A Unique(ly Stupid) Present

For Susannah and Michael's wedding, Leah and I bought them a present from their gift registry. However, that didn't seem like enough. After all, Michael and I had grown pretty close after working together for more than two years. But what could I give them that was truly representative of our relationship?

After a lot of pondering, I decided to get them something really, really stupid: a framed 8 x 10 portrait of me with pixelated sunglasses superimposed over my eyes. I had created a similar image before and used it in an instant messaging conversation at work, and this was in reference to that. (If you're curious why I would create such an image in the first place, you can read about the meme here.)

When the day of the wedding arrived, I brought in a modest yet handsome gift bag that contained both their real gift and this stupid one and set it on a table with their other gifts. I was a little annoyed that I wouldn't be present as they opened their gift, but hoped that it would make them laugh.

On Monday evening, Michael sent me a text message with this picture:

He added my ridiculous portrait to his collection of family pictures! I'm guessing that it won't stay there long, but I'm pleased that they enjoyed my dumb little joke, at least for a little while.

Color Run

This past Saturday, I participated in the 2017 Baltimore Color Run 5K. It was kind of lame.

First off, I should say that I did not train for this event. I knew it was coming and I always meant to run after work or on Saturdays, but I never got around to it. When the day of the run came, I was ill-prepared, but I still went through with it anyway.

For those unacquainted with the concept of a color run, it's like any other distance running event (in this case, a 5K), but runners are hit with colored chalk powder throughout the run. What does the addition of color offer that more mundane runs lack? As far as I can tell, just dirty clothes.

One of Leah's best friends, Rachel, wanted to participate in the run, but didn't want to do it alone, so Leah was roped in. After finding out that to register as a team they needed at least four members, I was roped in. I thought that color runs sounded completely stupid, but having not yet experienced one firsthand, I decided to be scientific about it and find out for myself.

It turns out they aren't as stupid as I thought. Perhaps a better way to put it is to say that color runs aren't for me, though I can see why other people might like them. The whole event was about having fun and being happy. Lots of participants wore rainbow-colored wigs, tutus, bandanas, and other clothing and entire families ran together. Throughout the run were signs reminding us to be happy. There was such an emphasis on it being fun that the event was not timed, though I did use an app to track my progress.

So, why didn't I care for the color run? Mostly because it added a lot unnecessary elements to something I already enjoy, so the main thing is obscured. Think of it like a bar of chocolate: if you add a few more ingredients like caramel and nougat, it can compliment the chocolate, but if you add too many ingredients like nuts, marzipan, and orange oil, it can hide what was originally the main attraction.

Not only that, but they only hit us with colored chalk powder four times, which seems too few times for something that's in the name. Yes, I realize that I'm complaining about not having enough of a thing that I didn't even like.

In the end, it was a new experience and it helped to start me exercising regularly again. I don't think I want to do another color run, but another regular 5K sounds like fun.

Our team (Holly, Rachel, me, and Leah) showing off our matching t-shirts, headbands, and temporary tattoos

After the running was over, we were given extra bags of powdered chalk to throw at each other

Team selfie with Holly's friend Lindsay

Any excuse to kiss this woman

Self-induced Sleepiness

As mentioned before, I have to take allergy medication everyday in order to function at my peak. My medication of choice, Flonase, contains low levels of steroids. I had a mild case of bronchitis a few weeks ago and was given a steroid pack to take, which meant I needed to stop using the Flonase for a while and switch to something different. The different medication worked great, so when I had finished the pack, I decided to try using both. However, this made me feel sleepy, so sleepy that I had trouble staying awake at work. Unfortunately, I didn't realize it was the double dose of allergy medication that was causing my drowsiness (despite this exact thing happening before). Not until I had finished off the replacement medication, anyhow.

I have a lousy memory, but this blog helps me recall the past, but only if I review it.

Root Canal

Remember back in May when I had my first dentist appointment in nearly seven years and I got away with just three small cavities?  And then in August how I narrowly missed a root canal?  Turns out, I'm not that fortunate.

