Breathing Easy

Breathing Easy

When you have Duchenne's, you can never be sure when your condition will worsen and in what ways. For me, I have noticed a decline approximately every 5-7 years, whether it be nutritional, cardiac, skeletal, or respiratory. When I began using a ventilator following my tracheostomy in 2002, I was able to spend at least a few hours each day breathing on my own or "sprinting". It was very helpful for transfers, bathing, and using the bathroom. I knew there was a possiblity that at some point I would be become completely ventilator-dependent.

Well, a little more than 7 years later, I am quickly nearing that point. After as little as 20 minutes, I am noticeably working harder to breathe, and my CO2 level creeps over 50 (the normal range is between 35-45). This results in headache and fatigue. My heartrate and blood pressure also increase. Fortunately, once I return to the ventilator, everything improves within as little as 10 minutes.

Though I have always been against accepting more medicine or treatment unless it is absolutely warranted, sometimes it is necessary to lose the small battles in order to have a chance to win the big war. In the end, of course, you can never defeat DMD, but I want to muster all the force that I can. So if that means being dependent on a machine 24/7, then so be it. I still have things to do and places to go!

I Want To Protest Protesters

I don't understand protesters. In fact, I hate them - all of them, protesters of any kind and for any cause. I feel an overwhelming urge to smack them over the head with their own protest signs, hoping that it will knock some sense into them. I want to strip the megaphones out of their hands, turn it around and shout in their face "NO ONE CARES AND YOU'RE WASTING YOUR TIME!" As you probably know, the annual G-20 Summit was held in Pittsburgh last week (Sept 24-25). But if you don't know what the G-20 Summit is, in layman's terms it's when global leaders from around the world gather in one location to discuss issues that concern every country. This year it was President Obama's turn to host the event here in the States. And despite thousands of protesters (both foreign and domestic) that join together to rebel, the G-20 Summit has been going on for a solid decade now. So one doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to see that all the vandalism and violence that rioting protesters bring has done absolutely nothing to stop G-20 from continuing year after year. Getting arrested is the only thing the protesters succeed in. They fail miserably at getting their "message" heard because quite frankly, no one is listening and no one cares. And the G-20 Summit rolls on.

I respect everyone's First Amendment right, the Freedom of Speech. So as much as I would love to tell them to shut the hell up and find something better/more productive to do with their life, I can't. They have a right to be there protesting. In fact, in an attempt to keep things somewhat peaceful, the city even granted protest permits to those wanting to protest the G-20 Summit in Pittsburgh. However, not every protest group followed the rules in obtaining this permit. There was a Anarchist group that made it well known they did not have a permit and made it clear that their goal was to disrupt the G-20 Summit as much as possible. Of course these wiz kids didn't realize they did absolutely nothing to disrupt the G-20 Summit itself, because none of the global leaders cared about them marching or what they had to say. All they did was disrupt the neighborhood hosting the Summit by causing chaos in the streets, overturning dumpsters and other childish antics. And yes, they were arrested.

Although what do you expect from an Anarchist group? In terms of intelligence, I rank them right alongside the KKK. Seriously, if you believe in anarchy, you have to be borderline retarded. How could anyone really think a world without rules would be a better place to live? Their ignorance is truly astonishing! I would love to take all these dumbasses and put them on an island where anything goes - Anarchy Island! Then when I come up and stab you in the face since there is no law stating I can't do that, are you still going to be a fan of total anarchy? How about if I pour acid down your throat while I castrate you with a plastic knife, still think a life of total freedom for all is the way to go? If you ask me, Anarchists need to grow the f up! They are adults, but yet they rebel against everything in this world as if they were teenagers still rebelling against the Friday night curfew set by their parents. We live in a world where laws and leadership are needed to maintain order in everyday life. It's for your own safety and well being. If you fail to see that or understand that, you need to put down a banner and pick up a book because you have sooo much to learn about life and the world we live in.

To be fair, not all protesters cause violence and destruction. There are "peaceful protests," but even peaceful protests cause a disturbance and can cost the taxpayers thousands of dollars! A peaceful protest doesn't solve anything either and it usually results in the protesters getting arrested. So again, why do protesters waste their time? It just doesn't make any sense to me. Take for example Greenpeace (photographed above). They were the first protest group at the G-20 Summit last week...and by the first I mean a day early! Ok, so let's stop and think here for a minute. If you want the global leaders of the G-20 Summit to hear/see your message about reducing CO2 emissions, don't you think it's best to do that when they are actually in town? The global leaders hadn't even landed yet because the Summit wasn't starting until the next day! I have to believe that the Greenpeace stunt was more about publicity than fighting for a cause. The whole thing was idiotic. And what was the point of them dangling from the sign for several hours? All this "protest" accomplished was having traffic blocked and motorists either sitting in their car with the engine running or taking longer, alternative routes to their destination. This of course resulted in MORE CO2 being put into the air! Way to go Greenpeace. Now that's how you help ADD to CO2 emissions. And just like the Anarchist group, the Greenpeace protesters were also arrested. No shocker there.

I believe in the old "you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar" motto. It's why I'm all for things such as voting in elections or marching FOR a cause - to raise money for things like fighting cancer or to gain awareness for gay marriage rights. But when you protest against something, the majority of the time nothing ever gets done. There is a big difference between marching FOR something and protesting AGAINST something. One propels us forward and the other holds us back...unless of course you're Rosa Parks. Then everything I just said gets throw out the bus window.

So if you must protest, do it right. Do it Rosa Parks style. She didn't need a big, flashy banner hanging from a bridge complete with dangling stunt men to get her message across. And she didn't need to flip dumpsters and kick in cop cars to be heard. All she needed was to take a stand by sitting down - calmly, peacefully, quietly. You can learn a lot from a little, old woman and very little from a 20-year-old new age hippie. Just a piece of advice, you're better off staying in your dorm room studying than following your brainless friends into a street riot where you rebel against things you know little to nothing about, just because it's the cool college kid thing to do. Less tree hugging. More studying. You'll be better off later in life for it. And best of all, someone might actually hire you for a real job after college because you won't have a long criminal record full of protest arrests you need to explain. How awkward would that be during the interview process? Think any employer wants to hire someone to work under them who has repeatedly rebelled against authority, time and time again? You might want to rethink participating in that next protest march.

***NOTE***
Related post of interest...
9/3/08 - The Right To Bare Boobies

Metal detecting, pro and con

Pro: As you've probably heard, you could find a magnificent Anglo-Saxon treasure trove!

Con: More likely, you are probably just wasting your time on the "world's worst hobby."

