Advice from My Imaginary Friends August 20, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: humor, existential crisis, socrates, budda, nietzche, tony romo
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Reading through past blog posts I have come to the conclusion that I am devolving into melancholic sarcastic irascable scoundrel. Meaning everything is going according to plan.
However, one of my multiple personalities felt I needed an intervention (when you have multiple personalities, you don’t need friends). So I summoned through hallucinatory devices, experts from various fields to provide advice on exiting existential crisis highway. And it goes a little somethin like this……
- Nietzsche: Dude (In my imagination, Nietzsche is a surfer) this whole like world, is a tubular will to power! Embrace the gnarly Superman within you and……um…..(pauses taking in my pathetic state) ok, nada on the Superman…..like, embrace the SuperDork within you…..
- Justin Timberlake: I brought sexy back just for you man. Me: I just read a blog which implied Lotus Notes was sexy. JT: um……nevermind.
- Sartre: You are nothing more than an amalgamation of your experience. The void terrifies you causing irrational thought to create fictional realities – for instance, you think Simone De Beauvoir is sexier than Lotus Notes.
- Psychic from Poltergeist: Head towards the light…..BZZZZT…..No, not THAT light!
- Buddha: Today is a gift. Live in the now. (pauses evaluating my limited enlightenment) Well, maybe not RIGHT now.
- Tony Romo: Everything seems better after a mouthful of my lip smackin ribs – Wait, that’s Tony Roma.
- Socrates: Try a Hemlock margarita – it’ll make you relax. Wait Hemlock’s poisonous? Plato, write that down!
Ok, so that didn’t really work. Once again the voices inside my head of failed me. I’m still driving down the existential crisis highway…..
But, at least I’m wearin a seat belt
40 and Pathetic….Wait, that’s Redundant August 13, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: 40, abyss, gastroscopy, pathetic
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When you’re 40 and you stare into the Abyss, it still stares back at you……but your life has reached such an exponential increase in suckyness that you don’t care.
- Abyss: ”Your existence is an illusion.
- Me: “Whatever.”
Lets run down the the signifiers documenting my journey into the devolved jaded mutant I now embody.
January:
First time shoveling frozen ice. Living in the Desert for 13 years, I was unprepared for this little Midwestern ode to back pain. Sure, I expected to have to deal with snow, white fluffy et al……but nobody told me I’d be dealing with 40 feet of hockey rink filler on my driveway. I needed a Zamboni just to get the mail.
Related story, during the course of this shoveling / choping / backtwisting task, I happened to pick up a minor ear infection. Figured it would last a couple of weeks – its lasted 8 months. More on that later.
June:
Three rounds of anti-biotics, and the ear infection is still thriving. Its been there so long its applied for residency in the state of sarcastic melancholy (meaning either my brain or Indiana, you pick). Now, a new development, I can no longer eat a moderately sized meal without a regurgitation of a lovely mixture of bile and phlegm (shaken, not stirred). On the plus side, I made this exciting discovery while “dining” at McDonalds, which means I now have a valid reason to avoid the place-that-Ronald-built for the rest of my life.
July:
Blinded by…..ok, no one knows. I’ve already blogged about this twice, so I will be light on the details. One beautiful Indiana Monday (where the bordom’s as high as an Elephant’s eye) I woke up with blurred vision not accompanied by a hangover. The Doc says, that I have 2 scraped corneas – he has no idea how I did it, but can try this steriod eye drop (bulging pupils). Well, it was 50% successful. Now I can see out of one eye – like a pirate without that ever so chique eye patch.
August:
So, remember what I said about the ear infection? Pysche! It wasn’t really an ear infection. My Acid Reflux was so bad, that it was backing up all the way from my stomach to my ear canal (Acid Reflux, is an only child, he’s waiting in the park). That of course is also the reason for my redecoration of the loo and Micky D’s.
They say that everybody is number 1 at something. I have finally found MY thing. No one can regurgitate stomach acid at the same rate that I can…. When it comes to puking, I rock!
That get’s us up to date. Tomorrow the journey continues…..I am going in for a Gastroscopy. I asked if I could have a Colonoscopy at the same time…..I like to attack a problem from both ends…..but the medical establishment said no. Apparently there is a risk that the two fiber optic cables could meet, and of course fall in love – clasping together like some romantic router. I would spend the rest of my life rerouting IP addresses.
