Pinball is fun!

I have discovered a need and a way to meet that need.  On ramps and off ramps are particularly sticky points on the freeway during rush hour.  Why do they call it rush hour?  Is it because everyone would LIKE to rush or simply TRYING to rush?  Because there isn’t any rushing the rush hour traffic!  I digress.

Freeways should be designed like a pinball machine.  Instead of traffic lights there should be giant pistons that draw back and shoot you into traffic at highway speeds or better.  This is key!@!!!  Waaaaaay too many people are doing 45-55 when the merge lane runs out and no one wants to let you on the freeway going slower than they are.  At that point everyone is then trying to decide how fast they want to go or have already decided and get in the lane of their choice.  There should be no choices at this point.

In pinball there are often little lanes at the top that the ball randomly drops into depending on how fast the ball was going or what thingy’s it has hit.  No randomness in this system.  You punch in what speed you want to go and the giant piston drops you into that lane.  Or magnets under the highway, or something.  That is why I will hire my niece who is becoming an engineer last I knew.  Each lane will be assigned “points” or a speed.  65, 75, 85 and the HOV lane is 100.  And no “toll” passes.  This clogs up the lane for those of us who actually qualify, not who can afford it.

No gas pedals work on the freeways.  All done by Magneto.  His prison sentence is to regulate traffic flow with his returned powers.  Anyone who tries to get into the HOV who doesn’t qualify is flipped off the road and collected by the police.  Each lane is magnetically or otherwise controlled for whatever speed is assigned.  Just like the little toy race tracks there is no changing lanes.  Ever.  No changing your mind about speed once launched.

To get off the freeway you hit the exit button on the dash at the appropriate time and an overhead magnet thingy or like apparatus will swoop in, lift your car off the freeway and deposit it at the bottom of the off ramp where your gas pedal gets to work again and you can’t get in my, er, our way on the freeway and make all kinds of stupid decisions or indecisions.  If you get the wrong exit you hit the button at the wrong time and you have to use surface streets to get where you needed to go.  Kind of like the game Diplomacy.  You write your orders down prior to everyone moving and submit them at the same time.  If you wrote it wrong, tough, the wrong order is obeyed or if it is badly written (not in correct form) you don’t get to move at all.  The Who had it right all along.

Pinball is fun and rewarding!

Cash or Credit?

What is it with the card readers at stores now?!  Do you remember the commercials that show the cash guy slowing the line down and the card guy speeding right through?  Hah!  Now you have to answer 10 questions or so.  what kind of transaction, wait for cashier, is this the correct amount, do you want it all on the same card, do you want cash back, is this the correct amount, wait for authorization.  Did I miss any?

And heaven forbid you go to the pharmacy!

“Women drivers” or Can I get this to go!?

I have seen this happen in movies, never in real life and never to me. 

I have gotten in the habit of drinking Diet Coke or Diet Dr. Pepper.  I used to buy them in 44 oz cups 1-2 times a day.  A budget advisor told us that we should buy things on sale when we could so now I look for the 69 and 79 cent sales on 2-liters.  And buy 20. 

Well, the wife and I went out house hunting Saturday and I stopped to get gas and some pop.  It’s just better from the fountain, usually, and Diet Dr. Pepper rarely goes on sale. 

I started the gas pumping and went to purchase my drink.  They distracted me by making me answer more questions on the card reader than I was prepared to do.  I rarely go in now since I get my pop at home and pay for gas at the pump.  I get to the car and all seems well.  We start to leave and hear a loud scrape and thumping, like in all the ghost stories only it was daylight and I am at the gas station.

I look in the rear-view mirror and I see half of the gas hose still hanging from my gas tank and the other half hanging from the pump.  I stop and return to inspect the damage and return my half to the pump area.  In front of 20 snickering people.

Fortunately it had some kind of quick release clasp that quick released for me.  I did not re-attach.  I calmly went into the store, told him I had broken his hose on pump 3 and stated something like “it looks like it will go right back on”, he said something like “I hope so” and I calmly got the heck out of there.  I almost always buy my gas there.  Might have to start going to 800 north.  Do you think they take pictures and pass them out to the other stations with the heading of “latest idiots”.

