Hung Over

At what age does one gain will-power? Or facial hair?

I mean, I’m 29 now, and on the morning of this past birthday, like all other birthdays before it, I woke up and wondered to myself “Is this the year? Is this the year I finally grow up? That’d be neato. That or a beard – god I’m so tired of this patchy bullshit that I’ve been futilely trying to turn in to an Abe Lincoln style chin-strap since I was 16.”

But alas, year 30 of my existence is shaping up to be little different than any of the previous 29. I still spend way too much time playing video games (damn you WoW), I still have crippling commitment issues, I still run a razor over my face every day while crying softly to myself, and I still can’t manage to find a way to not go out and get absolutely schnookered on school nights. I mean, how many gut wrenchingly awful days do I need to spend under these flickering fluorescent lights here in this taupe cubicle, with ice-picks sticking in to my temples answering phone calls from idiots who I have to pretend to be nice to before I learn that drinking is for young people and weekends?

The sunglassed ride in to work is always dreadful. As I pass by other cars on a deeply overcast day, I have to imagine their drivers know…just…know…that beneath these $10.00 convenience store shades lay the eyes of an idiot.

Here at work my co-workers love every minute of it – except the ones that were out with me – they’re wrapped in fleece blankets sipping soup out of Tupperware bowls. I walk very slowly and wince at everything, hamming it up a bit for sympathy that never comes. But I’ll take ridicule instead…it’s a worthy substitute and, hopefully, enough of it will remind me that beneath its playful exterior, that criticism bears the truth – that I’m a moron.

To make things worse I work in an inbound call center selling communications products to the general public…meaning every 45 seconds or so there’s a beep in my ear and an automated voice that announces “in call” with the same level of enthusiasm that I currently feel about taking that call. It might as well say “BEEEP!! – This is gonna suck.”

That beeping – made especially excruciating by my current medical condition – is invariably followed by six to eight minutes of some slovenly Neanderthal explaining to me all about the problems with his cable TV, which of course means nothing to me, because I work in the sales department. It's a constant source of amazement to me that gems like that gentleman can continually manage to end up choosing the third option, the one for a transfer of high speed internet service, even though the automated leader says quite clearly “for trouble with your service press one”.

Seriously, is anyone surprised that your TV isn’t doing what you want it to when you can’t even “press 1 for trouble with your service” when you are having trouble with your service? I mean, your phone has a 1 button right? And she said “for trouble with your service, press 1”? And you’re having trouble with your service? And you have ears? THEN HOW THE FUCK DID YOU END UP IN THE SALES DEPARTMENT?

I wondered when I got this job why so many of my co-workers were callous towards the people who called in. Now I wonder how they’re still sane. I mean…it’s simply mind boggling the level of idiocy that is allowed to walk around out there without supervision. But I digress.

So my first call today was from just about the most obnoxious kind of caller – one that I have affectionately dubbed “The Snuffleupagus”. You probably know one or two of these people – they are characterized by unnaturally low voices and the ability to make a 4 word sentence last five fucking minutes.

“Hey ……………………… I ……………… called ……… to ask …………………………. if you knew ………………………. um …………………………. anything about ……………………………. well …………………………. hold on …………………… my account number …………………….. you probably need that …………… first ………………….. um …………………….. it’s …………… uh ……………… hold on ………………………………..”

To ice this delicious cake, this particular Snuffleupagus had a Parakeet that was, I have to assume, living inside his phone’s mouthpiece. Every so often this disease ridden avian would utter a screech so loud that it would burst pixels on my LCD screen.

So with half closed eyes and a headache generally reserved for Joe Pesci victims, I get

“So ………………………………………. I ……………… um ……………. SQUAAAACK!! ……………. I have ……………………………. two TVS ………………………… SQUAAACK! ……………… are you there? ....................................... SQUAAAACK! …………. and the second TV ……………………………………………….. has ……………………………………. well ……………………………. the first TV …………………………. has one of those …………………………………. what do you call them ……………………… SQUAAAACK ………………… MARGE? ................................... WHAT DO YOU CALL THOSE THINGS? ............................... (what things?) …………………. SQUAAAA--AAACK ………………… YOU KNOW ………………………. THOSE THINGS UNDER THE ……… SQUAACK!!! …………….. THE TV THERE? .................................. THE BOX? ............................................ (you mean the cable box?) ……………… SQUAACK!!! ……………………. YEAH THE BOX FOR THE TV? .................................. (I don’t know honey, I think it’s just called a cable box) ………………………… is that right? .................... SQUAACK!!! ..................... Sir? ...............................”

