Where's The Sugar, Baby?

(secret surprise at the end!)

My son Graham turns his first year-young on Sept. 23rd. It's been a really interesting year, to say the least. His journey towards being frustrated with the public education system began in March of last year when we were told Graham's due-date was September 19th. I immediately did the right thing, got on the internet, and found that to be the day that the legendarily crooked USC Trojans were visiting the vaunted, hallowed UW Huskies in Seattle. And I prayed. I prayed to God that Graham would be born healthy, happy, and 3 days late. And God answered that prayer! As a bonus, God threw in a 16-13 win by the Huskies. Take THAT, Stephen Hawking.

In the past year I've found that a lot of people share a lot of their wisdom about raising and caring for a child. Many of whom have decades of experience without ever being a parent. Oh sure, they've kept a couple of parakeets alive through a cold winter or two. Or they are an Aunt/Uncle to a few nieces or nephews. And that's, hey, that's a solid foundation for making the childless look like an asshole by offering non-comedic parenting tips. No, we're not going to let him try wine again. Thanks for your input. Enjoy sterility.

I've also heard a number of people say that they don't like babies. Or specifically, they "hate" babies. Wow. Not that they hate MY son, just babies in general. Everyone knows the grave demands babies place on people who never interact with them, so I can see where the roots of that hate have taken hold. I never hated babies, I just was scared that I would break one. A year in, no breaks, minor fears, and all's great.

What's also side-F'ed is that some people feel that they can do things while holding a baby that somewhat endanger the baby, because a mis-hap wouldn't officially KILL the child, but it seems like it should entertain your baby. Like get them to touch a ceiling fan. Or swing them around by their tiny hands. Or hold them aloft with one hand while lighting a cigarette off the grill.

Won't KILL the baby? SHOULDN'T EVEN MAKE ME THINK THE BABY MIGHT BE EVEN A BIT UNCOMFORTABLE. There is no official Baby Police, but nobody has the right to endanger your child for their own attempt at entertaining themselves by trying to get the kid to smile near a snarling pit-boxer mix. This secret hate of babies is more bothersome than the outright hatred. Old women in a grocery store are the worst. Keep your dirty nails away from his face, Bernice.

So as Graham nears the One Year mark, we are gearing up for the Birthday Party, and a number of people have asked me what kind of cake we're getting him. My wife, foremost, has done a great job of introducing healthy food to Graham as he grows. We don't feed him sugary stuff or ice cream (maybe a tablespoon here and there) or a lot of processed food. He eats a lot of fruit, loves avocados, and digs salmon. Washes it down with a nice chug of jasmine green tea. He won't turn down a Mum-Mum, either. For a kid who eats a lot of healthy, whole food we're not going to jam a huge cake in his face so we can laugh at the mess and the sugar-rush. I think it's actually pretty cruel to jack a kid up on that stuff just for a few pictures. "Tradition" can eat my Bavarian ass. Maybe a little cupcake to have fun with, but 500 calories of sugar and fat, I just can't do that to my guy.

He'll have to wait for public school.

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Projectile Misfunction

Sex. Well, here we go.

I get a ton of spam emails regarding all sorts of pills for what a money-hoarding pharmaceutical industry - most of it not in America, God Bless 'er - wants men to believe is a major problem with their boners. Their LovePiston. Penisaurus. WangDang Doodle.

You can't get it up RIGHT NOW. You need a boner NOW NOW NOW. It has to be a throbbing and huge and flexed like it's in a Mr. Olympia lineup. Veiny. Rock hard. Morning boners are another way that men know it's okay to get out of bed in the morning. As long as THAT thing's working, okay then, we have a baseline function.

Here's the deal; there are few moments in life, less than 2 hours a day usually, that you benefit from an erection. All other erections are shunned, shied away-from, angrily kicked-at, and/or Tasered. And even those reactions can lead to that boner's persistence. And yet, it's not when you needed it, so HMMPH, you have Erectile Dysfunction.

When a man is a young man, the erection is an uncontrollable manifestation. Blowing wind. Loose pants. Tight pants. Shorts. Jeans. A properly-positioned peach. The peek of underpants over the top of jeans. Walking too fast. Sitting too upright. Sit-ups. The neighbor's step-mom. The step-mom's ankle bracelet. A bike seat. You'd be amazed at what ingnites the loinfire of a young man.

Throughout the course of a night's sleep, the average man's penis becomes erect 11 times. This keeps things healthy and elastic. And confusing. Do you NEED to act upon each erection's annoucement? Probably shouldn't. So does this mean that your erection is dysfunctional, or that you're just not fully embracing your erection? Some day you won't be able to get them at all. Think of that. You'll get a LOT done

Perhaps you can't get an erection because your brain is communicating with the rest of your life, and you realize that you don't have to be led around by the lie that is a drunken fumbling-'round after a decent happy hour. You may have a committed relationship, and it's now about quality and not quantity. And perhaps it's THAT mentality that is wrong... use it when it's usable, word? Stamina at an older age, an issue? Well, yeah. Because there ARE THINGS TO DO. And because most of the sex is sober. SOBER, fully-present S E X. And you feel everything and that's gonna wind the clock faster.

