The Votes Are In...

It's official, I'm retarded. Literally, as in to slow, hinder, or impede progress. I seem to have difficulties grasping basic cause and effect relationships in some areas. This is basic conditioning we're working with here, introductary psychology stuff. Dogs and monkeys can do it. Press button A, get food. Press button B, get a shock. Stop pressing button B.

Well, that seems to be too advanced for me to put into practice. I have a pretty good grasp of the theory behind it, but personal practical application seems to still elude me. I keep going through a cycle where I have to stop drinking Barq's Rootbeer (sweet, sweet nectar) because, let's just say it does a number on my digestive system. I stop, pains (etc.) go away. I start again, and in a few days I'm back praying for death. For some reason, I only seem to manage a month or so before I fall off the wagon and am refilling my super insulated 7-11 jug again.

I think the problem is in the reward schedule. If I were to feel like an alien was trying to rip its way out of my chest as soon as I had a drink, I'm sure I would stop very quickly and permanently. But when I have a few days to enjoy my beverage of choice before the pain kicks in, somehow the lesson seems to get lost somewhere along the way.

So, once again I am cutting myself off from Barq's. The really stupid part (oh yeah, it gets worse) is that when I'm "off the bottle", I actually feel better. I drink more water and juice, and I'm not as tired throughout the day. To normal people, a built-in reward system like that would be enough to sustain the new desired behavior. I'll see how long I can make it this time, right after I finish this jug...

Small-town Customer Service

On my way home from Cardston this afternoon, I stopped in at the Extra Foods to pick up some cola for a Mentos demonstration with Trevor. Just in 'n' out, right? Sadly, no...

Why for the love of puppies everywhere did they decide to put the soft drinks on the very back wall?? Seriously, you have to go through all the food, the frozen section, the clothing, the cell phone end-cap, the discount DVDs', the seasonal aisle, the toys, the pet food, pharmacy, paper towels and cleaning products before you get to the pop and snacks. Every other grocery store in the civilized world puts them where people can find them. The holy grail was easier to find than the soft drinks.

I picked up a couple of other things because it's really embarassing putting $3 on my debit card. I walked back to the checkout line and the lady's cart ahead of me was overflowing (things were literally falling out onto the floor). The girl at the checkout obviously enjoyed her job, you could really tell as she looked up with disdain periodically at the rapidly growing line behind me. I don't think working the checkout was her forte (she would lose to a glacier in a footrace). Seriously, if the UPC code is facing you instead of the scanner, it's not going to ring in any time soon. After she had unloaded roughly half the cart, she used the intercomm to call someone else to cash. I should point out that at about 1:30PM, there were more staff in the store than customers. And I would know, having just walked the whole length of the store looking for the soda aisle.

So the express lane opened up, and as I head over some other lady makes a mad dash from the very end of the line with her package of meat and shoots in ahead of me. And why not, it's not like she's been standing in line for five minutes already. The guy at this till wasn't any ray of sunshine either, but he did give me more interaction than any of the other staff had done.

"Do you collect PC points?" he asked, more monotone than the old TV test patterns. Then he pointed to the interac terminal, "Swipe here, stripe towards me." This guy made Keanu Reeves look expressive.

Anyhow, my quick two minute stop turned into just over fifteen minutes, but the wonderful pleasant service made it seem more like an hour...

It's Over, Finally!!

At least for two years until the summer Olympics and it starts all over again. I don't know why the Olympics rub me the wrong way, but they sure do. Somewhere in the deepest heart of Africa is a big termite mound which holds more interest to me than do the entire Olympic proceedings.

I'm sick of all the hype preceding and during the games. I'm tired of the "get to know your athletes" commercials. I'm disgusted by the amount of money that gets dropped into the whole thing. But, what frosts my hide most is probably the sudden surge of "patriotism" when Canada wins. Case in point, today's men's hockey game between the US and Canada. Whoopty-frikkin-doo. I've heard and read so many comments from people who say they are so proud to be Canadian. Really?? Just because some professional athletes (only two of which actually play in Canada) - who get paid obscene amounts to skate around and hit each other - get together and win a game, and now you're a proud Canadian.

You want to know why I'm proud to be Canadian? You weren't going to ask, but I'll tell you anyway.

1. Fredrick Banting and Charles Best discovered insulin for the treatment of diabetes. Something that actually has an impact on real life.

2. David Hubel and the mapping of the visual cortex in the brain.

3. Willard Boyle developed CCD's (Charged Coupling Device). Huh? These are the little babies which convert light into digital information. Most commonly used in digital cameras, camcorders, and are also used in telescopes.

4. Aug 20, 2009. The world's first simulation-based brain surgery performed in Halifax. Doctor's took an MRI of a patient's brain and were able to rehearse the removal of a tumor before actually operating. Now, complex neurosurgical procedures can be practiced and tailored to specific patients.

