Blog Reviewing Current Events Already Irrelevant

Justin Timberlake parodies Beyonce on Saturday Night Live while our economy tanks, and I worry about tween girls spraining their ankles. Besides being immediately outdated upon construction, what is the significance of this sentence? Allow me to metaphorize the Perfect Storm at hand.

High Seas

These are hard economic times. Stocks are falling, and women are rising. No, this is not a reference to Hilary Clinton’s rumored nomination as Secretary of State. Women are literally getting taller with the help of a 4-6 inch heel. Through a strange quirk of history the average height of stilettos increases as the economy declines. Don’t believe me? The Early Show would never lie to you*.

The Sou’wester

Who is Sasha Fierce? Turns out she is Beyonce. Like a phoenix from the ashes of Destiny’s Child, Beyonce is re-re-inventing herself for another bid at fame. To mark the occasion she has created an alter ego, signifying that she is both unlike Old Beyonce and a lot like Garth Brooks. She even has a new single, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It). How very sad; pathetic ev-en. We have seen these stunts before – you weren’t fooling anyone Mr. Hyde – and by now our society surely has too much self-respect be duped again. This will never work out for Beyonce…right??

The Nore’easter

Saturday Night Live is crazy popular right now. This is no shock. SNL, the Daily Show and other late night outfits pay their mortgages during election season. Want to hear what Lorne Michaels has to say about this phenomenon? Pop some Ritalin and watch this Charlie Rose exclusive. If you don’t have a 35 minute attention span, just skip to minutes 27:29 – 29:00. In addition to the common "bump" in viewership every fourth November, this election season was one of those rare times when a politician (Sarah Palin) must compete with her own impersonator (Tina Fey) for attention.

The Lynchpin

The election is won, the winds of Change are sweeping through a very cold November, and SNL needs desperately to give me a reason to show up to church underslept. This brings me to Justin Timberlake, the center of it all. His Saturday walk-on performance was an instant hit, the likes of which we have not seen since…his last performance on Saturday Night Live**. Last week’s show saw Justin clad in a black leotard and heels, pretending to be a back-up dancer for the musical guest of the night. Beyonce Knowles, enter stage right*.

The skit went viral immediately – your coworker probably showed you the video on Monday morning – despite early attempts by NBC to litigate into submission every Youtuber who posted the video. But the aggregate will of Youtube is too great, and conspiracy theories were starting to make their way around the inter-nets. Or perhaps NBC and Justin struck a deal. The video remains on Youtube in some form, but chances are that my video embed* won’t work an hour after I post it. So like moths to the flame we are drawn first to the parody video, then to the real music video, and lastly to imitate what we see.

Step One: Watch the SNL video

Step Two: Watch the real music video in awe as Beyonce defies physics in 6 inch heels***. My point is illustrated by minute 1:28 to 1:40.

Step Three: Make her open the box. Woops! Wrong video**.

The Victims

Won’ someone please think of the children?! More specifically, I am worried about our newest little demographic, the tweens (preadolescents). Looking into the future, the headlines clearly read Girls in Mom's Heels Emulate Beyonce, Visit Hospital. These (hypothetical) tragedies are the consequence of colliding pop culture forces – the newest fad, hit single desperation, Justin’s mastery of the viral video, and a tween market share that will consume anything pop culture feeds it. Pity and ace bandages for all.

Conclusion

You have likely invested half an hour of your life consuming a blog rife with embedded videos, wikipedia references, pop culture buzzwords, misused punctuation, pompous**** vocabulary and occasional nonwords. You may feel a little emptier and a little older for reading it, and you are certainly no better off. But you were entertained.

To anyone who reads this, I represent only my own twisted viewpoint. If you are offended, please don't sue me.

* If the videos don’t work,

google: “hard times, high heels” video for The Early Show

google: "Gov. Palin Cold Open" for Sarah Palin on SNL

google: beyonce timberlake youtube for the viral video

** Too raunchy for Mom & Dad, but every college student in the U.S. remembers D!$% in a Box.

*** She hates physics too, dear.

**** I had to look up “pompous” while writing to ensure I was using it correctly. I have a problem, and admitting that is the first step to getting better.