Meanwhile the wife is laughing and letting me know how glad she is I did that and not her.  She figures everyone would have thought dumb woman drivers should stay off the road and away from gas stations.

She figures their response to me would be more along the lines of “he must have a lot on his mind”.  I didn’t want to tell her that all the guys would be thinking “drives like a woman”.

What the…!?

A couple of minor incidents come to mind here.  I work as a physical therapist and so I have something called a hydrocollator here.  It is a metal tub full of 170 degree water to keep the hot packs hot.  Well, we had a “lunch and learn” here with about 40 employer reps/clients.  We turned the therapy area into a conference room and learned about swine flu. 

Afterward we were putting the PT clinic back together and I went to put something away in the hydrocollator.  I find a slimy green thing floating in the water.  How in the world did a piece of lettuce find its way in there.  There are no openings.  You have to lift the lid to get in.

Is this the same as house guests snooping  in the medicine cabinet?  Cause that’s just weird.  The person had to be holding their plate (I did mention LUNCH and learn), lift the lid, drop the lettuce leaf in there and then decide to leave it there.

I did say it was 170 degrees.  But, what the heck are they looking for anyway?  hmmm.

And…

Today, my first patient comes in and lets me know that there is used condom in the parking lot that she almost stepped on!  We are not in the best part of town but neither do we have a secluded lot.  It is quite visible from the road, which is a fairly busy road.

It is an industrial area so perhaps not so busy at night.  This same patient does not live in such a nice area either so she says that  she used to get cars with hookers and johns out front of the house by the curb frequently.  Is there a discount for not using the hotel? 

Apparently she fixed that with a baseball bat and some threats.  I don’t even know what to look for here.  People, pick up your own messes!!

Gay!?

You know, I consider myself a fairly open minded person. I have strong opinions on some subjects and others not so much.  For instance, my brother commented that I need more paragraphs.  I can get behind that.  Here comes one now.

That does look a lot better!  Anyway, my wife and I were walking and talking in Target the other day.  As we approached the area betweent the cart corral (I like the name, don’t know if that is the one they use) and the registers we saw a family walking in front of us.  Mom, couple of kids.  One of them looked to be about 10-12, hard to say from behind.  She had on a pair of rainboots.  It had been raining that day so that was not really peculiar except people here in Utah seem to wear flip flops every day, every weather.  They were almost knee length.  They were green and pink or red with some pattern.

I think I like this paragraph thing.  Where was I, oh.  I just mentioned to my wife that they were cute boots and kept on going to whatever register we ended up at.  She looks at me and says “you really are gay”.  Wow.  From the wife.  We have 5 daughters.  That’s my only excuse I guess.  hmm.  Maybe I’m gay?

stupid is as stupid does…

So, my cell phone seems to have an affinity for the water. Any water. See the previous blog. It’s shorter than the motorcycle accident one. My phones latest, greatest and alas, last, water adventure was the washing machine. I checked all the pockets. Seriously, you thought I didn’t? Put the laundry in and went downstairs. Started looking for my phone. Couldn’t find it, couldn’t hear it, nothing. It was as if the sea had swallowed it. Then I remembered the LOWER pocket on my shorts that I don’t wear so much since I work with a dress code. The shorts with the cell phone pocket down on the left side BELOW the other pocket I had already checked. Well, the washer hadn’t started agitating yet. Found the phone and had hope of resucitating it as previously I had done, with less disinfectant this time. Morning came and all was right with the world. I arrived home after work, went to make a call and the screen started to look like the blob started to eat it. Then the screen looked like the Matrix. aaargh! More drying with no success. Then I thought, “hey, I have an old Alltel phone”. I am with Verizon for better or worse and 1 1/2 years until we have the option to continue or rip up the prenup and be done. Verizon bought Alltel. So, I fire up the old Alltel LG and optimistically punch in the numbers. *228, option 3. Alas, would not work automatically. Called service. 3 times until I got a person. Apparently there are different levels of “merger”. The paper one, we all saw that one, and the one where all the components actually work together. Still not there yet on that one. My friendly advisor said he was waiting too….Nope, didn’t believe him either. He said to take it to a store and they could unlock it for me. He didn’t say he had done that. Then I thought, “wait, Dug jailbroke his online once”. So, I googled. And was aghast again. That was fun to say. Aghast again. Cool. Anyway, CMDA phones, of which Verizon, Alltel and Sprint are part of, can be unlocked, with firmware you can purchase. Then you have to clone your phone, which is illegal. I couldn’t figure out how to do that and unlock without spending lots of money and time I didn’t have. So, I am taking donations of any Verizon phone that is not being currently used and works. Barring that I may have to extend the prenup. I am still too new to the marriage to qualify for an upgrade. Another 16 months should do it.

