It's Time to Cut the Cord

Cell phones, PDA's, laptop computers, and ipods. The conveniences of modern life. The results of our ever advancing technology. We can talk on the phone, send e-mail, listen to music, surf the web, and plan our schedule no matter where we may be...until the battery runs out. For all the brilliance and fun our technology has given us, we are still almost as tethered to an outlet as we used to be. We have briefs moments of freedom sometimes lasting a whole day before we have to find a safe place to re-charge our batteries. We're almost like energy vampires who have to return to their coffins at sundown, only we have to return to our outlets at the end of each day. (With the recent popularity of Twilight I had to throw in the vampire mention. It will help me with the search engines) There are even those of us who feel lost, paralyzed if one of their electronic devices runs out of juice.

Charging cords have become the bane of my existence. I have a file cabinet drawer just for charging cords. Part of my nightly routine before bed is making sure that all of my electronic devices are plugged in to charge for the night. (I'm sure some of you ladies do the same) With the advent of the electric car some people have to plug in their ride every night too. Some people tuck in their kids. I tuck in my ipod, my two cell phones, my laptop, and my PDA. When I travel one of my big concerns is remembering all my charging cords. Airport security almost always goes through my checked baggage. I always open my suitcase to find that little pre-printed note that says, "We invaded your privacy and rifled through all your personal belongings. Sorry if we broke anything. Have a nice day." I imagine that they scan the luggage, see all kinds of electrical cords and wonder if I'm building a bomb, so they have to check it out.

As much fun as all of this charging cord nonsense is I yearn for the day, that's right, I said yearn, when electricity will be available for free, from the air. That our devices will become so energy efficient that they will be able to run indefinitely by passively absording static electricity in their environment the way our cell phones search for a signal. Of course the increase in incidents of human spontaneous combustion will be a little disturbing, but all progress has it's price.

Got Sleep?

Sleep. A basic, innate human need. An instinct. Most people spend roughly one third of their lives asleep. Unfortunately I'm not one of them. I view sleeping as a skill. I have many skills, some of them are even useful and productive skills. Sleep, however, is not listed on my resume. I do it every night, just not as much as I'd like or as often as most. Sounds like my sex life, but that's a topic for another post. As I said, to me sleep is such a difficult enterprise that I view it as a skill. I'm good at falling asleep. I'm just not good at staying there. Today I woke up at 4:24 a.m. I'm not sure what that is in metric time for my Canadian and European friends, but in America that's damn early. If I lived on a farm the roosters would be telling me to go back to bed. There are historical anecdotal reports that Leonardo DaVinci got by on catnaps throughout the day. If poor sleep begets artistic genius I ought to have a few masterpieces done by now. I suppose my masterpiece is, I'm sure you'll agree, this blog. Yep, I'm the Leonardo DaVinci of blogs. Hmmm....I may have an idea for a new blog title...See?!!? Without enough sleep I just ramble idiotically. Is idiotically even a word? Maybe that's my sleep deprived genius at work. I'm creating new words like Leonardo created paintings. Like I said, I get to sleep easily and I get 6-7 hours straight, but then my brain just turns on. Unfortunately when my brain turns on it's asking me what I'm going to do at work today or what bills I need to pay instead of ideas for great paintings and sculptures. I'm sure you're also thinking, "Phil's lack of sleep sure as hell isn't giving him and great blog ideas either." Anybody else out there in the same boat as me with your sleep? Does anyone else have non-pharmaceutical ideas for extending my sleep past 6-7 hours?

We're All Gonna Die

“We’re all gonna die!” It seemed very funny to shout that out during a fire drill my freshman year of high school. It was still funny to my friend and I after we realized our only consequence would be a stern talking to by the principal. Yes, when confronted I dragged my friend into it. “He dared me to,” I said. What had really happened was that in the midst of 2000 students being evacuated from our high school I had turned to my friend John Martin and said, “Do you dare me to yell ‘We’re all gonna die’?” Of course John took me up on my offer and unwittingly became my accomplice when I caught heat from the man. At the time I was young and foolish with no concept of my own mortality. I thought death was something to be laughed at. I no longer think death is funny.

I generally still do not believe in my own mortality, but I’m starting to hedge my bets in this regard. Just because it happens to other people doesn’t mean it will happen to me. As my mother always said, “If your friend jumped off a bridge does that mean you have to also?” Much to my mother’s eternal satisfaction I am answering NO. If you want to die, go ahead and do it, but I refuse to be a follower.

My problem is that earlier this week scientists with a telescope larger than a third world country observed a black hole destroying a star in another galaxy. The way it was described in the article was that the star, which is of course a much larger object than our Earth, was essentially snorfled up by the black hole the way you and I would snorfle a glob of jello off the spoon, or plate if you’re in the mood. I may not believe that I am going to die, but I’m not completely unrealistic. Let’s just say that a black hole eats our sun first, then I imagine it would suck up the planets all in a row like we would inhale mini M&M’s through a straw. (For my wonderful Canadian readers M&M’s = Smarties) If a black hole were to pop up right next to Earth and snorfle my planet then what becomes of me?

Who I’m really angry at is the scientists. Damn them and their ever inquisitive minds! Why did they have to tell me this? Did anyone here really want to know that getting eaten by a black hole is a possibility? In this case ignorance was bliss. Why couldn’t the scientists just leave well enough alone? My entire life I’ve been at the top of the food chain and that has been a pretty secure feeling. Now this. Now I have to spend the rest of my life staring up at the night sky looking for black holes and asteroids. Yes, I worry a little about asteroids too. In general I figure that if a really big one hit the Earth I’d be fine as long as it didn’t hit me directly in the head.

Maybe all this is why the scientists developed the male birth control pill. They just figured that if “we’re all gonna die” then we might as well start gettin’ jiggy with it. Yes, that’s right, I said jiggy. In fact, that’s probably the new science geek pick up line. “Hey baby, you know we might get eaten by a black hole any minute, so why don’t you just go ahead and sleep with me?” Obviously I'm cool enough to say jiggy, but the scientists aren't.

The Culture of Narcissism

Almost 40 years ago the avant garde artist Andy Warhol stated that, "In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." Dude was seriously spot on wasn't he? Between Youtube and reality t.v. shows an obnoxious personality is a ticket to fame and a b-list career for just about anyone. Now with blogging, Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter virtually anytone has a potential worldwide audience for their every fleeting thought. As a blogger I certainly have no problem with this as I've certainly expressed my share of pointless thoughts here. I admit I love the feedback, the comments. With a worldwide audience we can all find someone who agrees with us regardless of how baseless our opinions may be. We are but a herd of sycophants in a big ego orgy. That's all fine. We are all willing particpants and recipients and it makes us all feel good. With a few creative ideas and a little regular blogging we all feel like a celebrity with our fans and followers. What I don't get is when the real celebrities try to horn in on our two-bit ego trip. On both a Facebook page and on Twitter I have two different somewhat b-list type celebs among my friend lists. These two people must update their status every two hours! As if they would die of suffocation if I didn't know their every stray thought or dental appointment! What is wrong with these people that they need this constant validation? They already have some semblance of fame. Isn't that enough? The internet theoretically is a finite space and they think their every thought is important enough to waste electricity, megabytes and whatever other units of measure apply. I propose a new Phil law. When I am elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, there will be a separate internet so the famous people can tell each other how great they are without wasting the bandwidth of the real internet that the rest of us are using.

Seeking SWF

Wanted: Single white female. I'm a charming, handsome man appearing to be in my early twenties. I love nights out on the town with my favorite gal, but also prefer the solitude of somewhere quiet to spend some quality one on one time. Like most men I'm flawed, but I make up for that with my passion and taste for life. I'm a hopeless romantic and I promise that with me you will soar to places you previously thought were impossible. I also might kill you at any moment in a fit of tempestuous rage or passion. I've killed all my previous girlfriends, but trust me, you're special. But please overlook that, nobody's perfect right?

Sincerely, Edward

Would any woman really respond to this ad if it were real? Why are so many woman just nuts over Twilight? I'm pretty damn sure that if I had a girlfriend and I found out she was a serial killer that had murdered all of her previous boyfriends that I might find some way to end the relationship: "Really, it's not you, it's me. As tempting as it is to risk death every day, I just have too much on my plate right now and a lot of baggage from my previous relationship. It wouldn't be fair to you. Feel free to look me up on Myspace or Facebook though." And you can bet your ass I'd send that by text message. You know with a vampire you couldn't really fake your own death to get out of it because they'd only find that to be a big turn on. I suppose this is just another case where chicks totally dig the bad boy.

I'm on a Mexican Radio...!

