It's Getting Hot In Here...

Ok, it's been a while. I haven't been spending much time on the computer as of late, just been trying to get back into being physical, and doing stuff around the house. But, here's a new one for ya.

Some people worry about the environment too much. You know the kind that I'm talking about. Those that recycle everything, making sure that all of our precious pieces of paper are placed into the recycling rather than into the garbage, since we all know that the paper is going to go to the dump where it's going to decompose anyway since it's made from trees, and dead trees decompose. Sure, there's some bleach in there, and that's likely what all of the conservationists are all after, that precious little bit that's going to make it into our water supply, where we're going to add it anyway, along with a host of other chemicals to make it fit for human consumption.

Why are these veggie eating junkies not complaining about our water supply, or better yet - refusing to take part in it? I'd love to see them all fading away in the summer heat waiting for the next rainfall to catch some "natural" rain. Or perhaps drinking out of some "natural" mud puddles. No milk moustache to be found there.

Then there are those that make sure that all compostable foods are not thrown into the trash, and that they compost everything that they can, making sure that it doesn't make its way to the dump where it might be eaten by a bear, and said bear might be allergic to shrimp.

And if anyone should not be eating the cockroach of the sea, it's bears. Well, except for Yogi, but he's got that good old Ranger's picnic basket to subsist on. The rest of those hairy b@stards are omnivorous scavengers that will eat anything, really.

Let's face it. Everything that we have here on earth should in some way be able to be broken down since it's all made on earth, and if it's made here we should have a way to "unmake" it, if you know what I mean - a way of reverse engineering it back into nothing. And if we're using one of these things that we've made, and there's a way that we can unmake it, we should make sure that the process for both is there before we use it.

After all, if we're to stop the evil "Global Warming" then we'll need to make sure that we're taking better care of everything in regards to carbon, methane, and toxic waste. After all, if we don't, we'll all die a horrible death when our climates become like that of the Aunt that you visited in your youth whose house was kept at a temperature similar to the surface of the sun. Or, we'll come to the realization that our changes in weather are cyclical and that there is nothing that we can do to stop the Earth from making the changes it deems necessary to protect life.

Assuming the former, I have the solution. It's very simple, and it's an intellectual approach. The solution is found in most cars, trucks, houses, and virtually everywhere that we've killed everything so that we can live.

What is this grand solution you ask?

Easy. Let's turn on the air conditioning. After all, if air conditioning is cold, and the world climate is becoming too warm, we could use this magical force that we've created to fix the problems that we've supposedly created. Think of it, if we built a few giant air conditioners on each continent then we could bring back the ice in the Arctic and Antarctic, as well as dictate our weather on almost any given day.

"Now on to tomorrow’s weather. Al Gore has let us know that due to today's cold front from the giant A/C in Los Angeles, ENS, creator and maintainer of the giant A/C will shut it down for tomorrow so that we can be treated to a day of warmth and sunshine. Scientists at ENS predict temperatures across the west coast of North America to be 40C to 43C, with a chance of acid rain later on in the day...."

Can you just imagine how glorious that would be? We'd have polar bears at the equator, and humans living at the poles. The penguins would move from the Antarctic to somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, and a few of them would likely move from the Zoo's in North America. Maybe they'd end up living in the Aztec ruins. And of course Americans would be forced to move elsewhere and be immigrants somewhere else, and everyone else could, and would complain about them being illegals.

Maybe it's not all that realistic. Maybe building giant A/C units to control the climate of the Earth as we slowly go closer to the sun isn't a wise idea. But then again, it might make the end of it all a little less distressing.

Rantfully Yours,

Matt

Happy Pills and Grumpy People

Much like everyone else here in North America, I've been put on a diet. No, not because I have to, because really, I could stay this size, or get bigger, but I'm not sure how conducive that would be to being a personal trainer in the future. I've put myself on it because I'm tired.

Yes, tired.

Tired of feeling like ass, and tired of whining about how my body feels. Sure, I might fall off the wagon, but if I get to a lower weight than I am currently, I'll be happy. I'm tired of my hypothyroidism taking over and me looking at food and getting fatter. I'm tired of rolling over in bed in the morning and not wanting to get up as these creaky old 28 year old bones grind together in a scrambled unison. I have more injuries than I should at this age, and I feel like I'm 80.

Oh yeah, I'm tired of feeling 80.

So, a diet. I'll be eating a lot of fats, proteins, but little to no carbs. I don't even think that I'm going to go for the typical weekly cheat day that I prescribe for my clients. I think I'm going to go as hard at the diet as I can since my body does feel really crappy right now, making it almost impossible to do the cardio that I would normally do. So that means I have to be super strict on myself, something I have always had a hard time doing.

But I want to do this for other reasons as well.

Last fall, when I originally ended up having issues with nerve pain in the neck, shoulders, back and arms I was doing great. I was sitting pretty at round 260lbs, and eating carbs without gaining weight. I was adding muscle and losing fat as my diet was so very precise, and I was working out doing HIT sessions 3 times a week as well as cardio 2 times a day, 6 days a week. 260 for me is fairly small, considering I've been up to a dat and bloated 300+ pounds, and that I was 235ish when I got married, and in high school I never dipped below 210-220 or so.

But, between the time of injury and current, I've only had a month in the gym. And that was a pretty weak month. I was still getting light nerve pain, but medicated myself after my workouts. After all, I sort of needed to considering that I never stopped lifting HIT (High Intensity Training) where one virtually beats himself to death with barbells and dumbells in the shortest time possible. But having all that time off I've gotten lazy. I've let my diet go, and have gotten up to the 295ish mark, depending on the day and how much food the Tylenol 3 has bunged up inside my intestines.

So, I've lost a lot of muscle, and I've gained a lot of fat. But, I did that to myself, knowing that I'd have to dig myself out with a salad fork, so I'm going to have to suck it up and endure the steaks, chicken breasts, olive oil, peanuts, almonds, eggs, cheese, bacon, sausages, low carb ketchup and all the seasonings that the store has to offer.

I'll have to hit up one of my clients for some of her food ideas, as she eats very succulent foods while managing to stay inside the rules of the diet I've given her. Me, bearing a penis and too much testosterone, usually eat fairly bland food from what the average person does, caring only that it has moo'd, clucked, or oinked in it's past, and that it is served as raw as possible.