Anyway, you and your penis - whatever capacity that penis is to you - are fine. Your overall health will affect your erection in more ways than you can imagine. And being turned on, MENTALLY, is a great way to achieve a cell-phone camera-worthy cock picture. Stop thinking it's all on you. Maybe your life isn't boner-worthy. Maybe you're not ready to have sex. Connect with your penis. You may need to be penetrated by your inner boner, and feel yourself satisifed with, you know, the weiner that is your spirit.

Or take a pill, I don't care. Just stop making it sound like you have to walk around with a boner to prove you can get a boner. This train is too small for that.

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Bus or Karma

Hey, just a note...

Aiesha Steward-Baker, the 16 year-old girl who got beat up in a bus tunnel earlier this year, was today sentenced to 15-36 weeks in a juvenile detention.

NO, not for getting her ass handed to her.

Instead, it was for an unrelated crime...
wherein she and another girl her age...

ASSAULTED A 50 YEAR-OLD WOMAN, beat her up, pulled hair from her head, and stole her purse and cell phone. She was arrested for this.

Then she was beaten in the bus tunnel.
So heads-up, folks.

Karma rides Metro.


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Eating Out: 2nd Hand Canlis

I've eaten at Canlis ONE TIME. It was ethereal. It is the Highest of Classes. It is expensive. It is worth it. Every moment from the valet to the final check to walking out with most of your understuff not exposed, worth every bit of the $190 I spent on appetizers.

Kidding. They don't have "appetizers," dirtload. Frigging great food. They do a few things and they do each of them perfectly +2 (including "surprise" and "butter.").

We have a "dress code" where I am consulting.
It basically can be summed up in these words:
"Don't wear jeans before Friday."

Not $180 jeans. Not $20 jeans. Not well-washed, properly-fit-to-flatter jeans. Not baggy jeans wit' yo ayass hanging 'bove da sagg. Nuh-uh. No jeans.

Cargo pants? Sure.
Luau shirt? Aloha.
Smell like a batting helmet? No problem.
Khakis that upon closer-look are denim? Okay, nobody's gonna tattle.
Utili-kilt? Evenutally I will find out.
Utility camping pants that zip-off above the knee to become shorts? YES.

This last choice was made by a guy who works as a database blah-blah and wears his beard and hair "unkempt." Skullet to a ponytail. Long beard. Usually eating loudly somewhere. Grumpy. In pants that could zzzzzoooooooeeep! into a pair of pasty leg-baring shorts in a heartbeat.

Long story short, the eye-test doesn't show him to be somebody who would saddle up at a 4-star restaurant long-known as THE 4-Star in Seattle (up there with Rover's) and settle into a well-versed meal. Yet he DID that over the weekend. Then walked around complaining to people all day about how expensive it is. And the service was bad. And how he felt uncomfortable.

You dine. You do not EAT. There is no GORGING. You ask for a wine suggestion if you're not sure. You don't point to the cheapest and say "THAT."

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him understand that not all horses should be drinking at that particular trough. High prices keep the riff-raff out. I'm sure a pair of well-pleated khakis and a shirt with long sleeves was in order. Now damnit, bring me my cheese stix.
I've been there. I knew what to expect. And I was half this guy's age. Sounds like he wasted his time and money. Next time, zip those pantlegs off and get you some food on a stick. Leave the dining to those who'd rather not see your skullet.

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Not For Tiger, Nor For Elin

Elin Nordegren, the now-officially-ex-wife of Eldrick "Tiger" Woods, Jr., has already come out to speak about her divorce and the affairs her ex-husband perpetrated... perpetuated?... skanks he boned while married. She is devastated. She is shocked. She is also rich beyond belief. And I'm not sure I recall any story of her doing a normal day's work in her life.

I'm not saying modeling isn't a tough hobby. And perhaps the time she spent as a nanny for golf professional Jesper Parnevik was as trying as it can get for a wealthy, well-traveled family. And perhaps not having much of a working life as an adult is NOT justification for being on the blindside of infidelity. She "had no idea," according to her People Magazine interview. No, nothing is sacred.

She has now walked away from the marriage to the most recognizable golfer ever, as well as the top-earning athlete since Michael Jordan. She will likely have the majority of the custody of their two children. At 30 years old, divorced, and a mother of two with no discernible, revenue-generating skills, I wonder what Elin will do from here on out? Charity work? "Get away from the madness" with a few months in Belize? How about some Community College courses on bookkeeping and home-ec, get some life-skills to show your kids that Shit Happens, and you're not always going to be golfer-married as a fallback plan.

I think Tiger Woods is a dumbass and a cad. And that's it. He went for skanks, he fooled around on his wife and wanted to justify it for any number of reasons. Not my business.

But who gives a shit? In any of this? If you feel bad for Elin Nordegren, you better cry blood for those women with 4 kids and the abusive husband who will NOT leave home. Elin Nordegren deserves as much sympathy as a person whose car breaks down on the side of the road because they didn't put any oil in it. She had no idea. She never suspected? It's either a lie for sympathy or she is negligently ignorant.