I'm not really on a Mexican radio. That was just the first musical reference that came to mind on the subject of radio. As a function of my job I drive from place to place quite a bit. I have satellite radio which I enjoy very much. I enjoy both music and sports talk radio. Part of the reason I pay for satellite radio in my car is because I absolutely DESPISE radio commercials. You get an idea of how much I despise radio commercials by the fact that I took the time to italicize and bold the word. On the music stations there are no commercials and I love it. Unfortunaly the sports talk radio is syndicated and thus has commercials. Unfortunately it only seems to have three commercials which seem to be played back to back to back every break. The first is for ...ahem..."male enhancement." Every single commercial on this subject is almost identical. The one I heard yesterday had a supposed "man on the street" type interview format where apparently random women on the street were shown before and after pictures of the anatomy of men who had used this product. Women responded with superlatives and requests for the phone number of the photo subjects. How many of you would respond like that? If they really were able to get a few women to give those 'sincere' responses it must have taken hundreds of attempts to make the commercial. I want to hear the outtakes of the times the interviewer was maced, arrested or kicked in the groin. That would be good radio. The second type of commercial is the predictable "you can buy cheap viagra over the internet..." The third type is the one that just makes me change the station immediately. It starts "Hey guys! Did you know that at any time you may have 5 to 25 pounds of waste lining your colon walls like spackle or paste?" Not only didn't I know that, I didn't want to, and now it's too late. I can't get that phase out of my head: "5-25 pounds" and "spackle or paste." I could lose my lunch just hearing that. I'm not going to mention the company here because I'm hoping they will go out of business and take their commercials with them.

And if anyone can name the band that sang the song this post is titled after WITHOUT looking it up you win 10 Phil bucks good for use at the Phil Factor giftshop.

The Present Tense

In the past I've used this space to point out the differences between men and women. How we communicate, what's important to us, and the inequities of societal grooming expectations are all ways men and women differ. Another great divide between the sexes is our views on presents. Anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's Day, and Christmas all can make or break a relationship from a woman's perspective. Before everyone paints me as a misogynist for that last statement, let's look at two examples:

Example 1:
Guy: “Happy Anniversary honey! Here's a card, a dozen roses, and I've taken out a second mortgage so I can fly you to Paris for a candlelight dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower!”
Woman: “You are so sweet! With all my work this week I didn't have time to get you a present. I'm sorry. How about if I make it up to you (wink, wink) back at the hotel after dinner?” (sly smile)
Guy: “YAHTZEE!” (fist pump)

Example 2:
Woman: “Happy Anniversary honey! Here's a card and a present!”
Guy: “An Ipod! Thanks baby, this is great! With all my work this week I didn't have time to get you a present. I'm sorry. How about if I make it up to you (wink, wink) in the bedroom tonight?” (sly smile)
Woman: “You forgot! How could you be so thoughtless?!!? You can sleep on the couch tonight! (storms out, door slams)

Sometimes even the presents themselves can mean different things to men and women. Here are some examples of presents men might give, how we mean them, and what they mean to women.

1. A romantic card with breakfast in bed, flowers sent to your work, and a nice dinner out.
What men are trying to say: "Will you sleep with me?"
What women think: "He's a sweet, thoughtful guy."

2. A safety kit for your car with road flares, tools, and a shovel.
What men are trying to say: "I love you and I want you to be safe."
What women think: "What a thoughtless, un-romantic oaf."

3. Lingerie
What men are trying to say: "I think you are a beautiful, sexy woman."
What women think: "That selfish bastard is thinking with his little head instead of his big head."

4. Any kind of home appliance
What men are trying to say: "I've noticed how hard you work. I want to make your life easier."
What women think: "If this isn't grounds for justifiable homicide, I don't know what is!"

THIS IS NOT GOOD

Apparently I have just figured out how to blog from my cell phone. It is not good for two specific reasons. 1) If you have followed my blog for any amount of time you are well aware of my ongoing rant against "cell phone people." I now am apparently becoming a member of their cult as I have also learned to Facebook from my phone as well. More evidence that my brain has turned to mush is the fact that I am using words like 'blog' and 'Facebook' as verbs. 2) This is also a bad development because no matter where I am or what I am doing I know have the ability to post my thoughts immediately, uncensored here online almost as soon as I have them. That will at some point in the future probably result in my involuntary commitment to an institution.

Phil-Harmony.com

We've all heard and seen the ads for e-harmony.com, the internet site that allows you to meet your perfect match after you fill out a questionnaire that rates you on 29 personality variables. What?!!? I'm a guy. I'm pretty sure I don't even have 29 personality variables! I have maybe 4 tops. Now for women, I don't think 29 personality variables is enough. In fact most women seem to have more than 29 complete personalities. The old crackpot that runs this site has got to be making a fortune. His kindly, old, grandfatherly, "I want to help you meet your perfect partner" schtick is sucking people in just the way Ronald Reagan sucked the whole country in until he was voted in twice. Well I want part of that gravy train. I'm younger, smarter, and more in touch with what the young, single internet daters are interested in. First of all, if you're someone who uses the internet regularly, you don't have the attention span to answer a long quiz. In fact, I'm sure most of you think I've rambled enough already today. Stick with me my lovelorn friends. Secondly, my personality quiz won't waste time evaluating the unimportant, nit-picky personality characteristics. If you're paying an internet site to find you a date then you're already way past being picky about the little things. My quiz will just hit the high points. Even if you're not looking for love on the web, you can use this quiz when meeting new dates.

1. Are you married?
2. Have you ever seen a Star Wars movie at the theater within one week of it's release?
3. How many pets do you live with?
4. During sex, have you ever requested something that caused your partner to break up with you and/or call the authorities?
5. Are your parents or grandparents biological siblings?
6. Did you think the movie Fatal Attraction was a comedy?

If the person you are speaking with answers yes or "more than one" to any of these questions then run for your life. If they answer no to all of them then anything else is just minor details you can live with.

Final Destination

Death. I have to say, I'm not a fan. Thursday night just outside of Buffalo, NY a Continental Airlines/Colgan Air flight en route from Newark, NJ to Buffalo crashed into a house killing all aboard and one person on the ground. The plane was reportedly relatively new. An off duty pilot was one of the unfortunate passengers. 36 days prior to Thursday I flew from Newark, NJ to Rochester, NY, which is about 75 miles east of Buffalo, on a Continental Airlines/Colgan Air flight on the exact same model plane. One of the passengers across the aisle from me on my flight was also an off duty Continental pilot who chatted with the stewardess about the plane we were on being a new plane. Chances are, the plane that crashed Thursday was the very same plane I rode five weeks ago. Considering all the circumstantial evidence it may very well have been. I'm a little creeped out. Especially since I have to fly again in 6 weeks.

Have you seen those Final Destination movies where the people that were supposed to die, but survive are stalked by Death until it finally gets them? What if 5 weeks ago Death had forgotten to turn the page on his date book at the beginning of the new year, and missed my flight?

Female Bodies

I used to work in an office. I worked with a lot of women. That is generally not a bad thing. Often I happened to be the only guy in the office with about 8 women. That can be a bad thing. I have to say, I'm a big fan of female bodies. Maybe one of the biggest. What I have discovered, however, is that when men aren't around women are waaaaay too comfortable talking about their bodies and the various functions of them. Apparently if a man leaves the room, women immediately begin talking about their biology. Women also seem to have no idea that a man may return to the room at any moment and hear part of their conversations. Some of these conversations have the same effect as catching your parents having sex. You want to run from the room screaming and gouge your eyes out to hopefully remove the image that is burned upon your brain. A memo to any pregnant women out there: If you are in the late stages of your pregnancy and still at work, your male co-workers do not want to know how dilated you are or how your water may break and "come out in squirts." Also, if all these women are retaining as much water as they say they are, why don't we hear that squishy sound when they walk? Especially if they're retaining it in their ankles. Also, PMS does not stand for Persecute Men Syndrome. We didn't cause your periods, so don't take them out on us. Yeast is used in baking right? Why do women constantly get infections from it? I've been in the kitchen before. I've baked cookies, but never once have I been so intimate with the ingredients of what I was making that I ended up with an infection in any orifice of my body. And you know how when a group of women spend a lot of time together whether it be at work or in a college dorm their menstrual cycles sync up? How the hell does that happen? Are their uteruses(is that the correct plural? Is it uteri?) sending invisible hormonal microwaves across the room to each other? Or do you ladies just talk and decide to have your periods at the same time? And if there are invisible uterus microwaves criss-crossing a room while I'm there, what the hell could they be doing to my testicles? It's a good thing I got out of there I suppose. Ladies, you know how there's all that dirty, metal junk under the hood of your car? The same way that you just want your car to start without knowing how an internal combustion engine works is exactly how guys feel about your bodies. We just want them to turn on when we put the key in. We don't want to know how they work.

Previously on 24...

If each episode of 24 is an hour in Jack Bauers' life, then what happened previously was only an hour ago. Why would they have to remind us? That's the trouble with time travel, too much irony. That's why humans don't do it. It is absolutely impossible that virtually every hour of Jack Bauers' life is crammed with fighting terrorist plots. He can't possibly be doing that every day. Every now and then, why isn't there an episode where we see Jack plunging his toilet for 45 minutes and then cleaning up the mess? Where is the episode with Jack walking his dog? When will we see his wife nagging him for not taking out the garbage? How about an episode that begins with Jack walking down the hall in his boxers and a wife beater tank top carrying the newspaper into the bathroom. The next 45 minutes could just be the camera pointed at the closed bathroom door. That would be reality television.