So, with some adjustments I should be able to live.

I don't want to sit here wasting my time getting fatter and creating more work for me to do once my body works with me again. I want to hit the gym at the lowest weight that I possibly can once the time comes. I want to feel better. I want to wake up in the morning and have a desire to be conscious, not a permanent wish to sleep till I feel better.

I've already told my wife. If there's a way that I could give up the next year of my life and know that when August 30th 2010 comes around that I feel great and back to 100%, I would do it. To miss out on everything to fill better - anniversary's, birthday's, holiday's - everything. I would give it all up to feel better. I have never felt like that before, and have never wanted to feel good as much as I do now.

But, that's unfortunately not an option. I'm stuck taking it slow, being doped up on pain killers that cause me to be drowsy dizzy, being mentally slower than normal, being in pain, and feeling desparate and hopeless at the same time. Most people if placed in the same position as me would be running to a doctor to declare depression in the hopes that a dopamine genie would come around and make them all happy again.

But I know that wouldn't do it for me.

The only thing that's going to make me happy like I used to be is hoisting 110lb dumbells over my lateral body while I pump them out for reps. The only thing that's going to make me happy again is the sound of 45lb plates on a barbell clanging away as I rip out shrug after shrug of 405lbs's of weight. The only thing that is going to make me happy is deadlifting the same weight I just shrugged for rep after masochistic rep. The only thing that is going to make me happy is looking at my dog after we've just gone for a 45 minute run and knowing that he is all that much more healthier because of it. The only thing that is going to make me happy is to know I'm not a grumpy old man anymore, and that my wife actually can stand being around me.

I think anyone who's been around me in recent months has noticed the deterioration of my attitude. If I haven't left big enough clues, I've changed that when asked how I'm doing I got tired, I now say, "My normal", rather than saying that I feel like crap. Anyone who knows me knows that my normal now is not the normal that it used to be.

[/sigh]

Painfully yours,

Matt

Sigh.

I'm in a defeatist mood right now. Seems like no matter what I do, I can't get ahead, not that I even know why I bother trying.

I thought I worked from 3:30 to close all week, but I close tonight at 12AM, and then come back to work at 11:30AM. That's not so bad in real life, but it takes me 3 to 4 hours to wind down from my shifts, so I'll be heading to bed at 3 or 4, and getting up by 10 to be ready and at work for 11:30. Should be interesting.

Meh.

You know that mood you get? The one where you question everything that you do in life, and why you do it?

Take work for example. Why do we work? I mean, in the traditional sense we're putting in time and and effort so that we get a small paycheck for a company that makes millions so the precious few on the top get rich. That's capitalism I suppose.

I've always been a communist at heart. I believe that we should share everything equally and all put in the equal amount of work. I'd even settle for hundreds of years ago when pretty much everyone farmed, and that was the way of life - creating all of your own food and selling or trading the extra's for products that you cannot produce yourself. If you weren't able to make excess, you were screwed for clothing and sugar, but were able to survive to the next year by the labors of your own hands.

These days we're so co-mingled with everyone else we're dependent on corporations to work for to give us that bread and butter that we need. But why? Why aren't we privy to make more of the cream that the company makes so that we can actually enjoy, and share in, the fruits of our labors?

Maybe we're just being royally screwed. Speaking of which, why do we have that saying - royally screwed? Well, it makes sense to someone back in the dark ages when kings and queens ruled the land, and a portion (usually an incredulous amount) of everything that you made was given to the royal family to live off of. In sense these people only got partially screwed by the royalty since they did get to keep some of the things that they did work for. So where did they ever get fully royally screwed?

Who knows. Maybe they thought getting taxed was being royally screwed. I guess that makes us all royally, corporately, locally, and federally screwed.

It's all the price we pay to stay alive, living in a country where we're free to say what we want as long as it doesn't make someone sad, or heaven forbid hurt their feelings. But if we do, never fear, we've got lawyers to handle that. After all, every society has their members drudging the gene pool for to exploit others. We have free healthcare, paid for by our taxes and our occasional out of pocket costs. We have hundreds upon hundreds of ministers sworn to uphold our rights while taking bribes and looking after their best interests.

Is it all worth it? Is this really progress? Is the slaving, the safety and efficacy of this system all worth it? Is this really evolution at it's best, society ever becoming closer together and larger in population while we become more dependent on a system that progressively takes more of our time, money and vigor?

Sometimes I would just love to be hunting woolly mammoth's while having a saber toothed tiger do the same to me as we all fit together in the old food chain. I'd love to sleep in a cave and beat things over the head with a club while running away from fire. I'd love to live from day to day not being sure of anything.

No assurance of life. No assurance of death. Just fighting for life while cheating death.

At least I'd feel alive from day to day.

Rantingly yours from somewhere in a cave,

Matt

I've been slacking...

So to make up for it, there's 2 new rants for your hateful pleasure. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Matt

Who Cares? It’s Just Business.

So, why do I even bother? I find it strange how people can resort to the use of "txt" speak in a business email, even from the supervisory level.

I'm not sure about them, but when I was a kid and going through school, a good chunk of my English classes were about proper grammar, and how to write in the world of business. All of this included how to do proper introductions and closes, as well as everything in between.

Maybe in this electronic age we've lost the edge. But I for one only use "txt" or "1337" speak when playing an online game, or when making a joke. Even in a text I don't use "txt" speak. I find it appalling and a detriment to my intelligence.

Maybe society is just lazy. Maybe with all of these advancements we've lost the ability to adhere to the things that we were taught, and that we've got caught up in quick communication rather than proper and clearly written communication.

It's an annoyance. Heck, I want to have the ability to "bounce" an email at work back to the sender based on my own preferences, say someone typing in all capital letters.

Warning – Your email was not delivered to recipient(s):

matt@xxxxxx-xxxx.com

Reason: You’re an idiot who typed a message using txt speak and all caps. Either do it proper or don’t do it at all.

It really does amaze me.

Although, this really could relate to all of the other people in the world that cannot drive, and say that "manual" transmissions are too hard to drive on. Jeremy Clarkson of BBC's Top Gear fame recently said that if you have no interest in something, then you're not likely to care, or do it correctly. So very true. If you don't care about writing a proper email and being interpreted by your peers in a positive manner, then by all means, don't care.