At this point, as a defense mechanism, I have drifted off in to pleasant fantasies of suicide.

At some point, the prospect of dealing with those types of phone calls with a hang over will overcome my desire to use liquor to drown out the memories of those types of phone calls, but as you can see, it’s a difficult circle of misery to break free from.

So here I sit, huddled over a cup of coffee weighed down with about half a pound of non-dairy cream powder, cringing over the prospect of what particular tortures the next six to eight minute conversation my enthusiastic automated friend will bring me, and wishing I had a fleece blanket to wrap around myself and some soup to sip on.

The Dreaded Cold

Though I could probably think of something interesting to write about today, I think I’d prefer to just kinda ramble on about whatever comes to mind. This is, after all, more of an exercise in dedication than any actual attempt to create crap that people want to read.

As such I’m going to talk about my cold.

I don’t generally get sick. Not sure if that’s just luck, or genetics, or what. It can’t be from good, clean living, because I treat my body with the contempt generally reserved for child molesters. I mean, I eat crap, drink, smoke, pick up food off the floor – no matter which floor, I don’t exercise, I try to eat vegetables but I usually fall back on the olde stand-by of a cheese burger or a tortilla wrapped around something greasy. So it’s something of a medical mystery about why I manage to avoid most illnesses. Maybe I just come from good stock. Who knows?

However, having said all that: I’m sick.

So dealing with illness is something kinda new to me. That’s not to say that I haven’t done it before, just that I don’t have set strategy that I know works. It’s odd to deal with something where no proven methods exist. Sure, doctors and quacks alike will have all sorts of ideas for you. Starve it, feed it, drink lots of fluids, take lots of drugs. It all seems to be guess work and distractions from the real solution – let your body deal with it.

But letting your body deal with it isn’t good enough when you have nasty symptoms and have to be at work. So I figured I’d gather a bunch of theories from the internet and give a few a try.

They aren’t working.

Theory One: Starve a cold.

Apparently Mark Twain chronicled that he would fast any time he got a cold and it would resolve itself. So I considered that. It seems dumb. I mean – doesn’t your body need nourishment to enact its many processes? Don’t white blood cells get made from something? Besides, I’m fat and I want food. So Theory One is out.

Theory Two: Feed a cold.

So, if starving is dumb, maybe feeding is the alternative. This seems more palatable, though I will give this to the “starve it” theorists: digestion and food processing take resources in the body, so it would seem to make sense that gorging yourself would over-tax those processes and detract from the body’s ability to work on the cold. If all your enzymes or whatever are busy breaking down that delicious double cheeseburger, they can’t be killing the cold.

So feeding a cold seems to be a good idea, but done in moderation. And you have to eat the right things. Fluids seem to be good – soups and whatnot. Someone once told me that your first urination of the day should have color, and the rest should be as close to clear as possible. The theory is that water adds nothing to your body, but instead acts as kind of a flush – rinsing out your insides. As it passes through you it’s basically washing your pipes – taking whatever crap has been accumulated with it. So, good! Lots of brothy soups and water.

Also, everyone seems to agree that Vitamin C is good. Doctors seem to agree that it bolsters your immune system. I also read somewhere that cayenne pepper is good for the immune system, which I guess I can believe, though I have to admit that the website I found that information on was a little too vegany to be taken seriously. They recommended making lemonade from fresh squeezed lemons, water, a sprinkle of cayenne pepper, and maple syrup (don’t ask me why – maybe maple syrup isn’t as processed or filled with impurities at granulated sugar?). It’s not terrible, actually, but fresh squeezing lemons is something for weirdoes so I don’t plan on making a habit of it. I wonder if you could add cayenne to orange juice? I should try that tonight.

The end result of this theory has been good, I think (I still have doubts of the “there’s no verifiable way to prove that this crap is doing anything more than my body would have been doing on its own” variety), but this cold seems less severe for me than it has been for friends and co-workers who have been down with similar strains.