"I Could Bite Your Face."

To paraphrase The Beatles' Eleanor Rigby song, I'd like to say: All the stupid people, where do they all come from? I found myself helpless witness and finally participant to two incredibly idiotic conversations this week. At one time I was in the waiting room of a medical office and seated near me was a couple that would make the folks on CMT's "Redneck Wedding" look like the height of haute couture. This couple had more digits than teeth and their attire would make an Amish grandfather look trendy. So the woman, who was reading a magazine, People or Us or some similar intellectually stimulating tripe, says, "Look, a composer, that would be a good job!" I'm thinking, "Yeah honey, you check the want ads for that one. I'm sure there's a big market for a gal with your resume."

Later in the week I'm in another office, one that has both a psychiatrist and an internal medicine doc. Two roughly 18 year old girls come in, check in, and sit down near me. One starts reading a People Magazine and soon thereafter points out to the other member of her Mensa club an article about a female jogger who survived a bear attack. First they debated at length whether or not there are any mountains in New York state because if there were they would avoid said mountains to avoid being attacked by bears. Then the debate raged on regarding whether or not you could escape certain death by playing dead when attacked by a brown bear or a black bear. Of course the inevitable discourse of what type of bear is native to New York ensued. I believe they concluded that brown bears fall for this ruse but black bears do not. Girl number 1 informed girl number 2 that the jogger survived the attack by poking the bear in the eyes while it was biting her face. Girl number 2, whom I'm fairly certain did not work for NASA, then speculated that a baby bear might not be able to harm her because its jaw might not be large enough that the bear would be able to open it's mouth sufficiently wide enough to bite her face. To this Girl number 1 replied, "I could bite your face." At this point I burst out laughing and added, "And don't you forget it. You don't want to make her mad." The girls then stopped talking for the remainder of their time in the waiting room.

Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors

I can't shake this feeling I've got
My dirty hands, have I been in the wars?
The saddest thing that I'd ever seen
We're smokers outside the hospital doors
The Editors

I work in the field of addiction and yet I still wonder how smokers can continue their addiction. Many very nice, normal, intelligent people smoke. Don't worry, this isn't going to be some holier than thou diatribe against smoking. Mostly I just love the song I quoted. You should look it up and add it to your iPod. (Editors you can thank me later, perhaps in the form of a tiny royalty check) If people want to have cancer, bad breath, and smelly clothes 'm fine with that. I have friends that smoke and I've never said a word to them about it.

What got me to thinking about the incredible grip that nicotine addiction has on people is the weather. I live in the Northeast, yeah I know that seems as stupid as smoking already. This week it has been unbelieveably cold. Single digits or less, fahrenheit with windchill temps around 20 below zero. (For my Canadian friends that's a hell of a lot colder than your zero. See? The United states is better than you at yet another thing) Yesterday as I was driving around I was passed by a smoker who was driving with her window open so she could flick her ashes out of the car. In the summer, fine, but when it feels like 20 below and you're going 60 miles per hour I have no interest in any air from the outside touching me. Yet smoking drives people to do this and often, because of the laws that prohibit smoking in public buildings, they stand outdoors smoking in all kinds of weather. I used to be a second hand smoker but I gave it up by chewing used nicorette gum.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Like the title? I made it up myself. It was just as clever almost four years ago when I first used it for a blog post. Few things in life inspire as many stories and "I know that feeling" shakes of the head as travel. This past week I was forced to go to Newark, New Jersey by my employer. Really, who wouldn't want to visit lovely Newark in the dead of winter? I travel by plane a few times a year for my job, so in general I've got the hang of it. Unfortunately not everyone else does. As an educational public service I hope that some of the more novice travelers will read the rest of this post.

People Movers: Almost every airport has them now. These strips of moving floor that are intended to help the you traverse the airport a little more quickly without having to run. My impression is that you're supposed to walk on the people movers so that your speed is doubled without you having to run, preventing many collisions. I love the people movers. Even if I'm way early for my boarding I still like to get where I'm going faster. I do not love lazy people on the people movers. These idiots hop on the people mover as if it's an escalator and just stand there. By doing that they're not going forward any faster than if they had walked. They're just lazy! It's a good thing that security doesn't let us carry handguns on flights because I would probably shoot these non-moving people on the people movers and then step over their bodies as I happily sped on my way to my gate. I'm convinced that's why we can't bring guns in our carry on luggage, not so much to prevent hijackings as to prevent the normal, intelligent sane passengers from killing the morons with whom we find ourselves trapped for several hours in a small enclosed space on our flights. There ought to be a test before you purchase your tickets and if you fail you're not allowed to fly.

One of the questions on the test will be "When on a plane is it ever appropriate to take off your shoes?"
A) yes, it's important to be as comfortable as possible on a long flight.
B) Only in the event of some foot related emergency such as needing to plug a hole in the fuselage with my toe.
C) Absolutely never. And especially not if Phil is on your plane.

Yes, I got on my plane and a guy sat next to me and immediately took off his sneakers. And there was a definite foot smell. Ugh. Fortunately the universe sensed my need and sent relief in the form of the flight attendant announcing to the plane, "We need four passengers to move to seats behind row 14. Any volunteers?" My hand went up so fast I almost popped my shoulder out of the socket. Aaaah, sweet relief! I moved to the back of the plane and had a row to myself to stretch out. Life is good I thought. Then I thought, I'm not real keen on the fact that our plane needs passengers to move to different parts to keep it balanced while it's in the air. What happens if someone upsets the delicate balance by getting up and going to the bathroom, which might be on the opposite side of the plane from their seat, and they leave an enormous...ahem... deposit? The planes balance could be thrown off and I could die because somebody likes a little too much fiber in their diet.

Happy New Year! My predictions for 2009

It is the first of January 2009 and I'm blogging already. That's got to be a good sign. A good sign of what I don't know. The two or three of you who have occasionally visited my blog over the past 12 months as it has eroded to the point where you may have thought I had died are certainly appreciated and hopefully I'll be able to be a better blogger over the next twelve months.

I'm sure that blogland is full of posts about New Years resolutions today, but this won't be one of those posts. I do have resolutions, but I'll keep them to myself. Ok, I'll share one. I'd like to revive my blog to the point where it is again somewhat interactive with all my blog friends. Instead of resolutions, using my infamous psychic abilities, I will post a list of my predictions for the coming year.

1. President Barack Obama and his wife will divorce. Being the most powerful man on Earth has it's perks, (and I should know) and one of those is power groupies. Prez Barry won't be able to resist a little extracurricular nookie, perhaps Hilary Clinton who is looking to get revenge on Bill, and will stray from his wife while on a business trip. Michelle Obama will get the White House in the divorce settlement and Barack will then have to rule our country from a cheap apartment full of rental furniture that he was forced to hastily go to after returning from the Middle East to find his clothes and belongings in a pile on the curb in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

2. The economy will effect entertainment magazines and the rain forest. People Magazine, Us weekly and all other entertainment magazines will make the editorial decision not to glamorize celebrities because the "regular" people don't want to hear about the millions they make per picture when we're worrying about keeping our jobs, houses, and retirement funds. So, without any Brad, Jen, and Angelina news on their covers the magazines are reduced to being 47 pages of advertisements that no one buys. The magazines go out of business and the resulting reduction in trees cut down to make the paper saves the rain forest and reverses global warming.

Jesus H. Christ!

No, I'm not mad. It's time to pimp my favorite band once again as they released a new CD about two months ago. Jesus H. Christ and The Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse may have one of the longest band names in the world but they are also one of the funniest bands in the world as well.

About 2 1/2 years ago I posted the lyrics from a song, "Connecticut's For Fucking," from their debut, self-titled album. That song may be one of the funniest songs in music history. I sent the link from my blog to the "Contact us" link on their website (which you can find at the bottom of my blogroll on the left). Soon thereafter I received a somewhat sarcastic e-mail back. Assuming I was corresponding with some record company flunkie, I of course responded in kind and soon discovered that I was actually corresponding with Risa Mickenberg, the lead singer of the band. She turned out to be a very nice and very funny woman who once even sent me a link to a writing job opening for a new music magazine.

Their new CD, "Happier Than You," released in late October is again music for your funny bone. But this band is not just adept at writing clever, humorous lyrics however, they also are a musically talented bunch who puts their wit to sharp, pop/rock music with a brilliant horn sectior, The Four Hornsmen, adding a catchy oomph to every song. That's right, I said oomph. My favorites on the new CD are "Liz the Hot Receptionist" and "Alcoholics in My Town." Both songs are brilliant because of the truth behind the humor. All of us will recognize the characters in "Alcoholics" as people we knew and grew up with in our own Everytown, U.S.A. The band doesn't have a big record company behind them and produces their CD's independently. They all probably have day jobs that they tirelessly slave away at to support their music. Let's help them out by visiting their website, (bottom of blogroll on the left) or by looking them up on Itunes and downloading a few songs, if not the whole CD.