Last week, the tooth that the dentist drilled the most started hurting.  My teeth had been sensitive to temperature changes since my appointment, but that was supposed to be normal and would eventually go away.  The pain that I experienced was different.  It was intense and would come out of nowhere.  I would be sitting at my desk at work and suddenly it felt like I was being stabbed in my mouth.  It would last for as long as twenty minutes and it was all I could do to not try to rip my own tooth out.  I made another appointment to see what we needed to do to stop the pain.

Yesterday, the dentist saw me.  After a quick look, he suggested some treatments we could try, including having me use a special prescription toothpaste, but confessed that a root canal was probably in my future.  After looking at a full x-ray of my head, however, he told me a root canal was necessary and asked me if I had time to do it right away.  I decided to go for it, so he numbed me up and started drilling and digging away the deepest part of my tooth.  (And perhaps my experience was different from the norm, but I didn't think it was all that bad.  My jaw got tired holding it open for so long, but it the actual root canal process was no worse than getting a regular filling.)  I got a temporary filling for the tooth that's soft -- and causes me pain if I accidentally eat on that side of my mouth -- and I'm getting a crown added in two weeks.  If all of that wasn't enough, the dentist admitted to me that the tooth is dying and that it will have to be pulled and replaced with a prosthetic some time next year, so I should start saving my money for what insurance won't cover.

Still, the pain stopped.  The dentist gave me a prescription for oxycodone, but I haven't needed it.  And, while the procedure was not cheap, I could still afford it, so I know it could have been much worse.  In fact, the whole experience was pretty good; I had a procedure done that ended my pain and didn't require me to use a credit card.

Seeing All the Errors

Recently, one of my coworkers asked for some advice planning out a big trip this summer.  He's originally from Estonia and is in Baltimore as part of a postgraduate program.  His current position is temporary (I think he worked for Danfoss in Europe, though I'm not positive), so he's planning to take full advantage of his time in the US by seeing lots of sights.  He spends nearly every weekend traveling to different locations all over the east coast, so for his vacation, he's heading west.  His plan includes places like the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Las Vegas, Joshua Tree National Park, Disneyland, the Monterey Bay Aquarium, San Francisco, and more, all in two weeks.  Like I said, he's making the most of his time here.

While we were sitting at a table in the breakroom during our lunch hour, my Estonian coworker pulled out his itinerary to ask the group of us questions to see if we could offer any advice.  The first thing I brought up?  His itinerary's title of "West Coast Trip" was inaccurate: the more correct title would be "West Coast and Southwest Trip."  As soon as I pointed it out, I realized that I was correcting an insignificant problem, and one that he hadn't asked for help with.  I immediately apologized for being overly pedantic.  In good humor, he scribbled out part of the title, leaving only "Trip" behind.

I have been a pedant for most (if not all) of my adult life, but I think I've been even more scrutinous lately.  I know that I'm doing it because my job is to catch errors and flaws in writing and when you do that day in and day out, it becomes hard to "turn it off" when I'm not working.  In an effort to be less of a jerk, I'm trying to be more aware of my corrections.  So far, I'm starting to catch myself as I make the unnecessary -- and unwanted -- corrections.  Now I just need to be able to catch myself before I say anything at all.

He's Got My Vote

Because a fictional super villain is still a better option than a real life one.  At least Lex is honest about his baldness...

Kitchen Blunder

You know what's great?  A perfectly seared Ahi tuna steak.

You know what's not great?  Being an idiot and plunging your searing hot skillet into water to cool it down, only to cause the pan to irreparably warp itself.

At least dinner was good ...

Number Four (Maybe)

I think I had another seizure.  I was asleep at the time and I didn't bite my lip or tear any muscles this time, but I woke up around 3 in morning on Monday feeling, well, feeling like I had just had a seizure.  One thing that was different about this time compared to the previous seizures is that I was medicated when it happened.

So, what caused it?  I think this time it was caused by low blood-sugar.  On Friday, I was still dealing with the worsened depression that came on when I started transitioning to the oxcarbazepine and I ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing.  I felt awful (a bit emotionally, but mostly physically), so I decided to try doing a juice cleanse to help pass the excess food.  In doing so, I was starving most of the weekend (I broke from the diet and got a vegetarian burrito on Saturday).  It was the worst on Sunday, but I drank my last portion of juice right before bed with the hope that I would be okay.  I wasn't.