This is like playing the lottery (or, what used to be called the numbers before the state took it over). Probabilistically, it is a waste of time and money (why I don't play). But your chances of winning are finite (albeit slimmer than I have been for many years).

photo: www.fisherlab.com

When the Saints Come Marching In...

When the Saints Come Marching In...

On the eve of another NFL Sunday, I would be remiss if I did not post pictures from the Philadelphia Eagles' home opener last Sunday, which I attended thanks to a friend of a friend in a high place. On a picture-perfect day for football, my dad and I took our seats (I brought my seat) near the 30-yard line and proceeded to watch our beloved Birds go down in flames, 48-22, to the surprising New Orleans Saints.

Despite the disastrous results, it was still a great day with all the pomp and circumstance of a NFL home opener, not to mention the chance to catch up with friends old and new. Maybe without me and my dad (maybe just my dad) in the crowd, tomorrow's result will be a lot better!

The Intersection of Art, Architecture and Fashion

Those of you who have been reading our columns since their inception (so long ago!) are probably thinking 'Well, east coast girls are hip. I really dig those styles they wear.'* Some of you, however, might be wondering if we ever discuss anything deeper than our shade of lipstick. So with this entry we'll try to put to rest any doubts.

Several years ago, Valerie, an admirer of Frank Lloyd Wright's Guggenheim Museum, and an ardent lover of hats, commissioned a hat in that shape, thinking there was something inherently hat-like about the Guggenheim. For this job, she contacted possibly the only person in the United States who could have done it, the incomparable Ignatius. The hat, very close to anatomically correct (and completely millinarily correct), with a body of pale straw, ties of gossamer, and a skylight of black netting and Swarovski crystals, had its first outing on Easter, 2007 (where it was adored by Europeans and ignored by Americans), and its second on September 20, 2009.

Tradition demands that one not wear white after Labor Day, and by association one should probably not wear straw hats, either. With global warming a fact of life, we thought there must be some leeway in that, though not much. So the hat had to come out now, or not till 2010.

Happily, the wondrous Kandinsky exhibition had started only days before, and we realized in a flash what we needed to do to properly launch the Guggenheim hat and coordinate our outfits. Valerie wore the Guggenheim hat and white Calvin Klein linen suit (the perfect tabula rasa for the occasion). In synch with the architectural theme, Jean wore a ziggurat hat, which topped off a matching Issey Miyake dress and skirt in bright Kandinsky-like colors and mathematical designs on a graph paper grid.

Off we went to the Guggenheim Museum (by good fortune, in a taxi whose roof was high enough for the hat to fit in), where upon alighting, we were immediately mobbed by people who Got It, and wanted to photograph us.

We then got in line to buy our tickets, but when we arrived at Admissions, we were waved through by the cute and savvy young art lovers manning the desks, who also Got It. Our passes said "Staff Guest", so our visit, though barely begun, had already started out on a high note.

Starting at the top of the structure, we worked our way down the Guggenheim's elemental spiral, stopping along the way to accede graciously to demands for photographs (from museum goers and museum staff alike), as if we were celebrities promoting our latest movie. (Readers, we're open to offers!)



Art history buffs among our readers may know that while teaching at the Bauhaus in the early 1920s, Kandinsky formulated a school of thought that associated certain geometric shapes with specific colors. According to his theory, the circle, square and triangle each had its own appropriate primary color, based on the shared characteristics of those colors and shapes (for example, warmth). For readers guessing which color Kandinsky matched with which shape, see below to check your answer.**

Jean's dress and skirt, exuberant with circles, squares and triangles*** in a way seldom seen in fashion, wreak havoc with Kandinsky's theories. They have no red or yellow at all, their circles are green and their triangles are orange. Could this be Japanese sensibilities at work, or simply another case of the new generation rejecting everything the previous generation held dear (as every generation must)?

Photos were taken discreetly throughout the exhibition, but were generously allowed (encouraged?) by the staff on the main floor, and we did not disappoint our public. (Jean especially delighted in the dichotomy of reactions during our downard spiral: While some security staff declared all photos verboten, others posed with us to memorialize the encounter with their own cameras!)

In the interests of full disclosure, it should be said that we are by no means the first to contemplate the interrelationship between art, architecture and fashion. In 2006, Los Angeles MOCA did a wonderful exhibition entitled Skin + Bones: Parallel Practices in Fashion and Architecture, in which a veritable who's who of architects and fashion designers were represented.**** Unfortunately, that show did not make it to the east coast, so we did our best to compensate for that oversight.

On April 7, 2009, we dashed off to the Van Alen Institute to attend "Soft Geometries: A Conversation with Yeohlee Teng and Calvin Tsao." What started as a public conversation between one of our favorite designers (YEOHLEE inc) and an award-winning architect (Tsao & McKown) on the relationship between fashion and architecture, civic identity and social responsibility, became a fascinating opportunity to exchange ideas with them and other members of the audience. We rubbed shoulders with Kohle Yohannan and complimented him on his impressive collection of Valentina couture, which we'd just seen on display at the Museum of the City of New York last Spring.

We are now trying to decide how best to dress for our upcoming fall inspection of Frank Gehry's gorgeous gift to Chelsea.

Valerie: Ignatius Guggenheim hat, Calvin Klein suit, white linen Sym's shirt, white nubuck and black elastic Arche shoes, H&M bag.
Jean: Vintage 40's hat (orignally from the Blum Store in Philadelphia), Rick Owens T-shirt, Issey Miyake Pleats Please dress and fishtail skirt, Lounge Fly bag, Dansko clogs.

* You might even be humming it to yourself. Seems like it should have a catchy tune to go with it.
** Circle = blue; square = red; triangle = yellow. For more on Kandinsky, check out SmartHistory.
*** (as well as mathematical notations whose accuracy we have not verified)
**** If anyone has an extra copy of the sold-out catalogue, please send it to us!


Post Script, 9/29/09
And this just in: Piet van Dekar of Amsterdam spotted us in front of the Guggenheim, took us back home, and gave us a prominent place at the Rijksmuseum. We're honored and humbled!

e-chonometry

http://edatingforher.com/images/ebook.png

The last two days have brought two junk comments about meeting women onto an earlier entry on pottery hydration chronometry. I think I know what keyword attracted those comments. Guess I will have to be more careful.

Psst ... don't click on the picture above; nothing will happen.

We Prefer Lazy Love

Preface
Melissa Blake is a freelance magazine writer, newspaper columnist and blogger that writes about the ups and downs of finding love...but does it with the added challenge of having a physical disability on top of it all (as if dating and relationships weren't hard enough on their own already). Needless to say, it makes for very interesting reading! She gives a fresh and unique perspective on the love/dating/relationships topic that you surely won't find anywhere else. Plus, she's a "tells it like it is" kind of girl - my favorite! I admire her honesty, strength (yes even her self-proclaimed freakishly strong arms) and her sheer talent for the written word. And did I mention she's funny as hell? When asked about her disability (Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome) she says, "It's not contagious and it won't give you Cooties, either. I've had my case featured in countless medical journals. Now tell me you don't find that hot!"