2008: The Year In Review

No, just kidding. I'm seriously not going to review the year either personally or in music, movies, or news. I love the holidays, but I hate watching t.v. this time of year. There isn't a single media outlet of any kind that can resist the obligatory "Year in Review" piece. Why? We all know what happened! We don't need the events ranked for us. And I'm not one to send one of those form letter Christmas cards: "Dear ____________, 2008 was a wonderful year for my family. I started a new job, little Johnny learned to poop indoors and that rash on Susie's face cleared up...blah, blah, blah...." If you're a friend I've talked to you throughout the year and you know what I've been doing and I know what you've been doing. So lets look ahead. Why not list what we'd like to see in the coming year. Here is my list of things I'd like to see in 2009:
1. With the government bailing out the automakers and Wall Street, I'd like them to bail out all the citizens too by eliminating federal income tax for a portion of the year to put more money in our pockets and thus stimulating the economy. Also, the government was so offended that the heads of the auto companies came to Washington in private jets to ask for money. Hippocrites. I'd like to see the President, Senators, and Congreesmen all agree to take pay cuts to balance out my proposed federal tax hiatus. See? I don't just complain. I've got ideas. "I'm an idea man Chuck." If you get that movie reference you win $10 in Phil bucks that can be spent in The Phil Factor Gift shop. Just in time for the holidays.
2. More time. I'd like the physicists to find a way to give us more time every day, or make time travel possible or something. There's ways to get more of everything else except time. It's a non-renewable resource. I'd like a life DVR so I can do somethings now and then go back in time and do other things at the same time. Twice as much productivity each day!
3. At this point I'm out of ideas and coffee. I'll get more of both and be back to add to this list! Happy Holidays!

Unusual Things I'm Thankful For

In the United States it is traditional to get together with family on the Thanksgiving holiday and share the important things you are thankful for before gorging yourself on a meal centered upon the large, dead carcass of the ugliest bird in North America. Every year everyone shares the usual platitudes about being thankful for family and good heath. Duh! Who can't come up with that? So without further adieu, here are some of the everyday things I am thankful for:

1. As mentioned previously, I’m thankful for global warming. Last winter I had about 6 inches of snow in November and 6 inches on the day of the Super Bowl. Other than that it was snow free all winter long, which is astounding in my area. I’m so into global warming that I stocked up on aerosol cans and Freon before they banned both. Now each day I release a little of each into the atmosphere. I’m hoping to create a hole in the ozone directly about my house to let the sun shine in all year long.
2. The hiccups. Yes, I'm thankful for the hiccups. They make others laugh and they make me laugh at myself. They're small, funny, unpredictable, and you never know when they might take control of your body. That kind of sounds like an orgy between Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs doesn't it? I remember a St. Patrick's Day in college when I went out with my friends at 3:00 in the afternoon. By 4:00 I had the hiccups and they didn't stop all night long. I had them so bad it was impossible to get drunk. I've never forgotten that night. To this day I'm certain that fate intervened in the form of hiccups to prevent me from doing something catastrophically stupid. I don't know what it was going to be, but it must have been pretty bad.
3. New socks. Damn I love a new pair of cushy, warm socks. In the winter there's nothing better than having your feet ensconced in a cocoon of soft, warm, cotton.
4. Blogger saving all my old posts so I can just edit and update my Thanksgiving post every year.
5. Canadians. Without their funny accents, lame t.v. shows and colorful money what would life be like? But I've never met a Canadian I didn't like. We should invade them and make them the 51st state. They're kind of like the United States pet aren't they? All cute and cuddly, harmlessly playing in the snow up there.
6. I'm also thankful for all my blog friends who keep visiting and commenting even though I don't always visit your blogs every day or reply to all your comments. So tell me, what unusual things are you thankful for?

A New Phil Law: The Name Game

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I will pass a law forming a committee that will be in charge of approving the names of all children in the United States. It is a crime some of the ridiculous names that parents saddle their children with. Here are some of the restrictions that will be part of the Name Committee's mandate:

1) No child with the last name of Head will ever be named Richard. Any family with the last name of Time may not name their child Justin. Any other similar idiocy may be struck down by the committee.

2) You may not give multiple children in the same family the same name. It is not different if you put a II, III, or IV after it.

3) Do not make up new names. You are not smarter or more creative than the people who lived on this earth for thousands of years before you. If it didn't exist as a human name prior to the child's birth, you cannot make it a name. No naming children after objects, events, pieces of fruit, or places.

4) Everyone must go by the name they were given at birth. If you become famous, stick with the name you were given. We all find out your birth name anyway, stop trying to be pretentious.

The Thoughtless Post

Hi everyone, or at least the few of you checking in to see if I still have a pulse. I was going to re-post a re-run from a couple years ago, but I couldn't delete all the comments. So I'll just throw a random stream of thoughts at you. If any of you remember my Golden Boys series, I'd like to give a big CONGRATS to Golden Boy Gooby who just had his first child a few days ago. His stretch marks are going to be killer though. Hopefully I won't be the creepy old uncle.

I had a nice weekend, and the unseasonably warm weather in the northeast is great, but I'm still dejected about the end of summer. Over the weekend I was in a store and they were selling Christmas decorations already. The mix of the display of demonic pirates right next to the inflatable manger scene just seemed wrong. Screw the economy, I want to see congress working on a law that forbids a store from advertising for one holiday before the previous one has concluded.

Happy belated Yom Kippur to all my Jewish friends. Hope your atonement went well. I for one have nothing to atone for, well, except for this post.

When in Rome...

When in Rome...don't plan on finding any parking, or riding in a car bigger than a clown car. Wow, I hadn't realized that it's been 5 weeks since I've blogged. Then again, no one visits here anymore, so why blog? If a blogger writes in the forest and there's no one there to here it...Then again I probably wouldn't get Wi-Fi out in the woods. Wait...I'm hearing a voice from my cornfield. Ok, I don't have a corn field, I think it's coming from my bag of candy corn. That can't be good. What's the voice saying....shhhh...I can't hear...."Phil...if you blog it they will come" What?!!? "If you blog it they will come." Blog what? Who the hell are you and why are you in my candy corn? "Phil...don't be an idiot. Just write the fucking blog." Well, I guess it can be much clearer than that, so I'll keep writing. I hope the candy corn voice tells someone to leave a comment.

Since my last post I went to Rome, Italy. I have to specify that because here in New York there's a small city called Rome also and everytime I told someone I was going to Rome they said "Italy?" There is absolutely no reason to go to Rome, NY, unless that's the closest parking spot you can find to your hotel in Rome, Italy. Rome was a city built without parking. There isn't a parking lot to be found. Sure, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a piazza or a 1000 year old cathedral, but parking? Forget it. Everyone there either drives something like a smart car, or a vespa type cycle. And they just about stack them to park. You know what would be great? If someone turned the Roman Coliseum into a parking garage. In the words of Billy Fucillo, that place is HUUUUUGE! It used to seat 300,000. Put a multi-level garage inside that thing and run a shuttle bus downtown every 20 minutes and you'd be richer than the pope.

Death.....The Final Frontier

In the movie "When Harry Met Sally," Harry and Sally were talking on the phone when Sally burst into tears because she was going to turn 40. Harry replied, "But that's not for years." To which Sally tearfully replied, "Yeah, but it's out there."

Death has me concerned. There is a whole sector of the population that keeps insisting that death is 'out there' for everyone. Some people keep insisting that it might even happen to me someday. I'm not a big fan of death. I hate when it happens to people I know and I'm even less enthusiastic about the idea that it might happen to me. There's a tiny, tiny part in the back of my brain, one particular brain cell perhaps, that keeps trying to speak up and tell me that some day I may even die. Fortunately all the other brain cells called a meeting and decided to shout down this one rebel cell whenever it decides to open it's big, fat piehole. I've decided to try a different approach to death. Well, a different approach to my potential death. Death is fine for other people, but I'm just not going to do it. The way I look at it is this: Death has never happened to me before, so where is the proof that it's going to happen to me? Just because mankind had never successfully flown before the Wright brothers, they didn't just give up and stay on the ground did they? I think too many people give in to the myth that is death. Think about it. When you were a kid and you stopped believing in Santa Claus, he stopped existing for you didn't he? Well, has anyone ever decided not to believe in death? That's my plan. Like I said, it's never happened to me, so I have no proof that it will.

Rubberneckers

For those of you not familiar with the term, rubberneckers are those people who find it necessary to slow down while driving, just to look at an accident. I hate rubberneckers. The other day on my way to work, the highway suddenly turned into a parking lot. I would have bet money that either construction or a horrific accident had shut down 2 of the 3 highway lanes going my direction into the city. It turns out I was wrong. There had been a vehicle overturned on the other side of the road, blocking the lanes going the other direction. (I swear I saw a cell phone lying on the road next to the flipped pick up truck) The delay on my side was due to rubberneckers. I believe that rubbernecking should be a crime punishable by death, or just to avoid trouble with Amnesty International, perhaps the loss of your driver's license for one year. Of course taking away their license for a year may not be long enough because it will take at least that long before these morons get past the accident they're staring at and pull over for the police. Rubberneckers are fortunate that I do not own a gun and that my vehicle is not equipped with missiles. If anything is likely to cause me road rage it is people who slow me down on the road. It doesn't matter where I'm going. I could be on my way to have all my teeth pulled without any painkiller and I'd still be furious that these people are holding me up. If I was in my car and The Pope, Mother Theresa, and the Dali Lama were in vehicles in front of me I swear I would at least fire a warning shot if any one of them slowed to look at an accident. The glass in The Popemobile is supposedly bulletproof, so I wouldn't feel too bad just bouncing a slug right off his rear window to get him moving.