Like I’m scared of that. Is that really the best you can do? I’m 40…….
I’ve had worse!
The Dishwasher Paradox August 7, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: dishwasher, humor, process, quality
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Never let the person who does the dishes prepare the meal.
You people who do the dishes out there, otherwise known as Dishwashers are nodding in agreement. For you non-dishwashers, let me explain…..
Some people get a real joy from cooking. They love to experiment with varied ingredients, add splashes of flavor here and there, even employ over the top presentation skills to make a meal look like a work of art. And, pretty much everyone loves to eat, drink and be merry (if not be married). This is often taken too far in the Midwest, the land of the big boned.
So, some people like to cook and everybody likes to eat…….but nobody, or I guess I should say NOBODY, likes to do the dishes.
Doing the dishes is one hundred percent drudgery. Almost no satisfaction can be gained from it. Don’t believe those commercials where it looks like the Housewife is on uppers saying “Look at that shine!” That’s just not reality. And, the job is never done. Many times a new load of dishes is being created at the same time that one load is being washed.
Because of the drudgery of the task, the “Dishwasher” is always looking for ways to limit the amount of time spent dishwashing. The only way to do that, is to limit the number of dishes produced. This goal will take precedent over all others, which is not a positive trend if you enjoy high quality meals.
Ever seen someone eat uncooked Top Ramen? That’s a Dishwasher for sure. How about that guy who cooks meet over the stove dangling it on a stick as if it were a marshmallow over an open flame? No doubt that he does the dishes. Ever substituted Doritos for potatoes in a recipe? You’re either a Dishwasher or a, um, Philosophy major. Oh and when your husband offers to “share a plate”…..you see where that one is going.
Now, for the business slant.
In the business world the counterpart to the Dishwasher is the person who is in charge of “process compliance” also known as the Form-filler-outer. Each process requires documentation – sometimes a lot of documentation. There is no joy in documentation….so if you let the Form-filler-outer build your business strategy expect one form to apply to just about everything. Isn’t that interesting how you go to market strategy is the same in every industry, for every product, for all countries……what are the odds?
You see, division of labor isn’t just about workload balance and efficiency, it is also about quality. While we all decry the excessive overload of what appears to be completely unnecessary process, it is at least feasible that these process steps drive the right activity merely because, they are being built by someone who is not the Dishwasher.
So, to those of you with dishpan hands, when extra revere ware piles up in the soaking sink, think about how good the dinner was, or in some cases will be, rather than building elaborate vengeance schemes against the cook.
Or, demand an upgrade to a Maytag.
Lookin Good Nosferatu August 5, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: blood, humor, rolling stones, vampires
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Drinkin plasma one hand free……back in the night life, again.
There was a recent article in the New York Times postulating why our culture maintains a frequent obsession with vampires, I think because of the “True Blood” and “Twilight” phenomenon. Studius as I am, I didn’t actually read the article because my guess is that it would be a pyschoanalytical deep dive into our collective consciousness, going back to instictual, primitive, Darwinian zzzzz – sorry I drifted off. What was I saying?
Oh yeah, blood guzzlin. Well, lets try and analyze this phenomenon from a informal (and slightly inebriated) logic perspective. Both True Blood and Twilight focus on vampires that are muscular, sexy, and brooding. Could it be that we just like stories about hotties?
To support this hypothesis, lets deconstruct platelet gulping inconsistencies in this sleepless narrative thats full of clots.
Why aren’t there any fat vampires?
I mean, one would think certain types of blood would be fattening right? There is no way Roseanne Barr has low calorie blood. And coagulated blood cubes look suspiciously like strawberry sorbet (nothing says delicious like coagulated). Yet for some reason, creatures of the night appear to have super metabolisms, or spend a lot of time using the perfect pushup (invented by a navy vampire SEAL). Hey, if artery filler is a detoxification agent, why shouldn’t Count Chocola share this solient green with the rest of the world……”Housewife loses 154 pounds following one simple rule – AB negative twice a day.”
Why aren’t vampires more attracted to people with oversized veins?