After I woke up, I couldn't sleep for about an hour or two (when I'm recovering from a seizure, my brain becomes more alert while simultaneously becoming exhausted -- it's not fun).  I emailed my boss and told her what happened, adding that I would need some time to recover.  Even though she approved my absence, I made it into the office after lunch.  I had fitfully slept the rest of the morning (after making sure to eat some cereal and fruit to bring my blood-sugar to a safe level) and I was still pretty of out of it, but I'm glad I made it for the second half of the day.

While I think I was at risk because of the transition, I will watch my blood-sugar moving forward.  And in case you're wondering, the juice cleanse didn't even work.

Almost Duped

I almost fell for a Nigerian Prince Scam.  For those unfamiliar, this sort of scam has a Nigerian prince  (or other foreign dignitary) contact a victim for help: due to political unrest, he cannot access his vast fortune; he offers to send a large check and all you have to do is wire back a small portion of it so that he can free his family.  The problem is that the check is fake, but due to a law in the US, it will initially clear.  After a couple of weeks, however, the bank will find out that the check is fake.  If the victim sent the money as asked, they now owe their bank that amount and, likely, overdraft charges.

I had heard about all of this years ago (Allison nearly went through with it once), but this one had a new twist: I was asked if I wanted to be a secret shopper for Wal-Mart.  I thought that sounded pretty good, so I provided my contact information and asked for more information.  A few days later I got an email from a different email address telling me (in broken English) that I had been approved for the secret shopper program.  It continued by saying that I would receive a check that I was to use for my secret shopping experience.  I thought something was fishy, but when no check arrived despite their promises, I figured that they had given up.

Then the check arrived on Wednesday.  The letter gave me instructions to cash the check and transfer some money to some dude in Texas (they hadn't even bothered to come up with a fake business name) from MoneyGram and review the store from where I wired the money.  I will give the scammer props for giving detailed instructions for the kinds of things to look out for (professionalism of staff, cleanliness of store, etc.), making it seem more legitimate.  The big tip-off that it was a scam (in addition to changing the store I'd be reviewing) was that my "salary" was to be deducted from the check.  If I'd gone through with it, I would have lost over two thousand dollars.

I took the check to work yesterday and sent it through the shredder and I've blocked the person from my email.  I let my interest in something that sounded cool blind me from seeing some blatant warning signs.  In the future, I'll need to be more careful.

What a Waste

Last week, I felt under the weather so I decided to take the week off from the gym.  I had mixed up a protein shake with some berries, but since I hadn't worked out, I decided to save the shake and drink it the next time I worked out, so as to not waste the protein powder and fruit.

I went to the gym yesterday.  After I was done exercising, I shook up the shake and opened the bottle to a loud "pop" sound.  The bottle was pressurized, which meant that the fruit had fermented.  I considered not drinking it, but decided that it would be a waste of money if I just dumped it down the drain, so down the hatch it went.

You may already know where this is going.  I drank it and about an hour later, I endured the first of many trips to the bathroom that night.  I'll spare you the details, but rest assured that it was not pretty.

I tried to save money by not wasting one scoop of protein powder (which costs less than a dollar) and I ended up wasting it in a different way.  Lesson learned: when in doubt, throw it out!

(In)convenient Home Delivery

One of the ways that online shopping advertises itself as being more convenient than shopping in brick-and-mortar stories is that you simply click a few links, enter your payment and shipping information, and your items are delivered right to your door.

Except when they're not.  I ordered some items from Amazon recently and, because I pay for the additional Prime membership, I automatically got upgraded to two-day shipping.  So, I came home on Friday expecting my package, only to find a note from UPS saying that they didn't deliver anything since no one was home.  I've had to go through this sort of thing in the past, so I signed the back of the note on the "X" and put the note back on my door on Monday morning.