Citius, Altius, Fortius

If you haven't brushed up on your Latin the title of this piece is the Olympic motto: Swifter, Higher, Stronger. Apparently that motto describes the athletes not only in the arena of competition, but between the sheets as well. As in past games, Olympic officials have distributed more than 100,000 condoms to the 10,500 athletes housed in the Olpympic village. That's roughly 10 condoms per athlete. If you consider that some athletes won't need them because they're married, have an alternative lifestyle, or just monogamous, that means that someone is getting a whole lot of nooky. I wonder if the Olympic athletes have some unofficial records for some of the sports they participate in when the lights go out?

Feeling Blue?

Is it just me, or has everyone noticed that now, virtually every beverage comes in the color blue? Blue is not a color that anything edible in nature is. Unless you eat parrots. Not wanting to eat parrots and suspicious of anything that is a glowing blue I still refuse to drink these freakish liquids. Think about it. It used to be that the only blue liquids were the windshield washer fluid for your car and the stuff the hairdressers put the combs in. How do we know that all the new blue beverages aren't some derivation of those two things?

An Open Letter To Vespa Dude

Dear Vespa Dude,

You are SO not cool. I don't care if you wear a leather jacket and helmet with dark visor, that does not make your scooter a motorcycyle. I don't care if you get 80 miles to the gallon of gas. After two weeks of riding your Vespa the savings should allow you to buy a real motorcycle or maybe even a car. You're an adult and you're riding a SCOOTER! Let that sink in for a moment... If you had any miniscule shot at getting a date with an actual real life woman, your scooter just killed that. Unless Al Gore has a really hot daughter who cares about the environment as much as you do, you're not going to find a woman who wants to be taken out to dinner on a...SCOOTER. (As an aside, Jenna Bush is a smokin' hottie and I'd vote for her dad for a third term if she got to be on tv more because of it) And by the way, if your vehicle has a top speed of 30 mph get the hell off the road. You don't belong in my way. Just because you have a tiny license plate, like the ones I tied on the back of my bike when I was 8, doesn't mean you should be on the road. While you're at it why don't you just clip some baseball cards to the spokes so your Vespa almost sounds like a motorcycle. In fact, because your 30 mph ass is in my lane I have to go slower and take longer, burning more gas and thus negating any benefit to the world you thought you were providing by riding your SCOOTER. I'd like to put my big carbon footprint right up your scooter riding ass.

Whew, it's been a long time since I got off a good rant on here. This time I'm honestly hoping to get back to blogging at least once a week. Thanks for coming back.
Phil

Golden Boy Weekend!

Good friends, bad golf, and alot of beer. That is the essence of Golden Boy Weekend. There's not much else and there doesn't need to be. Me, Tom, and Gooby. We've known each other since we were in diapers and will still probably know each other when we're in diapers again. We grew up together, much like the kids in 'Stand By Me' and we haven't changed much. We've put on the adult suit for most of our days, and although we don't all live on the same street, once a year we get together to revel in our friendship. There have been many infamous adventures involving police, public nudity, and weddings crashed, resulting in stories that will live on in legend. Today is Golden Boy weekend. Stay tuned....

A Couple Random Things

I still have a pulse. If you ever thought of e-mailing me, I'm changing the e-mail for this blog to im_fill@yahoo.com The old e-mail was just too full of spam and I was losing e-mails that I wanted. Also, if you fly and you're not in first class, when you check in ask if you can sit in the emergency exit row. They often don't fill it until last, and many times you might have it to yourself. The emergency exit row also has about double the leg room. Some call it the poor man's first class. I don't care. I've done it a few times and there's nothing better than having three seats to yourself to stretch out on during a long flight.

The Man Crush

I do not have a man crush. Nor have I ever had a man crush. I have twice been the subject of man crushes. For those of you not familiar with the term it's when one allegedly heterosexual man thinks another is just the bomb, the coolest guy he has ever met and just always wants to hang out with him or be like him, but all in a non-sexual way. I believe I may currently be the subject of a man crush. I always have a man crush on myself of course, but it's different when you know another guy is blatantly digging your action in a heterosexual way.

Tell me if this sounds like he has a man crush on me: He once sent me a cell phone pic of himself for no apparent reason. I did not reciprocate. Once in a parking lot when it was raining and I was pushing a shopping cart full of beer and food he, without my asking, ran alongside me holding an umbrella over me. He often calls and talks for like a half hour. Once I got up to find he had left me a phone message at 2:45 a.m. No, he wasn't drunk dialing, but what the hell? He didn't have anything significant to say either. Another time he actually called and talked to me while he was in bed. Granted, we had just gotten off a work conference call early in the morning, but still it was kind of creepy. Women laying in bed talking to me on the phone: hot! Men, not so much.

Construction Vehicle: Do Not Follow

Why is the sign that says "Construction Vehicle: Do Not Follow" only on the back of the construction vehicle where you can only read it if you are already following it? And then of course it's always too late to help you because you're trapped behind a dump truck that's crawling along in a no pass lane for the next two miles.

The Terminal

Ok, I don't really have anything to say. I've just been really busy for the past few weeks. I do think about blogging a lot and feel guilty when I don't. Today I just got back from a week away from home due to work. Remember the Tom Hanks movie 'The Terminal'? My work took me to a very nice place, but the company set me up in the hotel IN the airport. My balcony overlooked the security lines. I had meetings all week in the same hotel. I awoke to the sound of whining kids out in the terminal. I went to the pool on the top of the hotel which conveniently had a beautiful view of...the runways and in the distance a nuclear power plant. I literally lived in an airport for a week.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY !

I have a shamrock tattooed somewhere on my body. If you can guess where, you win 1000 Phil dollars good for any purchase in the Phil Factor gift shop.

Former N.Y. Govenor Eliot Spitzer

Former N.Y. Govenor Eliot Spitzer reportedly spent $80,000 on his high priced call girl over a period of time. Two thoughts: 1) He must REALLY like sex. (of course, who doesn't?) 2) That's a lot of disposable income.

Hyperbole Perhaps?

LONDON, England (CNN) -- The United Nations' anti-drugs chief has denounced celebrities such as pop star Amy Winehouse and supermodel Kate Moss, saying that their alleged drug use was helping devastate West Africa. "Coke-snorting fashionistas are not only damaging their noses and brains -- they are contributing to state failure on the other side of the world," wrote Antonio Maria Costa, the executive director of the UN's Office on Drugs and Crime.

Yeah, lighten up dude. I'm pretty sure that Amy Winehouse and Kate Moss may do a lot of coke, but probably not enough to ruin the economy of several countries.

I'm Wearing A Rubber!

In fact, I'm wearing two of them. Unfortunately they're not the fun kind of rubbers and I'm not wearing them for nearly as fun of a purpose. I started a new job about 6 months ago. In this job I travel around my area all day visiting different offices. I have to wear a full on suit and dress shoes every day. Unfortunately I live in the Northeast where the atmosphere appears completely ignorant to my wishes in regards to climate. In short, what I'm saying is, it snows. Streets and parking lots are full of snow and slush and salt for about 4 straight months. I have a nice pair of leather shoes to go with my suits. The snow, slush, and salt just soak right through and ruin them if I don't protect them. Hence, the rubbers. Yeah, not the fun kind. What the hell has my life come to? Yes, they're those nice rubbers (galoshes) that look exactly like the dress shoes they cover and no one ever notices that I have them on, but c'mon! This is one of those things that as a kid I'd notice on adults and I'd say, "That is the dorkiest thing I've ever seen. I'm never going to wear anything so stupid." Just another bit of proof that we grow up to be exactly like our parents.

Tattoo Me?

I'm thinking of getting my second tattoo. Any suggestions? Do you think I could get away with a tramp stamp? A neck tattoo maybe? How about a contest where whoever has left me the most comments gets their name tattoed on my neck? Any suggestions will be considered and I'll let you know what I decide and if possible, put up a pic here.

I'm Hungry

At what age is it OK to order from Meals on Wheels?

