Hi-Brow + Low-Brow = Uni-Brow

... oh yes they do, yummy yummy cock, yum yum they love it, yes they do ...

... this whole Craig thing has illuminated the republican outrage over the Monica Lewinsky thing for me ... the deal is that blowjobs are OK for male politicians as long as they're *giving* them ...

Republicans
restoring dignity to Washington
...one men's room stall at a time

... You know that ship that sunk off the coast of Greece?

... My dad was on it!

... He's fine.

... He and his wife have their passports, he has his wallet and his camera -- with good pictures of the sinking I'm told and that's it.

They were unable to purchase more clothes cuz they're in Rome and it's Easter. So they're called "the stinky survivors."

While on the ship that picked them up, there as an announcement from the Greek government assuring any and all help needed and telling any Greek citizens who to contact if they had any questions or conderns. Then there was a similar announcement from the Spanish ambassador. Then silence. Nothing from the United States embassy. My uncle Don, who was relating the story to me, said that swift boat asshole they just confirmed as an ambassador must have been sent to Greece.

I was in line getting my lunch before I went in to work, when someone yelled that an old man had fallen and split his head open. I put my stuff on the counter and said I'd be back.

When I got there, security and valet services had already stood him up and leaned him against a podium. They had also already called 911. I checked him out, asked him some questions. Someone got him a chair, so I helped him into it. I asked him a few more questions and got a closer look at his wounds. I told him he was probably fine, but that we'd let the fire department have a look at him and that they'd probably rule out anything serious, clean him up, put dressings on and send him on his way.

I stayed with him until the fire department got there, gave them a quick report, and was on my way.

Here's the thing, this was very basic, first-responder type stuff. I've given care at about this same level before, but for the first time, I was really confident about it. For the first time I was certain I was asking the right questions and doing the right things. It was so comforting to confidently move down a flow chart in my mind, ruling things out as I went.

Head wounds are dramatic, they bleed a lot, so folks were sparking out a bit and kinda talking at him. Within a couple questions I was feeling pretty confident I'd ruled out anything critical and knew I was most likely dealing with a dramatic but inconsequential situation. I kept my eye on him to see if any of that changed. If he were a young guy, it probably would have been clean him, dress the wounds and send him on his way, but he appeared to be in his 70s at least. Old guy's gotta get checked out.

So it's not so much that I feel like Mr. Big Pants for having EMT training but it's just that just yesterday I was thinking "what the hell did I do all that for?" and today I feel like it was well worth it. Like I said it was relatively minor. A Red Cross First Aid course would have been sufficient but the EMT training and experience, if nothing else, let me be the calm guy asking the right questions and keeping the patient calm. People are always gonna get hurt, and I'm always going to want to help and now I'm so glad I have just a little bit more knowledge and experience.

What I really try to remember is that I don't actually know shit about shit and focus on the basics -- scene safety, airway, breathing, circulation and then keep a close eye on all of the above.

And if you're going to come in late to work, coming in with blood on you goes a long way towards squelching a lot of questions about it.

every time I went to log in I read some shit about new blogger and google account and whatnot and I clicked away in a cloud of "whatever" but, yeah it turns out, if you actually read it, it made sense

here's the thing ... I moved ...

same apartment building, just upstairs to a larger space

Here's what I learned:
It's easier to move across town than it is to move up two flights of stairs
Not only are there nine types of vinegar, we need all nine of them

Right outside our window is a loquat tree. Lots of suirrels and crows are attracted to that tree, as are cats and spiders and one of my neighbors eats them too. I heard a noisy and unfamiliar bird in that tree the other morning, I had a closer look, expecting it to be one of the usual suspects, but it was bright, almost fluorescent green. There was a parrot in the tree outside my window! Or a parakeet, whatever, I'm not sure, not the piratey looking bird but the little green one. I had read about these feral parrot/parakeet colonies in San Francisco and Glendale. That evening he came back with a little friend.

Parrots!

President George W. Bush has declared January 2, 2007 to be a National Day of Mourning

One -- that infernal christmas "music" finally stopped

Two -- I'm proposing a new guideline at work for my fellow employees and me --

Bitching only in even numbered hours


We have a lot to bitch about.

But I just can't take it any more.

I'm hoping for a full vote on this when everyone is back and I would love to come into 2007 knowing at least half of every shift will be completely devoid of pissing and moaning.

Don't get me wrong. It was the sound of my own voice that drove me the craziest.

I realized I genuinely had nothing new to offer on any of the topics AND the likelihood of any of them improving is virtually nil.

So stay or go. That's the choice. And if it's stay, then it is what it is.

I've sometimes fallen into the delusion that the law of karma applies to *almost* everyone. When I see people putting pungent badness into the world and *seemingly* not getting any of it back on them, I start to get panicky and afraid and fall into an additional delusion that *I'm* the one that has to do something about it.

And then, after some time, I see the inevitable blow up in their face and I feel embarassed for having gotten so worked up over it.

There was a woman who worked here who was so pathologically nasty that when she walked in the room, it felt like the temperature dropped. A cloud of nausea and awfulness seemed to travel along with her.

But then, I noticed that every now and again, she'd come in here and take a big ol'd nasty psychological dump on us and skitter out the room and I would not only not get upset, I'd find it downright hilarious. The difference was not in her but me.

My feeling was that on those days I simply was not on her frequency. Worse that means all that time I was upset by her, it mean I was ON her frequency.

I'm a fairly decent knife fighter but I don't carry one because the idea of using one for self defense is too intimate. I don't want to be covered in someone elses blood and fluids. Also cops tend to notice that sort of thing.

Well it's the same way with getting into a vibe of really hating someone. You end up covered in their stuff. Really hating someone is too intimate. You end up thinking about them way too much. You do that when you're in love too. When you think about someone a whole lot, you end up putting out all these psycho-para-physical tendrils to them and you end up getting a huge dose of them.

I'm not at all saying I'm never going to get upset at or bitch at anyone any more, no this is not a new age daisies kind of world but I am saying that I'm going to try to be real selective of who I wrap my tendrils around.

Speaking of which, FOUR people have asked me in the past three days if anyone heard anything about Chucklehead.

I think there's a reason.

I think he's dead.

On the one hand ... DUH!

On the other, the building feels different. It doesn't feel like there's a really crazy, drugged out psychopath obsessively thinking evil thoughts about us anymore.

The tendrils are gone.

I know that sounds a little new agey and flaky and stuff.

It's just true.