The same goes for those people who have a hard on about automatic or CVT transmissions. They'll do anything to not learn on a proper gear box - a manual. After all, if you care about driving, and want to do it correctly, then you'll take the time to do so.

I learned how to drive on a standard. As well, I've driven almost exclusively on standards. Why? Because they make sense, can be better utilized for better gas mileage and acceleration, and are better for driving under virtually any weather condition. If you care about driving, setting a correct line in a corner and losing the least speed while doing that corner while being smooth, a standard is for you. If you're looking to get from point A to point B, burning some gas in between while reading a book at the traffic lights and taking 5 to 10 seconds to get off the line when the light does change, then an automatic is for you.

Don't get me completely wrong though, there are some times that I think it'd be a great time to have an automatic. I have that mood every couple of months where it would be great to just plow my right foot down and cruise without having go think However, I find that leads me to think less about what I'm doing, and makes me more careless.

So, if you think you're a conscientious driver, maybe you should drive a stick if you're not already. You'll only find how much you improve, actually having to think about what you're doing.

Sure, and for the weak among us they're asking, "How am I supposed to drive a stick?! I can't do two things at once!". Well, for people like you they make public transit. If you can't do two things at once, driving a 5000lb weapon should be the last on your "To Do" list for life. After all, if you're going to take the risk and drive yourself around and not be able to two things at once, I don't want you next to me. After the cell phone rings and your book gets boring you might have the time to drive, or maybe turn your blinker on before changing lanes, heaven forbid.

I guess people out there today just don't care, regardless of the activity.

So? Today's lesson? If you're a dolt who doesn't care, at least realize that some of us do, and we'll be there to read your emails type in "txt" speak while we spray the hose on your blood and guts off the highway after you run your SUV into the path of a transport truck. Good luck and Godspeed. The sooner you make that mess the sooner I can go back to talking to people that care.

Rantfully Yours,

Matt

Work. The final frontier. Well, at least the last place that I usually want to be.

Work used to be a place that I liked to be at, and came to for the entertainment, social life, I had something to accomplish, and a career.

That, and they pay decently.

Well, things have changed, and I'm now a bit jaded, almost to the point of looking for employment elsewhere.

What changed?

Well, you just had to ask, didn't you. Well, let's do a small history lesson first.

June 2005 - Matt gets hired as a Part Time TSR.

Jan 2006 - Matt moves to the position of Full Time TSR.

July 2006 - Matt moves to the position of Part Time TSR 2.

October 2006 - Matt moves to the position of Part Time Assistant Supervisor TSR (A temp position).

July 2007 - Matt moves to Full Time Assistant Supervisor TSR (Permanent)

October 2008 - Matt moves to the newly created TSR 2 Team Lead

August 2009 - Matt is demoted due to "budgetary reasons" from TSR 2 Team Lead to Full Time TSR 2.

There's the facts as they've been given. However, there are a few things that make absolutely no sense to me on this at all.

For instance, due to "budgetary reasons" they've demoted me, and my duties has been passed over to the Commercial TSR Team Lead. Yet, for some strange reason, I maintain the same salary.

The other thing that makes no sense is a year ago, my supervisor pulled me aside and said that he was creating a new position that might be better suited for me since I didn't seem to like doing my current duties. I'm not sure where he got that idea, as I was frustrated with some of the processes as well as that my fellow team (at the time) got to go play all the work games in meetings while I sat on the floor doing my job, and getting yelled at by customers. So, at the thought of doing something new I applied for, and was hired for that position.

Enter 10 or so months after getting the position, I'm told that they're eliminating my position due to budgetary reasons. I'm still trying to figure this one out, as it shouldn't have been that different. After all, I'm still making the same wage that I had before but without the title and some of the responsibility.

Now some of you are probably asking, "Why the hell are you whining about this?! You're getting paid to do a job of lesser stature!"

True. And I know that. But having the experience in the Assistant Supervisor position I know how things work around here. Or should I say that I know how "things work" around here, if you get my not so subtle drift.

Downgrading myself or anyone else - and there are a couple others that this happened to so I'm not alone in this - causes them to take a "new" position with the company. A position change within the last quarter of the company's fiscal year causes one to be ineligible for a raise in the new year, which starts in September. So, essentially I lose out on a pay raise for the period of what amounts to 2 years.

And that's 100% pure grade "A" awesomeness. After all, the company is always talking about their corporate values, and that they want to have people stay with the company since it costs money to train people, as well as that they are aiming for that magical list of 50 top employers in Canada. Well, what a better way to do that than demoralize them by demoting them and then not giving them a raise when that time comes. After all, in these "tough economic times" we want to make sure that people spend less, and have less money so that they can't stimulate the economy. Brilliant. Absofrigginlutely brilliant.

I'm not mad. But I am frustrated. After all, it's like the last 3 years of my life when down the tube, the ass kissing was worthless and all I'm left with is a krusty brown nose. I'm a bit peeved that the company that I've worked for, put in overtime for, gotten up early for and stayed late for - at their beck and call, worked for bank time at a 1:1 ratio for the first 2 years (an illegal practice), and have come into work to every day I possibly can despite how crappy I feel would do this to me for a thousand or so dollars a year.

Whatever. I'm a bit disenchanted, but I do have to look at the things that this company has given me. I've been able to buy my first home, turn around a lot of things in my life, go on vacations and cash out shares that was given to me as "free" money. As well. I've gained experience. Experience in Tech Support, as a supporting role to front line agents, and gained management experience. I've gone through 2 management courses and successfully completed both of them. These are things that will help me find my next job, where ever and whenever that may be. I'd love to be able to somehow hang on till I can cash out my last set of shares at a decent price, but at the current pace I'd likely not make money for years with the TSX crashing like a Ford Pinto.

But, I'm willing to guess that my luck will run out much sooner than that, and of course I'll have to play my hand.

Unfortunately, I'm not the one in charge of the deck, and the dealer pays me what it wants, and tells me what it wants me to do. For the time being, I'm stuck with my current cards and wide eyes.