In most cases, vampire hotties appear to be attracted to human hotties (with the exception of that annoying actress from Twilight. I mean, if you don’t want to smack her in the face, you simply don’t enjoy smacking people). Wouldn’t it make more sense if you lived for blood, you would lust for mortals with vein issues, not collagen issues? Say hypothetically, I loved Single Malt Scotch more than life itself (it doesn’t love me back). In an attempt to get more Scotch, I wouldn’t move to Utah. While its theoretically possible to get Scotch in the land of green jello and shredded carrots, Its a lot easier to get it….well…..almost anywhere else.
What age are vampires supposed to look like?
If you live forever, do you get to pick at what “age” you stop aging? If yes, why do so many of them seem to pick 35? You would think say 23 would be a more enticing (and hottie enhancing) age to pick.
On the other hand, one of the vampires on True Blood looks like a kid in 8th grade. If there is a year of my life I would like to live over and over again, it would definitely be Junior High. The joy of the social awkwardness, bad complexion, and frequent humiliation that comes with being clutzy and dorky. I wonder what a vampire wedgy feels like?
Wouldn’t living forever be unbelieveably boring?
Every vampire tale is romantic and thrilling. If you lived for 2000 years, how many things would still be thrilling? I mean once you’ve seen point break 1000 times, the chase through suburban houses loses some of its appeal – oh and Keanu Reaves acting is still bad (Dude, I’m like this gnarly FBI agent – it is most triumphant). I mean, think of what you did today? Woke up, exercised, read newsites, blogs, twitter etc., went to work, Tivo’d something. Now think of doing that again – for the next 1000 years.
Lets nail this point home. Most of the musicians I admire are the ones that died young, Jim Morrison avatar et al. That’s because they maintain that youthful appeal. After 30 years or so, their music isn’t edgy anymore. In fact, it can be more than a little embarassing. Lets say you’re under 40. Chances are that you do not perceive the Rolling Stones as legendary musicians. They’re just a bunch of old wrinkly white guys. “Satisfaction” takes on a whole new meaning when your 70. Of course you can’t get no satisfaction. You also can’t get out of a chair without groaning. Of course, there’s a good chance that Keith Richards is a vampire…….or a prune. I could go either way.
Ok, while vampires can go on forever this post can’t. Lets wrap up. If vampires can’t be fat, don’t age, and aren’t bored or boring, they can’t be real. We’re not fascinated with them because they live forever, were fascinated with them because they’re sexy. Or to put it differently, we like sexy things – and vampires happen to fit in that category.
That being said, I’m definitely going to try some coagulated blood for lunch. AB negative = crazy delicious!
Where Can I Find A Roman Like That July 30, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: analysis, hard rock, humor, jesse's girl, rick springfield
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Am I power networking? Fine tuning the engine of career advancement? Greasing the wheels of commerce? Making the most of each moment of a business trip that takes me from coast to coast?
Nah.
I’m in the basement of the Hard Rock, milking a Guiness ordering the minimum to stay under meal limit. I got sidetracked discussing some “killer” analytics project with my analytics buddies (can’t believe I’m at the point in my life where I have analytic buddies) and, before I knew it, all of the Execs had left the meeting. That leaves me hanging out in Times Square alone, jetlagged, with no place to eat but this Rocking Hard eatery.
Yes, the Dorkometer is close to full capacity when it gets worse…..
“Jesse was a friend”…..the skinny tie, the feathered hair, and I’m clearly the only one who knows most of the words (I’m one of those people who never knows all the words). Man am I old.
Ever been mucking around, inserting ridiculous phrases into songs……and resang those made up phrases so many times you’ve forgot the original words to the song? I went through a phase where if a song said “Woman” I would instead say “Roman” (hence the title to this post). Yes you are correct, I am not cool. For awhile I actually delved into writing “R” rated lyrics for children’s songs. I wont quote any of those…..I’ve read the blog guidelines.
So I’m trying to remember…..was Rick Springfield ever cool? Maybe in Junior High. I think he covered a Sammy Hagar song. At one point I also remember Hard Rock being cool. Its clearly not that cool now. Nothing but a bunch of Tourists, kids on a school field trip and some loser business man mouthing the lyrics to Jesse’s Girl…..oh, wait…..that’s me. Gotta love these mirrors.