Elin Nordegren and her hundreds of millions will be fine. She may need some counseling about Life.
Tiger Woods will be fine and still needs some counseling about being a Person.
Their children, if loved and guided well by their parents, could turn out to be the most gorgeous athletes of all time.

The most fly-attracting plop in this pasture is that the media cannot stop talking about it. I won't be watching it or reading it. But that won't stop me from blogging about it and talking about this on-stage. It reeks on all levels.

Hurting sucks, and I feel bad for those kids who will have cameras in their faces for far too long. I hope they go on to lead normal, happy lives free of ridicule from jealous, low-rent classmates whose parents don't know any better than to raise sociopaths.

It's Football Season.

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A Five O'Clock Foreshadow

I headlined at Laughs Comedy Spot a few weeks ago and quickly tired of my own voice. My act is touching issues I truly believe in, specifically the ridiculousness of a "Death With Dignity" act being voter-approved (yet we want nobody to say anything about our bodies), and how being nice to people isn't really worth it if you want to feel good about people in general. But I just cannot stand to hear myself talk about that crap anymore. I am seeking a deeper connection to my material, and that is exactly why I'll probably never be a big stand-up comedian star power who they speak of by last name only. Lott's in town, dude, let's see if we can get in for free and sit in the back. Maybe he needs an opener. I cannot believe "Avatar" was made for a half-billion, and we have so much more in this country that is side-fucked beyond Amercian Standards.


My life is Good, really. And that's a tough-shelled egg for the spermatazoa of comedy to burrow into.


I guess since the other car broke down I have "that much more" to ponder. Down payments, dealers, schedules... it's different now that we have a baby but no car to put him in... and all that comes with dealing with a car. And nobody knows anything but they know it all about buying a car. So we got it narrowed down, and the narrowing is harrowing because of all those issues of gravitas of Monthly Payments and Financing and Insurance and Being a Grown-Up. And I'm trying to not bring any of it up at work because, instead of advice, I would get stories about all the problems they've had with dealerships. Except for the TimeJacker, who would weave together some horsefeather story that included Self Aggrandizing, Misogyny, Homophobia, Narcissism, and Outsmarting The System. Sheesh. No thanks. I'd rather suffer a bit in my own silence.

Maybe I'm dehydrated. I'll have some water and see what comes of it.



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Mission: Control

Before I begin, I have to tell you that one of the most-annoying laughs of all time is the "Double-Gasp." A guy at work here does the short inhale-wheezing exhale-sans guffaw. From what I can tell, he thinks WAY too many things are funny. They aren't. He's not laughing-laughing, mind you, it's a nervous laugh to let ya know, hey... he just acted like an asshole!

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The need For and To Control is a familiar, annoying concept to me. It's that 'weeeee' of mosquito I can sense in the area but can't touch until it burrows into me and leaves an itch behind. I have seen it manifested many ways throughout my life, from Mind Control to Bladder Control. The control over the daily running of a household. The control over every second of another person's schedule. Most folks who truly desire Control shouldn't have it. They crave it like a drug to calm their anxiety over something being out of their grasp, wasting their time and GASP... stirring up an unresolved issue with their past.

We call them "Busy Bodies," "Anal Retentive," "Uptight," "MicroManagers," and "Assholes."

They call themselves, if self-actualized, "Control Freaks," with a giggle. I work with a number of these people. It's annoying. They love meetings. They love knowing all there is to know, instead of what they probably really need to know. And they have to guide, influence, allude-to, re-calibrate, re-direct, and lay the groundrules for whatever activity they are causing delays in by not allowing The Flow to take over.

This usually is a sign of Fear. Fear is a real bastard. Fear Itself, as has been said, is the only thing to be afraid of. And for good reason. It stymies people. Fear punches a hole in the gut of Comfort which can only be filled by Control, and madness begins. Look at Hoarders, for example. There are many kinds of Hoarders.

• Love Hoarders; can't be alone, can't really make relationships work, abandonment issues, sex addicts possibly, in need of attention and validation.


• Food Hoarders; afraid there may not be enough, they store and store and over-run their homes with food. Or they over-run their bodies to exert control of it.


• Item Hoarders; the TV show "Hoarders" sums it up awfully and bleakly - people are burying themselves in their own CONTROL, wherein, actually, it is a lack of Impulse Control. Again... madness has begun.

The Need to Control comes from that little voice in the back of a person's head that remains quiet, until they FEAR they are in a position to be hurt or bothered. They overplan. They micromanage. They dig their fingers into places that don't need digging. It's an issue from childhood that they need to throw a lasso around before, you know... they feel the judgment of a non-present parental figure lay across their shoulders. Somebody MUST step up and HELP these other folks...