Guest Blog Post for Melissa Blake
No one has ever asked me to Guest Blog for them before. So when freelance writer and fellow blogger Melissa Blake from "So About What I Said..." asked me to do just that, I was flattered and quickly accepted. I asked her to propose a topic since I had no idea what she wanted me to write on. Her response, "Why do guys run the other way when they see me, especially in my wheelchair?" My heart broke a little for her. I wasn’t expecting her to ask me that! However, I believe she asked me that question because she knows I’m a "tells it like it is" kind of guy. My writing is honest and I will say exactly what I think, not what I think she wants to hear. And while I can't speak for all guys, I can speak for myself. So if you are intrigued as to what goes on inside the inner workings of a boy's mind, read on. Today I'm a modern day Dear Abby, or Dear Albert, as I answer Melissa's question...

Q: "Why do guys run the other way when they see me, especially in my wheelchair?"

A: The short and sweet (or rather unsweet) one line answer - men are lazy.

Yes, I hate to bash my own sex but it's the truth. We prefer lazy love. We like relationships that don't ask a lot from us. Relationships that require little to no work are ideal. Why else do you think the #1 reason guys give when breaking up with a girl is "it's just too much drama." It's just too much work. We can't handle it. And we don't want to learn to handle it. We just want to move on to something easier, less complicated. We are in search of simplicity - simple love.

That's what it really boils down to. We don't want to put in the effort. Now sure after a relationship gets started we will put in the work (or at least I will, can't speak for all guys). But at the beginning we really don't even know you and often don't bother getting to know you because we've already made a snap judgement - too much work, moving on. We like taking the easy road, which translates into us being lazy. It's not a good quality we have, but it is the truth. So while I can understand your frustration, you shouldn't take it personal because it has more to do with men in general (their ways) than you in the least. What's really sad is that I'm sure plenty of guys, including myself, miss out on some great girls upfront because we aren't willing to do the necessary work in getting to know them better. I can tell you that there are some guys out there that are not like this, that do not fit the norm. The real challenge is finding them and weeding out the lazy dudes! So how do you do this?

Let’s be honest, no one is without flaw in this world. We are all beautiful, ugly and misunderstood. And while no one is perfect, I am a firm believer that there is someone out there that is perfect FOR you. To find them, you need to look beyond the imperfections. You must go further than skin deep and past the so called surface scuffs. The challenge is to find someone who is willing to do the necessary work it takes to "read the chapters" (AKA, get to know you) and not just judge the book by its cover. Love is not black in white. It’s filled with various shades of gray. And while your heart may be quietly crying "love me," our life may not always accommodate that wish so graciously.

I’m not a believer in opposites attract. Even eHarmony based their entire business on the fact that true love is based on compatibility - finding common ground. And personally, I’ve always found myself being attracted to girls I have things in common with. Those are the relationships that work for me. When we both share similar beliefs, morals, hobbies, lifestyles, sense of humor, etc. a bond is instantly formed. A friendship quickly develops and if you’re lucky, romantic feelings follow. I don’t want someone EXACTLY like me. But I don’t want us to be so different from each other that we are constantly butting heads. And I would hope that the differences we do have would balance us out as a couple. That my weaknesses are her strengths and my strengths are her weaknesses. That to me would be living in perfect harmony.

While nobody (including yourself) should focus solely on the fact that you have a disability, you have to realize that it does factor into a relationship. Just like a single Mother has to realize that her children may be a dating deterrent to some men, a physical disability may be a dating deterrent to some men as well. The same could be said about women - some may not want to date a single Dad or a man with a physical disability. There are people who won’t date someone that isn't a certain height, others are hung up on weight. Some focus on penis size, breast size, reciting hairlines, color of hair, smoking habits, drinking habits, eating habits, previous education, amount of income, the list goes on and on! We are all guilty of it, to some extent. But as awful as it sounds, everyone has their own "deal breakers." We can’t fault people for not loving us for who we are. Not everyone is going to feel a connection or even want to connect with us at all. And while you are trying to reel him in, there's a chance he’s already swimming back out to sea! Rejection. It's ugly, but it's a part of life we must accept.

Don't allow yourself to be angry or hurt by this. Instead, ask yourself..."Why do I want someone that doesn't want me? Where is the logic in that? And why do I want someone who isn't willing to work as hard at this relationship as me? Where is the love in that?"

What Happens In Vegas Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

You know the saying..."What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." Well apparently that rule doesn't always apply, or at least to me it doesn't. If you follow me on Twitter, then over the weekend you got the 140 character version of the tale I'm about to tell. Of course if you're anything like me, whenever there is a juicy story full of dirty sexapades and scandal, you want to hear more! You want the details of the debauchery as it unfolded, right? I knew it. And you should all be ashamed of yourselves for wanting to read such filth! Regardless, I'm going to help satisfy your need for perverted pleasures, but I'll do it without sacrificing my own need to retain the image my Mother has in her head of me being the fine, upstanding, young man she believes me to be.

It all happened rather traditionally. Boy meets girl. Boy thinks girl is cute. Girl thinks the same about boy. Boy asks girl out. Girl accepts.

A phone number turned into a phone call and a phone call turned into a Friday night date.

I arrive at her apartment, knock on the door and her roommate answers. I stood there for a second a bit confused. Did I have the wrong place? Was this a case of Deja vu? There was a sense of familiarity and also a sense of strangeness. And then it hit me. I know this girl. I know this roommate. I had a one-night-stand with her in Vegas! (crickets begin to chirp)

Awkward doesn't even being to describe it. And as uncomfortable as that moment was, even I have to admit it was a little funny. I mean seriously, what are the chances of that even happening! Las Vegas is known as "Sin City" and in it I committed one of the seven deadly sins - lust. But I never thought that sin would (literally) follow me a couple thousand miles back across the country and show up on a doorstep! What happens in Vegas is supposed to STAY in Vegas, so why do I have to be the exception to that rule? Well it seems I don't have the best luck, which is precisely why I don't play cards.

There is a lesson to be learned here. The lesson being...try not to be such a slut, David. And there is some good that came from this...my date introduced her roommate by name, so I now know the girl's name that I hooked up with in Vegas. (Yeah, I failed to catch that bit of info the first time around in Nevada. But I'm going to be like Jamie Foxx and blame it on the al-al-alcohol.)