Wordfind! How many Pop Culture words can you find? Famous names count too!

A Most Satisfying Burger

In the hopes of embracing more vegetables into my diet, I've been trying to cook something new once a week. I've tried out the whole recipe based cooking approach - the socially accepted way of cooking - but have often been sucked into a more "exploratory" approach to cooking:

Get a mind's eye picture of what I want, by

• Researching a couple of recipes for some dish and extracting an idea of a basic method;
• Recalling something I liked at a restaurant, and mentally reverse engineering it;
• "feeling like" eggs, or something sweet, or a burger (see below);

Take inventory...change plan

• "Man, I really need to get rid of those ________. I should use them too."
  
• "Mmm I want those leftovers too, somehow."
• "Oh no, I don't actually have (key ingredient)... ah well, I'll try it anyway!"

Get cookin' (Go go go!; salt, salt salt!; stir, stir, stir!; don't burn!)

Smell...think...review plan

• "OMG, I am so* gourmet!" Finish cooking, savor the dinner slowly, and contemplate future fame and fortune as a chef.
• "burnt / gross / dried out!" Feed the garbage disposal and curse into my cereal bowl.
  
• (Most common) Impulsively take the dish in a completely different direction, often with surprising success; this is followed by one of the options above.

So, I was feeling like a burger today when I saw this guy top a fried egg with chili for breakfast on TV. I remembered the "Gus Burger" from med school - a burger famous for being topped with an over-easy egg**- and decided that what I really wanted was a burger with a fried egg on it.

I fired up the stove (small skillet, med/med-high) and started emptying the fridge, collecting an egg, the last tomato of the season (sliced thick), a burger from last night, (should have gotten some cheese), pickles, ketchup, and mustard.

I fried*** the egg (over hard) first, then the tomato slices,**** adding salt and a dash of tabasco, and nuked the burger. I toasted the bun, assembled the burger, said "OMG I am so gourmet," and savored my success while I watched college football.

It has been a good Saturday.




*This italicized emphasis brought to you care of an in-depth discussion I had with an unnamed loved one regarding what my writing style is and what it is *not*.
** fun fact: also famous for being consumed at 2am by drunken undergraduates; this of course did not include me. I took the high road...to Pita Pit.
***I used butter, so I think I actually sauteed it. This smelled so good my knees got weak...
****Move 'em often, cuz tomatoes tend to stick to the pan and generally fall apart when I cook them this way

Tuckered Out

We've been travelling by car way too much recently. Euclid - I'm proud to brag - has done wonderfully as a passenger... no whining or "accidents." This picture encapsulates how Euclid, Katie and I all feel right now.


While I am too emotionally detached to sing the following to him directly, the picture reminds me of a lullaby I've always liked, "Godspeed" by the Dixie Chicks*.


Sweet Dreams, Math Man.


*If you look it up on YouTube though, you get to witness an interesting juxtaposition of sweet and soulful vocals (kind to the ear) against a punk rock-ified Dixie Chicks (harsh on the eyes). I will not give this video tacit approval by linking to it though.

Our Little Bundle of Joy...and Work

“Oh my GOD! He is so CUTE! What kind of dog is he? (Long-haired Chihuahua) Oh my GOD!! You know Chihuahuas always looked weird to me, but this little man is just DARLING! He just looks like a normal dog, only tiny and SO CUTE!!* Can I pet him? You are just SO CUTE! Yes you are! Yes you are! My widdlepuppywoogiewibble…it then decomposes into “Not English.”

This is how many people react our new puppy, Euclid. Those who know Katie and me are probably not surprised at the nerdiness of our name choice. I personally love the sound of the name, and that it is so very nerdy. As the above paragraph reveals, Euclid is a very charming puppy.

In fact, our walks are regularly interrupted by eager children and adults who want to fawn over him. Even people in stopped cars will melt at the sight of him. I occasionally see a silent “…so CUTE!” through a car window. Nobody can resist.

And Who can blame them? With his big eyes, tiny body, and hilarious way of bounding through grass, he is the puppy-est of puppies. In fact, he is currently trying to use his wiles to con me into to playing with him instead of blogging about him. Must…fight…adorableness!

