  DD's on birth control, because I don't have the balls to get snipped - figuratively speaking.  That's a story for another day.  Anyhow, while I was at work I got a text from DD, she was at her OBGYN to have the IUD replaced.  She tells me that the insurance won't cover the replacement IUD and that it will cost $1,200.  "Would they rather pay for a baby?" I ask, suggesting that we should threaten the insurance company with pregnancy if they don't pay for the IUD.  DD wanted to know if she should have the replacement put in or not.  I say yes, put in the IUD.  The IUD lasts 5 years, and the pill will cost $20 a month, so 5 years of the pill is the equivalent cost of an IUD.  Besides, when DD has an IUD, her evil friends don't visit on a monthly basis.  It's like hanging a horseshoe over the door - well, sort of.

A few days later, DD and I were sitting on the sofa.  She was reading a Time magazine.  This is strange, because we don't subscribe to Time magazine, DD doesn't buy Time magazines, and  I haven't recently purchased a Time magazine.  I inquire as to its origin:

Theo:  Is that a Time magazine?

DD:  Yes

Theo:  Where did you get it?

DD:  I took it from the Dr's office

Theo:  You took it from the Dr's Office?!

DD:  Well, it had a good article and I wasn't finished with it

Theo:  You have got to be kidding?

DD:   It's not like it's this months issue (as if that justifies it)

Theo:  That doesn't make it okay.

DD: Oh please!

Theo:  You stole that magazine!

DD stands up, faces me, and holding the Time magazine above her head like the severed head of her sworn enemy, yells "I paid $1,200 for this magazine!"

Ahh.

 

Driving through Nebraska

We are driving the first leg on our way home from Salt Lake City to Pittsburgh. we are driving, because I am too cheap to pay for plane tickets during the holidays. We've been driving for 11 hours. My 17 year old daughter RN is now at the wheel. She's had her drivers license for 6 months and we have placed the welfare of our family in her hands for a few hours while she drives 80mph on I-80 weaving in and out of traffic. Death may be imminent, but i just finished a 4 hour shift, and I don't want to drive anymore, so i will take my chances. RN drives on the left side of whatever lane she is in. I think her eyes are not aligned on her face correctly, like some sort of defect. No amount of corrective feedback I provide stops the behavior. In fact, as I write this RN drifts left out of the the left furthestmost lane onto the grated pavement that makes noise when you drive on it. DD asks for confirmation from the third row seat that everything is okay. The tone of DDs voice suggests that she does not approve of Rians sloppy driving and I should give Rian more corrective feedback. "Everything is fine" I yell back, "go back to your movie". I dont tell DD that I am blogging instead of watching Rians driving. My IPOD is playing songs randomly through the car stereo. RN asks me to skip about every third song, because she does not like what's playing. I just skipped Down by the Sea by Men at Work. I can't blame her for skipping that one. We are now listening to Cool Change by Little River Band. She sings to music while she drives. She also likes to talk to me while she drives. The problem is that she likes to look at me while she talks, which takes her lopsided eyes off of the left side of whatever lane she is in. I tell her she is not allowed to talk while she drives. "How can you go from being such a nice guy to being so mean?" she asks. "Zip it" I respond. I am her favorite.

My Favorite Children's Books

I just finished reading my kids some of our favorite children's book - for old times sake.  Here is a list of my favorites:

• Ira Sleeps Over
• Sylvester and the Magic Pebble
• Where the Wild Things Are
• Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse
• Tikki Tikki Tembo
• Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
• Green Eggs and Ham
• One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish
• Caps for Sale
• George and Martha (any of them)
• Make Way for Ducklings
• Blueberries for Sal
• Click Clack Moo:  Cows that Type
• The Tale of Peter Rabbit
• If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

Why my wife thinks I am a child - Reason #2 - I love video games

Video games have always been an integral part of my existence. I love video games.  I always have.  When I was young, I had those Mattel handheld games (basketball, and football).  I could play for hours.   I never had an Atari, but I had plenty of friends that had one.  I could hardly wait for my turn.  Then my parents brought home a ColecoVision when I was 12.  I couldn't get enough.  Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr, Zaxxon, Q-bert, Looping, LadyBug, etc.  In Minnesota, we lived close to a place called Rockefellers Arcade in Minnesota.  Every Monday night at Rockefeller's Arcade you could pay $3 and play as many video games as you wanted for the evening.  I was there every Monday.  And then there was the Har Mar mall.  Big arcade.  I spent a lot of time there.  At the rollerskating rink, I was always on the video games.  Don't get me wrong, I would rather have been rollerskating with girls, but let's face it, I was pretty awkward, so there wasn't much interaction with girls at that point in my life.  Dig Dug, Ms. PacMan, Pole Position, Dragon's Lair, Tron  It's like a drug addiction.