Accomplishments like that make me proud to be Canadian, not a bunch of winter sports. Who cares how fast someone can skate, or ski, or ride head-first on a sled down a huge ice track? Want to make an impact with the olympics? Cancel them and put all the money which would've been spent into something useful like cancer research, housing projects for the homeless, solutions to help end hunger, disaster relief efforts...

At least then there'd be something good to watch on TV.

Restoring My Faith in Stupidity

On Saturday, Trevor and I had the great opportunity to see Tory and Grant from Mythbusters (awesome experience, see Dawn's page for more photos). They came to the University of Lethbridge as part of the "Science Happens Here" event hosted by the Science Alberta Foundation. Apparently, the Mythbusters have had a partnership with the Foundation for a few years now. Who knew?

Anyhow, that's not the stupid part. We showed up to the University just after 5:00 because rush seating started at 6:00 for the show at 7:00 and Trevor wasn't about to take any chances (we were 3rd in line). After an hour of Trevor checking my watch every five minutes, they opened the doors and he was off like a greased pig to get seats at the very front. This is a picture of the seating after about thirty minutes:

Now for the stupid part. There were about eight to ten seats in each of the first two rows which were reserved for University staff who were helping with the event (the Chem department put on a really cool opening act). We were on the second row right beside the reserved section, as close to center as we could get. No word of a lie, with the bleachers and floor seating packed (see photo), four or five groups (not just individuals, but groups of 2-3 people) came all the way to the front wanting to sit in the reserved section. Did they honestly think that the best seats in the house were still vacant when nearly every other available seat was taken?!? Did they stand at the very back and think, "Oh look, awesome seats at the front! No one has spotted them yet, I'd better grab them right away!" And since they were groups of 2-3 people, obviously it didn't occur to anyone else in their party that maybe there's a reason the best seats in the building are still available. Trust me, I'm not sitting off to the side out of the kindness of my heart. After the second or third time, I had to remind myself that pointing out the fallacies in their decision-making paradigms would not be setting a good example for my son.

"You're going to need to talk slower, I don't speak Stupid." I don't know why people get offended when they find out they're stupid, but they sure don't seem to appreciate it. Not like it's my fault...

Not Cut Out for the High Life

I got back from my trip to Miami yesterday (don't get too excited, it was just a business trip). The meetings were good, the hotel was better than average, and for the most part the catered food was pretty good. It occurred to me while I was down there that I would never really do well in fancy social circles if for no other reason than I would starve to death. I'm sure there are other reasons, but this is the only one I need.

The lunch for day one was pretty straight forward. Some steamed veggies, salad, meat, even little fruit tarts for dessert... stuff I could pronounce and actually recognized. The cocktail reception that night was pretty good too. They had mini-hamburgers, ham, turkey with gravy and dressing. This is stuff I could live on quite easily. I stayed clear of the cheese platter because I didn't see anything that even remotely resembled marble or mozzarella, and that's about as adventurous as I get with cheese.

Enter day two lunch. This one was more formal (food came to us instead of us going through the buffet line). Imagine sitting down at a table and being greeted by this:

I wasn't sure what this was, but there wasn't anything on the plate I was about to eat. Apparently, the brown slimy speckled thingy being pinned to the fancy bread (with crunchies in it) by the olive-garnished wooden stake was a mushroom. Mmmm... fungus, my favorite. It reminded me of an alien life form from Star Trek. And the green stuff smeared on the plate, what's with that?? It looked like something pooped on my plate. I could crawl across a barren desert, be within inches of death and that still don't think I could find the desire to eat it. Why do they call it an appetizer if it makes you want to hurl breakfast? Seems counter-productive to me...

The main course was two little pieces of dry chicken and some veggies on the side and a swirl of mashed something-or-other. It's a good thing they had mini garlic bread on the table...

The cocktail reception that night had some good stuff, but you had to look hard for it.

This stuff was labeled and I still didn't have a clue what it was. Turns out I don't need to know what it is to know I don't want to touch it. "Spoon Bloody Mary Ceviche with Baby Rock Shrimp". I can figure out the spoon and shrimp part, but not too sure what makes it a Bloody Mary. And what the heck is Ceviche anyway?

"Rare Sesame Seared Tuna with Wasabi Mayonnaise". I don't like cooked tuna, so advertising it as rare does absolutely nothing for me. I don't even do my steaks rare. As Grandpa Wynder used to say, "I've seen cows hurt worse that lived." And isn't 'wasabi' the Japanese word for "kill me now because it's burning a hole through my cheek"? I have a freakishly low tolerance for hot spices, so this is definitely off the menu for me. I think that's nature's way of compensating for my immunity to "freezer brain" when eating ice cream. And honestly, if I had to choose between being able to eat hot spices or ice cream, you'll find me curled up with my 2.5 gallon tub of Tiger and a spoon.

I also noticed there is an inverse correlation between the "fancy level" of a restaurant and the portion size of the food. For clarification, fast-food restaurants are excempt from this observation, I'm talking about places which bring the food to you. A good restaurant will give you healthy portions, but an up-scale restaurant brings out servings that could starve a hamster. I can't figure out why people pay so much for so little food.