If they don't, well, people may not have any idea what to do on the trip to the resort and could end up just spending too much of their time at the pool or playing golf or riding the bike trails and if that happens then they won't see what a fantastic trip planner they are and how they thought of everything, everything except RELAXING which is really just SITTING THERE and how could you SIT THERE and do NOTHING when there's so much to do can't you see that really REALLY... I am only TRYING TO HELP YOU DO WHAT I THINK YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO?!!?!?!!
Madness

This could be a new "NiceHole," the "ContrHole."
The emotional leash that ContrHoles throw on other people is only as short and restrictive as those who are lasso'ed allow it to be. Often times it's a matter of keeping the peace. Sometimes you're on your way to Put The Cheese In The Fridge while being told to Put The Cheese In The Fridge, and the Control Lasso falls away. Whatever the cheese, whereever the fridge, don't forget that the only real control we have is over our own actions and reactions. Any infringement on that should be met with a kind word, an empathetic smile, and handful of fart slapped onto their nose.

This would have been better if somebody had forced me to outline it first.

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A Few Thoughts

• Truth is, you're not gonna find better prices for pantry-staples than at Trader Joe's. Bread, eggs, dairy, coffee, cereal, sun-dried tomatoes, the entire pasta/sauce family, frozen foods, etc... (but not cheese) are, across the board, a better price and value than most any other store you will shop at.
• The internet is as good for researching and diagnosing a problem as it is at creating paranoia and confusion over a proper diagnosis of said problem.
• There's no excuse for a grown-man with a desk job to smell like a batting helmet.
• Every fitness product is aimed at getting you to feel that your quality of life would be better if you were more comfortable taking your shirt off around strangers. In fact, that mindset would reflect a mental deformity no amount of AggroTrim could burn off.
• Sometimes you're slowed down because the guy in front of you isn't driving well. Sometimes you're slowed down because you aren't driving well. Sometimes the guy in front of the four guys in front of you is driving poorly, slowing everyone down. Odds are you can relax and not tailgate me. If you're reading this, you probably don't tailgate others. This may have been pointless.
• Time is one of the few resources we have, that we can actually decide how efficiently it is used. The best way to use it, often, is to remind somebody that they aren't allowed to waste yours, then put your headphones back on and finish your blog.
• Though the Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions (who bid that job?), I truly never want to lead anybody down it myself. I've had good intentions when talking with friends or loved ones about an issue they seem to be tied-to, and it doesn't always go well. But sometimes you have to wake the person up to tell them their house is on fire.
• I hope, in the end, I don't have the lingering regret that I didn't do something which could have greatly helped somebody else, just because I thought they may take it the wrong way. (See previous statement)
• I really kind of feel like I wasted most of my 20's, but I did bring some key lessons of Life out of it. And I probably owe some apologies to a few people.
• I think I'm an Ayurvedic type-B, but a Blood Type-A, which are similar dietary types.

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Ray or Lee = Big Trouble

It's happened again...

Somebody with the middle name of "Ray" done gone crazy AGAIN. Machete-Hacked a roommate for dirtying the sink. Not sure I'm against that...

It's a sure sign. Click on one of the Ray or Lee links below to see the other 6 articles about this stuff. No sure what it's about, it happens in nature, like eclipses and street-poop.

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Bill Hicks's Principles Of Comedy

Bill Hicks is a name I found after about a year into stand-up. I didn't ever hear of him until one night when I totally F'ed around at a small Irish Pub, where the bartender told me to go up and fill time being funny between the band's sets, and he'd let me drink free for an hour. He lost.

(pointless rambling about how I found out about Bill Hicks in 1999)


Bill had died by then. Like many of the high-vibration creative artist souls, he was gone way too early. He was 32, and passed away from pancreatic cancer in 1994. He had quit smoking and drinking and drugging before he found out he was ill. The day he got his diagnosis, he got in his friend's car, tore the butt off a Marlboro Light, and lit up. WTF, indeed. There are videos of him performing his ass off until the final few days, noted by his consistent rubbing of his right side. The show must go on.

Reading up on him (American Scream, great read, and "Love All The People," his writings), he was widely regarded as the most-honest, unflinching, intelligent, socially-relevant, funny, and brilliant comedian of his era, and top-5 of all time (Pryor, Carlin, Cosby, Bruce, Hicks). That was the Sam Kinison era. The Dice era. The pre-"Seinfeld" Seinfeld era. The Denis Leary era. (Denis Leary's "No Cure For Cancer" is based heavily in material stolen, lifted, nipped, whatever you wanna call it but truly TAKEN FROM Bill Hicks.) He despised Gallagher and CarrotTop, Michael Bolton, and commercialism.

And after hearing Bill Hicks, I stopped doing comedy for 3 years because I realized how far away I was, and I sucked that bad and wasn't close to the principles below. So check these out. This is a philosophy. I love it, and find that I have been working from these for quite some time. Very validating, and all the same, just a flag to fly. So here ya go...