Once upon a time, when I lived with my brother and sister-in-law and their 1 year old daughter, I learned a major theme in child rearing: They always need you. If you take time to do anything for yourself, you’re momentarily fulfilling your own needs at the expense of fulfilling theirs (with resulting guilt). Kids rule the lives of their parents, and it baffles me how parents keep sane. Seriously, Steve and Lara. You guys are amazing.

Raising Euclid has the same theme to a much lesser degree. Many of the things I do to Euclid would qualify as child abuse, i.e. having him sleep in a cage twice the size of his body, having him poop on a pad on the floor, and anything involving a leash. But many things are similar. I am always fretting about if he’s fed, watered, if he peed or pooped, if he’s tired, if he has toys, and most of all how to keep him out of trouble. I look for him every 30 seconds. I feel best if he’s nearby, so I know he’s okay. And most parental of all, I cherish the moments he is asleep, and when he is I creep around like a cat burglar to keep from waking him.**

Having a puppy is a lot of work and also a lot of responsibility. Everything we do now will shape little Math Man's future***. Fingers crossed we raise him right.

P.S. As any proud parent or puppy owner must do, I will continue to flood my blog with pictures of the little critter, and you will swoon.

*At this point a small squeal exits their mouth and, were they a dog, they’d be wetting the carpet.

** This is practically impossible, since Euclid’s ears are half his body weight and he can hear a pin drop 20 miles away.

***Math Man is my favorite nickname ever, and was thought up by Katie's roomate, Kelly.

I'm a year older, and my car is getting the presents

Prologue
Ever so observant of my car's condition, I have recently been obsessing that my brakes are wearing thin. I didn't hear the "familiar horrifying screech" that most often accompanies this milestone (a purposely engineered sound), but some brake pads don't have warning; they just start to grind. Every once in a while I would brake at low speeds and I could swear it was a-grindin'. My baby is in trouble! I immediately sought a diagnosis from my trusted mechanic and spared no expense*

.... yeah, right! If that had happened, there would be no story. I had final exams to worry about and no money, so I waited for a couple months until I had some free time** and found a sweet coupon for a free tire rotation and brake inspection (cue Jaws music here). I knew what I was entering into, I knew the risks (mechanic must make money for service), I did it anyway. Of course they thought the brakes had to be replaced AND they still had my car up on blocks (a nice bargaining chip on their part) so as to quickly and efficiently perform said service for me... to the tune of $265.71.

I don't care where you are from, that is insanity for a brake job. I looked at the estimate, and surmised (from my limited knowledge of brake repair) that there were some over-estimated parts costs (4 disc brake shoes don't cost $86, they cost half that) and some services that may be useful but may not be necessary. I was trapped. I 'fessed up: "I don't have that money, so you gotta give me 2 weeks" ... the mechanic looked worried, but said he thought my brakes could hold out that long. 15 minutes later I was riding home, feeling defeated. Then my car started squeaking, in that familiar horrifying screech-y way...how very convenient for the mechanic***

The Decision
I woke up on Wednesday feeling tricked and upset. Its my birthday, and Mr. Badwrench will not take this day from me. I ate my cereal and resolved to do the right thing. I would take my car to my trusted mechanic (Evans Auto), and explain the situation. He would pity me and make it right, for a reasonable fee.

But I didn't do that... for reasons I do not fully understand, and reasons I'm sure have nothing to do with logic. Instead, I started surfing the inter-nets, looking at brake pad prices ($30 - $40 for my car) and do it yourself testimonials. I looked again at my estimate and my blood boiled. This is way too much to pay! Other people do this themselves for pennies! I'm smart; why can't I do it too? I will not be taken advantage of; I will exact revenge by doing the opposite! I can do it! I felt capable and happy. I also had something to do today****

Preparation
I coached myself all the way to the brake supply, not wanting to reveal myself for what I actually was, a newbie with a socket set and a chip on my shoulder. Bought brakes, saved money, didn't look like a fool, and I was riding home, feeling great! Next stop, my local public library...