With a sheepish smile, I came clean to my date and confessed at dinner, before she went home that night and the roomie filled her in. She surely would have found out sooner or later, so I thought it was best if she heard it first from me. It's always wise to start a new relationship off with honesty, even if it's an ugly or embarrassing truth. The truth shall set you free, or in this case, will keep you from getting a second date.

We Walk the Walk: Checking Out the LIC Art Gallery Walk

We ventured into Long Island City Saturday, 9/19 to drool over gallery gen's exquisite textiles, ceramics, scupture, paintings and screens on display at its warehouse gallery. Valerie incorporated into her ensemble a blue linen placemat with India ink design made several years ago by the gallery's owner and chief artist, Yoshiaki Yuki, basting it to the back of the jacket of her white linen Calvin Klein suit (a thrift shop find). After a refreshing cup of mugi cha with charming Masahiko Tasaki, we admired the gorgeous Junichi Arai/Yoshiaki Yuki collaborations (see one above, behind Jean) and the colorfully graphic paintings. Positively dazzled, we set off into the night to explore other galleries.

We jumped off the #7 train and strolled through Space Womb on Jackson Avenue, Local Project on Davis Street, and Dean Project (which had generously donated the free gallery walk map that guided our steps) on 21st Street. We were thrilled to discover a veritable graffiti wonderland down the block from Local Project that covered walls, storefronts, and even trucks in everything from tags to anime in larger than life scale. We gleefully took full advantage of this A list Technicolor and Cinemascope photo op.

Since everything is on the net these days, afterward we googled* Davis Street to discover that there is a website for street art, and a number of entries for Davis Street alone. Click here to see more of the Davis Street graffiti art. If you delete everything in your browser address following the ".org/", you can go to their home page and surf for other fabulous graffiti worldwide.

Jean is wearing a vintage Italian woven pancake hat in black straw, Kyodan peplum jacket, Theory t-shirt, Brigitte harem pants, Lounge Fly bag and Crocs sling-back flats. Valerie, who more than 20 years after the memorable Talking Heads tour is only now getting around to trying out her own smaller version of David Byrne's big white suit, is also wearing a vintage blue Issey Miyake men's hat, modern copy of a blue Chinese Warring States bead, white linen blouse from Sym's, H&M canvas shibori bag, and fabulously comfortable Land's End Mary Jane Trekkers in cornflower blue.

*Does google - the verb - need to be capitalized? Maybe not. When Fraternity of Man sang 'Don't bogart that joint, my friend', were they mentally capitalizing the B?

Catching Up

Catching Up

Back when I was a student at Temple University, I hired several student helpers to assist me on campus. Due varying class schedules (mine and theirs), most helped me for only a semester or two and then pretty much disappeared from my life.

So you can imagine my surprise when, a few months after writing a guest column for Temple's alumni magazine, I received an e-mail from Nicole (in the picture above). I instantly recalled how she had been one of my favorite helpers. We had lost touch shortly before graduation.

After e-mailing back and forth a few times over the past year, Nicole, who hails from New York, stopped by today to see me and to catch up on old times. Though we graduated college nearly 10 years ago, Nicole hasn't aged one bit and has the same engaging personality that made look forward to seeing her every day. We talked and talked and talked some more today (certainly no stretch for me). We took some photos and then I presented her with the very last first-edition copy of my book. Hopefully, that made her trip Worth the Ride . My only regret is that Nicole doesn't live near Philadelphia.

Have a safe trip home, Nicole. Come back to visit soon!

NSF Archaeometry program - approaching deadline

Archaeometry Awards

Target date: October 31

The Archaeology Program recognizes three broad classes of archaeometric proposals: (1) proposals to support laboratories which provide archaeometric services; (2) proposals to develop and refine archaeometric techniques; (3) proposals to apply existing analytic techniques to specific bodies of archaeological materials. "Laboratory support" and "technique development" projects are included within the Archaeometry competition. "Technique application" proposals are best evaluated in a more strictly archaeological context and therefore should be submitted to the "senior" research competition.

More info at the program web site.

Unraveling The Mystery Behind The Cupcake Craze

Apparently I’m not the only one who has noticed it, but it seems that I’m the only one curious enough to ask the question..."What is up with women and cupcakes lately?" I mean seriously, have you noticed? Well, how could you NOT notice! It’s everywhere, especially online and especially in the 20-something age range. These women have entire blogs devoted to nothing but cupcakes! Cupcakes they like, cupcakes they dislike. Cupcakes they’ve tasted, cupcakes they have yet to try. They share cupcake recipes, guard secret icings. They make and bake by day. Then at night, they dream up designs ideas and contemplate the ideal time and temp required for the perfect cupcake outcome! They photograph cupcakes, both untouched and half-eaten. They write reviews on bakeries and compose lists of "must have" cupcake kitchen producing tools. Mixers, spatulas, and pans. Sprinkles, food coloring, and buttercream frosting. If you are a woman reading this and you feel yourself becoming more than slightly aroused right now, you have a cupcake fetish. And I want to know why? What’s the obsession with this mini cake? I simply don’t get it.

If the cupcake blogging wasn’t enough, they’ve taken the cupcake obsession even further by opening up home businesses devoted to everything cupcake! By utilizing simple "do it and sell it yourself" online shops like CafePress and Etsy, anything you could possibly think of that looks like a cupcake, acts like a cupcake, or smells like a cupcake has been produced and is ready for purchase. They’ve created cupcake apparel - shirts, hats and even underwear. There are cupcake mugs, candles, notepads, thank you cards, pens, posters and other home décor. Someone has even created their own line of cupcake jewelry! I kid you not. I could go on and on, but I'm starting to feel woozy from all the sickening sweet cupcake talk. I feel as if I've downed a half dozen Red Velvets.

Listen, I’m not trying to knock anyone that loves cupcakes. In fact, I like to see a person who is passionate about something in life, even if it’s a cupcake. And if there were just a handful or so of people that were obsessed with cupcakes, I wouldn’t think much of it. Sure I may still wonder why they are into cupcakes, but I wouldn’t be completely fascinated like I am. I’m fascinated as to why there are hundreds, no make that thousands, of people out there that are coo-coo for cupcakes! Is this some type of pop culture fad that I'm unaware of and will soon pass? Or is it something more, like a cupcake movement? Whatever this cupcake phenomenon is, I'm baffled by it!

