Jet-setter, nomad, homeless, confused, and LOST (used caps to pay tribute to one of the best shows made....although lately they have been going off the deep end, but who isn't these days). Those are some terms that ppl probably describe me as. Do I argue? Of course not. It is what it is.
I do travel a lot, and I do think it's ridiculous when I see a bunch of emails in my inbox that say "Travel itinerary sent from Continental Airlines, Inc."...but in reality all the traveling doesn't take a toll on me. 5 hrs of sleep, that's about all I get a day since I wake-up about 1-3 times every night w/o fail. And to be honest, I think that's all I need. Yeah I'm sure I will end up seeing the white light (at the end of the tunnel) before others, but what can I do? It's not like I wake-up on purpose to see the alarm clock read 2:40, then 4:30, then 5:55.
I remember in high school I had a professor (Mr. Sour - Chemistry 3) who said that he only sleeps 5 hours a day. At the time I thought he was crazy. But fast forward about 12 years and here I am in the same boat. What is sleep anyhow, something your body does to recharge itself. Well if 5 hrs is all it takes for some, then so be it. I suppose we're the Energizer Max batteries while others are just plain old Energizer.
Haloween 2009 outfit - http://users.csc.calpoly.edu/~mhutchen/bunny.jpg
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, May 30, 2008
Outdated...
There are many people in this world who are believers...those who roam the streets of NYC, Chicago, Houston, Atlanta, LA, etc. and are drawn to a 4 by 6 inch piece of plastic that hangs proudly on the glass doors of restaurants. It is not made of gold nor silver...but rather a plastic-type material that has been weathered over time by the sun's beating rays. Although it's color has begun to fade and its corners are peeling...we are still drawn to it...like lab mice to cheese. We pay homage to it...as though it was God himself...even if we are atheists. Upon it 10 letters and 4 numbers appear...the letters forming two words and the numbers one number. Although the font of the number is similar to that of the two words...the number is almost always overlooked...it seems to have no use...no importance...no value. The words, which can be read 3 blocks away with the naked eye, read "Zagat Rated". The stamp of approval....the golden ticket...the winning bingo card. The sticker screams to all passers on the streets, "Within these glass doors lies the finest dishes from across the world..ones that only culinary extraordinaries dare make." Most of us are lured in...expecting just that..."fine dishes from across the world," in spite of establishment being named Larry's Sandwiches and More.
I used to be a believer...a believer in these 4 by 6 inch pieces of plastic...until I realized that those 4 digit numbers are important, as a 2006 Zagat Rated sticker was about as valuable today as last week's TV Guide. But for those that continue to be drawn to the mystic powers of those two five letter words...enjoy!
I used to be a believer...a believer in these 4 by 6 inch pieces of plastic...until I realized that those 4 digit numbers are important, as a 2006 Zagat Rated sticker was about as valuable today as last week's TV Guide. But for those that continue to be drawn to the mystic powers of those two five letter words...enjoy!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Buffet...
Three signs of a bad Indian lunch buffet:
1. McDonalds – You woke up hung over on a Sunday afternoon and realized that there were only two things that you wanted to accomplish today…try to piece together the events from the night before…and make your way to an Indian lunch buffet so you can indulge in everything from palak paneer to gulab jambus. It takes you 45 minutes to build-up enough energy to get out of bed as you polished off 10 drinks the night before in an ill-fated attempt to ‘only go out for a few drinks’. At the restaurant you glance by the buffet line on your way to your table and notice the fine assortment of Indian food and then at the end of the line you see it….french fries. The first thing that comes to your mind is the old school Sesame Street jingle, “one of these kids is doin; his own thing, three of these kids are doin the same.”
An Indian buffet that offers anything other then Indian food should be an immediate sign that the food you are about to eat is not good. If Management has to offer their patrons french fries then obviously something is lacking from their Indian dishes. Note to self…get out!
2. Gourmet – The name of a restaurant is often a key indicator of what to expect. Now that may sound a bit foolish...but if you have the word “Gourmet” in the name of your restaurant…chances are…you’re not. If management was unable to spend more then 2 minutes to come up with a better name than "Gourmet India"…then how much time do you think is spent towards making quality food?
3. Campbells- When I spend $12 on an Indian buffet, I automatically know that 50% of my bill is dedicated to chicken tikka (palak paneer for vegetarians). The reasoning behind the allocation is that usually the chicken tikka is the main, if not only, reason why we’re at an Indian buffet in the first place. When the chicken tikka comprises of small pieces of chicken floating in what looks like tomato soup…you my friend…got bamboozled. The sauce has to have some color/texture to it. It can’t be uniform, runny and red…and in some bizarre instances…pink (yes I really have witnessed a pink chicken tikka contraption). You need to know that what your about to eat is something more complex then some chicken nuggets dashed with masala and thrown in a bowl of Campbells Tomato Soup.
Palak paneer is a lot harder to break-down…it is almost an art. You pretty much have to taste it to know if it’s good or not. And it really is as black and white as that….there’s no such thing as ‘okay’ palak paneer…it’s either good or bad.