BILL HICKS’S PRINCIPLES OF COMEDY
1. If you can be yourself on stage nobody else can be you and you have the law of supply and demand covered.
2. The act is something you fall back on if you can’t think of anything else to say.
3. Only do what you think is funny, never just what you think they will like, even though it’s not that funny to you.
4. Never ask them is this funny – you tell them this is funny.
5. You are not married to any of this shit – if something happens, taking you off on a tangent, NEVER go back and finish a bit, just move on.
6. NEVER ask the audience “How You Doing?” People who do that can’t think of an opening line. They came to see you to tell them how they’re doing, asking that stupid question up front just digs a whole. This is The Most Common Mistake made by performers. I want to leave as soon as they say that.
7. Write what entertains you. If you can’t be funny be interesting. You haven’t lost the crowd. Have something to say and then do it in a funny way.
8. I close my eyes and walk out there and that’s where I start, Honest.
9. Listen to what you are saying, ask yourself, “Why am I saying it and is it Necessary?” (This will filter all your material and cut the unnecessary words, economy of words)
10. Play to the top of the intelligence of the room. There aren’t any bad crowds, just wrong choices.
11. Remember this is the hardest thing there is to do. If you can do this you can do anything.
12. I love my cracker roots. Get to know your family, be friends with them.


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NiceHoles: The Candyland Edition

A new NiceHole has been uncovered:

The SweetHole.

DO NOT GOOGLE THAT AT WORK, you will be put back on that list you had to work to get removed from.

The SweetHole is a NiceHole who provides some sort of confection as a way of saying "Aren't I wonderful?" Really, their intent is not to bring candy to co-workers and share some joy, it's just to get rid of stuff they aren't going to eat at home. Nice, but come on...
The road to this blog is paved with the good intentions of people who are retarded in a way you can't test for.

I've noted this before in THIS BLOG about good intentions. Candy in the workplace should be familiar, individually wrapped, and portable. You wanna sandbag 40 packages of Coconut M&Ms near the printer, GREAT, you should be canonized.

But you want to leave a box of "Orchard Fruits" (the smelly 3rd-cousin version of Fartlets&Craplets) along with those wax bottles filled with colored syrup out by the garbage cans?

What kind of skidwagon raised you?

Work candy should be, if NOT chocolate, close to it.

Everything else falls short and you should just stop trying to be nice to people. If you're not willing to fess-up that you shop for groceries at a drug store, then you aren't good with work candy. Stick with collecting Faerie Tale Cat Figurines.

NICEHOLES. They're everywhere.


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A Nutrition Myth Laid Bare

Fat Burning Foods Myth
By Craig Ballantyne, CSCS, MS
Creator Of Turbulence Training (LINKY!)

I have to admit something...I am going to upset a few of my good
friends when I crush this nutrition myth. But if I have to
sacrifice myself in order to help you out, then that's what I have
to do.

So here's the final (and most ridiculous) nutrition myth...

The Myth - Fat Burning Foods Exist

This. Is. Wrong.

Fat burning foods are the "unicorns" of the nutrition world.

They do not exist.

And when you think about it, the term doesn't make sense.

How can a food cause you to burn fat?

It can't.

Foods GIVE you energy.

They don't cause you to burn fat.

When you eat food, the hormonal changes in your body SLOW fat burning, they don't speed it up - no matter what you eat!

Listen, the experts mean well.

They want to show you a list of foods that will help you with fat loss, but it is a myth that "fat burning foods" exist.

And yes, they are right that whole, natural foods such as chicken breasts, eggs, nuts, fruits, and vegetables all help you lose fat by
controlling your appetite and by not causing you to gain fat, but NOT ONE of those ingredients actually burns fat.

Now some might argue that eating hot peppers or caffeine or even green tea can burn fat, but do you seriously think that eating those foods is even 1/1000th as effective as a workout?

They aren't.

Sorry.

Instead, keep your nutrition SIMPLE. Focus on whole, natural foods  and limit high-calorie, high-sugar foods to just a couple of treats per week. (ed. note:  YOU WILL SURVIVE, PROMISE) Combine that with your favorite Turbulence Training 
workouts and you'll lose fat fast.

GEOFF LOTT'S ENDORSEMENT:

Check out Craig's website and products.  They'll make you understand why people are changing, and how you don't need an hour a day for 90 days to get in better shape.  Awesome workouts and nutrition plans.  FOR YOURSELF, that's why.

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Weight A Minute

I worked out this morning, like most mornings over the past 3 months, with one particular goal...

Kick My Own Ass. I want my heart to be thumping out of my chest. I want my muscles to be on fire with lactic acid building up, and feel like I could take down a full-grown puma or maybe a bouncer.

No, it doesn't translate to my daily life. I rarely have to knock out 4 types of push-ups and jump over a chair 10 times to get my point across. I have yet to be challenged to a Joke-Off with a tie-breaker of Hindu Squats under 2 minutes. But ya know what?

I like working out. So I do it.



I have been over 200 pounds since I was 14 years old. If you doubt me, ask any of the girls at my Jr. High and High School who wouldn't date me. My weight has fluctuated in the past 10 years from 220 to 260, the former being during a period of long morning walks and lack of proper hydration, the latter during a regimen of HMB + lifting HEEEAVY weights + eating 300 grams of protein a day, and drinking 1000 calories a night. I have never been what most people would call "svelte." The majority of the criticism of my body as an adult has been in my own head.