When I got home on Monday, there was nothing.  No package, no note: nothing.  I become worried that the package got lost over the weekend or that one of my neighbors took the box right off of my door mat.  I looked up my order on Amazon to get the tracking number to see what happened on UPS' end.  It turns out, that they weren't asking for my signature with the earlier note; they just let me know that they would try again on the next weekday.  When no one answered the door on Monday, they took my box to an Access Point, which was located in a convenience store, though not one that was particularly close.  I called ahead and confirmed that they had my package before I left.  Once there, the process of getting my box was easy enough and I was out the door in less than five minutes.

Here's the thing: part of the reason I ordered online was to avoid going anywhere.  While I had other motivations (picking exactly the items I wanted, getting a better deal than was available in local stores, etc.), staying at home was still part of the deal.  And while I understand why UPS did what they did, they should have left me a note the second time to tell me that I would have to pick up my package.

The moral here is that I don't like being inconvenienced.  And these days, isn't the act avoiding inconveniences the American way?

Best in Beard

As many of you know, I grew a beard for a contest at work.  The Friday after we returned from Thanksgiving, we all lined up and were judged to determine who had the best beard.  Judges were to assess us based on four categories: length, fullness, manliness, and overall appearance.  Most of the judges were employees at the office, but we did have two "celebrity" judges: a local DJ and a former local news anchor, both of whose names escape me.  With the judging completed, the scores were tallied (by someone in accounting, to make sure it was done right) and the top three winners were named.

I didn't even place.  I may have been fourth or dead last, but I'll never know.  I think I lost because my beard is so light-colored these days and because the shape makes it appear less full than others.  I don't regret participating in the contest, but I doubt I'll join in next year.

One nice thing about the contest was that we raised money for the American Cancer Society (ACS), nearly $3,500 this year.  I didn't raise much, but I did get a couple of people to sponsor me, so I helped out a little.  Though again, I doubt I'll be back for more in 2016.

Left to right: Jeff, one rep from ACS, Jason, Neal, the unknown DJ, Matt (first place), Morten (second place), the unknown anchor, me, Don, the other rep from ACS.

Building a Team

On Wednesday, the new girl, Chelsea, asked why several people referred to our coworker, Michael, by his full name.  I suggested that it was probably to differentiate him from one of the managers who is also named Michael.  Michael our coworker agreed with my posit, but also agreed with Chelsea that it was a little distracting sometimes.  Then, as a joke, I said, "That's why I call him B-Man" (Michael's last name starts with B).  He laughed and said we should actually call him that.  It was a simple joke.

At least, it was intended to be.

Later on, I asked my coworkers if they smelled something weird -- they didn't -- but Chelsea said she would ask around.  Making another joke, I called her Detective [her last name].  She then said that I needed a nickname since everyone else in the department had one.  I said that I've never had a nickname before and I didn't intend to start now.  Chelsea said that giving each other nicknames would help with team-building.  After I returned from a bathroom break, I was told that I was now "JLa."  For those of you who don't know, actress Jennifer Lawrence is often referred to by the media as "J-Law" -- so I said they'd have to do better than stealing a nickname from someone else.  Chelsea protested that I don't have a say in the matter, but I pointed out that both she and Michael accepted their nicknames (which weren't intended to stick), and I was simply asking them to be more original.  After talking to Michael, they came up with "L-Dawg," probably because I'm so obviously the opposite of a rapper or a gangster.  I still didn't really like it, but it was more original than their first attempt, so I acquiesced.

This whole thing was rather silly and, if I'm being honest, a little annoying.  But I guess I only have myself to blame.  After all, I was the one that first started calling my coworkers silly names; who would have guessed that joking around would have had such an impact?

Following Directions

Yesterday at work, I needed to shoot some video of a compressor for an upcoming video.  According to the company guide to product photography, products should be cleaned and any bung plugs, if present, should be removed.  Following these guidelines, I removed a couple of bung plugs, polished the copper piping with steel wool, and whipped the whole compressor down with basic surface cleaner.  With it all clean, I decided to move it away from a bunch of creates to eliminate background distractions.  It's a heavy compressor, so I grabbed a dolly to help move it.