Pain is a great teacher

I have already commented in too lengthy a fashion about my motorcycle accident. But then, this blog is not about you, it’s about me isn’t it? Hmm, Well, anyway. I was giving my 1 year old a bath the other day and we were having a marvelous time and all. She was getting clean and I wasn’t getting soaked. Good Karma. I wrapped my right arm around her and pushed up with my left on the tub. I raised about to where my arm was straight and she hadn’t quite left the tub yet and sure enough my left hand slips. The only thing stopping my fall was the side of the tub and my rib cage. Josie slid onto her back and was horrified to hear her dad swear (once, I promise) but loudly and then get a mouthful of water as the wave returned to the back of the tub. I righted that ship and picked up a very distraught child and comforted her as best as I could being the offender who dunked her. So much for not getting soaked. Her mom heard my explicative, don’t know if that is spelled right and I don’t care enough to look it up. You get the idea. Colleen comforted Josie and I now know how bruised ribs feel. Anything you do pulls on the ribs.  I am a therapist and I didn’t know every muscle in the body attaches to the ribs.  It’s true, you read it on the internet.  The doc says they stay painful for 6-8 weeks.   Yeehaw.

Mugging on BYU campus!

I have been riding a motorcycle again since October.  I parked in November when I couldn’t feel my fingers at work for a couple hours.  Being a physical therapist this is a decided disadvantage.  Started again in April and been going since then.  Everything was peachy.  The occasional idiot encroaching my lane or pulling in front of me.  That all ended friday night.  We’ll do this sort of like a traffic report.  I was heading west bound on North Campus drive of BYU after picking up Jasmine from Musical Theater camp.  About 10:15 pm.  I am traveling at or below the posted 30 mph speed and coming up on the intersection with West Campus drive near the alumni building.  The light is green.  Another car is coming up  the hill from the opposite direction going east.  She approaches the intersection without a blinker on and appears to be headed east, not turning, no changing direction or anything or indication that she about to change direction as near as I can tell  at 10:15 at night.  As I reach the intersection she does in fact turn left.  I say something like “oh ssssssshhhhoooot” and hit the brakes with all the force left in me.  Swerving or speeding up did not seem like good options at the time and looking back does not improve their rating as options.  She hits me on the left side right about the same spot as my left foot and gear shift, foot pedal.  I feel a searing pain and just yell.  Nothing intelligible but something.  Meanwhile Jaz had her eyes closed because she had had a bad day at her camp.  My earlier outburst alerted her to something out of the ordinary and did not actually get to see the impact.  That was very surreal.  It felt like slow motion and fast forward at the same time.  Very different.  Knowing there was no metal or even plastic between us and her was not comforting.  We were not thrown off the bike thanks to the slow speed of impact.  I figure my foot is broken but lo and behold I can put pressure on when I get off the bike and onto the pavement.  Jaz bumps and bruises her knee and goes into a little shock.  This didn’t help since she was crying when she called home to say we were in an accident.  More later on that.  The lady gets out of her car and honestly asks “what happened”.  Amazingly I was in too much pain for a flippant or clever answer and just came back with “you hit me!”  And she amazed me some more when she asked me as I clutched my ankle if she should call 911.   Again, I could just come up with “yes!”  I did think ” you think!?” but that wasn’t going to be productive.  Then 911 wanted to talk to me, the injured party (aside from Jasmine).  Did I need an ambulance.  No I said, just an officer please, I will go to the ER after my wife gets here.  Well, apparently when they say car vs. motorcycle everyone comes because we had at least 6 emergency vehicles show up which really freaks out the wife when she comes up that hill.  Fortunately jaz had the foresight to tell her mom that we were basically ok.  I did have to feel sorry for the lady (I never did find out her name).  She was very shook up over the fact that she didn’t see us at all and this could have been much worse.  I am most thankful to all guardian angels and especially those on duty that night.  Well, the official part worked in my favor as she was sited for failure to yield (another “ya think”) came to mind but that would have been counter-productive I believe.  I went for the registration and the plastic cover was broken so I got out the key to unlock the inside cover and the lock came away with the key.  Not very secure anymore!  That one might need to get looked at.  Well, the bike never went down as it was hooked on her bumper, which was made out of plastic, thank goodness.  The whole left side did not do well.  Now, let the games begin.