Until recently.


I have read hundreds of articles about nutrition, training, recovery, fat loss, fat torching, fat burning, fat teasing, methods, modes, and maniacal fitness. If you want to know something about losing weight quickly, you can ask me. If you want to pack on muscle, ask me. If you want to get shredded, ask me. Ultimately, I am convinced it comes down to 4 elements:

1. Nutrition: The fewer processed foods you eat, the better off you are. The fewer ingredients, the lower the added sugar and flour and fat, the healthier the food. Protein & Produce. I'm not the perfect eater, I have days where I do bad, bad things to brownies in the name of Ice Cream. I put moves on Chocolate in front of my wife before. But I try to eat rightly 90% of the time.


2. Exercise: Short,intense workouts are better for building a nice physique than long, thigh-rubbing cardio. If you've seen Olympic sprinters vs. the winner a marathon, you know what I mean. Look up HIIT, or check out my link to the Right for Turbulence Training. but you gotta MOVE. You gotta. Walk, sprint, bike, power-billiards, yoga, jiu-jitsu, cop wrestling, just SWEAT a bit.


3. Attitude: If you don't want to exercise, you won't. WANT TO. I had to change my attitude recently about working out, from "Have To" into "Like To." I don't have to work out. I like to work out. I like how it feels to be strong, and carry my son around without getting winded, or being able to take one day a week and power-eat and not get down about it.
   
4. Genetics: When I see stories about a guy who gained 80lbs in college, then lost 75 by cutting out that third cheeseburger each day, I want to staple his left-over belly skin to his thighs. His genetics aren't like mine.

Of course I'd like to sport a leaner physique, but I'm not gonna pummel myself over it anymore. It's not worth it, emotionally, to get caught up in my own thoughts about what I think other people *might* think when they look at me. I don't care. ))shrug((

I'm in fantastic shape for a comedian, good shape for a dad, and decent shape for a guy who is ready to enjoy life. And brownies.
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NiceHoles

NICEHOLE: Any person who, while "just being themselves," and not necessarily being rude or mean, still manages to bother the living shit out of you.

For example:
The Feeder: Any NiceHole demanding that you 'have a bite, just a bite, take some, take some food, EAT SOMETHING!" even if you are hunched over in front of their toilet, throwing up after a frosting binge. Should you deny their culinary advances, YOU are the rude one.

The Knowblivious ("no-bli-vee-us"): This NiceHole knows something about everything, and will start a pointless conversation merely to tell you something about it.

WhistHoler: This person whistles indoors. Like a gigantic asshole. Because there's no music. And there's no music indoors for a reason. And they're a gigantic asshole and have to make noise. And when you blow, you suck.

The TimeJacker: Often starting in Knowblivion, the TimeJacker is a master of the circuitous route to NoWhereberg.
While the topic may start with something you didn't want to talk about, the trip from "A good place to eat" winds through "the time he ate BBQ in Tulsa" to "the best place to buy a banjo" to "streetracing in the 1970's" to "the Coast Guard has a boat with a gun that shoots lasers" to "why he makes his own cheese" and ends with tips on "owning your own alpaca farm." Everyone works with this pile.

NiceHoles is now ALL MINE!

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You Have God To Be Kidding Me

Excuse me while my brain tries to work on a Windows box instead of the Apple shortcuts toolbox installed in my muscle memory. If this ends up with a link to a document about reporting errors in double-looping syntax, one for Incoming, one for Archiving, I ask now for your leniency.

The other day on the way to work I saw a minivan! with a bumper sticker that read:

GOD DOESN'T BELIEVE IN ATHEISTS

Wow. I have a joke in that vein, that Atheists believe God is a construct of weak minds looking for a greater meaning to Life than "Eat, Work, Fuck, JetSki, Die." Turned around, I believe God thinks the same of Atheists, railing against people who are trying to do something other than act out in a way to make people ask "How could God let that happen? At a WalMart of all places!?"

I wanted to find out more about this person, follow them to their church, and see if they were joking or if they really meant it. Because if they indeed held steadfast to a traffic-facing statement in 9.4-cents worth of ink and sticker, then they are a horrific person pretending to know the Mind of God and should be held under a spigot of trucker shit. What massive asshole on feet.

I don't claim - especially to myself - to be the most religious person you'll ever meet. I do believe that Jesus Christ's edict of "Treat others with compassion and love, for the sake of treating others well, that they may act towards you in the same manner" is the way to save the world, even the parts we would rather see sucked into a burning lake of BP crude while waving American flags stitched together from t-shirts with hunting-related witticisms 'pon them. I believe that the Core Values of the Christian Church are alive and well, and that they are based upon Love, Acceptance, and Community. Notice I didn't say "molesting children, killing infidels, berating homosexuals, and stoning women to death for having an opinion."

And I believe that were it not for people calling themselves "Christians" who are most likely just paranoid fartpacks acting in a manner they really, really, really, really REALLY HOPE will gain them favor with God... while acting as if it's okay for them to act as a conduit of God's judgment/wrath... then the label of "Christian" wouldn't have so many negative connotations.