For those that aren't aware, compressors have internal moving parts.  When machine parts move, friction is produced, which breaks down the machine.  To prevent this, machines are lubricated.  Do you see where things are going?

I tipped back the compressor and spilled about a quart of oil out of the unplugged bunghole and onto the floor, getting quite a bit on my right shoe and pant leg.  I then spent the next forty minutes cleaning up the mess before I shot maybe ten minutes of video, of which we'll probably use less than a minute.

It was a frustrating experience, but at least one of my shoes is really shiny now.

You Think This is Bad...?

I was talking with Ian last week about how Maryland is a state with a lot of move-ins.  At work, at church, wherever, I'll met someone and eventually it will come up that they're originally from some other state.  Since I am too, it helps me feel at home.

Apparently (according to Ian), a common complaint from non-native Marylanders is that state taxes here are very high.  I laughed out loud when I heard that.  Being from California, things seem downright reasonable here!

As an example, a few weeks ago I pushed a yellow light too much and ended up running a red light.  I was caught on camera and mailed a ticket, proof of my transgression.  I was annoyed that I had been so reckless, but I happily paid the $75 ticket.  For those unaware, a similar ticket in the San Diego area would be around $300.  Technically fines aren't taxes, but the two are connected.

Ultimately, I moved to Maryland because I couldn't find work in the Golden State and my new home state has treated me rather well so far, so I feel just fine about any taxes and fines that have come my way.

Tuesdays with Media: Neighbors

Is it cheating for me to just provide a link to a new story without providing an analysis?  Or would it be cheating in a different way if I analyze something that I also wrote?

While I figure this out, enjoy this (very) short story.

The Rack

Have I mentioned how little I use my dishwasher?

Tuesdays with Media: A Real-world Troll

About a year ago, I defined what an internet troll is in order to explain some principles of proper communication.  Today, I want to focus on why some people become trolls in the first place by using as an example, someone who does not limit themselves to saying terrible things on the internet:

Not all trolls live under bridges.

Donald Trump is currently pretending to run for the Republican Presidential nomination, but don't be fooled into thinking that he's serious about it.  Since he announced his candidacy, he's only said inflammatory things that would be sure to be passed around every news outlets.  Are there other candidates that are campaigning that we should have stronger borders?  Sure, but the rest are diplomatic about it, not saying that Mexicans "are rapists," among other terrible things.  Even his supporters thought he crossed the line when he implied that a female debate moderator was acting crazy because she was menstruating.

Trump has no previous political experience, his company has filed for bankruptcy four times, and he's changed party alignment as frequently as most people change socks.  This is not a man that has any real chance at becoming president.  The only reason it looks like he has a chance right now is that there are way too many GOP candidates right now.  Once things shake out a bit, Trump will drop out, just like he did the last time he ran.

If you're of the opinion that any publicity is good publicity, like Trump apparently is, then trolling is a very effective technique.  If, however, you actually want to both make a positive difference within our country and convince people to agree with you, then you may want to stick with showing how diplomatic you can be.  So, for the foreseeable future, expect Trump to show up in news headlines -- in strictly negative ways.

Tuesdays with Media: 2048

Since I mostly watch TV and movies on my computer, I often play a simple puzzle game while I watch.  I like to keep my hands busy and puzzle games won't distract from the story, so it's a good fit.  I used to play FreeCell Solitaire, but a little over a year ago, I discovered 2048, a simple-yet-satisfying puzzle game.

The basic layout is a 4 x 4 grid and you start with two numbered tiles, usually two 2s, which are randomly placed on the board.  To play, you use the arrow keys to move all the tiles the selected direction: hit left, they all slide left; hit up, they all slide up; etc.  When two identical tiles are pushed together, they merge, becoming a tile with the new number being the sum of the two base tiles.  So, you push two 2s together and you get a 4, you push two 4s together and you get an 8, and so on.  The goal of the game is play until you have a tile that reads 2048.

One thing that's interesting about this game is that once you win, you have the option to keep playing.  I've actually made it to 4096 several times, but I can't quite make it to 8192 yet.  But ultimately, the final score doesn't matter because I only play so that my hands have something to do while my eyes and mind are otherwise occupied.