I am Pro-Choice (It's not what you think)

As the political races are getting into high gear I thought I'd come out with one of my most important political statements. I AM PRO CHOICE. No, not in the political hot potato sense of the phrase. My personal, political and religious beliefs aren't fervent enough to hold up to public scrutiny. But I AM PRO CHOICE. Here is the choice that I want:

When I walk into a public restroom, I would like the opportunity to choose if I want to dry my hands with a paper towel, or if I want to stand there like a dope rubbing my hands together under the pathetically underpowered air dryer. Whose hands do these things actually dry? Don't we all just end up wiping our hands on our pants as we walk out anyway? If you actually want your hands dried by these machines you'd have to stand there long enough that anyone you came with would probably think you had escaped out of the bathroom window. If you actually use a hand dryer to full effect everytime you use a public restroom you'll probably waste hours of your life each year and in the long run waste a significant portion of your finite time on Earth rubbing your hands together under what amounts to nothing more than the same breeze you'd get if you just walked around waving your hands in the air. The air dryers are fine for anyone who wants to save trees, but I resent the places that have made the choice for you and don't provide any type of paper towels at all, forcing you to use the hand dryer, or worse yet, trying to dry your wet hands with toilet paper that will only tear and stick all over your hands.

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first...(you know the rest)

Merry Christmas To All and...

Happy Belated Hannukah to my Jewish friends. Thanks for sticking with me even though I haven't posted in a month. I've had stuff to say, but I've been really busy or tired, or both. You don't think I've got a good rant about Jamie Lynn Spears? Happy Holidays to all no matter how you choose to spend them. My first New Years resolution is to blog more in 2008.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow...

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? I am, and it's pissing me off. I live in upstate New York. I was fine with things in general until about two days ago. Then winter arrived. A friend accused me of being a "grouch" for not enjoying this sudden turn of events. This person romanticized the winter weather, espousing the joys of making snow angels, frolicking in the snow and holding mittened hands with a loved one. That is exactly how they do it on T.V. isn't it? It does look fun in all those romantic comedies when the smitten couple builds a snowman together and then has the flirtatious snowball fight. Unfortunately, the winter the rest of us are stuck frolicking in is not in a warm studio where teamsters sprinkle dry, cottony snow on us from the rafters. The real life winter is damned cold. I'm pretty sure that if I'd ever hit one of my dates in the face with a snowball she would probably call the police on me and sex would definitely be out. At least on that date. Don't get me wrong, I may be a grouch about the cold, but I am not a Scrooge about the holidays. I love the holidays, except for.....

Unusual Things I'm Thankful For

Here it is, my annual list of unusual things I'm thankful for. Feel free to add some of your unusual thanks in your comments. I'd love to hear them.

1. Global warming. Before you and Al Gore leave a nasty comment, hear me out. Each year more people die from cold than from heat. If the globe is warmer, more people survive. Also with the polar ice caps melting we have more water available that, with a little effort and technology, can be diverted to drought stricken areas. If the globe is warmer, we in the North will be using less fossil fuels to heat our homes. The furor over global warming is just a media firestorm fad. I challenge Al Gore to a debate. Without global warming he would suddenly become irrelevant, and so he continues to stoke the fire.

2. Starbuck's I developed a Starbuck's jones this past year. And no, it's not all that expensive unless you're ordering something like a non-fat, half-caf, latte mochachino, double shot espresso. At Starbuck's you're paying for words. The more words in your order, the more it will cost. I just get a small coffee and I'm not broke yet.

3. Morning Insomnia. I have a problem. The first step is admitting it. I'm up by 5:30 every morning. I'm not sure what that is in metric or Canadian time, but it's damn early here. My brain just turns on and I'm up. Without this little problem I'd never get any writing done here or elsewhere. It's my only time of peace and quiet in the day.

4. My blogger friends. Despite all the bad publicity that MySpace and Facebook get, I've met nothing but nice people through this blog and the internet. Thank you for continuing to visit and responding to my inane thoughts.

HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

Things To Do Before I Die

1. Learn to speak Spanish fluently.
2. Become a published author.
3. Learn to ride a unicycle.
4. Go sky diving.

What's on your list?

The People at the Gym

I belong to a gym. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I do. My gym is part of a big, national chain. I think there must be some sort of law that was passed, undoubtedly by congress, that states that the more popular a gym is, the louder the music has to be. In fact, if you were to notice only the music and people on cell phones you'd think you were out at a club. I'll be damned if I can find someone to give my a beer though. That's why I fill my water bottle with beer before I go. There are several different people that go to a gym. I think that the smallest number belong to the group of normal people who go to the gym a few times a week just to stay in decent shape. That's the group I'm in. The next group are the what I call "The Bicep Bunch." (Just imagine the theme song, "The Bicep Bunch, the Bicep Bunch, that's the way we became the Bicep Bunch!") The Bicep Bunch has a uniform too. It consists of work boots, denim jeans and a black muscle shirt. They literally walk around the gym in groups of several guys in this identical outfit. I call them the Bicep Bunch because they're only interested in working out their upper body in hopes of impressing women. Not that impressing women is a bad goal. In fact I've dedicated my life to it. Then, there are the women at the gym. Some of them scare me. When women start doing things like wearing weight belts and bench pressing, doing pull-ups, and curls, I get a little scared about getting too close. I want no part of a pre-menstrual woman who has more muscle mass than me. That is not a safe combination. Then there are the "Three-weekers." I call them this because they probably won't use their membership for more than three weeks before they realize that exercise is hard work and they give up, never to be seen at the gym again. You can always spot one of the three-weekers because they are so clueless about exercise that they actually accept the complimentary session with the personal trainer so they can learn how to use the equipment. A group of gym members I hate are the locker room nudists. These are the people who are obviously way too comfortable with their bodies. For God's sake, put on a towel when you walk from the shower back to your locker! And do not, under any circumstances, talk to ME while you are naked. We're not that intimate! As is any other place in society these days, the gym is also full of cell phone people. I have no freakin' idea how they can even hear anyone on their cell phones over the din of the music. The only exercise these people are getting is exercising their mouths. I'm sure they can't do real exercise because they're so winded from talking. It's always a temptation to drop a big weight on these dopes.

Reading Is Fun

I just recently completed my first full-fledged attempt at a novel. If you've previously read and enjoyed my Golden Boys stories, you'll love this. I took the four characters from my Golden Boys stories and put them in a murder mystery plot, but with their same idiotic behavior. Does anyone know someone in the publishing industry or who is a literary agent? I have very little idea of how to get this thing from my hands to becoming a full-fledged on your bookstore shelves novel. Any leads you have would certainly be appreciated. Feel free to e-mail me with suggestions if you have any.

I Had A Dream...

A few days a ago I had a dream that I shaved off my goatee. Then yesterday someone said to me, "You ought to shave that off. You'd look ten years younger." Is the universe conspiring to tell me to shave off my goatee? Should I listen to it? Also, some of my long time blog friends might remember a post I did a year ago about vanity plates that was sparked by seeing a plate that said, "Dali Lama." Yesterday after I was told I should shave off my goatee I walked out of the office and into my parking lot, and what car was parked there? Yup. The Dali Lama car. Is it just me, or are those two coincidences happening that close together weird? Is the universe telling me something? Should I shave off my goatee?

"You're a Hottie"

So I was on my way to a dentist appointment. I got out of my car in the busy parking lot of a medical complex that contained several small buildings housing a variety of doctors offices. As I began to cross the lot a van slowed down and the drivers side window was descending. I assumed it was just someone stopping to ask what building a particular doctor was in. The van slowed as it approached me and I slowed my walk, preparing to give helpful directions because that's just the kind of good samaritan I am. The window rolled all the way down and I saw that the driver appeared to be a woman of about 50 maybe. I make eye contact, thinking I'm about to field a question for directions. She looks me straight in the eye and says, "You're a hottie." So I ask for her phone number and after my appointment we went to her house and made mad monkey love on the dining room floor. No! Are you kidding?!!? That was gross! She then drove off without another word. I'm not sure why, but I immediately felt queasy. I suppose this is how very young women feel when some creepy old guy hits on them. Although she is obviously an incredibly bright and perceptive woman, it still creeped me out. Normally, from someone younger I'd accept the compliment and it might put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. I definitely didn't smile as I walked away as quickly as I could. If she thought I was a hottie then though, she should have seen me after I got my teeth cleaned. Now we're talkin' hot! And no, there were not any psychiatric offices in that office complex.

GPS= Giant Pain in my asS

For my new job I do quite a bit of driving around, so I purchased a GPS device for my car. We've all see the commercials where the guy professes his love for his GPS before regaining his senses, realizing that it is just a mechanical device. That won't be my problem. I often do talk to my GPS as it's talking to me, but we're usually arguing. I even switched the voice to that of a British woman, hoping that the accent would make it seem like much less of a nag. It doesn't. Here are a few sample conversations between me and my GPS:

GPS: In two tenths of a mile turn right.............in one tenth of a mile turn right........in 200 feet turn right....
Phil: I know, I'm turning right!
GPS: Turn right
Phil: Shut up! I'm already turning. Leave me alone!

Or another example is when we disagree on directions. For instance yesterday I asked it directions to a specific restaurant and it wanted me to get on a toll road for something like a quarter mile.

GPS: Take ramp on left in 200 feet.
Phil: No. I'm not going to pay a toll just to go a half mile.
GPS: Take ramp on left
Phil: No. I'm not going to. I can see the restaurant from here.
GPS: As soon as possible make a U-turn.
Phil: No, I'm not going to go on the ramp. SHUT UP! I can see the restaurant.
GPS: Recalculating. Travel two tenths of a mile to destination on right.
Phil: See? I told you!