toileted cell dilemma

I had a moment yesterday. One of those moments you hope you made the right decision but sure there isn’t one. I have forever given people who put their cell phones in their shirt pockets a hard time. Sure it’s convenient but look at what happened to Dug. He was wearing his there and in one moment of kerploosh it was heading for the bottom of Flaming Gorge. Many others have related stories of phones into the water or worse, into the toilet. Or worse yet, the already used but as yet unflushed toilet. Such as happened to ME yesterday. Yet, I do not carry my phone there. I am a little old fashioned and carry it on my belt with a phone sleeve holder thingy. Is there an official name for those? I don’t know, but I am sure there is. And, I am not looking it up. But, back to the story. I have finished my numbers 1 and 2 (3?), cleaned up and am getting up. Much to my surprise I hear “kerploosh” but much shallower so more like “kerplunk”. I am horrified and several scenarios run through my head but the only one I like is when I tell Verizon my phone fell into a used but unflushed toilet they laugh, cry and send me a free blackberry. Since any but one scenario resulted in me spending money on a new phone I hurriedly made the plunge and secured the now soiled phone with holder thingy. I am still debating money and what to do as I quickly rinse the phone and holder thingy, henceforth known as garbage, in the sink. As mentioned I figured there was no saving the garbage and in it went. Colleen happens to hate germs and unclean things and had clorox wipes right on the counter. Bless that woman and all wives in general. I think I used half the container on me and the phone and its various pieces. I don’t know if “its” gets a comma so you can put one there in your head if you want. I left it to dry and disinfect. Pee may be sterile but poo definitely is not. I appear to have saved the phone in time and it seems to work without any accompanying smell. Now it is time to buy the insurance and run over the phone. Just in case.

pee styles

A while back Dug and Rob and I happened upon a conversation involving how does one (a man) pee. 2 choices were obvious and deliberated. In fact, Dug has already done a blog/poll on this very subject and I still haven’t figured out how to link to other stuff.  Try suncrestdug.wordpress.com and look in his subject area.  Anyway, he and Rob were all about leaving the belt buckled and/or the top button buttoned and just using the fly.  I have always preferred completely undoing the whole apparatus and getting some air.  The reason I preferred that way is that it always looked weird to me to see someone fishing around to go to the bathroom in public settings.  I just didn’t want to look like I was groping myself.  Sorry.  It also seemed like you couldn’t quite get as much out with the top still done up on those occasions when I tried it.  So, more was left to potentially make you go sooner or leak out.  Neither was desireable.  Dug’s blog/poll more than reflected the  our 2 to 1 ratio at Dug’s house with most favoring the keeping the pants buttoned style.  I have been wearing more summer weight slacks lately and have found myself having to increase the width of my stance to keep my pants from falling around my knees, much less my ankles.  This was not conducive to public peeing in the trough at stadiums or urinals anywhere else.  So, I have begun to capitulate and experiment.  Now I have converted.  It has been a relief to not have to worry about de-pantsing myself.  I seem to go to the bathroom with the same frequency and don’t seem to leak as I worried.  It still feels odd to go looking but this is becoming more natural feeling.  The problem comes in when I wear different underwear where the openings are not the same.  I become a little more self-conscious the longer it takes to get to the ready position.  I imagine this too will improve with time and practice.  I feel good about being able to pee without having to worry I am going to moon the world or startle the next person coming into the bathroom next time I forget to lock the door.  That will have to be another blog.