But you want to see it in action, don't you?  Well, take a gander:



I refuse to apologize for all of the time you'll soon be wasting.  Have fun!

2048 was created as a school project by teen programmer Gabriele Cirulli.

The Big Move

I guess I've put it off long enough.  So, how'd the move go?

I stayed up late the night before, packing.  I didn't quite finish, but I was ninety percent done, so I figured I was close enough.  I then slept fitfully, probably due to the stress of moving the next day.

The morning arrived and I realized that I hadn't planned for picking up the U-Haul, so I made a few calls and found someone who could give me a ride so I wouldn't have to leave my car at the rental place.  Picking up the truck was a little weird: there were no signs that this place rented out trucks other than half-a-dozen trucks parked out front, the building looked like it was abandoned, and I signed a hand-written contract.  If that wasn't strange enough, I made it half-way to my apartment when I got a call asking me to come back since they had rented me the wrong truck.

When I finally got back home, I made it just as the first mover, my friend Mark Simcik, arrived.  We started moving some things, but with my left arm still out of commission from my seizure, we mostly just planned things out.  Soon enough, the missionary Elders arrived and moved the four major pieces of furniture for us, before they had to leave.  Luckily, that's right when another family from the ward came to help with the rest.  Ian showed up towards the end, but he brought pizza, so he was heartily welcomed.

When it came time to drive to my new place, the father of the other family asked if we would need any help unloading.  We accepted his help and drove to the new place.  After some traffic issues, we made it and started unpacking.  The unloading went much faster and right at the end, the first two Elders from before showed up to lend a hand one more time -- apparently, they were in the area to help out with a baptism, so I'm certain they got tons of extra blessings for all of the work they put in that day.

One problem that I discovered when we first got to my new place was that the power was off.  I had planned ahead and had contacted the electric company, asking them to start the service in my new place.  They assured me it was all taken care of, but such was not the case.  And, because it was the weekend, my power stayed off until I could call and talk to someone on Monday, which is when it was actually activated.  I asked Ian if he would mind me staying at his place over the weekend, which he was happy to accommodate.  I packed a bag, threw it in Ian's truck, and we went to deliver the moving truck.

The first place that we went to (address provided by Google) was just a gas station with a drop box for the key.  With only my hand-written contract, I decided to try for something a little more official.  There was an actual U-Haul center not far away, so we set off again.  When we got there, they had no record of me renting the truck.  They had the truck on file, but not my rental agreement.  I showed them the contract (actually, a carbon-copy of the contract), which they didn't know how to process.  After a few calls to managers were made, they figured it out and gave me an official, laser-printed receipt saying that I had paid my balance and that I owed nothing.  Happy with the result, we drove back to my old place for me to pick up my car (and to drop the other Brother off).

My weekend at the Larsen's was enjoyable, as expected.

On Monday, I got to have a long commute again, since I was driving from even farther away than I was used to when living at my old place.  I called the electric company as soon as their office was opened and I was promised that the power would be turned on as soon as a technician could get there.  I went by my apartment on my lunch break to see if the power was indeed on, which it was.  I set the A/C to something reasonable so that everything would be nice and comfortable when I got home from work.  That was a good plan, since it was particularly hot and humid that day.  Unfortunately, maintenance had done a lousy job of preparing my apartment, because when I got home, it was hotter inside than out.  The thermostat said it was 92 °F and what little air was blowing out of the vents felt only slightly cooler than my skin temperature.  I called emergency maintenance to come take a look and when the technician arrived, he discovered that my apartment was equipped with a "manual override" on the heater, which had been left on.  So the A/C was on, but so was the heater.  He also found that the air filter was filthy and in desperate need of replacing.  With these issues taken care of, the place finally started cooling down and was a comfortable 75 °F when I went to bed that night.

So, I'm all moved in.  It wasn't as easy as I was hoping for, but it was still mostly straight forward.  Now I just need to learn the area I'm living in now and I should be all set.  With my sense of direction, that should only take a year or two.