Perhaps my terse demeanor is why my GPS sometimes gives me wrong directions and possibly tries to get me killed. It often has no regard for my safety when it directs me through crime infested, gang run neighborhoods, or down streets that are closed for construction. I think it's out to get me. At some point I imagine myself pulling the thing off the dash and flinging it out onto the highway as I'm traveling at a very high rate of speed, laughing maniacally as it tumbles to it's tiny electronic death still babbling at me. If I'm ever stranded on a desert island I'm sure as hell not taking my GPS with me to keep me company. To quote the great philosopher, me, technology is the opiate of the asses.

More Desert Island

Yeah, I know this is a cop out, but who doesn't love to play desert island? Ok, here's the next one: Rest of your life you're stuck on a desert island with your favorite beverage and one movie. What movie do you choose and why? You can only pick one. No say, 'yeah, but I also considered this." Pick one without any qualifications.

I go with The Princess Bride. It's completely silly and funny and has a lot of those lines that are funny no matter how many times you hear them or how many times you and your friends do them back and forth with each other. If I'm stuck on a desert island I want to be able to laugh on a regular basis. Of course I'd be seriously pissed if my DVD player broke and I couldn't watch my one movie.

Green Kool-Aid

No, I'm not starting a cult. If I were stuck on a desert island and could only drink one beverage for the rest of my life, I think I would choose green Kool-Aid. Setting all health benefits aside green kool-aid may be my favorite beverage, with orange juice and Corona a close second and third. Ok, your turn. Desert island. One beverage for life, what do you choose?

Fate Tempted: Numero Dos

Ok, I'm doing it again. Flying all day. Wish me luck. Don't worry if I don't blog again today. I know I can't get wifi in the Philly airport.

I'm Alive!!!

Hey folks. My flight from home to Charlotte turned out to be the best flight I've ever had. There were first class openings, and I considered paying for the openings, but decided not to. They left the row for the exit door empty and as the flight took off the stewardess..errr...flight attendant asked me to sit in it and read the instructions for opening the door. I had and entire row to myself! It was better than first class. It was like having a king sized bed to myself. I reclined and stretched out. Put my stuff on the seats on either side of me. I was totally livin large. I didn't blog later because there was no wifi I could get in Charlotte and then when I got here in Cancun there is a ridiculously high charge for use of the internet. Also, Blogger is in Espanol here! Fortunately I know blogger well enough that I don't need to understand the tabs. For those of you that worried about my well being after the last post, thank you. I have another story about my roommate after I got here, but I'll blog that later. I've got to go to breakfast.

Fate? Meet Temptation

Some of my long time blog friends know my position on death. I'm not a fan. In fact, I don't really believe in it at all. At least for myself. I have long been of the belief that if an opportunity to be dead presents itself to me I will just flat out refuse to do it. I believe that by sheer will I just won't die regardless of disease, accident, or age. But now I have a bit of a quandry.

I recently started a job that requires me to fly places occasionally. I've rarely flown in my life, and now it appears I will be doing so at least a few times a year. Back to my beliefs about death. Like I said, I don't believe that I will die, but unfortunately I'm not able to be completely delusional in this regard. The flying is a problem because as immortal as I'd like to believe I am, I think that if I were to drop from 35,000 feet in the air I would hit the ground as hard as anyone else. Maybe a little harder, because after all, I'm Phil.

So, here I sit in the airport as I type this, preparing to board my flight. My goal is to blog at the next airport in about 3 hours and then upon my arrival at my final destination. (yes, the choice of the phrase 'final destination' was not a coincidence) If you see no further posts after this, then you and I will know that it's definitely not a good idea to tempt fate like this. Or at least not a good idea to blog about fate. I hope the Charlotte airport has wifi access and I hope Fate has a sense of humor...

Hi. My Name is Phil and...

I'm a cell phone person. They say the first step is admitting it. My long time blog friends who have read my ongoing series of rants against "cell phone people" will appreciate the irony here. For those of you new to the show, I have long railed against the idiocy of "cell phone people." Those inconsiderate morons who speak loudly and indiscretely into their cell phones no matter where they are. Those people who think they're so important they need the Bluetooth affixed to their head 24/7. Those people who have tendinitis in their thumbs from texting. The ring tone losers who are constantly asking you to listen to their new ring tone which they update every two days. All these people deserve their own special level in hell. That has been my position on cell phones in a nutshell.

Fast forward to now. I just started a new job. They issued me a cell phone which I must have on from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm every work day. So because of this, I broke down and bought a holster for my work phone so it didn't look like I have a tumor in my pocket, or something else. I will also have to drive around quite a bit for my new job, so I bought one of those ear pieces so I can talk on the phone while driving. So now, I spend every day walking around with two cell phones and a PDA on me and I have that stupid earpiece in whenever I'm in my car. I feel ridiculous. I don't think the astronauts have this much technology on them when they go for a spacewalk. Also because I drive around a lot I bought a GPS device for directions. I'm sure I'm getting some sort of tumors already from all the radio signals and beams of electricity criss-crossing my body. I love the new job, but I hate being a cell phone person.

Mental Dental Hygiene

Ok, because of my new job I had to spend the last two weeks of August staying in a hotel in Richmond, VA with a roommate. I lucked out. My roommate was a very nice guy. In fact, he was a great roommate. No bad habits except for snoring, but he couldn't control that. In fact he was a very neat, clean person. Not a slob at all even though we were living in a hotel room. After a couple days sharing a room with this guy I notice that a box of dental floss has fallen on the floor behind the toilet. It's not my dental floss, but I'm not sure if it's his, so I leave it there for him and the housekeeping staff to sort out. Also, who wants to touch something that's on the floor behind the toilet in a hotel?

A day passes and the floss is still laying there behind the toilet. Another day, still there. Another day and another day and still no one has picked up the dental floss. Don't worry, I'm not tempted to either. Finally after about five days I see that my roommate has picked up the dental floss and placed it among his other toiletries on the sink where it remained for the rest of our two weeks. Am I wrong, or is it completely disgusting to use floss from a box that has laid on the floor behind a toilet for several days? You might as well dip your floss in the urine filled toilet and use it as far as I'm concerned. Who here would have used it?

Who Let The Dogs Out?

So I get sent to Richmond, Virginia for a two week training to prepare me for my new job. I've been here since the 19th. This morning I walked out of my hotel room and right into the middle of biggest news story of the day. I went down to the second floor where we have breakfast and start our training at 8 a.m. As I get down there another employee says, "Did you hear the rumor that Michael Vick is staying here? It's probably just an urban myth." I agreed, although I'm in a fairly nice hotel only three blocks from the Richmond courthouse.

At 9:30 I during a break in training I went up to my room to get something. As I camme out of my room an older gentleman in a suit exited the elevator in front of me and opened the door of the room next to mine. As he did so I heard the voice of an African-American man before the door closed. I went downstairs only to return a few minutes later after the wheels in my head started to turn. As I returned three men in suits exited the room next to mine and headed towards the elevator and I overheard one say, "Court should take about an hour." After this I observe a hotel employee talking on a walkie-talkie, using the phrase "Room____ is a VIP room for today." Now the light bulb went on over my head! I went downstairs and went back to my training.

About two hours later we got another break and as I exited the conference room a steady stream of men with cameras and microphones began to stream past towards the conference room across the hall from mine. So I got into the line. It was the Michael Vick press conference. As I walked to the line filing into the press conference I passed George Thorogood, the singer, talking to one of my co-workers. He was as curious as the rest of us. In addition to the press, spectators began to file into the hotel lobby. Some had religious shirts encouraging Michael Vick to repent. A family with young children came in carrying signs saying "We Love you" A co-worker of mine began to almost shout at the children, "You love him? How can you say that? He hung dogs!"

So me, Michael Vick, George Thorogood, and hordes of media were all here today. Needless to say, I had to answer a lot of questions about my blog.

An Unusual Post From Me

This post is unusual because I don't really have anything to say, but I just felt like rambling. I may be posting more often (hey, this is the third time in a month). I recently started a great new job and I'm in Richmond, VA for two weeks of training right now. The new job has markedly improved my mood and that might result in a little more regular posting, but I don't know if I'll ever be back to how I was before I tailed off about 6 months ago. Oh sure, I'll still make fun of stuff, but I don't know if I'll put the time and effort into my posts that I used to. Anyway, I just want to thank all of you that still stop by even when I post infrequently. Your comments always make me laugh my ass off.

Keep Your Feet on the Ground

Ok, it's official. I'm tired of hearing about how the Space Shuttle has a nick in it and everyone's concerned that it will explode upon re-entry. Yes, of course I'm concerned for the safety of the astronauts up there, but...the stress on them and everyone else could be prevented.

Let's say you have a car that you drive to and from work every day. If there was a chance that every time a little stone nicked it on your way to work your car might explode on your way home, wouldn't you get a new car? Also, if the outside of your car was made of some material that was injured by foam or ice, wouldn't you decide to have your next car made of a much more sturdy material?