Theory Three: Take lots of drugs.

Now, in general I am against the “take lots of drugs” theory. My logic is simply that human beings managed to survive for 40,000 years or more without Sudafed, so there’s no reason why we shouldn’t continue to survive without it.

Of course, everything about that logic is stupid.

I mean, the average lifespan has almost quadrupled since our species came to be, with most of that growth (almost 50%) in the last 150 years. You have to imagine that a fair portion of that increase is due to drugs. Sure, most of it is probably diet, exercise, the fact that we’re less likely to get eaten, etc. but drugs certainly play a role. So why am I so willing to hold on to my aversion to drugs? I don’t know. A licensed psychological professional might suggest that it has something to do with my stubborn, self-reliant nature borne of my upbringing as an only child…sort of an “I aint need nobody fo nothin’” attitude (which is similarly stupid, but hey – what can you do – that’s me).

But I took the drugs anyway. Not because I think they are doing anything to cure the illness – I’m pretty sure they aren’t – but because they do seem to alleviate some of the symptoms, making it possible for me to stifle my snot and come back to work, where I’m typing this obnoxiously long blog entry about a cold.

First Thoughts on the Election

It's finally happened. I care about politics.

Well, sorta.

I'm still not going to be volunteering for anyone's campaign, I'm not going to give any money, I'm not going to throw myself behind anyone as the savior of all humanity, but I am going to vote, which is a big step forward for me.

See, for years I was terribly disillusioned with the whole process. At 29 years old it takes a particular kind of temperament to be disillusioned with anything, but clearly I am of that temperament.

My rationale for not voting was based around the belief that it's nearly impossible to know who you are voting for. As low an opinion as I have of self-proclaimed "red staters", I have to believe that if they knew in 1999 what they know now about the policies of George W. Bush, not even they would have elected him to lead. (I'm a little more confused about 2003, but that's a topic for another post)

The problem is, there's no way of knowing what kind of a President a Candidate will make during the campaign. A Candidate, by necessity, must pretend to be something he/she is not while trying to win our votes. They have to lie to us. They have to tell us what we want to hear. They have to pretend that our issues are the most important issues in the world, and they have to promise us that, if elected, they will make the sagging cotton economy in southwestern Ohio (or whatever) is the number one issue that they will address.

It's bullshit, but it's necessary bullshit.

Unfortunately, we as a species lack true empathy. Our decisions are dictated by our experiences, and our experiences are, by definition, ours - they are specific to each individual. As such, a candidate running on a platform of, let's say, universal health care, must make universal health care important to each and every one of his or her constituents. The problem is, universal health care doesn't mean anything to me. Philosophically, I'm behind it, but I get health care through my employer. So why should I give a shit if some random dude who I'll never meet gets taken care of?

I know, I know, there are all sorts of arguments for why I should give a shit, but since my mother will never read this I can comfortably admit that I still don't. Go ahead, preach the "human right" aspect. Go ahead with the "it saves us all money" pitch. I don't care. Well, I kinda don't care...more to the point, I don't care at the moment because I'm trying to make a larger point.

Now that is not to say that universal health care isn't a very important issue for some, or even many, of a certain candidate's constituents, it is just to say that it isn't an issue for me. So to speak to me, the candidate will have to find another issue. For what it's worth, my hot button issue is the economy. I need a candidate to promise me that under their leadership Americas economy will be strong. Fancy new TVs will be cheap, innovative new products will be falling out of the sky, and I will be able to make a better than decent living so I can afford all the ridiculous crap that I, at one point, promised myself would never be important to me.

So how does a candidate get my vote? If he or she comes to me preaching universal health care I'm going to go back to playing my PSP. So instead they come to me promising me the world in terms of economic growth. Problem is, I - like a jilted lover - know that they were just down the street whispering sweet nothings in some old woman's ear about how her prescriptions will be cheaper come November.

Well, which candidate is the real one? There's only one thing they can do first, and they have now promised both me and Betty down the street that our agenda will be it. Truth is, probably neither one was true.