My older brother taught me many things*****, one of the most important of these I learned when I was an adult. When faced with a do-it-yourself task that you have no business performing, decades of training and experience can be replaced by a book spree at the library. Steve would often opt for checking out 8-16 inches of books (imagine them laying flat on the table, one on top of the other); and so would I. This fundamentally appeals to me, being able to "become a mechanic" through the might of my intellect and my ability to sit still enough to read large volumes of information for long periods of time. I left the library feeling I had already made this fool-hearty decision pay off, because if nothing else I would understand brakes much better and knowledge IS power.

(a great way to spend a Sunday evening: go to youtube, and enter "Schoolhouse Rock" under the search term. You're welcome)

Oh...crap
Putting a perfect plan into action in an imperfect world works out to be a cycle of euphoria, panic, self-loathing, and resolution.

Euphoria: I got my tire off, my brake caliper open, and I replaced the first set of brake pads in record time. This is a "happy time." See below for the new to old comparison. Technically I had more life left in these pads, but "some how" the one indicator managed to be squeaking...grrr, those filthy bad untrustworthy... I should have gone to my mechanic.


Panic: I am closing up the caliper, and tightening the last bolt (set human "torque wrench" to 80 ft-lbs). Just a little tighter, pause, maybe just a little tighter, pause, just one more *bam* the tension from the bolt gives way, as the overtightened bolt begins to shear apart -

- a torque wrench is specially designed to release tension at a given torque, protecting a bolt from an overzealous bolt tightener. This tool, $50 at your local hardware store, was specifically called for in the instructions. I disregarded these instructions and relied foolishly on my own discretion -

- at the exact moment the bolt began to shear, a wave of nausea rose from my stomach. In that split second, I was immediately aware that I had doubled my costs, and had firmly established myself as the foolish do-it-yourself moron.

Self-loathing: This is the worst part of doing something yourself. This is why you pay someone else to do something for you. And for me, this is a time when I realize that my dream of assimilating years of experience through a couple books is not possible, it is arrogance. The only antidote to arrogance is painful, costly, and embarrassing experience.

Resolution: For those seeking spiritual enlightenment, humility must be learned at some point. Humility is most effectively taught at the counter of NAPA auto parts. My one bolt cost around $16, and came with three parts I didn't need. Why? Well, they don't make very many of them, because they are rarely purchased by professionals who read and follow directions!!! I consider this to be a form of taxation. Wanna do something vastly beyond your skillset? Feel free! But please be prepared to pay "fools tax" for every stupid mistake you make. Add the $50 torque wrench - because Mark learns from his mistakes - and I was ready for a quick end to to misery.

The bolt replaced nicely, and I finished the second side with only one problem; the one bolt I had sheared on the left wheel wouldn't loosen on the right wheel. I sheared my sockets this time, and used half a bottle of penetrating oil trying to loosen the bugger. Then...finally...it was over.

Epilogue
I ended up spending $40 for replacement pads and brake grease, $50 for a new torque wrench, and $16 for my replacement bolt - well under the estimate from the bad mechanic, but nearing the ballpark of my trusted mechanic's usual fees (for work done on other cars). I don't have much interest in doing another brake job, but I'm glad I did this one.

Emotionally, it was a roller coaster, but I grew from it and learned that the trusted mechanic should be a first choice, not a last resort. I also learned a ton about brakes and my car. I now feel closer to my hunk of metal, plastic, and rubber. Oddly, my mistake-ridden success has left me feeling more confident as a handyman, if for the one reason that I would know next time how to do a proper job. This is how I often feel at the end of such projects: relief, humility, a touch of fear, and more confidence in myself.

And fatigue.

*Do what I say and not what I do. Find a good mechanic and show him/her some love (money).
**read: I'm between schools (summer break?) and unemployed. I have much free time.
***conspiracy theory 1: the jerk used his vise-grip to "help" the warning strip into a place he felt more accurately indicated when I should replace my brakes.
****I'm juggling applications too, but really I just apply, call-back, and wait. I need a diversion from the anxiety and self-hatred that is job hunting
*****One of these life lessons was that older siblings may pin younger siblings to the ground, lick their faces, and let the saliva dry (yes, it was disgusting) as part of their birthright.