Now that I am older, the love for video games really hasn't gone away.  I admit, it's childish.  Don't get me wrong, I am a contributing member of society.  I have a great job, I work a lot of hours, I provide for my family, but I love video games.  We have an Xbox and a Wii.  I love Need for Speed, Call of Duty, and a laundry list of Mario games.   Shoot em', drive em', hit em' - doesn't matter to me, I can play for hours.

As a child, and as an adult, video games did, and still do, one thing for me that nothing else can.  Video games allow me to think about one thing and one thing only.  The game.  There is nothing else that has that effect on me.  My mind is always on and always moving.  I am obsessive compulsive.  The one way "out" for me is video games.  If I have a bad day at work, video games allow me to let it go for at least a few minutes.  When I am 80, and the kids have all moved away, I will still have the latest gaming technology in the house.  It's core to who I am.

I bought a puppet!

Today we wandered around Sewickley Village.  We stopped in the local toy store.  Dede says "we have a gift card to this place."  They had puppets, so I bought one.  Meet Tony.  He's an unemployed construction worker.  I think Tony's going to have a few things to say.

Why my wife thinks I am a child - Reason #1 - I like the Pussycat Dolls

Everyone of these songs appears on my iTunes playlist and is played regularly.  Dede thinks the Pussycat Dolls are skanks.  I like them.  Someday, if #8 on my bucket list is ever fulfilled, I will be able to dance to the Pussycat Dolls music without looking like a freak.  Right now I just sing along in the car (while Dede listens - annoyed).

 

The Leatherman

 
My birthday was a few weeks ago.  My parents gave me a Leatherman.  The Leatherman was wrapped in a handwritten birthday note from my mother.  She thought she was so clever in the note that she asked for the note back after she gave it to me, so she could post it on her blog.  I told her it was my my note now and she could not have it back.  The note reads:

If you ever get your arm stuck in a slot canyon, this Leatherman will allow you to cut yourself loose without any trouble at all.  It's sharp.  It's not one of those cheap ones that takes all hour to cut through the flesh.  You'll be able to whack it off with a neat clean seam.  In fact, my advice to you is don't spend days drinking your own pee - (that's just so embarrssing).  Cut your arm off first thing while you have enough water left to climb out of there.  And for heaven sake, don't take a lot of film footage of yourself, because it's just not fun to listen to a lot of whining.  Just keep it to yourself.

Do you even know where that slot canyon is?  My advice is stay in the city.  Use this tool for a mugger.  Better to cut someone else, then to be cut yourself, I always say. 

Hope you had a wonderful birthday that did not include any mutilations.  Much love.  You've been a wonderful son, although we werent' always aware of it.

Mom (and Dad)

Isn't that a nice note?  Makes a nice blog post too.  I love how my Mom throws my Dad a small bone, when signing the note, by putting "and Dad" in parentheses after "Mom".  He's the one who thought of, and purchased, the Leatherman for me in the first place.  He spends all afternoon shopping for a gift.  She writes a clever little note and all of the sudden she's hijacking the entire gift and he's a secondary player in the entire experience.

In addition to going out and buying the gift, my Dad also went out and bought a cake.  The cake said "Welcome" instead of "Happy Birthday."  My Mom made fun of him all night for that one.  "Who buys a birthday cake and puts welcome on it?" she asks mockingly.  I don't honestly have a good answer to her question, but it's not like she was out buying the cake - she was busy hijacking the present he went out and bought me.

I haven't used the Leatherman yet.  I am not really a "tool" guy.  Tools give me a rash.  At least that's what I tell Dede.  I will take it with me if I ever make that trip to the Grand Canyon though.  I am a fraile little fella, so it shouldn't take long to cut off one of my appendages if the need arises.  Hopefully it's just my arm.  My leg would be my second choice.  Any appendage other than arms and legs and there won't be any cutting.  Death first.  If that particular appendage is stuck under a rock, I likely won't want to explain to the rest of the world how it happened.  I hear it can get lonely in those canyons.