Its a shame not every city has a Balaji Bhavan like H-town does...
1. McDonalds – You woke up hung over on a Sunday afternoon and realized that there were only two things that you wanted to accomplish today…try to piece together the events from the night before…and make your way to an Indian lunch buffet so you can indulge in everything from palak paneer to gulab jambus. It takes you 45 minutes to build-up enough energy to get out of bed as you polished off 10 drinks the night before in an ill-fated attempt to ‘only go out for a few drinks’. At the restaurant you glance by the buffet line on your way to your table and notice the fine assortment of Indian food and then at the end of the line you see it….french fries. The first thing that comes to your mind is the old school Sesame Street jingle, “one of these kids is doin; his own thing, three of these kids are doin the same.”
An Indian buffet that offers anything other then Indian food should be an immediate sign that the food you are about to eat is not good. If Management has to offer their patrons french fries then obviously something is lacking from their Indian dishes. Note to self…get out!
2. Gourmet – The name of a restaurant is often a key indicator of what to expect. Now that may sound a bit foolish...but if you have the word “Gourmet” in the name of your restaurant…chances are…you’re not. If management was unable to spend more then 2 minutes to come up with a better name than "Gourmet India"…then how much time do you think is spent towards making quality food?
3. Campbells- When I spend $12 on an Indian buffet, I automatically know that 50% of my bill is dedicated to chicken tikka (palak paneer for vegetarians). The reasoning behind the allocation is that usually the chicken tikka is the main, if not only, reason why we’re at an Indian buffet in the first place. When the chicken tikka comprises of small pieces of chicken floating in what looks like tomato soup…you my friend…got bamboozled. The sauce has to have some color/texture to it. It can’t be uniform, runny and red…and in some bizarre instances…pink (yes I really have witnessed a pink chicken tikka contraption). You need to know that what your about to eat is something more complex then some chicken nuggets dashed with masala and thrown in a bowl of Campbells Tomato Soup.
Palak paneer is a lot harder to break-down…it is almost an art. You pretty much have to taste it to know if it’s good or not. And it really is as black and white as that….there’s no such thing as ‘okay’ palak paneer…it’s either good or bad.
Its a shame not every city has a Balaji Bhavan like H-town does...
Friday, April 18, 2008
Red pill...
There are some people in this world who have excelled in whatever it is they do. They come to work every morning and as they walk to their desk they are often frowned upon by their peers…all because of sheer jealousy. These people that I refer to are the upper class of each company…the higher cast in society….the office dwellers.
If you are not a part of this elite group then you are what I am….a cubicle inhabitant, and probably wake-up every morning hating yourself, thinking…”Damit...why didn’t’ I take Morpheus’ advise …swallowed the red pill… and stayed in Wonderland?”
For those who have never experienced ‘life inside a cubicle’ let me give you a rundown of what you’re missing…
A cubicle is a confining structure that resembles a prison…but ironically has no bars, locks or latches. In fact, a cubicle is comprised only of three walls. Now you’re probably thinking, “What kind of prison has only three walls?” But as bizarre as it sounds…the inhabitants of a cubicle add the fourth wall in their mind…that should give you an idea of how unhappy life is within. The moment your body is entirely within its domain, all creativity…happiness…and even life…is sucked out of you as quick as a chocolate milkshake is sucked out of a cup from a chubby little kid.
The walls range in height from 3 to 6 feet, are usually made of a brownish/yellowish foamy material, and allow all sound to pass directly through them. Within the cubicle you generally have a desk for your computer, a few drawers and if your lucky some cabinet space. This may sound a bit boring and dull but often at times people will jazz up their cubicle by adding a bit of flare to it. Some common pieces of flare that can be found are as follows: picture frames, a small plant on their desk, a candy jar, a table lamp, sometimes even a small 2’ by 2’ floor rug. The people that use flare in their cubicles are those that can not admit defeat...they will try to spice up their cube to the best of their ability…but in the end it is what it is…it will always be a cube.
Inhabitants of cubicles often starve for any attention or action during their daily 8-5 life within. Nothing portrays this feeling of loneliness as the view you get 20 feet away from a block of cubes when someone drops something that makes a loud sound. You will see a bunch of people poke their heads in a prairie dog type fashion over their cubicle walls trying to find out what made that noise that echoed within their cage.
As horrid as ‘life inside a cubicle’ sounds…it is home. It is where I spend the majority of my life….it is where I can always be found. Also there is strength in numbers...as there are many people that share this cubicle life with me. These days there are more cubicles than offices…as employers want to make the most use of their leased property. Some may think that it’s hard to find a person amongst a sea of brown foamy walls…but surprisingly it is not. We cubicle inhabitants are similar to lab mice within a maze. We know every corner and hallway to take to get from point A to point B…we are masters of our domain. However for those that are not familiar with the seating arrangement…we have numbers attached to our cubes, to make us easier to find. Management calls these ‘cubicle numbers’…we refer them to ‘inmate numbers’.