Rantfully Yours,

Matt

The Truth to Pregnancy Tests

That's right, you read it correctly. Pregnancy tests. Something that no one with a penis would invent.

While I was in the kitchen tonight putting the dishes away and loading the dishwasher back up, I had the TV on in the background, and a commercial came on for some pregnancy test that advertised that the user would be able to tell that they were pregnant 5 days sooner.

Why?! What's the point to such a thing?

Well, let's look at this. Most women have an internal clock that tells them that it's time to have a baby, and they of course fulfill this need through a guy. How? Well, sex of course, unless you're skilled with a turkey baster and are wanting to remove the male as much as possible.

The guy of course is ecstatic, being able to be used for his sperm and getting the gratification of sex. The guys needs are met. At the same time, the woman is getting her desire to be touched, held, loved, caressed, and possibly impregnated taken care of. Of course, it invariably happens one day that the necessary down under goodies take care of the nasty bits and a egg and sperm do a hoe down to make the man and woman one.

And since the woman is impregnated, the woman's need for sex is gone, having her womb full of a slowly growing and mutating being that will one day come forth from her life hole. And with that said, as she is now with child, her need for sex with a male is stifled, and the well is dry so to speak for the man.

Of course, the woman is going to want all that same affection that she was receiving before when she was fulfilling the male's sexual needs. And the male? In all honesty and with an overused and usually contextually incorrect cliche, we can easily say that "the well is dry". There is no more for him. He must now throw on his mangina for the next 9 to 10 months and be mister supportive, giver of ice cream and pickles, while the emotional and mentally unbalanced woman blames him for getting her pregnant. She will be loved and caressed, pampered, and have no desire for coitus since she's always feeling awful, and besides, she has all of this hell to blame on a man.

With all of the above taken into account, some idiot decides to take a pregnancy test and make it even more accurate, being able to detect a hormone in female urine before the woman even "knows" that she is pregnant. Why? Why 5 days sooner? Does this person really hate men all that much?

"Well screw this! I'm so sick of having all this unnecessary sex! I'm going to tweak that pregnancy test so that I can avoid 5 days of sex! Besides, he's not all that good at it anyway!"

I guess she really does hate men that much. After all, let's be honest on this topic - There's not a whole lot of women out there that have a higher sex drive, or even an equal sex drive than the average guy. Sure, some women out there do exist that are like this, but most of them are lesbians anyway, so they're not counting in our current numbers. The women that do have sex frequently either like dislike listening to their partners whine, or they are weak willed and weak minded. After all, what reason is there for the average women to have sex? Taking the example above with the gentleman not being able to be a pleasurable match on the mattress for his mate, he's discarded as not being good at it. Here's a thought, and it might be a strange one. Maybe it's the fact that I can sympathize with this gent, or maybe it's because I talk to a lot of people, but if someone isn't good at something they should keep doing it and improving? You know, the old "practice makes perfect" line?

Maybe, just maybe our wedding tackle wielding character above might be better at sex if given the chance.

Just maybe.

However, we're not dealing with the topic of satisfaction here. We're dealing with someone who must have been so utterly dissatisfied that they wanted to get the repeated act of coitus over with and not have to have sex those extra 5 days. After all, why should she?

I'm old fashioned in a lot of ways. Always have been, probably always will be. But if two people love each other and want to have a child they should be able to do it on their own, and find out the old fashioned way that they are carrying a baby inside the woman's womb. They don't need to be interfered with by someone who hasn't met them, and that someone's product appealing to the woman's need to know the moment that she's pregnant so she can start glowing.

After all, that's pretty much all pregnant women do right? Glow? Well, I mean aside from the bitching about men, being pregnant, throwing up, and eating everything in sight, right?

Here's the thing. Most women are too easily swayed by the media, what they see on TV, and what they listen to on the radio. They believe that a man will come into their life, charm them, wine and dine them, romantically make love to them, stay awake until the woman falls asleep while slowly cuddling and caressing her body, and have long romantic conversations during all waking hours. The truth? You women never let us. You're too busy believing all of the above and watching movies like The Wedding Planner or The Holiday to let it happen. You're too busy giving your emotions over to some musical ensemble on the radio that is singing some romantic song, or falling in love with the most attractive singer in said group to care. If you ever focused on having emotional contact with a real human being that is in the same room as you, lives with you, work with you, dates you, marries you - whatever it might be - you might have a hope of making this all happen. But it's not a one way street like society makes it look like.

You see, we're living in an era of not equality, but uniquality. What I mean by that is that only women are equal with other women. Since men dominated the scene for so long and the sexual revolution led to the women, men have be suppressed and treated as sex symbols that are not good for sex - but for every emotional need that women have. After all, since the media says it's true, it must be true. It's like Orwell wrote in Animal Farm - "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal that other animals". And that's the truth of it. Since men were the top's for such a long time there's a backlash that's been driven slowly for the last 40 to 50 years that men are stupid, sex symbols, and are emotionally equal to that of a woman and that we're here to serve all of the women's emotional needs.

I disagree. You want equality? Come and get it, I have no problem with that. I prefer it in fact. After all, when everything needs to be moved, you can gain some strength and move the load. There's blood and guts and someone needs to spray the mess off the road so traffic can resume? Come on in and grab the hose. Try not getting emotionally involved though, and just tuck that middle finger from that dead motorcyclist behind your ear.

Equality is great, and I agree with it. But look around you - how many commercials are on TV are showing men as equals? How many commercials, movies, and sitcoms show men to be intelligent and equal to women? Barely any, and that's because of this uniquality movement that is happening. All men in commercials are shown to be bumbling fools that screw up, and woman comes along to save the day since the man is unable to solve the problem with his penis, and is only able to think using that one head.

The truth, the absolute true truth is that us men are intelligent. We're logical, emotional, and sexual beings. Sure, we do have the sex drive of a mouse, but that's the way we're made. Just like you're an emotionally unstable and illogical being for 7/28 days, and expect us to pander to all of your needs instantly.

Here's a deal. Let's be truely equal. I don't think there's a single male out there that would mind at all being emotional, loving, kind, considerate, and intellectual with his mate in exchange for being sexed up at a reasonable rate. But it needs to be a fair exchange. And once a couple matures enough for them to want to procreate, by all means it should be an equal effort.

