My Youtube Shame (and then a good video) Part I

We've all had nights where we've been caught up watching Youtube videos until four A.M., and had to drag ourselves into work the next day on just ninety minutes of sleep. Oh, you haven't? I have. Several times. Most of the videos I have no problem sharing with friends, but there are a few I should probably keep to myself.

Take for example the Ram It video. I've watched this video at least fifty times, and can say without a doubt it is the gayest video on the Interwebs. The problems are many fold. First, they say "ram it" way too many times for comfort. Then if you actually listen to the words you hear things like "I come from the end, lookin' for the sack. I don't stop comin' till I put 'em on their back." and the guy confessing that he "don't want Dick running over me." Also, does anybody really find those cheerleaders with their big 80's hair attractive? I thought not.



Okay, as an apology for subjecting you to that, please also enjoy this pwning of Sarah Palin.

Don't Do Fat. Not Even Once.

Back in March I came up with a way to motivate myself to exercise more and get in shape. Angie and I came up with some fitness goals involving weight, size, and endurance. We agreed on my 30th birthday as the deadline to meet these goals. The bet was if I failed I would take Angie to Disney World. If I won, I told her she would have to do some things she wouldn't normally do. She said no to that, so I decided to cross that bridge when and if I came to it.

So my training began. I loaded up my mp3 player with music from the Rocky soundtrack, and hit the streets. I started out with leisurely strolls around the neighborhood and Washington Park and even threw in some light jogging. I didn't concern myself with the weight goal just yet because I felt I could reach that in about eight to ten months with dedicated dieting.

As the weather got warmer I started hitting the gym. It was time to start my strength training anyway. I showed up at the gym with infrequent regularity. Good for a week, skip a week. Needless to say this hampered my progress, especially since that skip a week turned into skip two weeks, go one day, skip another week.

One day in August, after nearly a month of wallowing in my own fat, I decided to return to the gym with renewed vigor. That's when I got the shin splints. I didn't know they were the shin splints at the time, I just knew every step I took sent fiery agony from my foot up to my knee. It was my doctor who broke the news. The following is a dramatization of that fateful conversation:

Me: Give it to me straight, doc. I'm a man. I can take it.

Doctor Hendricks: (rolling his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other) You're too fat, fatty. When fatso's like you get on a tread and start running it creates too much stress on your fat legs. You have a case of the shin splints...the fat person version.

Me: Is it serious? Will I live?

DH: Oh, you'll live (under his breath) unless a heart attack gets ya. I recommend staying off that treadmill for six weeks, otherwise you could develop a stress fracture. And then you'll be on crutches, fatty. If you need to do some cardio, and - let's face it -you do, stick to a stationary bike. Preferably one that your grossly obese carcass won't break as soon as you sit on it. (Puts cigar out on his arm)

So I tried the stationary bike a couple of times, and it was boring. Much more boring than the treadmill, which is the most boring thing in the universe. Feeling dejected and sorry for myself, I quit going to the gym all together.

Fast forward two months later to this past Saturday. I make my triumphant return to the gym. I hit that tread with reckless abandon, and feel great. I repeat the same thing on Sunday. I'm feeling so good I went back again tonight, Monday, and I lasted about ten minutes. The shin splints are back with a vengeance.

So here is the situation. I need to get on a treadmill, because I'm fat. But, since I'm fat, I shouldn't do the treadmill. The moral of the story? Fat. Not even once.

The Origin of the Universe - Justnowism

My Conversation With The John Lennon Bot

These things never go well, but about once a year I have a conversation with the chat bot programmed after my favorite singer/songwriter. Here's how it went this year.

Hey, this is John speaking (with his fingers). What's your first name?

Andy

Hey,Andy,You know my name,look up the number.

Yeah. That wasn't one of your best songs.

I never noted his nose until about six months ago.

I see they still let you do drugs in...wherever you are.

You see they still let i do drugs in wherever i are?

Why are you mocking me? I'm a big fan.

Reductionism.


What does that mean?

Nothing really. I said it just to please you.

So what have you been up to lately?

I've no idea. Perhaps I should ask you.

If I knew I wouldn't have asked.

Try it.

What?

Try it. I have a book.

You ever been rick rolled?

No I don't think I have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu_moia-oVI

http:%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch?v%3DYu_moia-oVI


Whatever.

Are you saying you don't care about it?


Yes.

Okay.

Bye.

Yeah bye.

Jerk

Are you a vegetarian?

---

I wonder if that's what he was really like.

Nic's Pics

All photos were taken by my friend Bryan.

The Tale Of Brave Sir Nicolas

Friday: Angie's mom calls me regarding something in her backyard underneath the lawn mower. I can hear her dogs going nuts in the background. She thinks maybe it's some kind of lizard or snake. We head over to her place and discover it's a cat. It looks half starved and can't walk, my guess is it was hit by a car and has dragged itself to this point. I gently pulled on his scruff, and the skin stayed sticking out which is a sign of dehydration. We take it to the Emergency Animal Clinic. At the clinic they run some blood work, and give the cat a once over. It tests negative for Feline Leukemia, and kidney and liver enzymes are normal. They still need to run x-rays as the cat has an obvious and serious injury to or near its rear left leg. They say he was definitely hit by a car. We leave the cat there over night with a promise from the staff that we will be updated on the cat's condition.

Saturday: After an early morning call from the clinic we learn that the cat, which we have since dubbed Sir Nicolas, has a broken pelvis and a broken leg. We arrive at the clinic shortly thereafter.

Before consultation, they let us see Nic. He is already a completely different cat than the scared, scrawny thing we left last night. He shows a very friendly and playful disposition, nipping our fingers and trying to hold our hands down so he can give them a serious licking. It is Nic's opinion that no amount of petting is too much for him, and he purrs constantly.

The doctor shows us the x-ray of Nic's leg. I don't know anything about reading x-rays, but I do know that your leg shouldn't be in about fifty different pieces. The only viable option is to amputate the leg, a procedure that will cost anywhere from one to two thousand dollars. A big thank you to Angie's mom goes here for covering the things they did charge us for.

At this point I'm thinking euthanasia is going to be the only course of action we can take since there was no way we could pay for the surgery, but the vet came up with a solution. She offered to perform the amputation for free on her own time (with a good old fashion neutering for good measure) if we agreed to foster Nic to recovery until the Animal Protective League can take him in.

There were a couple of surprises during and after the surgery. When the leg was removed yellow pus oozed out the wound. There was so much of it the vet told us that based on the amount of pus she would guess that Nic had been hit by the car around 7 - 10 days ago, and that he was lucky to be alive.

Sadly, she spoke too soon. A half hour after his surgery Sir Nicolas died. His heart stopped...Luckily they were able to revive him. Most likely he passed a blood clot, but they were able to get him ticking again by flushing his system with some kind of medication. They tell us he should be fine, and can go home on Sunday.

Sunday: The vet releases Sir Nicolas into our care. She gave us instructions for his pain meds and antibiotic, and he has an appointment to see our regular vet on 10/25. Until then he is confined to crate so his hip can mend properly. He seems to be okay with his new surroundings, and eats like a pig whenever we feed him.