“I’m being funny and cool with the lines…..ain’t that the way loves supposed to be.”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
That Vision Thing July 24, 2009
Posted by troyjen in Poetic, humor.Tags: crazy, humor, Poetic, vision, visionary
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Seeing is believing…… And since I’m not very good at believing (sorry Journey, I stopped years ago) its fitting that I can no longer see.
I woke up a couple of weeks ago with blurred vision. This seemed odd as there was no complimentary beer-ffervescnence or corresponding bile remnants. Just an inability to you know, read and stuff.
So, spin the wheel and lets see our hideous potential diagnosis. Diabetes? A need for dem bi-focals? A reversal back to my previous vampire state?
Nah……
Apparently, while sleeping, I, without knowledge or intent, poked my eyes out. That’s right, at age 40 I have some how devolved into the embodiment of a joke I would have told when I was 8. Ah, to be young again.
The oddity is that I have a sneaking suspicion that might sight has actually improved, its just my prescription that’s wrong. Self improvement via injury
My hysterical blindness, has cause me to over analyze yet another inane subject in an inappropriate way (gotta work on my teasers), and that’s the subject of vision.
What is a vision anyway?
All visions clearly are not equal. A dream is a type of vision. Martin Luther King had a dream of a society where a man would not be thought to be born in Kenya just because he wanted a public option for healthcare…..or something like that. In comparison, most of my dreams revolve around being naked, in pretty much any public place, with no one noticing (the sky diving version is my favorite). Those two dreams are separate but not equal.
What’s the difference between a vision and a hallucination?
I think it might be dependent on location. For example if you are at the summit of Mount Olympus, and an image of a bright future appears before you providing a moment of clarity, you are most likely having a vision. If you are at psychedelic pad with a guy who wants to be known only as “Rainbow”, and you start to experience something where “pretty colors” are involved, its a good bet you are having a Hallucination.
What’s the difference between a visionary and a crazy person?
I think it might be simply whether or not enough people believe and/or take seriously what they are saying -in addition to how dashing they look in a tin foil hat. For example when the pope says he has a vision from God, millions of people listen. When I said I had a vision from God, my Mom didn’t listen……of course the God I picked was Thor, and it had something to do with not wanting to get a haircut (don’t mock Thor, and his preference for lengthy locks). In retrospect, that does sound crazy – everyone knows its Freyda whose into hair.
So, clearly I don’t get “vision”, and thus karma ensured that I would not have vision.
Or at least, not one that is clear.
Lovely Spam, Wonderful Spam July 17, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: humor, Minnesota, spam
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“I’m having spam spam spam spam spam spam spam beaked beans spam spam spam and spam!”
I know, by starting a blog post quoting Monty Python I have essentially stamped my ticket for my inevitable enshrinement to the dork hall of fame – but hey, I needed a lead-in…..and will probably increase my Ajax programmer reader base 100 fold.
Ok, the story…..
On Monday, I went to the Spam museum in Minnesota because…..well….um……so I could write a blog about going to the Spam museum in Minnesota.
You see, its important to have “cultural” landmarks like this in the Midwest…..so that when visitors come to the land of 10,000 mosquito breeders they can at least briefly be distracted from the overwhelming urge to ask outloud “Why would anyone want to live in Minnesota?” My brother tells me that during the winter they have to wear ski masks if outside for more than 15 minutes or they will get frostbite. AND hears the kicker…… people still live there, willingly.
I know that may sound hypocritical from someone who chose to live in the barren desert for 13 years, but I stopped…..whats the word? Oh yeah, caring……I stopped caring years ago.
Oh right, back to Spam.
Apparently Spam is short for “Spiced Ham” and not “Suspicious Produce Arranged Maliciously”. Yes, that’s correct, there is some kind of meat mixed into that can…..along with botulism and what looks eerily similar to coagulated axle grease. Of course, people eat this stuff because, um, well I guess because its better than living in Minnesota.
To be fair, apparently the main consumers of Spam are Hawaiians. Living in paradise was just a little too pleasant, so to make the place a little more edgy the islanders embraced garishly canned mystery meat.
And it just keeps getting better……from what I’m told, you haven’t really lived if you’ve never tried a “Spamburger”. All of a sudden, dying doesn’t sound so bad, if that’s living. I wonder if Jack Kevorkian is really from Minnesota and was working some kind of cooperative cross-over deal.