But for the love of God and all that is holy, do not, and I repeat DO NOT try to screw a guy out of those 5 days of sex just to find out that you're pregnant. That is not a fair exchange. That's like us knowing the cyclical information of your period, and disappearing the last 5 days before you get it.

After all, you're a strong confident woman and you need someone to emotionally, physically, intellectually, and sexually abuse for the 1/4 of your life that you're fertile plus the time that you're preggers.

Rantfully Yours...

Matt

Odes, Horses, and Drugs are Bad... mmmmmkay?

Ode to My Body:

I hate you, and I hate pain. Stop being such a prick.

Love,

Matt

Well...

Really I wish that's all I could write, but I must admit I do feel especially crappy tonight. I'm sleepy but wired, not in the mood to do anything, so I figure I might as well sit here and type for fun.

But, there's also the pain. I've had some good nerve pain today which has really been fun when combined with the headache I get. Seems my headaches have been worse in the evenings as of late, and only mild in the mornings. But, the mornings have been more nerve pain than anything. I'm going through pain medication like a junkie, and I'm not really able to fully get rid of the pain ever, just lessen it.

For those of you that have never had nerve pain, imagine a stabbing pain that runs down an affected limb or area. It's not pleasant. Unfortunately I've grown all too comfortable with dealing with this type of pain.

Why you ask?

Well, the latest injuries are not the first time that I've dealt with nerve pain. Shortly after the wife and I got married, I quit my job as a Pizza Boy, and took on a job with my sister in law's fiance (at that time, now they're just friends). Well, me being the big boy at the time, and a full 50 lbs lighter than I am now, I got stuck carrying all the really heavy stuff. Taking my end of a grand piano, massive entertainment units, and many other large and retardedly heavy objects became the weight on my shoulders, and unfortunately on my lower back. We had a contract through the local electric company (BC Hydro) where we would go around and pick up people's old fridges that they wanted to recycle, and in turn they got a small sum of money from BC Hydro. These fridges could be anywhere - on the edge of the road ready to go, in someones kitchen, in their downstairs basement, out on their deck, and of course up mile long driveways that were sometimes uphill on the way down.

My boss was a bit lazy at times, and to make things quicker he'd fill out the paper work and I'd throw the fridge into the truck. This truck was a 7 ton moving truck that had a deck height of about 4.5 to 5 feet, as it as a multi-use straight truck. I'd lean the fridge against the truck after taking it off the dolly, lift up the bottom and deadlift it to my waist, snatch it to shoulder height while leaning back, and then push it in on it's side so that it'd go in to the truck laying down. I'd climb up, and then lift it yet again, move it into a safe place, and strap it in.

We'd do 10 to 30 of these in a day depending on the route, or location. After, we'd get to throw them out of the truck into a pile at the recyclers, which was likely the most satisfying part of the job.

Too bad my back did not agree.

I soon developed an issue with my sciatic nerve in my lower back. I was only a couple of weeks away from going to take the United Van Lines course in Toronto, all expenses paid. This would have certified me for getting my own truck as an owner operator, and a gross income yearly of 100 to 120 grand, working 3 to 7 days a week depending on the time of year. I had to back out of the course, and soon after quit my job since I was unable to lift things. I spent the next few years seeing doctors that were unable to figure out the issue, as I had constant lower back pain, and nothing ever showed out of place.

Eventually with the workouts I did, and some more strength in my core as well as some fat lost to get me close to my weight as a mover, the pain lessened and slowly dissipated. It now only flares up occasionally if I move wrong, turn my neck at the wrong time, or lift things that are too heavy.

Not that I can lift anything right now at all anyway, which is part of the reason that I'm getting some of the pain occasionally again.

That brings me back to my body, and how much I hate it.

After quitting the moving job, I took a job at a call center doing tech support for MSN as well as taking a second job at the Walmart Photo Lab. I worked both for about 6 months, and then quit Wally World since I was burned out as I was doing full time hours at both plus picking up overtime when available. I needed a job sitting, and both helped with that, and helped me with the back pain and issues from the nerve pain in the left leg.

Then I moved into my current place of employment, working for a large Canadian ISP doing tech support. After being there for a couple of years, the wife and I managed to get away to Oregon for our fifth anniversary. We had fun, went horse back riding, and took the ranch owners offer up of going for a Sunday afternoon ride on the beach the day before we left. I asked him to bring a horse along that had a bit more pep - I've ridden off and on throughout my life, am decently familiar with horses and am familiar with galloping. Galloping was something that the horse that I was riding the first day out did not want to do.

And bring a peppy horse he did.

We all arrived at the beach at around noon or so, and got saddled up and hopped on the horses. Within a minute, my horse was prancing around, and then took off on me. I was still getting myself fully set up in my stirrups when the horse took off on me, and threw me into the semi hard sand on the side of this river that was feeding into the ocean. I got up, dusted myself off and realized that my right wrist felt a bit fuzzy and weak. Whatever I thought, likely just landed on it wrong and sprained it.

Not the one to lose to an animal, I hopped back up on the horse. That might have been the single most stupid thing that I've ever done in my entire life.

I should have called it quits. I should have tried my fingers out and made sure my wrist was ok. But no, me with super pain tolerance hopped back up, and we all set back out. We rode down Cannon Beach to the northern end of the beach, and all was fine. The horse and I were in a groove, moving as one, and nothing was awry. That is, until we turned around and the wife got a bit ahead of me. I tried to slowly catch up, and lightly gave the horse a tap in the ribs with the stirrups to get going up to a quick trot.

Apparently trot to this horse meant gallop. And gallop meant be an ass and go as fast as horsely possible.

We tore down the beach. I don't really remember this, but I've pieced it together from what the wife has told me. I ripped past the wife at full gallop, and she knew something was wrong because I looked pissed right off. I was.

The rancher had given me some advice, and me being quick to react decided to try what he told me.

"Reach forward and grab the bit in the horses mouth if he takes off again. If you pull on the bit, he'll have to slow down as he'll go into progressively tighter circles", he said...

I reach forward as far as I could with my left hand, hold in the reigns with my right, and tried to grab the bit. FAIL. I grabbed mane, and the horse went faster. I reached again, saddle horn nailing me in the stomach as we ripped across the beach, right hand pounding from hanging on so hard, and missed.

