So we have this monthly department-wide meeting over lunch today at work, and the tradition is that the monthly birthday people supply the lunch for the group. This works out well for me, since the December dinner is a big Christmas party meal thing, but I digress. The February crew today did Italian, and in what I assume is an effort to be sensitive to folks of all diets and tastes, one of them made (presumably delicious) low carb spaghetti.
Let's run that back again. Low. Carb. Spaghetti.
I know of two good reasons to eat spaghetti other than it being tasty. The main one is carb loading. Spaghetti, while delicious, is beneficial because it gives distance runners such as myself wonderful slow burning carbs that give extra energy for races and strenuous workouts. It's the best thing ever.
The other one is that spaghetti is dirt cheap. I imagine low carb spaghetti, whatever it is, is probably much pricier than run o' the mill awesome carb filled spaghetti.
So this abomination known as "low carb spaghetti" is like spaghetti with all the inherent benefits of spaghetti removed.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Fun, True Facts about the National Anthem of Norway
I have hated the Norwegian national anthem since before I started kindergarten for reasons we might touch upon another day. It involves a Commodore 64 and one of my sisters.
1. The name of the anthem is "Yes, We Love This Country." Look, people of Norway, I'm happy that you love your country, but this reeks of desperation. You might as well call, "It's a Dump, but it's OUR Dump."
2. The first stanza tells us why the Norwegians love their country: literally thousands of people live there, and it is above water. "Come to Norway! Not too crowded! You probably won't drown!"
3. The rest of the first verse tells us to think of our father and mother and the saga night that sends dreams to earth. I know from my early education via Commodore 64 that Saga was a Norse Goddess, but that's really the only clue I have to decipher that part.
4. The second verse details the great heroes of Norwegian history. Harald uniting the country, Sverre speaking against Rome. That sort of thing. As far as I can tell, there have been no Norwegians of note since their king was excommunicated by the Pope a thousand years ago. They should consider re-writing this verse so it includes A-Ha.
5. The next two verses are about how Norway has defended itself from invaders using farmers with axes and their wives. This leads me to believe that no foreign power really wanted Norway all that much. They also proudly state that they burned their land if they were defeated. Even Norwegians are ok with destroying Norway.
6. There's a nifty verse about how much they like Sweden and Denmark. Neither Sweden nor Denmark have a similar verse in their anthems about how much they like Norway. This is telling.
1. The name of the anthem is "Yes, We Love This Country." Look, people of Norway, I'm happy that you love your country, but this reeks of desperation. You might as well call, "It's a Dump, but it's OUR Dump."
2. The first stanza tells us why the Norwegians love their country: literally thousands of people live there, and it is above water. "Come to Norway! Not too crowded! You probably won't drown!"
3. The rest of the first verse tells us to think of our father and mother and the saga night that sends dreams to earth. I know from my early education via Commodore 64 that Saga was a Norse Goddess, but that's really the only clue I have to decipher that part.
4. The second verse details the great heroes of Norwegian history. Harald uniting the country, Sverre speaking against Rome. That sort of thing. As far as I can tell, there have been no Norwegians of note since their king was excommunicated by the Pope a thousand years ago. They should consider re-writing this verse so it includes A-Ha.
5. The next two verses are about how Norway has defended itself from invaders using farmers with axes and their wives. This leads me to believe that no foreign power really wanted Norway all that much. They also proudly state that they burned their land if they were defeated. Even Norwegians are ok with destroying Norway.
6. There's a nifty verse about how much they like Sweden and Denmark. Neither Sweden nor Denmark have a similar verse in their anthems about how much they like Norway. This is telling.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Month of the Living Dead
My body has been craving sleep lately. I have been making a point to get my normal sleep allotment, generally about 6-7 hours, only to discover that I am basically dead and useless until about 11. On the weekends, I've been getting somewhere between 12 and 13 hours of sleep and still am tired at the start of the next week.
And then, the dreams. Somehow I had a dream about Andy Dufresne hang gliding in Mexico the other night. Another night, I dreamed there was an old, classic black and white movie that quoted, line for line, Warden Norton's lines when he discovers Andy Dufresne is not in his cell, complete with a character named "Fuzzy Breeches". Now, while I work in the field of mental health, I am not a psychologist, but I imagine this is probably due to the fact that we often fall asleep with The Shawshank Redemption playing in the background. But! Wouldn't it be more fun if the cause of the dreams were deep-seeded urges, insecurities, or repressed memories? This calls for an amateur psychoanalysis team. Anything that will help me get my normal amount of sleep and also feel rested in the morning.