One more……there is actually a singing sensation called the “Spamettes”. A group of 40ish Minnesota sopranos who sing the praises of spam to pre-Elvis musical stylings. I’ll bet their teenage kids aren’t embarrassed.
You know what’s sad? Its undoubtedly the case that the Children of today (forget tomorrow, and yesterday….wait, what day is it?) when they hear the word “Spam” will immediately associate it with annoying, irrelevant, e-mail instead of the inedible protein jelly we have come to enjoy.
They don’t know what they’re not missing.
Don’t Believe the Hype-ochondria July 7, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: humor, hypochondria, nihilistic tease, Sartre, Web MD
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Web MD should come with a warning label i.e. “The surgeon general has found that the content of this site can result in spontaneous cranial combustion for those with a family history of PFD Psychotic Freakout Disorder.”
That was a little long. Lets make it bumper sticker ready. “Web MD, its crack for the Hypochondriac”. Ok, one more – “Web MD, putting the Hype back in Hypochondria one irrational overreaction at a time”.
Yes, there’s a story behind there. Don’t worry, I’ll get there. I’m not a tease. I don’t think there is such thing as a sarcastic, nihilistic tease – except for maybe Sartre, the teenage years. Naa, naa, naa, naa, naa – you can’t catch me – because your whole existence is an illusion. “Jean-Paul, stop inducing an existential crisis on your sister!”
Oh right, the story.
So apparently I have entered the “vision optional” phase of my inevitable decline into patheticness – also known as Dante’s 5th level of dork (the divine emasculation). Come to think of it, “vision optional” is a cool thing to put on your resume if you are applying to be say…… CEO of GM. Hey, worked out well for Rick Waggoner.
Anyway, I woke up last Monday morning with bloodshot eyes – which of course is normal for the sleep deprived Twitter addict. However, when signing on to my daily “mentally vomitting in 140 characters” constitutional something was missing. My ability to clearly read the meaningless blather in front of me. Which meant that I was ahead for the day.
However, rather than cash in my karma winnings, I decided to self diagnose my suddenly blurry state by visiting Web MD – you know, because I really hate me and wanted to engage in some self torture.
And a lovely torture it was.
Within the spate of about 30 minutes, I had convinced myself that I was likely diabetic, with cataracts, lyme disease, and likely in need of a blood transfusion. Oh, almost forgot – a brain tumor is also likely and, I really should turn off my fat switch…..been meaning to do that for awhile (the sarcastic switch is permanently in the on position).
Of course, it never dawned on me that I might have actually, you know, injured my eye…..which turned out to be the case. I somehow managed to scrape my cornea during my sleep. That’s right, even while in REM I was apparently still clutzy enough to poke my eyes out. Not a happy outcome, but better than a brain tumor.
Back to Web MD (Masochistic Devolution). I have always embraced the notion of my inner hippee when proclaiming “yo gonna smoke that?” Wait a second, that’s the wrong phrase…..the one I am looking for is “Knowledge is power”.
While I think this is undeniably true, in the case of Web MD, its not clear that this is a good thing. You know Knowledge is power, but power can submit radiation – especially if you are near power lines, or are a habitual cell phone user. Such radiation could lead to brain tumors. Often the first sign of brain tumors is bloodshot eyes – you should really have that checked out. Oh, and don’t forget to turn off your fat switch.
You get the point.
So, here’s another poorly documented unwanted opinion from the sarcastic blowhard known as Troy. Somethings are better not knowing. Step away from the laptop, pick up the phone, and call a practicing physician (practice makes perfect). Then you can sit on butcher paper, have your blood pressure taken, and be made aware of how overweight you are just to eventually find out you scratched your eye.
Humiliating? Sure. But I’ll take humiliating over hyperventilating any day.
Stomp on It July 1, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: desert, humor, solutions, spiders
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Recent pre-meetings to prepare for a meeting, to discuss how to reduce the number of meetings made me reminisce to my beloved days living in the valley of the sun……exposure.
Why exactly to people live in Phoenix? Speaking simply from an evolutionary aspect, its hard to believe that anything naturally selects this beautiful oven as a home, delighting in all that is barren and dry. Yet, simple survival of these inconceivable critters is not enough. They all have to secrete some sort of deadly venom i.e. Topher Grace.