At this point, everything goes a bit fuzzy.

As I reached forward again with the left hand, my right foot came out of the stirrup. I bailed as my body flailed from the galloping motion. My left foot somehow came right out of the stirrup on the way down somehow so I thankfully wasn't dragged when I landed.

What I did do though is land on sand. Now, you're thinking sand, nice soft safe sand. Yup, nothing like awesome soft sand to fall in.

Not.

I was riding along the ocean remember? And how close was I riding to the surf? 15 feet or so, and the tide had just gone out and uncovered this sand. Sand that was packed as hard as concrete from the hundreds of thousands of tons of water that covered it only an hour or less before.

I came off the horse, and the best I can figure from the damage incurred, I landed on my right hip on the first fall, rolled over my head and neck, then onto my right lower back, and did this a couple of times that I rolled lengthways, skidding for about 40 feet and making little to no impression on the sand. I weighed 265 at that time, so you can imagine how hard the sand was if I barely marked it up.

People on the beach ran towards me. I tried to sit up, but I could see nothing except sand and black. The rancher came and checked on me, and helped me to a log a short distance away, where my wife and the rest of his other riders had gathered to make sure I was ok, and to start heading back to pack things in. I know that I told them all to go back and ride, and the rancher came back to check on me every few minutes. All I know is that black sky and sand at that time didn't click in my head, and there's still some fuzziness after that.

Eventually they did finish their ride, and they let me know that they'd meet me back at the truck, where our car was also parked. It was about a mile away. I was then left along to find my way back.

I was so dizzy and in so much pain, I could only take a couple of steps at a time. It took me a very long time to walk what normally would take me 15 minutes. By the time I showed up, everything was packed away and they were waiting for me.

Again, they checked me over to see if I was ok. Again, me being of stubborn ilk and high pain tolerance said I was fine. The rancher tried to give me the money back, and I told him we had an agreement - I rented a horse from him and he provided it. I should have just taken the damned money and walked away. But, we shook hands (right hand) and he told me I was fine, as I still had a good firm handshake.

Well, I sure did. But there's no way I should have.

Things do get more interesting. The night before we left on vacation the wife was on her way home from her parents and turned a corner in our old 2 door car. A deer decided to try to get in, but forgot to open the door, or even to wait for the car to stop. A buck butted into the passenger door, damaging it pretty heavily and making it impossible to open. So remember, we're dealing with a small 2 door car that was now a small 1 door car. And on vacation I usually do all of the driving.

I remember driving myself out of there, but I was pretty much out of it at that point. The wife drove me to the doctors who was closed, so she went to the hospital. By this time my body was starting to feel the toll of what had happened. She had to get a wheelchair and push me into the hospital as I couldn't walk.

I was in ER right away after a couple of quick forms were completed, and had 3 or 4 nurses helping me. Xrays on my hips since I could hardly walk, and on my right wrist.

Turned out that I had broken my scaphoid in my wrist, and 2 other bones - another wrist bone and one in the palm. As well, I had severe hematoma on my right hip and right lower back where my hips decided to swell to an incredible size - something that I have to this day, though the swelling has done down, but after 2 years it's still there. I also gave myself a concussion, and a rather good one. I regularly forget things that were easier to remember before knock on the noggin. I get arthritic like pain in the wrist when the weather changes, and sometimes if I move it too much, write, or play video games (something I rarely do anyway).

But, this brings me to current, and nerve pain.

The best that can be figured after Xrays, CT Scan, Electromyography, extensive chiro, massage, and physio have determined that I have a Brachial Plexus injury, which is a trauma induced into the nerve trunk coming out of the neck and into the shoulder. It causes pain in the shoulder, neck, left arm down to my fingers, occasionally right arm, and a side effect of muscle cramping and stiffness that caused tension headaches equivalent to migraines.

I'm doped up, and have been for 10 of the last 11 months since this injury occurred. For the nerve pain I'm up to 1800mg of Gabapentin per day (max dose allowable is 2400mg, and that's for epileptic patients which I am not), or 450mg of Pregabalin (max allowable is 600mg in epileptic patients). Normal dose is 150mg/day. I have to switch back and forth every two weeks or so as both lose the ability to block nerve pain.

For headaches I'm using roughly 6 Tylenol 3's with codeine per day - that's two more than recommended. Bear in mind that I only use that when the headaches get really bad, like tonight. I use that in conjunction with Ketorolac, which I'm taking 30mg/day and have been doing so for weeks now. It's only supposed to be used for 5 days at a time.

Lastly, everyone's favorite muscle relaxant - cyclebenzaprine, otherwise known as, "those little house shaped pills". I go through half the max of that per day at 30mg.

With all that, I don't remember much of the last year, and honestly I would give up the next year of my life, and every experience in it, to not feel the pain that comes with it. I'd love to just wake up a year from now and be fully operational. It's getting to be a pain in the ass to live in this mortal shell that feels like it's falling apart.

Speaking of sleep, I'm going to go get some of the that. It think sleep is a great thing right now, as it's my only real time that I'm not dopy, and not in pain.

Cliff notes: I hate my body and horses.

Ranfully yours...

Matt

Topic Du Jour? Domestic Abuse and Chicken Chow Mein.

Well, tonight the wife and I are at home, and having a somewhat relaxing evening. She's out on the deck assaulting the pee stains from the puppy that we baby sat last weekend, and I'm in the kitchen making a big batch of chicken chow mein. And how fitting is it that as I'm sitting there peacefully cooking our meal that there is a loud banging next door, accompanied by some loud screaming and a dog barking.

I guess I should give some frame of reference about where I live. I'm in a one year old condo building that we bought brand new, and that is a very nice place to be in. Across from us is a car dealership and some small crackshacks that are going to be torn down soon for a new apartment building. I'm in what is going to be a very nice neighborhood and what should be a very peaceful place in the evenings.

I turn off the tap water, walk over to the stereo and turn the TV down as well as the big fan we have blowing cold air in, meeting my wife at the deck door to figure out what the loud noise was .

Waiting.

More loud noise, screaming and yelling, what sounds like a paint can not being knocked over, but thrown multiple times all the while the neighbors dog barks like crazy. More crying.