I am clueless as to what brought this cupcake craze on or if/when it will ever end. Although if I am to take a guess at it's roots, I would say Oprah is behind this. I really hope my theory is wrong, but I'm afraid the brainwashing Cult of Oprah is responsible for it all. Thanks to Google, I've been informed that back in 2007 Oprah went crazy over cupcakes! She aired a show titled "Oprah's Favorite Things" and on that show she featured her most beloved cupcake - Perfect Endings Cupcakes from Williams-Sonoma. And ever since then, women everywhere have been practically reaching orgasm over a freaking cupcake! Another theory, that somehow the SNL "Lazy Sunday" skit (seen above) that featured Andy Samberg and Chris Parnell had something to do with this. There is also a rumor that the Japanese are into cupcakes big time and it's now influencing American culture? Or perhaps this is simply a way women can give a big F-U to the phrase "You can’t have your cake and eat it too." Because with a cupcake, you can! You can eat every last crumb and still keep your waistline intact. Or maybe women like cupcakes solely because they like pretty things and cupcakes can be pretty to look at, very feminine and sweet.

Of course I’m well aware what chocolate does to women! Why do you think I always encourage my dates to order desert? So perhaps the chocolate used in and on cupcakes is somehow a stronger afrodisiac than your standard Hersey Bar? If that is the case then I understand why women are going crazy over cupcakes. And I’m sorry if I correlate cupcakes to sex, but that is my last theory and I’m running out of possible answers to satisfy the insatiable lusting of the mini cake.

Now to answer the question on the tip of your tongue...yes, I've eaten a cupcake before and they aren't that special. Of course I could go the rest of my life without eating another piece of cake. And basically a cupcake is nothing more than a personal-sized cake. I could take it or leave it, but usually prefer to leave it. I can't say I've eaten the infamous Sprinkles cupcakes in LA, but I have eaten NYC's Magnolia Bakery cupcakes. I'll admit they are tasty, but not tasty enough to obsess over. In other words, I don't love them like a fat kid loves cake.

I have yet to unravel the mystery behind the cupcake craze that's sweeping the nation. So if any of you can enlighten this boy, please do!

20SB Featured Blogger...Now With More Awesome!

I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is in the virtual world, but I’m going to treat this acceptance speech/thank you post as if it was the real world and hope that Kanye West doesn’t appear out of nowhere and snatch this keyboard from my hands! I don’t know if you heard the recent news or not, but I’m kind of a big deal. Or at least I’m a kind of a big deal for roughly 30 days. After that, I go back to being a virtual nobody. Just another wannabe writer lost among the millions of other wannabe writers living their dream through a Blogspot address. But for now, I’m going to enjoy my 15 minutes of fame, or rather 30 days. So without further ado, let me share with you the big news...

I’m 20SB Featured Blogger for September 2009!

And if that’s not enough, I now come with more awesome!

Hold your applause and try to control your gasps and screams. Wait, what am I saying? Join me in unleashing the excitement! Let out those cheers! In fact, I’m doing it Ellen-style with the Ga-Ga-Ga-Ga cheer right back at you. Because without you, the 20SB community, I wouldn’t have won this little virtual honor. And for that, I sincerely thank you. I’m grateful for the recognition, the electronic love.

If you don’t know what 20SB.net (20 Something Bloggers) is, it’s basically an online community - a place for all twenty-something bloggers to discover other blogs/bloggers and get discovered themselves. The 20SB Featured Bloggers are nominated and voted upon each month by their peers. 20SB Featured Bloggers represent members who not only write great blogs, but have made their mark on 20SB's community as well. Now I may have made my mark on 20SB, but not always in a good way. If you remember the shaved legs debate from awhile back, you know what I'm talking about. So I'm well aware I’m not loved by all. I am often too brutally honest for some people’s tastes and at times not everyone gets my sense of humor. But that’s ok. We can’t please everyone in life. One thing I have learned through my 20s is that it’s better to be who you are and run the risk of some people not liking you, rather than be someone you aren’t and be guaranteed not to like yourself.

20SB has quadrupled in size since I joined just over a year ago. Back then, we had roughly 2,000 members. Today, there are over 8,000 members! Of course the vast majority are women. 20SB women greatly outweigh 20SB men at a 7:1 ratio. So you can imagine my surprise when I pulled off a Featured Blogger win for the boys! And that’s not an easy task considering the fact that the majority of 20SB blogs cater to women who enjoy writing/reading about this Fall’s fashion picks, feminism and an insatiable love for cupcakes (that one I still can’t figure out). So for a boy who often blogs about tech gadgets and his puppy (who had this smartass comment to say), I scratch my head and wonder why I was selected? And then I remember the period post. Yes, I blogged about periods. That probably won them over, huh?

Again, I just wanted to say thanks for all of those that voted for me. For those that didn’t, you’ll learn to love me. I grow on people like mold! And last but not least, can I just say fuck you Kanye. It’s like you stepped on a kitten and punched a retarded kid in the face all-in-one swoop! I’m happy you didn’t take a single VMA home Sunday night. And just for the record, you’ll never take home a 20SB Featured Blogger win either! So suck on that, you stupid dick.

Thank God for Beyonce. The woman truly saved the day! A total class act that graciously gave up her time in the spotlight to let young, Taylor Swift reclaim her 15 minutes of fame that Kanye West so ignorantly stole away. Beyonce is not only beautiful on the outside, we now see she’s beautiful on the inside as well. So hold on tight to her Jay-Z because I think I speak for all men when I say...if you let her slip away, I can guarantee someone will sweep her up faster than you can say H to the Izzo. Your bizzo will be gone! And Kanye, please go rewire your mouth shut. I liked you better through the wire.

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Fashion's Night Out

OMG! OMO! Norma Kamali's store was the most exciting stop in our fun-filled evening September 10th. Looking fabulous in a black jumpsuit, Norma (above, far left, with Jean) greeted and chatted with us and other shoppers. In addition to providing a huge rack of clothes priced at $100 and under, and cheery, attractive assistants ready to make the experience memorable, she offered free massages and manicures. While Valerie availed herself of a blissful chair massage (above right, with brawny masseur), Norma paused during her manicure to ask me some rather perceptive questions about health care reform. (Beautiful and brainy!) Guests were also treated to lavender marshmallows, panna cotta, rose petal merengues, popcorn, lavender shortbread cookies and bubbly soda and champagne. Marvelous, dahlings.

We stopped off at Manolo Blahnik's, where we hoped to entreat the master to make a more extensive line of stunning flats (and by the way, do you think he could put some cushy rubber soles on them?), but as he hadn't arrived yet, we mollified ourselves with full bodied bellinis and fresh flavorful cherry tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella and a leaf of basil. Ne plus ultra!









From there, off to Barney's, where we saw and were seen. On one floor alone were Simon Doonan (shown here with Valerie), Isabel Toledo with a line of admirers a mile long waiting to have her autograph her new book, and Lady Jay (shown here with Jean), whom we caught before her show. Lady Jay is so wonderfully tall that we couldn't fit all of her into the photograph. In a rare change of priorities, we got her shoes in, but only at the expense of her fabulous cocktail hat. Barney's provided our first (and hopefully not last) encounter with Karlo, whose blog COMA (Confessions of a Makeup Artiste) is a total hoot.