It seems like every year I lived in the devil’s focus group, a new infestation occurred….locus, ants, desert roaches etc. Luckily, because I never lived close to any water (there was a rumor going around that there actually is water in Phoenix), I avoided the Scorpion thing…..A couple of years ago, that infestation was Black Widow spiders.
Now, normally spiders do not bother me. They generally take care of other more annoying insects I’d rather not have around, and, on occasion, provide a delightful shiver of fear to a arachnophobic visitor. But, two years ago, my sweet son (he had not evolved yet into the caffeinated blur he has become and could still be considered sweet) was just beginning to walk and explore.
A black widow bite can be painful, but is not that dangerous to an adult. However, the same cannot be said for a 1 year old.
So, I had a serious predicament. I wanted to get rid of a potential threat to my beloved. However, I didn’t want to use an exterminator who would likely use toxic agents (not a good name for a real estate firm) to resolve the problem, because the toxins might be as dangerous to my begotten as the black widows.
So I sat and “Cost Benefitted” for days. I twisted my mind into a delusional pretzel.
Then one day, somewhat inebriated and frustrated over another sports fan disappointment (I need some new hobbies) I happened upon one of these pesky creatures and, in a fit of annoyance and clumsiness, Forrest Gumped my way into a solution.
I stepped on it.
After repeating this process approximately 10 times, my problem was gone.
So, what have we learned today?
1) Often the best solution to a perplexing issue is the easiest and most obvious?
2) Alcohol is the driving force behind all intellectual breakthroughs?
3) When beset with a problem, always try to stomp the life out of it especially if you wear a size 11 or higher?
4) People aren’t supposed to live in the Desert you moron?
I’ll pick bachelorette #1.
Ok, lets wrap this up. Next time, before looking for an elaborate solution to a “challenge” try the most simple and obvious solution first. If that doesn’t work, then start drinking.
Or get a bigger shoe.
Dancin with Wags the [redacted] Dog June 25, 2009
Posted by troyjen in humor.Tags: children, greg, humor, music, wiggles
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Toot toot, pounding Jager, big red *CRASH*!
A couple of years ago, Greg the Wiggle, known for his yellow couture and unibrow, retired from Da Wiggles because of exhaustion (the faux illness of choice). His yellow moniker passed on to a less talented protege, known as the day the annoying music died.
Ok, I wasn’t the biggest fan of those wacky Australians. The idea that grown men would have to act like imbeciles for money would seem the height of absurdity in anyplace outside of say Provo Utah (that valley is so happy). But, to be fair, in comparison to traditional toddler music (I’m a little teapot et al) the Wiggles is Led Zeppelin.
However, recent news of the REAL (not sure if its true, but that’s beside the point) reason for Greg’s premature departure, makes me want to wiggle.
Recently it has been brought to my attention (heard it on Baby Center – the internets never lie) that the whole “exhaustion” claim was really a ruse. Instead Mr. Yellow was prone to alcohol indulgence and occasional on stage profanity (would pay good money for that video) and thus could Wiggle no more.
Let me tell ya Greg, after spending the week hangin with a rodent hooked on prozac (also known as Mickey Mouse) I feel your pain.
In Mickey land, I have to make nice with this almost certainly unemployable actor who, in the sweltering muck that is Summer in Florida, is wearing a 40 pound “character” outfit. When Mr mouse freak hugs my son – I am apparently supposed to think this is “magical”?
Then there’s this “street parade” populated with actors of similar ability, and choreography rivaling a SuperBowl half time show. Oh, and they looked shocked when I don’t want to join them for some rumba type dance?
Disney fever is a hard drink to swallow……but I discovered it does go down a lot more smoothly with a glass of Courvoisier.
And thus the question of the day – does entertaining children inevitably result in alcoholism (the profanity is a given)?
I mean lets revisit the Wigglers. Jeff is either narcoleptic or has taken Hypoglycemia to a bad place. Anthony has serious issues with consumption and is likely bulemic. Murray, well…..has to endure an entire life being known as “Murray”.
Greg’s drinkin and cussin – and likely a millionaire. I think he wins!