Wife looks at me and tells me to call 911.

Hop on the cell, call 911 and talk to the police dispatch and let them know what we heard, let the police in via the buzzer, and try to listen and see if we're going to hear some more yelling from next door when the cops arrive.

Nothing. We heard nothing really. My wife only heard the guy tell someone to leave him alone soon after the police were there, as she was still out on the deck and cleaning. We of course wanted to make sure everything was ok, but we are neither close enough to our neighbors to go over and break up a domestic disturbance where the guy is yelling, and the girl is crying, nor are we armed enough to pull this off if the situation was at it's worst, so we let the police deal with it.

We kept quiet, and saw that there were 3 police vehicles outside, and they slowly left one after the other over the course of the next hour.

It would have been nice to know what the situation was. It's much like being in a war and being a triage nurse telling the doctor the symptoms that you've seen over the last 10 seconds, and that the doctor now has to assess the situation in an in depth manner knowing far more than you, but never sharing the details. I have to admit, my wife and I were hoping that the police would give us a follow up call, and let us know what happened. But no such call came.

If there's something that I hate, and I mean with such a passion that I have the potential to do serious harm if I come across someone committing the act of it and there's no witnesses, is spousal abuse. I despise people who have to take their anger out on others with violence. And not even so much that they are angry, but the releasing of that anger on another human, and one that he or she supposedly love. That's not any type of love that I've ever seen or experienced in my adult life*.

I do say adult life with an asterix after it for one simple fact - I've seen it occur with my mom and dad when I was young. I don't mean to say, or even lead the reader on that it was some type of horrible abusive situation where my mom was beat by my dad. It wasn't like that. But, I did see many types of anger and abuse. Abuse, I should also clarify that I mean any type of physical display that might be construed as, or is, destructive to person or property in nature. I've seen my dad do many things that were not something that I, or any other person that knows him would guess that he would do. I've seen him throw a book at my mom, a dog kennel at my childhood and teenaged year dog, and throw one of those circular baby bouncy activity centers at the floor and off a wall hard enough to crack the thick durable plastic. Those are a few of the more memorable things that have happened.

Let's say that he has a hard time accepting the fact that he might be wrong. It's that clear and simple. How do I know that? Well, I've also been on the receiving end of it. Heck, I'm 28 right now, and last New Years my wife and I were up there. My dad, little brother, and myself were playing a strategic board game that make Risk look like child's play. A game called Axis and Allies. A small argument came up about a movement that I made, and how it pertained to the rules. I knew that I was right according to the rules of the game, but as father knows best he wanted to make an issue of it. I asked for a reading of the rules, and was read them, and interpreted them in the way of the movement I had made. Well, dad turns passive aggressive and lets me have my way (ie, the way of the game rules, clear and precisely explained) and could see the look in my dad's eyes that he wished I was younger so he could tell me to take my glasses off so he could smack my face for "talking back". That's a rather general term, and could be implied that it's any opening of the mouth to let words out, even to just answer a question.

Being too old, and of course of greater physical capacity than my dad, he let me "off" on this one. But how often does this happen in other people's households where the person is let off with just enough life left to survive today's beating? How often is just letting someone "off" just short of a hospital visit, and just short of death. And how often does it go further than that?

Maybe I'm wise or foolish in my young age, depending on how you're reading this, but I don't think any one should be able to get off lightly with these types of attacks on another person.

How do I know? Having grown up with it, I've got it in my blood. My mom got beat by my grandpa when she was young. She put up with getting hit by a few objects so far in life with my dad. It stops there. I refuse to let it go past me, and my wife knows this.

But it doesn't generally start with beating someone. It'll start with striking a piece of furniture, throwing an object, uncontrollable screaming and yelling. Heck, it might even start with nothing.

It doesn't have to be that way though. Luckily in my case I'm smart enough to start thinking, and smart enough to do so in an introspective way. I remember being punished in my room with a spanking on the ass end, and then laying there in my bed punching myself in the head where I had hair that would cover the knots and bruises. No one was the wiser.

As I got older it was a compulsion to punch things that would hurt me, but not the object. A few of my first jobs involved working in kitchens with large walk in coolers and freezers, and when no one was around I would assault the walls with a fury no one would have expected. It was enough to bruise and bloody my knuckles many times over. There's a good reason that no one would have expected it though, I was the perfect teenager. I never drank, partied, smoked, got high, stayed out late, or did anything wrong. And if I got myself in trouble at home for something that no one else would get in trouble for, I'd punish myself in the walk in cooler. Those walls received a thousand punches, I swear. I internalized my feelings, and took the feelings of hate that I perceived from my dad and took them out on myself for being a failure, a nobody. That internalization led to a lot of anger that essentially exploded inside and nuked part of my memory. There are a lot of things that I wish I remember from my teen years, but I can't due to the anger that blinded me internally, and the blood that scarred my knuckles.

It starts like that for a lot of people who are going to be hereditary abusers since they're looking to have the person undergoing the punishment that is being handed out to feel the pain that they've "caused" the abuser. I could have followed this route, but I realized early on that there was something illogical in this. That there was something that didn't make sense with taking someone you love and beating them lifeless, let alone just striking them once out of anger. I wanted to make sure that any cycle of abuse that started way down the lines in each side of the family tree didn't make it's way through to me.

I absolutely abhor abuse. I don't think that any intellectual should have to stoop to this level. I think that everyone, especially those with an average and better Intelligence Quotient should be able to do things in a civilized manner.

I remember one time early on in my marriage when I got made at my wife, and I walked away closing the bedroom door, took my glasses off, and threw them across the room. There was a time a few months later we were again having an argument when it got so heated that I yelled at her at the top of my lungs. After those two incidents I made myself some promises.

1. Nothing is worth getting that worked up about.
2. An intellectual should be able to be civilized and able to talk the issue out.
3. If I ever got too mad internally, I would walk away so that I would not take any impending explosion out on my wife.

I've been fine ever since. In fact, over the last 7 years of marriage I've driven my wife nuts since I always try to make up as soon as an argument happens. I've had to learn that I have to give her time to think clearly, as her emotions get in the way at that point, where I just shut mine off to an extent and try to fix things from there. I have not since blown up, or been angry enough that I would ever want to cause her pain. After all, I'm in the process of stopping a cycle of taking anger out on others with words or violence. That's not to say that there isn't a good verbal rant at some point or another, but that I'm civil in the way that I approach things when anger strikes.