Also, a friend of mine who is as annoyingly vocal about his Atheism as a recently-born-again Christian at Bunco night, told me he attends weekly Atheist meetings to discuss Atheism, pool money together for events, and encourage each other to not keep the faith. Sounds churchy to me.

I guess I'm paraphrasing Groucho Marx, "I wouldn't want to be part of any group that would have me as a member because I'd probably pass judgment on them for how they represent our group and then I would think they are dipshits and I would stop going to meetings, but hey, at least I wouldn't feel guilty for not being around such a bunch of assholes."

Then again, who would want THAT asshole around?
Jesus.

=========================
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Ron Reid Moves On, Up to Street/Sea-Level

Every comedian looks for a break, a chance to show what they can do (as a comedian) as well as they can do it (sober). Part of finding that break is keeping your eyes open for it and ducking in before the Doorman of Fate realizes you’re in the wrong joint.

Ron Reid facilitated/vacillated my “break” in Seattle in February 2003 at the Comedy Underground. It was a Wednesday night show, and I had zero money. I wasn’t even going to go to the show that night to perform because I was DOWN, man. Just off a break-up, bummed, broke with the bills paid, and mired in a George Clinton-esque funk. Slap-bass funk. Durrty fonk, man. But I went to the Underground anyway, hoping there’d be 7minutes for me to scrape a set together. It was the night before Doug Stanhope was coming to the Underground, and Doug’s the closest thing we’ve got to Lenny Bruce since Denis Leary stole from Bill Hicks.

I get there, get a spot, do my set, great response, and hang out, happy to have ventured out of Kenmore for the night. Talking with Ron after the show, he asked if I would be interested in doing some MC spots at the Underground on the weekends. This was great, because weekend time is what new comics drool over, and old comics drool over when they don’t have a gig and want to get out of the house and drink but can’t stand to just get drunk on their balcony, because that’s sad, man. When Ron asked me, I said, “Sure. What about MC’ing for Stanhope tomorrow night?”

Ron did not even blink before hesitating, prior to a minor grimace and stuttering a “Well, uh buh buh I… ga… well, sure.” So Ron gave me a break. He wasn’t really excited, but he warned me the crowd would be kind of wild, and things could get weird, so just be loose. I was too excited to be loose.
The next night I had the best set of my relatively new career. Doug Stanhope told me “Hey, most MCs suck. You didn’t.” Thank YOU, Doug. I met Dave Dennison who has been endlessly encouraging of my career. I met Blaine Reeder and Geoff Brousseau a few nights later, as they’d been to the show. That’s a different kind of story, but all part of that night that Ron had the discomfort of agreeing to let me host.

So Thank YOU, Ron Reid, for all the work you’ve thrown my way, as a comedian, and a thinking human.

With that, Ron’s career in Comedy Management is going the way of Tony Moser’s comedy career. After 30+ years in the world of Stand-up Comedy, Ron Reid is trading his role as the manager of an iconic Seattle Entertainment institution to manage an ironic Seattle Entertainment institution. The new job will likely have fewer drunks but perhaps as much floor-barf. If leaving behind late nights and fragile egos spouting poorly-worded barrages about genitalia and/or the upside of racial profiling wasn’t enough of a health benefit, Ron’s new job will actually have Health Benefits. I figure if Laughter Is The Best Medicine, the counter-activity of a Comedian’s Lifestyle will likely balance out and Ron’s health is right where it ought’n be for a tree-topper of 86.

This is my self-meta-centered take on Ron’s leaving the Comedy Underground, and by no means encompasses all that he’s done in Seattle’s Comedy World. 25+ month-long Comedy Competitions. Showcases for big industry. He’s launched, helped launch, and advanced careers of so many comedians and dreamers and lovers of comedy that we lose track, and many of them are comics you’ve seen on TV, and will see for years to come. This is like Mike Holmgren leaving the Seahawks; All things must change, he's done great things for us, but there will never by another one like Ron Reid.

What a sell-out.

Carl Warmenhoven, it's on you now.

=======================
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No Comment is Good Comment

I was reminded this morning of a favorite Corporate Panic moment. One of those where, in the vein of "Paralysis by Analysis," we'd hit the wall on getting a project approved. After 5 rounds of documenting the process, refining it, mocking it up, running tests on it, the final package was sent around for comments... heh-heh, "package comments"... and NOBODY SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT IT. We had addressed everything that raised red flags, fixed bugs, and were ready to roll on this hot new version of your own "at-home Frozen Yogurt tap," or the "Icy FroGo!" (kind of kidding)

Long story short, we took it to the VP with proof that we'd met all requirements to get this thing launched, from cost to execution to benefit. And when she looked at it with full approval from everyone, her comment was a classic Corporate response:

"I'd like some folks to vet the comments you have received to see if they are valid."

In other words, she wanted comments on comments. Opinions of opinions.

Two weeks later we had not only received all the Comments on the Comments, and reviewed them in another 7 hours of meetings, but we MISSED OUR LAUNCH DATE for the Quarter!