The bottom line is that NASA needs to make some new shuttles. Then again, why the hell do we even need to be in outerspace? What can we possibly learn up there that is of use here? Sure, it's kind of cool to go to the moon and the space station, but really, can anyone think of anything that is useful in our daily lives that has resulted from a trip to outerspace? Essentialy NASA is a bunch of guys who like cool gadgets and are probably sitting around their offices saying, "Man, can you believe the goverment keeps giving us money? Sure, we brought back some cool rocks and pictures, but I do that every time I go to the beach too. I can't believe they didn't shut us down years ago!"

The Clown Whisperer

Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I'd suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn't certain he'd ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs as he walked away. Just nothing. He was...gone.

Later in the day I was driving home from running some errands and as I stopped at a traffic light I looked at the car turning left, crossing the intersection in front of me. What I saw looking back at me was unbelieveable. Two clowns in a car. Yep, only two. But they were clowns in full makeup looking at me as they passed. "WTF," I thought. And then they were gone, just like the other one.

Why? Why are all these clowns showing up? What is the meaning? Why are they following me? As far as omens go, this can't be a good one. Randomly seeing three clowns in one day with no circus or parade going on? That is effing weird.

Speaking of seeing clowns, I'm going to see a couple tonight as I head to Syracuse for my annual get together with The Golden Boys.

Hillary Clinton Is In Town Today

Yes, that's right. If you're keeping score at home, that's the second Clinton sighting in my town in the past three weeks. I think she's got a thing for me, but it may be time for a restraining order. Too bad it's not Condoleeza Rice. Now there's a piece of political eye candy. Anyway, I'd like to give a big shout out to my friends at the F.B.I., Secret Service, and Homeland Security Dept. who I know are checking the internet and blogs for any possible mention of a threat to Hillary. Just so you guys know, I'm going to be in Penfield today and won't be at my regular work location. Feel free to stop by the house though, I left the A/C on for you. I didn't leave a key. I know you know how to get in.

Strange But True

I just read this from a reputable news source: The father of JonBenet Ramsey is dating the mother of Natalee Holloway. Yes, that's right. I'm not kidding for a change. Here is what my reaction sounds like in my head: "What?!!? Are you freakin' kidding me? I'm not sure why, but this seems incredibly wrong and twisted in some way that I can't define. What the hell is wrong with these two people? They're not even from the same neighborhood! How do they hook up? It's not like they ran into each other at the P.T.A. meeting. They had to go looking for each other. Did they find each other through E-harmony? Was personality variable number 29, "Was your child kidnapped or killed?" Is it just me, or does anyone, everyone else find this to be possibly the most bizarre thing maybe ever?

Janie's Got A Gun

Ok, it wasn't Janie, but it was a strange man who walked right through the front yard of my cottage carrying a rifle. Yup, calm as you please he walked right by my window with a gun while I was eating dinner. I thought he might be the guy from two cottages down, but I wasn't sure. He and his companion were headed that way. So of course I put down my fork (I should have kept it, at least I'd have had some kind of weapon) and did I do what any right thinking person with common sense would do? Did I call the police to report that there was a man with a gun walking around? No, of course not. If I did that I wouldn't be me! I put down my fork and walked right out my door to follow him and ask what he was doing walking around brandishing a weapon when I have children that play outside here.

So I caught up to him and confronted him with exactly that question. Needless to say, I felt naked without my fork.

For Those of You Keeping Score...

Former President Bill Clinton is in my town today, and you know what that means! Yup, the Secret Service and F.B.I. will again be checking in on their favorite blogger.

"Where have you been? What were you doing?"

In a recent comment someone posed this question to me. While I was almost completely gone for three months, what was I doing? The one fellow blogger who was kind enough to e-mail to ask about my whereabouts, (yes, my one eyebrow is raised at the rest of you) hoped that I had been kidnapped by pirates because “pirates are cool.” Were it so simple as being kidnapped by the Dread Pirate Roberts I’d certainly be much happier with the events of the past 4 months and their effect upon my psyche. In a recent comment another blogger wondered if I’d actually been undercover as a spy. The truth itself lies somewhere in between those two possibilities and a little to the left. I’ve wrestled with my conscience about whether to tell the tale and what consequences the telling might have. Consequences that might affect me and several others. Being a writer, or at least dreaming that I might someday be one, I can’t resist the urge to tell a story that I hardly believe myself. As they used to say in the introduction to the old Dragnet show, (which I only watched in syndication as a very young child because I’m definitely not old enough to have seen the first time around) the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will also blur some of the details a bit to protect, as they say, my own ass.

Cell Phone People Part VIII: The Ringtone People

As many of my longtime friends here know, cell phone people irritate me. Well, irritate might not be the right word. Inspire murderous rage perhaps? Fuel an anger that burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns? I’m not sure what the exact measurement of my annoyance with them might be, but it’s definitely not good. For those of you new to the program, I don’t hate everyone who uses a cell phone. Only those who use them as if they and their cell phone are Siamese twins that weren’t separated at birth.

During the hiatus when I was gone, I purchased a new cell phone solely to change carriers. My new phone however, is a huge upgrade over my old phone and has all sorts of bells and whistles. It wasn’t too expensive and it looked cool, which is my primary criteria for choosing a phone, or anything for that matter. It also has the option of storing roughly one billion different ringtones. Like I’ve maintained all along, I have a cell phone, but I’m not a cell phone person.

A subset of cell phone people is the ringtone people. These people love their ringtones and they always want you to know when they have a new one. “Hey, wanna hear my new ringtone?” Usually this question sends me running from the room desperate to save the 30 seconds of my life these dolts are trying to steal by making me listen to The Thong Song. The Ringtone People change their ringtone about once a week, so over the course of a year they could steal 26 minutes of your life by making you listen to their new ringtones. Oh and I just love their bikini babe or Justin Timberlake wallpaper.

I think the ringtone should be a personality quiz somewhere, and it probably is on one of those sites that supply quizzes for bloggers. The quiz should go like this:

1) Have you purchased more than two ringtones for your phone?
A) Yes
B) No

If you answered no, you have a life and your priorities are in order. If you answered yes, how could you possibly have time to take this quiz? Your carrier is adding new ringtones at this very minute and you’re missing them! Oh, and you’re a loser.

The ringtone people also have taken the time to assign a different ringtone to all 30 people saved in their phone. I sure as hell hope that when e-harmony is asking the questions that determine your 29 personality variables “Do you have more ringtones than brain cells?” is one of the questions. These people definitely need to be paired up with each other instead of letting them wander aimlessly asking the rest of us, “Wanna hear my new ringtone?” Then again, if you pair them up they might start to breed, and we definitely don’t want to see that happening.

I have to confess, I did purchase one ringtone for my new phone. It’s the theme song for Monday Night Football. It never fails to make me smile when I hear it. What’s your ringtone du jour?

It's India's Turn

Hey Canada, guess what? You get the week off. I'm going to make fun of India. Earlier this week an Indian court issued an arrest warrant for Richard Gere because he kissed Indian actress Shilpa Shetty at an AIDS Awareness event in Jaipur,India. The entire country was seriously outraged. They were burning Richard Gere effigies in the street over this! After several lawyers filed complaints in an Indian court a judge watched the videotape of the kiss, retired to his chambers alone for about 10 minutes, and then, appearing slightly sweaty and disheveled, returned to the court, demanded that he keep the copy of the tape and issued the order for Richard Gere's arrest. Apparently under Indian law they deemed Richard Gere's kiss of their actress "obscene." I saw the video. I don't even think there was tongue. Maybe they thought it was obscene that a 58 year old was kissing a pretty, young actress. I can see that, but then again, this is a country where marriages are still arranged.

I've got a few very good Indian friends, so I have nothing against the Indian people. I love their food, but maybe laws like this are why they moved to America, land of the free and home of kisssing Richard Gere. That's right, if I want to kiss Richard Gere right on the mouth in front of the whole world I'll do it and there isn't a court in the land that can stop me. And c'mon, he was burned in effigy. How cool is that? If I ever do anything that causes me to be burned in effigy I will be very happy. And I don't mean burned in effigy when an ex-girlfriend puts my picture in the garbage and sets it on fire. I want the full-on hanging in the public square, chanting crowds, riot police burning effigy. If I can do something that causes that, then I know I'll have really made something of my life. I think I may have to plan a vacation to India. Mother Theresa, here I come! I know she's dead, but I may kiss her on the mouth too. That should get me an awesome effigy.

Yoga Booty Ballet

Yes, it's a real fitness workout DVD. How can you not love the name? I laugh just reading, saying, or thinking the name. No jokes needed. Yoga Booty Ballet says it all. I'm not big into the performing arts. I've never attended an opera or ballet, but I think I definitely would not miss the Yoga Booty Ballet if it came to my city. In fact I think I might join the Yoga Booty Ballet.

I'll Be Back Soon

I'm still alive and I'm about two weeks away from reviving this blog if anyone is still stopping by to check my pulse. Hope you're all doing well. See you soon.