And then, the dreams. Somehow I had a dream about Andy Dufresne hang gliding in Mexico the other night. Another night, I dreamed there was an old, classic black and white movie that quoted, line for line, Warden Norton's lines when he discovers Andy Dufresne is not in his cell, complete with a character named "Fuzzy Breeches". Now, while I work in the field of mental health, I am not a psychologist, but I imagine this is probably due to the fact that we often fall asleep with The Shawshank Redemption playing in the background. But! Wouldn't it be more fun if the cause of the dreams were deep-seeded urges, insecurities, or repressed memories? This calls for an amateur psychoanalysis team. Anything that will help me get my normal amount of sleep and also feel rested in the morning.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Tall People Problems
I gave blood today. I love giving blood for a number of reasons: it comes with some sweet swag, I get that smug feeling that comes with community service, and they feed me all my favorite Keebler brand cookies. All good things. Plus, for whatever reason, blood bank workers always feel the need to compliment my body while I'm donating, specifically my huge honking veins that pop out of my arms. "Oooh, those are some nice big veins. I can see where they like to attack them. I could go with either one." goes the typical exchange.
However, there are aspects of giving blood that are somewhat uncomfortable for me. Obviously, getting a finger prick and my arm jabbed with a super huge needle is less than my favorite thing. But in addition to those unpleasantries, there are a few problems that I am assuming most of the population does not experience when giving blood that are unique to tall skinny males. It may not be readily obvious on the internets, but in real life, I am actually quite tall. 6'4", to be exact.
1. Orthostatic hypotension. I have suffered from it ever since I hit my growth spurt and shot up 11 inches between 14 and 15. Basically, if I stand up too quickly at times, all the blood runs out of my head, leaving me to collapse and convulse on the floor for a few seconds, frightening everyone around me. Draining blood from my body exacerbates this considerably, making it an adventure every time I stand up, but the brief lack of consciousness leaves this crazy little out of body experience which is actually fun and kinda trippy to go through. I never mention this problem to the screeners, who thanks to my immaculate vitals believe me to be the picture of health. More on them in a minute.
2. Short cots. Blood drives have these tiny little temporary cots you lie on while you get your blood sucked out of you, and they are not designed for the vertically gifted. In fact, I usually end up kicking someone in the head or avoiding a game of footsie with the person unfortunate enough to be in the next cot over.
3. Long arms and vital signs. Generally, when taking vital signs, the screeners have this nice little table thing between them and the donor. However, if the donor has long awkward Go-Go-Gadget Arms, it simply does not suffice. When my blood pressure gets taken, I have to fully extend my arm, leaving my hand off the table and invading personal space. Worse, since one should not close their fist while getting their blood pressure taken, I have an open hand fully extending toward the almost always female screener's chest. At this point, the screen has to apply the cuff and listen with the stethoscope, which requires her to lean forward, and it is at this point that I have to awkwardly shift in my chair and slide my arm around as much as I can to avoid groping the poor woman. I have yet to find any way to give blood that doesn't involve molesting my screener for a brief second. It seems to happen regardless of the person's size or shape. I can only assume that they either can't tell that their boobs are attacking my hand through the scrubs or that it happens frequently enough that it's just a minor occupational annoyance. At any rate, it's always uncomfortable for me, and the fact that the screener is either unaware or indifferent to the whole process leaves me no social cues, making me even more self-conscious about the thing.
Luckily, giving blood makes me feel healthier after the whole passing out every time I stand up situation passes, and then I get a second wave of smugness when the automated voice calls me and tells me that some patient in Dayton, OH is alive thanks to me. You're welcome, complete strangers!
However, there are aspects of giving blood that are somewhat uncomfortable for me. Obviously, getting a finger prick and my arm jabbed with a super huge needle is less than my favorite thing. But in addition to those unpleasantries, there are a few problems that I am assuming most of the population does not experience when giving blood that are unique to tall skinny males. It may not be readily obvious on the internets, but in real life, I am actually quite tall. 6'4", to be exact.
1. Orthostatic hypotension. I have suffered from it ever since I hit my growth spurt and shot up 11 inches between 14 and 15. Basically, if I stand up too quickly at times, all the blood runs out of my head, leaving me to collapse and convulse on the floor for a few seconds, frightening everyone around me. Draining blood from my body exacerbates this considerably, making it an adventure every time I stand up, but the brief lack of consciousness leaves this crazy little out of body experience which is actually fun and kinda trippy to go through. I never mention this problem to the screeners, who thanks to my immaculate vitals believe me to be the picture of health. More on them in a minute.
2. Short cots. Blood drives have these tiny little temporary cots you lie on while you get your blood sucked out of you, and they are not designed for the vertically gifted. In fact, I usually end up kicking someone in the head or avoiding a game of footsie with the person unfortunate enough to be in the next cot over.