So I never voted. I always believed that I couldn't vote - that it would be irresponsible for me to vote - because I genuinely had no idea who I was voting for. Any candidate that I voted for would be some sham, some pretty mock up designed to appeal to the voter in me. The Candidate could have little or nothing to do with the actual President I was helping to put in to power.

And then we got President Bush.

I mean...Jesus.

Quick: name 5 good things he's done in eight years. Eight Fucking Years. Eight years, and nothing to show for it. No Child Left Behind? Huge failure by any standard. Prescription Drug Reform? Written by the Pharmaceutical Companies? Nope - failure. War on Terror! Yeah! That's gotta be the one! Oh...wait...Al Qaeda is actually STRONGER now than it was before?

All it seems this man has done is to significantly expand the powers of the office of the President, while not using those powers to accomplish anything for the country. If I weren't secretly hiding an optimist underneath this angry, angry pessimistic shell I might accuse President Bush of pursuing power for power's sake. As is, I'll just fall back on the old "incompetence" excuse. However, that's not much of a choice when it comes to the Legacy Department. "Hey George, would you like my to title your biography The Most Incompetent President Ever, or How Evil People Use Power to Create More Power For Themselves?"

So anyway, I vote now. Well, I voted in the mid-term elections and I plan on voting in the Presidential election come November.

Sure, I still have some issues. I do live in Minnesota, which means that my particular vote plus two cents will be worth about two cents.

You remember that South Park episode where they forced the kids to choose a new mascot, and the choices were a Giant Douche and a Turd Sandwich, and Kyle wouldn't do it so they exiled him? Vote or Die, Motherfucker...Vote or I will Motherfucking Kill You. In the end, he decided he'd come back to participate, and he cast his vote for Turd Sandwich, and they counted the votes and Giant Douche won 1410 to 36?

Well it's hard not to feel that way - particularly in a Representative Democracy where so long as one more person in any given district votes for one candidate over the other, all their representatives go accordingly - meaning anyone else who voted beyond that one was just wasting a perfectly good Tuesday afternoon.

However, at the very least by voting I can pull a Homer from the Citizen Kang sketch in Treehouse of Horrors VII. You remember, the one where aliens Kang and Kodos take over the bodies of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole and use the election to take over earth?

Anyway, Kang wins and dystopia ensues. As the episode ends, we see the Simpson family slaving away carrying massive stones for their new alien overlords, and Homer says "Don't blame me, I voted for Kodos".

(If you're wondering, by the way, the answer is "yes" - a fair bit of my political, ethical, and personal philosophy will be drawn using examples from prime-time cartoons. )

Luckily, this time around I don't believe that we have a George Bush in the running. Sure Obama's experience is questionable, and I have my doubts about Sen. Clinton's ability to work on both sides of the aisle to actually get anything accomplished, and Sen. McCain is starting to worry me with all this talk of "10,000 years in Iraq" - well, and besides, he's a Republican which has become pretty synonymous with "evil" in my mind. But even with their downsides, I don't think any of them could manage to fuck up the country as badly as it has been for the past two terms.

So I'll cast my vote, and hope for the best. If not, at the very least I'll be able to say "don't blame me, I voted for Kodos."

Test

So apparently, and I must admit this is pretty cool - not to mention damned handy when you want to post from work but you're afraid your network administrator hates you and is tracking every website you seem to have any minuscule level of interest in and blocking it, not just for you but, because you work for a cable company, the entire web-browsing world - you can post stuff to your blog via email.

So, if it works, this should be posted to my site.

Also, it should be searchable from google under "ridiculous run on sentences".

First!

Alright, so I'm gonna give this a try. If you happen upon this early, I implore you: have low hopes.

The whole point of this exercise will be to see if I can dedicate myself to writing something every day, regardless of quality (which, I repeat, will be low).

Topics will naturally focus on the crap that I'm interested in. There will probably be something about politics from time to time - most of it halfway reasoned and impulsive responses to current events. There may also be genuinely interesting observations about technology, as I'm a huge nerd. Unfortunately, because I'm going to try to do this daily, I have to imagine that most of it is going to take the form of "so...I got up, played WoW, went to work, came home...seriously, kill me" type posts.

Anyway, to the two of you who will eventually find this Blog; welcome. As you can see, I promise little. Rest assured, I will still find a way to disappoint.

Thank you.