As I said, I abhor abusive relationships. My wife knows, and believes me that when we're watching COPS and it's an abusive situation where someone has had another's anger put on his or her shoulders and I tell her that if I ever come across the aggressor in the act of violence against someone in his or her dominion, heaven help that person. Being not of small stature and larger than the average male in mass, I would explain in non-intellectual terms to that person beating up another that it is not ok. Only I would tell them with the very thing I hate.

My own fist, and anger.

Speaking of anger, I'm hungry. I'm going to get some more chow mein and then head for sleep. The irony you're looking for in this? Tonight's bombshell? A cracka' makes a "Chinese" dish and the Chinese neighbors beat each other to a pulp, or so it sounded. Maybe I should make "Mexican" tomorrow night and see if my car ends up on air bags with spinners and a huge system all the while everyone talking to me calls me "mang".

Unfortunecookily yours,

Matt

Two heads are better than none.

The beginning of something that hasn't been finished. Something that was started and never picked up again, until now. This is going to be a collection of intelligence, wit, sarcasm, stupidity, and stubbornness. In other words, it's me in a nutshell. Uncensored. Unbiased. Open and free to say whatever I want with no political correctness.

Political correctness. That's a good one. Have we really become so pathetic that we're not able to take making fun of ourselves, and with that said, people who may be different than ourselves? But wait! That might mean that we're not giant pansies that can take a small blow, and that we can stand on our own 2 feet. I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm notorious for making fun of myself, my traits, my looks, my family, my wife, my dog, the way I wear my clothes, the way I fit my clothes, my bushy eyebrows, my wedding ring that alternates between two fingers, my tan lines, my left foot that is three sizes smaller than the right, my left calf that is smaller than my right, and a plethora of other things that I can think of about myself.

I'm still living.

In fact, you (the reader) are probably sitting here and questioning my sanity, and feeling sorry for me and the fact that I likely have the lowest self esteem of anyone that you know, and that it's no wonder that I make fun of so many other people if I feel so bad about myself.

Well thanks for the concern, but I'm just fine, thank you very much. In fact, I'm better than fine. You seem, I'm not a part of the pussification of the so called "First World" countries. I might live in Canada, one of the monarchial countries of PCness, but that doesn't mean I support or agree with it. I'm quite fine being at peace with the way that I am, and the way that I will be. I have a sense of humor, and I have no problem looking at myself with a smile on my face and telling myself that I'm an idiot. I also have no issue with looking into my life and seeing the stupid errors that I make, and the occasional thing thing that I do correctly. I'm very comfortable with my cynicism and view of the world in my blue colored glasses. Maybe it's this very comfort with myself that makes it so easy for me to make fun of everything else in life that may, or may not involve me.

Take work, a very PC place to be. Every morning I get up, put on my mangina, and head to work to make sure that I'm all touchy feely and taking everyone else into consideration. I can't call someone a name, lest I create a HR nightmare with Memo's and writeups. Sometimes I have to censor myself so bad I have to hold my hand over my mouth to make sure that the things that I'm saying inside are making their way to the audible domain.

You might see that as a cop out, and me claiming that I'm not PC being a farce since I have to play that game at work. Well, I have a mortgage to pay, and there's no way in hell the bank is going to accept an IOU every two weeks because I said what I meant instead of saying what my PC censored thought should have been. I have to play the game and character at work, and that's not avoidable. However, once the clock tells me too, I'm good to go with my real thoughts. The mangina comes off and I'm myself.

Sometimes I'm surprised that people stick around me when I'm not at work. In fact, and truth be told, I don't let many people around me when I'm not at work as my sense of humor can easily corrupt, and not many share the same views. Translated, this makes me a loner, and someone who has few people close, and those who are close are very close. I'm frequently surprised that my wife puts up with me with some of the things that I say, since I'm comfortable to speak my mind.

So, where am I going with this?

Well, nowhere really. See, you assumed that there was a purpose to this post, and that I was going to foil the PC world and find a way to defeat (or at least maim) my foes. Well, this is a rant, meaning that it doesn't have to have structure to it, or even a point. Remember, this is just a collection of thoughts and ideas that happen to be flowing through my conscious mind that might be focused or unfocused.

Too many people pander to the propaganda of the PC crowd, which is likely caused by the feminist movement in some ways, since we've essentially established that people born with a penis are inherently wrong, and that we should always be in a state of "feeling" good. Since Political Correctness leaves everyone feeling good, it makes sense to link the two together. After all, the penis toting crowd tends to base their thoughts on logic, and what makes sense whereas females typically are more the feeling based people. With the rise of the feminist movement in the 60's to current, and the stereotyping of men as stupid animals that always mess up and have a smart woman there to clean up the mess and resolve the issue (see any TV show or commercial for this one) we've seen that everything has moved to a more "feeling" based global community. With "the feelers" expecting everyone to be conscious of other people's feelings, and that we should all be happy, it spills into every form of life and leaves the half of the population that is the majority following the whim of the minority. After all, male population does stand at 50.25% of the global population, according to one internet website, and if it's on the internet it's true to me.

So, we've established the fact that PC = females, and that the touchy feely crowd that is taking over the world brainwashing males into thinking that feelings are the only thing that matter.

It's simply not the truth. Give me one good reason that I should have to take everyone else's feelings into consideration before opening my mouth. After all, if I'm being stifled by the PC crowd, they're oppressing the very thing that makes me happy. And by not letting me be happy, they're not taking my feelings into consideration, and therefore breaking the very logic that makes them "right" in the first place. If they wanted me to be happy, I'd be allowed to say everything that comes into my head, when it comes into my head and not have to worry about any retribution from them. But, that will never happen.

After all, I'm wrong again, and since I'm not PC that means I'm thinking with my penis - meaning that I'm using the opposite of "feelings". Well, to that I say that two heads are better than one, or even none, and that there's no way that you're going to stifle me unless you're paying me really well. I'll strap my mangina on and play along as long as you're giving me enough money.

Everyone has their price.

Rantfully Yours,

Matt