We dashed into Calvin Klein to check out the clothes and the crowd. Both were hot. As Valerie schmoozed with the fabulous Elise and Caroline Rueda and their gloriously tressed friend, I made the acquaintance of Bret - a tall, blond vision whose length of leg was exceeded only by the length of his lashes! From the top of his insouciant chauffeur's cap with patent visor, past his sleeveless frilled top and flag trousers to the tips of his dizzyingly high platforms, he was a treat. His take on the crowd was refreshing. Although he was mobbed, he grabbed each of us for a photo op.







We stopped at Taryn Rose, where we checked out the fashionable flats, were treated to another welcome glass of bubbly and a bite of dark chocolate. Valerie, in footless tights, took advantage of the reflexology offered (GREAT idea!!!) by Joanne Silver. Jean, in panty hose, was not about to fuss with taking them off, even for a fabulous foot rub.







At some point, we made our way to Issey Miyake, grooved to the DJ, drooled over the clothes and swooned over Sachie, up from Pleats Please for the events in a frothy pleated saffron confection that looked like a Buddhist monk's robes taken to the nth degree - and then some.

Jean is wearing a vintage black Hino & Malee tunic, Pucci nylon and elastane swim cap, DKNY Wellies (fully prepared for the rains which were mercifully late and light) and LoungeFly purse (from ENZ in the East Village).

Valerie is wearing a vintage aerated modified bowler by Hattie Carnegie, Jaeger jacket, H&M shirt, Issey Miyake skirt, bracelet of trilobite fossils in silver from Evolution, and (flat) Arche shoes.

Both our hats off to the countless people who put together so many wonderful events, as well as the throngs of people who turned out in their gladdest of glad rags to commemorate it.

Stream Time Team America

from http://www.pbs.org/opb/timeteam/sites/ftjames/diary_meg.php

I'm still catching up from my time away. One of the things I'd like to do is watch the episodes of Time Team America. But I can do that because they are streamable from PBS. Fort James, Range Creek, and Philadelphia - here I come.

Was Robbed. Now What?

"Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday."

That’s partially true, with a minor detail adjustment. It wasn’t a Tuesday. It was a Wednesday. And nobody is sure of the exact time, but we know it was before 4pm. We were robbed. Well, technically my parents were robbed. But in essence I was too, considering that fact that I still have some things in storage at their house. I've gotten over the shock of it all, almost. However today I'm left asking, "now what?"

I’ve always been a believer that the real troubles in life will strike on an idle Tuesday (or in my family’s case, an idle Wednesday). Just look at 9-11. It occurred on a beautiful, sunny Tuesday. Who saw that coming? And today as we remember the victims of 9-11, we are reminded that no matter how routine and ordinary our day seems, you never know when life is going to smack you on your ass and turn your world completely upside down in the blink of an eye. Spontaneity and surprises are fun, but being shaken to your core is not. You can do your best to prepare for the unknown, for the worst...but you will never be able to fully brace yourself for its actual impact. In no way do I want to trivialize or minimize how devastating the events of September 11th were, but this post isn’t about that grave day. Although it is about tragedy, or rather how life is filled with tiny tragedies and how we are forced to pick ourselves up after such an occurrence. How we must deal with the aftermath in the days, weeks, months, sometimes years to come!

At the time it feels absolutely horrific knowing that complete strangers broke into your home and ransacked the place. Thousands of dollars of precious jewels, family heirlooms, and other irreplaceable personal belongings and sentimental keepsakes ripped from your hands. Immediately after, you feel dirty and frightened. A few hours later or even after a day passes, you are left feeling unsafe, insecure and incredibly vulnerable. I imagine a rape victim must feel eerily similar, being stripped of who you are is very uncomforting. You don't know who to trust, so therefore you trust no one. Everyone is the enemy or at least has potential to be the enemy. For this reason you keep your guard up which slowly begins to suck the happy, go lucky, laid back person that you usually are right out of you! You quickly become angry and on edge, or at least I have become all those things. To be honest, I'm beyond angry. I feel fucking hostile!

I'm not a person who seeks out revenge, not for myself that is. But when someone does something to hurt the people in my life that I love or care about, I get kind of ugly. I can get mean and down right violent. It's a side of me that surprises a lot of people, including myself. And I never knew this "evil side" of me existed until I went ballistic on a guy who tried to rape my girlfriend in college. Beating him with my fists until he was slipping in and out of unconsciousness and his body fell limp wasn't enough for me. I proceeded to kick him while he was knocked out and then took an aluminium baseball bat to his face until he was bloodied, bruised and broken to the point where he was unrecognizable. I may have continued if a few friends didn't wisely pull me off him. Obviously, I snapped. A fit of rage came over me and I was unable to control myself. Actually, I don't even remember all of it, just bits and pieces here and there. (I'm sure psychologists would have a fancy term for this.) What I do recall vividly were her screams. Her gasping for the air he choked out of her, not to mention her begging and pleading for her life. He did not stop when she cried. He did not stop when she said no. He showed her no mercy, therefore I showed him none either.

In the weeks following, my friends and I literally hunted him down on campus and jumped him every opportunity we got. He was beaten several more times before finally dropping out of school due to fear. I don't feel bad. And I don't regret any of it, other than the fact that I wish I could have saved her sooner - that it had never occurred to begin with. But I think that night changed something in me. It brought something evil out of me. My mindset at the time was that I was going to hurt him so badly that he could never hurt her or anyone else ever again. These days when "bad things" happen in life to the people I love or care about, I feel this overwhelming need (almost like it's my duty) to protect them at all costs. I know I'm not Superman and I can't always fly in and save the day, but yet I try. And if I can't keep the "bad things" from occurring, then I want restitution for its occurrence.

So when my Mom called to say they had been robbed and some of my things had been stolen as well, naturally I was upset. I sympathized and wanted to support and help her in any way I could. But when she began sobbing as she describe how they even stole my late Grandmother's necklace and matching bracelet (the only thing my Mom has to remember her own Mother by), I immediately developed a full blown hatred for who could have done this! That particular set was costume jewelry at best! It didn't even have any monetary value, just sentimental value...which to my Mom is of far greater worth.