So, before you open your mouth about your work, your dinner, the perfume of a co-worker, or why the shopping mall doesn't have a knife store, remember that your opinion has been considered, and was deemed a soft, round, pointless turd by your exclusion in the planning phase.

You're welcome.

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The C Word

Months ago when I performed at a benefit show for the Amanda Knox Defense Fund, a cause I hope the best for and my right as an American to contribute my time to, I was called-out by a pseud0-journalist for "call(ing) women derogatory names."

The C-word, in particular, is what he was referring to. C. U. N. T. Let it rip in the car when you're alone if you like. See how it feels. It's stunted. It's the textual equivalent of stubbing your toe at 3 am trying to sneak outta the bedroom for a quick NyQuil-Tonic and cannabis brownie. It's a blurt. And my intent was never to derogatate the women of the world, my spheres, my past, present, nor future. And most of them never even saw the reference the other writer had stood next-to with his hands on his hips and called attention to.

The word was used in this context:

"If you'd like to let it be known how you feel about the benefit show or the fund or the comedy, you should show up instead of just wuss-blogging. Be a physical presence.

But don't take that as the GreenLight to overstep your bounds of courtesy and

get physical with anybody you don't agree with,

you C*nt."

~Geoff Lott 2010

I mean it, when I use it in the privacy of my own car and never around my son or wife, to fire a shot at both men AND women. I don't specify a gender with it. In my world, C*NT goes both ways, same way the British use it, CLASSY-like.

And the more I thought about the dude who misinterpreted my use of the word, the more I researched his work. He had a near-complete documenting of every step, print, slash, stab, splatter, splice, slice, and dying breath in the Meredith Kercher murder. He had pieced it all together for people to read. I wonder how Meredith's family felt about that information being out in the world?

Even more-so, if you're the type of person who takes it upon themeselves to dig up what you deem to be a dark, dank, depressing moment in Humanity which may have gone otherwise overlooked... if you take it upon yourself to try and stir outrage... if you decide it is your word and not the word of others that should be taken as Authority in their lives...

You're a total fartface.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{*}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
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Hubris, Scariness, and Americanity

Another MTV event was allowed to happen, so I have to figure out which sponsors to boycott emotionally as opposed to just being ignorant of their body wash or fat-burning pill. Mind you, I confirmed the speed of my metabolism today when my "natural energy" pill kicked in about 45minutes AFTER my workout ended... but that's for another blahg.

MTV is a show that somehow is now involved in publicizing the film exploits of actors who aren't really comedians, but aren't decent-enough actors to emote beyond "irony... get it?" Yeah... got it. And tonight there was an awards show for the movies. I still cannot understand why there's an awards show for short-films of musical artists lip-synching in a rainy warehouse during both a rainstorm AND a Recession, but that's for yet a DIFFER'NT blahg.

What the f*ck am I doing? I don't even care about that stuff. I'm not truly upset about the intellectual vacuum from which MTV programming emanates. I'm now mid-30's and outside their demographic, and look back not in bitterness but in snickery goodness. Truly I am hoping they don't abandon programming covering the tailspin of Spencer Pratt's existence. Money and fame makes us more of what we truly are. He truly is a megalomanical narcissist. And a dork.

If there was to be any sort of terror attack at a place that exudes "American Dipshit" it ought'n be at any of the MTV Award shows. It's the sweat-crack of all that is "tween" in America, an impressionable group of people with more buying power and less financial savvy than most failed mortgage brokers of the past 5 years. Fine. But there it is... if ever you wanted to unite a front against a common enemy to this nation you gotta get a "terrorist" to Kanye West a Justin Bieber performance. BOOM, child army on the way.

And yet every time there's some sort of terrorist threat to our nation, 'specially from within, then the news reports every little self-congratulatory pat that our Homeland Security officers throw at their backs upon the stoppage of the plan. I am VERY grateful we have an office slated to stop terror within our borders. It's a frightening, maddening fact. But we gotta stop saying how we found the terrorists in the first place.

How about a news report of how the Homeland Security office admitted not being able to really tell if anybody was a terrorist or not, and how it's not even a misdemeanor to plan such an attack, as long as it's admitted to local authorities? Drum up some of the low-hanging froots and kindly end up in their living rooms while they sleep in musty corners with guns drawn and faces smiling!

Okay, just got an IM from "LISTAGENT@hsa.gov" whomever that is, so I gotta split. I probably made a "No-Fly" list.

==========================

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Jeepers, Am I Busy Or WHAT? Huh?

I'm like REEEEALLY busy lately, between homelife, comedy, and full-timing it.
That's why this blog isn't really meeting all your needs. But that should change soon. Next week I fully promise you more content, the kind you've come to expect and be disappointed in.

In the meantime, a TimeJacker at work called a meeting that I cannot go to for 2pm, and he's still at his desk at 2:10pm. TimeJackers are those who take conversations from Point A to Point B to Point ME ME ME ME ME! and then suck time off your life/work/Bocce! ball tournament with irrelevant stories. Not even a meeting I need to be at, seeing as how somebody else will take better notes than I will...

Okay, more later.

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