3. Long arms and vital signs. Generally, when taking vital signs, the screeners have this nice little table thing between them and the donor. However, if the donor has long awkward Go-Go-Gadget Arms, it simply does not suffice. When my blood pressure gets taken, I have to fully extend my arm, leaving my hand off the table and invading personal space. Worse, since one should not close their fist while getting their blood pressure taken, I have an open hand fully extending toward the almost always female screener's chest. At this point, the screen has to apply the cuff and listen with the stethoscope, which requires her to lean forward, and it is at this point that I have to awkwardly shift in my chair and slide my arm around as much as I can to avoid groping the poor woman. I have yet to find any way to give blood that doesn't involve molesting my screener for a brief second. It seems to happen regardless of the person's size or shape. I can only assume that they either can't tell that their boobs are attacking my hand through the scrubs or that it happens frequently enough that it's just a minor occupational annoyance. At any rate, it's always uncomfortable for me, and the fact that the screener is either unaware or indifferent to the whole process leaves me no social cues, making me even more self-conscious about the thing.
Luckily, giving blood makes me feel healthier after the whole passing out every time I stand up situation passes, and then I get a second wave of smugness when the automated voice calls me and tells me that some patient in Dayton, OH is alive thanks to me. You're welcome, complete strangers!
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Resolve
Attention, people who used to read this blog who have stopped for reasons that may be related to the fact that I stopped writing on it:
It has come to my attention that 2013 was not, in fact, an exciting time for this blog. Luckily, I have resolved to write more this year, and since I have basically nothing of substance to say, this blog may be the primary recipient of it, until I forget and stop following through on my New Year's Resolution.
I made one other New Year's Resolution: To not make any New Year's Resolutions until April. It has come to my attention that the absolute coldest, deadest part of winter is in fact a terrible time to contemplate major life changes. No one wants to exercise when it is so cold that you no longer care if the temperature is being measured in Celsius or Fahrenheit. (At -40, they are the same. Fun Facts.) January, I have come to realize, is the time of making vague hopes of what you plan to do when you can feel your toes again, and what you might like to do when you feel so emboldened to throw off the Snuggie and quit watching Netflix.
(Another good April Resolution: Include product placement in blog posts in case I get enough readers that companies start sending me free stuff. One can never have too many Snuggies. Or carpet cleaner, in case the good folk at whatever shady web 2.0 advertising only read blog titles.)
But yes, back to April Resolutions. February is like a more depressing version of January, so it is clearly ruled out, and March seems like a winner except that the beginning of spring is always the worst. All of the snow on the ground melts, and it generally gets melted by massive amounts of rain. The end result of all this is that the world becomes one giant mud pit and is basically disgusting. Spring is the most overrated of seasons, but the reason it gets its rep is that every spring has one gorgeous day in early April between the otherwise nonstop rainstorms. That is the best day of the year outside of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the first time it snows. It is on this day that I will evaluate my life and make these profound, serious, never taken lightly goals.
It has come to my attention that 2013 was not, in fact, an exciting time for this blog. Luckily, I have resolved to write more this year, and since I have basically nothing of substance to say, this blog may be the primary recipient of it, until I forget and stop following through on my New Year's Resolution.
I made one other New Year's Resolution: To not make any New Year's Resolutions until April. It has come to my attention that the absolute coldest, deadest part of winter is in fact a terrible time to contemplate major life changes. No one wants to exercise when it is so cold that you no longer care if the temperature is being measured in Celsius or Fahrenheit. (At -40, they are the same. Fun Facts.) January, I have come to realize, is the time of making vague hopes of what you plan to do when you can feel your toes again, and what you might like to do when you feel so emboldened to throw off the Snuggie and quit watching Netflix.
(Another good April Resolution: Include product placement in blog posts in case I get enough readers that companies start sending me free stuff. One can never have too many Snuggies. Or carpet cleaner, in case the good folk at whatever shady web 2.0 advertising only read blog titles.)
But yes, back to April Resolutions. February is like a more depressing version of January, so it is clearly ruled out, and March seems like a winner except that the beginning of spring is always the worst. All of the snow on the ground melts, and it generally gets melted by massive amounts of rain. The end result of all this is that the world becomes one giant mud pit and is basically disgusting. Spring is the most overrated of seasons, but the reason it gets its rep is that every spring has one gorgeous day in early April between the otherwise nonstop rainstorms. That is the best day of the year outside of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the first time it snows. It is on this day that I will evaluate my life and make these profound, serious, never taken lightly goals.
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