Tonight, I'll be spending my Friday evening sorting through the mess, trying to see what belongings of mine were stolen and estimate the cost of my loss. Over a $6,000 of my Mom's jewelery alone was taken. She has yet to add everything else up. They entered from the roof, through my old bedrooom window. It will be rather unsettling to visit the one house, the one room, that brought me so much comfort and love growing up in. To now feel nauseous and an immense amount of anger steeping beyond those walls, to a place that is left contaminated by the filthy hands of thieves. They didn't just steal belongings. They stole memories. They stole part of my family, my late Grandmother's memory! They stole a sense of security, comfort and privacy. They stole the essence of what a house is - a home! These are things you cannot get back. Tonight I'll also be looking into installing surveillance cameras outside and a security system will be set up professionally inside.

Regardless of what preventive methods are put in to place, the question remains. When you are robbed of something in life, essentially stripped from who you are or from who you love, now what? How do you deal with the roller coaster of emotions that follow?

SAS presence online

Thanks to the efforts of SAS webmeisterin Destiny Crider and President Sandra López Varella, our web page and wiki have a revised look. Although works in progress, the web page will likely remain a more static repository of society information; the wiki will add more timely material in the way or conferences and job announcements, and also be more easily available to multiple authors for the lab descriptions; and of course the blog here will be used for whatever strikes my fancy, or that of other potential authors.

Check these things out, and let us know what you think.

http://wordplayblog.com/free-cartoons-for-your-blog/

Trapper Keeper - You Completed Me

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms."

That’s the line Tom Hanks fed Meg Ryan in 1998’s hit movie "You’ve Got Mail" and today over a decade later, I still feel the same way Tom Hanks did. In fact, I wish I had everyone's mailing address that reads my blog so I could send each and every one of you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils swaddled in a big, red ribbon with a tiny note attached. The smooth wood shavings, that glossy yellow paint. What is there not to love about the #2? Ahh, I can almost smell the sweet scent of that soft eraser tip. It's not quite the same high I get from inhaling Elmer's Rubber Cement glue, or the fresh paper and ink combo of a first edition text book, but a Pink Pet eraser is enchanting and intoxicating in its own right. My childhood memories of shopping for back-to-school supplies seem to be closely tied to scent and sound. And when it comes to sounds, three noises have stuck in my head all these years - the binder cracking on my Pre-Algebra book, the hollow metal echo of my middle school locker closing and of course the Velcro tear of my coveted Trapper Keeper!

God how I loved my Trapper Keeper and miss you so! Other than the latest pair of Nikes, you were the one MUST HAVE back-to-school necessity that actually made me feel "ok" with starting a new school year every fall. While all my friends and both my sisters moaned and groaned about going back to school, I was secretly excited...for one reason and one reason only. It meant I got to pick out a new Trapper Keeper! I would do my best to keep it as pristine and as clean as the day my Mom bought it at K-Mart. Tucked tightly in the hook of my arm, I stood proudly at the school bus stop. In the 6th grade, I might not have been able to claim the prestigious backseat half-seat on Old Yeller, but I laid my claim to my plastic, paint splashed Trapper Keeper.

Now if for some reason you had a sheltered childhood and you aren't aware what a Trapper Keeper is, let me explain. A Trapper Keeper was a brand of loose-leaf binders created by Mead in the 80s and early 90s. It featured sliding plastic rings, folders/pockets to keep schoolwork, a zippered pencil case, and a wraparound flap with a Velcro closure. (To this day, the little kid inside of me is excited just reminiscing and writing that!) Trapper Keepers usually had a theme, such as a cartoon, television show, or video game. They later introduced "Designer Series" Trapper Keepers (seen above) that featured abstract designs - very 80s, very fancy, and very cool! Aside from a Trapper Keeper making you a totally awesome 80s kid, it was also very handy because the best part of a Trapper Keeper was its design. The Trapper Keeper prevented papers from falling out no matter how you dropped, kicked or threw it. So even if you were a nerd who had his school books shoved out of his hands and tossed down the hall, you didn't have to fear. The Trapper Keeper had your back. Upon retrieval, all your homework was still neatly intact.

As you see, the Trapper Keeper was everyone's friend. It didn't care if you were the captain of the midgets football team or a member of the school's glee club, Trapper Keeper was your BFF! It was by your side when you got your first pimple. It was by your side when your voice began to change like Peter Brady. It was by your side when you put on your first training bra and it was by your side when you got your first period. Yes, the Trapper Keeper - a friend to all, a foe to none. Without you my childhood would not have been the same. And if the old skool Trapper Keeper was still in production today, I would immediately dump all the contents of my messenger bag in favor of you.

It’s the childhood back-to-school supply that trapped and kept my heart all these years. Trapper Keeper, you completed me.

***NOTE***
Related post of interest...
10/28/07 20 Years Later & I Still Want Him Sooo Bad!

A Message From The Dog

Hello there. You probably know who I am, but if you don’t, then let me properly introduce myself. I’m the dog. What dog you ask? Well THE dog, of course! You know, David’s English Bulldog Diesel. If the name isn’t ringing a bell, than I’m rather shocked. Afterall, the guy doesn’t shut up about me...and rightfully so. I’m kind of a big deal (or at least to him I am). I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m probably the one thing in his life that is more important to him than life itself. That’s how much he loves me. It’s sweet, but sometimes mildly disturbing how much the guy kisses, hugs and cuddles on me. But hey, whatever makes him happy. I’m glad to be of service. It feels kind of good to warm his heart and light up his face with a big smile. But enough of this sentimental dog crap. Let’s get down to business. Let me tell you why I’m taking over his blog today.

They say in life that no matter how flat you make a pancake, it always has two sides to it. The same is true about a story. And while this is my Dad’s blog, it only tells one story – his. Now normally that would make sense and be totally acceptable, but there is something he’s failed to mention. The majority of the time when he writes, I’m by his side. Literally, by his side. He often pets me with one hand and types with the other. (And I’m not at liberty to say where the guy developed a talent like that!) I like to believe that I relax him and put him in this tranquil state that allows him to withdraw from the everyday stresses of his life and reflect on...

Hold on, I gotta fart.

Ahhh. Ok, that’s better. MUCH better! Wow, sorry about that. But I am a Bulldog and pig ears do a number on my tummy. Hold on while I crack a window.

Ok, back to what I was saying. Actually, I lost my train of thought. I think I was talking about flipping pancakes at iHop or something? Oh well, doesn’t matter. The point is that when the guy blogs or Tweets about me, remember you are only hearing HIS side of the story. I most likely have a different "tail" to tell. I’m no longer going to be the strong and silent type. I’m going to speak out, or rather Tweet out! I’m going to expose the naked underbelly of our relationship and tell MY side of the story.

So if you’re interested in viewing life through a dog’s eyes, then follow me on Twitter @DieselTweets

I promise the link is safe to click and flea infestation free.