I guess I just wasn't built for "high society", which is just fine with me. I'm of the opinion that culinary evolution reached its pinacle with steak and potatoes. That's fine dining in my book.

Should I Call You?

Ever since the airline bomb scare a few weeks ago, everyone has been talking about all the increased airport security. I went to the Calgary airport yesterday at 6:00AM so I could be there in time for my 8:00 flight. I stood in line to check in my baggage at the front counter, and when it was finally my turn I found out I'd been standing in the wrong line. This was the line for direct-to-USA flights. That counter over there was the one for connecting flights, such as mine. Yah, that one with absolutely no line whatsoever. That would be the one.

I have to say Canadian security was business as usual, and I inadvertently discovered that my Bluetooth earpiece can go through the scanner with me without setting off the alarm. 6:35 AM, great... now I only have an hour to kill before boarding. Weehee.

Fast-forward a few hours and I'm in Toronto picking up my luggage at the US-connections gate. Went through customs and then off to the security screening. I was a little nervous when I saw the full-body imaging machine, but it wasn't being used so I relaxed (they may have still been installing it, judging by the way it was all blocked off). Took off my shoes and took the laptop out of the bag, and US security wasn't any worse than Canadian security. They did run the little swab-thingy on my laptop, but they've done that on the Canadian side too. All the hype must've been for nothing.

I still have about 20 minutes before boarding, so I make my way down to the wing where my departure gate is. Then I saw this:

Two words which bring joy and laughter to air travelers everywhere...

Oh good, this should be fun... and look, my turn already. I made my way over to the table and had to take my laptop out and turn it on again while a security agent went through the contents of my laptop bag. I think she was impressed by the Star Wars cover on my DS and the blue lightsaber stylus. That's cool no matter where you live...

Meanwhile, her partner was putting on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. The blue ones, that's nice. I hear they don't rub as bad as the white ones do. Fortunately for me it's just a pat-down. As he spends a little too much time at second base, two thoughts go through my mind. First, I REALLY need to do more push-ups because I seem to be getting a little soft in the upper chest. And second, the reason they're not using the imaging scanner back there is because go-go Gadget Hands here enjoys his job far too much. I don't know much about dating in the East Indian culture, but here in the west there's usually a dinner involved before moving on to this much fondling. I understand the need for security, but could you at least not smile so much while you're frisking me?

When he was done and she gave me the go-ahead to put my laptop away, I really wanted to say something smart, but decided against it. I complain sometimes about my social filter getting in the way, but this time I'm pretty sure it saved me from the "private screening" room. Besides, he probably hasn't seen Fletch and would've missed references about Dr. Jellyfingers or Moon River. I, on the other hand, found it a little humorous.

I really wanted to ask if I should bring anything when I come through again on Monday... Maybe a Barry White CD? Flowers?

You Have GOT to be Kidding Me!

I saw something today on my lunch break that reaffirmed my dislike of small dogs (not that it really needed any more support). I had to pick up some supplies at WalMart and they had this little gem on the end caps near the check-outs...

Seriously?!? A Snuggie for pets?!? I'm going to let all you "pet parents" in on a little secret. Gather 'round, because this could change your life. Are you ready? Pen and paper in hand? Your little precious...

...IS COVERED WITH HAIR!!!

And do you know why Toto looks like a hairball with feet? No, it's not to bring out the color in his eyes. It's to keep the little waste of space warm.

I like how the box mentions that the snuggie "keeps you warm and your paws free!" Isn't that sweet... Here's a little gem for the folks in marketing. Sure, Lassie might be a genius at telling someone little Timmy got caught in the wood chipper, but that doesn't mean he's going to be reading the box any time soon. And why is it so important to have his paws free anyway? "If only I could get my paws out of this blanket, then I could use the remote and change the channel." For anyone who walked past and thought this would be something nice for your dog, I'm going out on a limb to say you also give presents to your dog for Christmas and birthdays, don't you. Come on, admit it... you even wrapped them.

I'm sorry, but if the little hairball needs a snuggie to keep it warm, you should probably take it to the vet and have it put down now. Trust me, you'll be doing it a favor. Imagine dressing up your little boy and sending him to school wearing a pink tutu. I'm pretty sure this is the equivalent for dogs. All the other dogs are making fun of your little mutt in the snuggie. Notice the dog in the corner inset with the "shoot me now" look... I don't know if you've seen those "I'd rather go naked than wear fur" ads, but they make me wonder what these dogs would rather be doing than wearing "the blanket coat with sleeves".

For hundreds of years, dogs have somehow managed to keep themselves warm without human intervention. Now people have pets instead of children and figure the little pooch needs a sweater or a blanket with sleeves in order to stay cozy. At the risk of sounding cold, let natural selection take its course. If your little puddle maker can't survive without wearing a snuggie, maybe that's nature's way of improving the gene pool.