Play With Your Clothes - Get Your Ducks in a Row

Jean says: Get your ducks in a row! I manufacture excuses to incorporate a set of vintage '50s plastic duckie diaper pins (about $15 from the Pier Antiques Show) into my normally black/grey wardrobe palette. Nothing shouts corporate compliance like pink duckies, I always say. (With yellow wings & blue eyes & beaks, the pink duckies cover all of the infant gender bases.) Valerie persuaded me to further this wardrobe leitmotif by strongly recommending my recent Topshop purchase of pink socks with yellow duckies. Stay tuned for reports of future duckie outings!

Valerie adds: The first time Jean wore these, also on this shirt, she'd lined them up half on the left, half on the right, so from a distance they looked a bit like military braid on a jacket. The juxtaposition of the military precision and the smiling duckies was priceless!

Bob DuBois, archaeomagnetist

I've been away for a bit: archaeomagnetic sampling and magnetic surveying at the Etruscan site of Poggio Colla in Italy; improving my field geophysics with folks at the Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege in Munich; presenting a talk on magnetic properties of legacy sediments at the IAGA symposium in Sopron, Hungary; and along the way also enjoying the Venice Biennale and Budapest.

I learned yesterday that Robert DuBois, a founder of American archaeomagnetism, has passed away. An obituary from the Norman, OK, newspaper is here.

I never worked with Bob directly, but I learned how to collect samples from Jeff Eighmy, who had worked with Bob as an undergraduate, and I also learned much about archaeomag from Dan Wolfman, who had worked with Bob as a graduate student. I was able to visit Bob and his wife Jeanette once in Norman, and they were gracious hosts. Bob was an indefatigable collector of samples for a number of years. In my opinion, his data were never fully vetted in the peer review literature, and this was a loss. Nonetheless, Bob put archaeomag on the map as a viable chronometric dating method, and many of us owe him for that.

from Stacey Lengyel's archaeomagnetism site

Relationship Status: Must Be In One!

What is it with some people's obsession with being in a relationship? I just don't get it. It's as if the word "single" is the new dirty word! They would rather be labeled a "cheater" than "single." Because if you're a cheater, you are at least in a relationship, or you've recently been in a relationship. But if you're single, you're dubbed a loser? This "must be in a relationship" notion seems to be especially true for Gen-Y, which I suppose makes sense given the fact that we grew up on technology. The Internet had just begun to boom when we were teenagers, which was the same time we started dating. Shortly after, Facebook came along and with it the infamous "Relationship Status" field we needed to fill out. While some where eager and more than happy to select "In A Relationship," others sheepishly selected the dirty word from the drop down box - "Single." Still, others opted for the "It's Complicated" selection...which always kills me when I see someone under the age of 18 saying it's complicated. Think it's complicated now? Just wait until you're older and you actually have a REAL relationship. Something more meaningful. Something that involves deeper feelings than the puppy love, school crushes you are accustom to.

We all know someone who changes their Facebook Relationship Status at a dizzying rate! Like a light switch, they're on again, off again. We see the happy, full heart icon when they enter a relationship. Then we see the sad, broken heart icon when they breakup. It's digitally dramatic. And am I the only one who doesn't care whether their heart is full or butterflies or daggers? Maybe it's a girl thing, but relationship status quos just don't interest me. When it comes to relationships, I guess I'm a bit old fashion in the sense that I don't feel the need to publicly announce my single/not single status. For the most part, I keep who I'm dating rather private. Afterall, a romantic relationship is supposed to be a private matter, is it not?

It's not Facebook Relationship Statuses that concern me though. What concerns me is the fact that I know far too many people that are willing to just settle, for the sake of wanting to say "I have a boyfriend/girlfriend." They basically settle for whoever will have them. They try converting their long time friend as a new love interest or get back together with an ex that previously treated them like poop! Why? Because like an old shoe, it's comfy. But when did people start picking comfy over happy? Comfy over excitement? Comfy over finding that one person in life you should (were meant to) be with, rather than the one that you just settled for because it was convenient to do so and they agreed to your relationship status quo? I believe it was Carrie Bradshaw that once said, "I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love." I don't know about you, but I want that! I want a girl that makes me deliriously happy and I refuse to settle for anything less.

Nobody will deny that dating can sometimes be scary, but people are basically throwing in the towel when it comes to love and that's just sad. Who would have thought that we would see the day when being in a relationship is viewed as LESS scary than dating!

Even as far back as the 6th grade, I saw this obsession people had with wanting to be in a relationship. It was like the badge of cool. If you weren't "going with" someone, you were a loser. Sure this love would only last for a week, a month at best, but during that time you made sure everyone knew you had a boyfriend/girlfriend. Kids were so desperate to be in a relationship that they even made-up fictitious boyfriends/girlfriends that they claimed went to another school. Rrright. I won't pretend I was immune to this. Half-way through the school year the pressure got to me. I was tempted to find a cute model from my sister's Teen magazine, cut out her photo, stuff it in my wallet and pass it off as "my girlfriend" that went to another school. In 2009, apparently 49-year-old woman try doing the same thing...but instead of Teen magazine, they use Facebook.

The More You Know

I like to think of myself as a fairly smart guy. I have a couple degrees and I can name all the U.S. States in alphabetical order. Now granted I have to sing them in that same squeaky, elementary school boy voice I had when I learned the "Fifty Nifty United States" song back in the 1st grade. But still, that level of smartitude has to count for something, right? So why is it that someone like me who borderlines on genius (note the sarcasm) can be so freaking dumb sometimes? I give to you Exhibit A.

Obviously this isn’t the exact conversation, word for word, as it occurred in real life and not over AIM or some other form of online communication where I could have saved the actual chit-chat. Although from the best of my recollection, this is how it went down...

Me: My head is killing me! Do you have any Aspirin?

Female Co-Worker: I have Tylenol. Do you want that?

Me: Yeah, that will work.

Female Co-worker: (checks her purse) Actually it’s Tylenol PM.

Me: (in a sarcastic, mocking tone) Ha-ha. I know. I get it. I’m on my man-period this week. But seriously, do you have just regular Tylenol or something?

Female Co-Worker: You know, you can take Tylenol PM.

Me: (gives her this irritated look as if to say stop playing around)

Female Co-Worker: Well...it might make you drowsy, but should get rid of your headache. (she pauses as a light bulb goes off in her head) Wait...what do you think the PM stands for?

Me: I'm not stupid. It's Tylenol for women. PM = premenstrual.

At this point she is almost on the floor in a fit of laughter. All these years I always thought that Tylenol PM was their version of Midol, the period medicine. I never knew PM stood for nighttime! Ahh, now I get it. I guess it does make sense though. Although to me, having PM stand for "premenstrual" made more sense.

Who ever looks at the moon on the bottle any way? Stupid period medicine.