If you are not a part of this elite group then you are what I am….a cubicle inhabitant, and probably wake-up every morning hating yourself, thinking…”Damit...why didn’t’ I take Morpheus’ advise …swallowed the red pill… and stayed in Wonderland?”
For those who have never experienced ‘life inside a cubicle’ let me give you a rundown of what you’re missing…
A cubicle is a confining structure that resembles a prison…but ironically has no bars, locks or latches. In fact, a cubicle is comprised only of three walls. Now you’re probably thinking, “What kind of prison has only three walls?” But as bizarre as it sounds…the inhabitants of a cubicle add the fourth wall in their mind…that should give you an idea of how unhappy life is within. The moment your body is entirely within its domain, all creativity…happiness…and even life…is sucked out of you as quick as a chocolate milkshake is sucked out of a cup from a chubby little kid.
The walls range in height from 3 to 6 feet, are usually made of a brownish/yellowish foamy material, and allow all sound to pass directly through them. Within the cubicle you generally have a desk for your computer, a few drawers and if your lucky some cabinet space. This may sound a bit boring and dull but often at times people will jazz up their cubicle by adding a bit of flare to it. Some common pieces of flare that can be found are as follows: picture frames, a small plant on their desk, a candy jar, a table lamp, sometimes even a small 2’ by 2’ floor rug. The people that use flare in their cubicles are those that can not admit defeat...they will try to spice up their cube to the best of their ability…but in the end it is what it is…it will always be a cube.
Inhabitants of cubicles often starve for any attention or action during their daily 8-5 life within. Nothing portrays this feeling of loneliness as the view you get 20 feet away from a block of cubes when someone drops something that makes a loud sound. You will see a bunch of people poke their heads in a prairie dog type fashion over their cubicle walls trying to find out what made that noise that echoed within their cage.
As horrid as ‘life inside a cubicle’ sounds…it is home. It is where I spend the majority of my life….it is where I can always be found. Also there is strength in numbers...as there are many people that share this cubicle life with me. These days there are more cubicles than offices…as employers want to make the most use of their leased property. Some may think that it’s hard to find a person amongst a sea of brown foamy walls…but surprisingly it is not. We cubicle inhabitants are similar to lab mice within a maze. We know every corner and hallway to take to get from point A to point B…we are masters of our domain. However for those that are not familiar with the seating arrangement…we have numbers attached to our cubes, to make us easier to find. Management calls these ‘cubicle numbers’…we refer them to ‘inmate numbers’.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Security...
Security is something that is immeasurable, as it provides comfort in knowing that you are...or at least feels like you are...out of harm's way. Security is something that comes in all shapes and forms (I have taken the liberty to list some examples below):
Physical security - Buying a house at over 5 times the price of a comparable house just 1/2 mile down the street in the hood. Why? Because you wanted some security and thought it'd be nice NOT to come home after work one day with your windows smashed in and a crack feign in your kitchen scratching his neck all while chanting "skeet....skeet....skeet." The amazing part of all this is that the real estate agent convinced you that your house is worth every inflated penny paid. "Security doesn't come cheap...would you rather live in the ghetto and risk the safety of your family's well-being," she claims. Funny how this is all so true though. I think one day the hooligans from the hood will stumble across a map and find out that the real pot of gold is only 1/2 mile up the street. Then we'll see property values drop really quick.
Job security - Pulling out of the garage at work each day knowing that the nameplate on your 3 foot cubicle wall will still have your name on it tomorrow morning. It doesn't matter how much you slack off or how many days you come in late....you my friend have job security. Now whether your job security has risen from the fact that you have stellar performance reviews or simply because your job is so pathetic that your employer would never be able to fill your position if they fired you...it doesn't matter...you have job security! Slap a gold star next too that nameplate and go catch an early happy hour!
By now you should have a clear idea of what security is. So on to my point...or lack thereof. Everyday when I come to work I swipe my badge to get into my building. Without my badge, I am unable to access my building nor the floor in which I work on (you need to swipe your badge to get into the bathroom as well...I will never understand that). This provides a type of physical security...something that appears to be useful and practical. The opposite of this however is something that is about as useful as a flashlight for a blind man. Like all things in life...for every brilliant invention...there's a stupid one. What I am referring to is the exit button apparatus. Why in gods name do I have to press a big red button that says "PRESS TO EXIT" in big bold letters to exit my building after 7pm. What is the purpose of this thing? It doesn't prevent people from entering the building...it only delays those from leaving. In fact...if anything it's a bad thing to have! In the event there is a mass murderer, fire, or wild tiger roaming the building...I shouldn't have to walk across the lobby to press a big red button then run back to open the door before the button's 5 second useful life-span ends. There is no security in this thing...no value...no purpose! Whoever invented this thing needs a gold star. Not for inventing something that's helped saved the planet or man-kind...but a gold star for inventing garbage and making millions off of it. While we're passing out gold stars...go find that person who sells stars to people for money and slap a gold star on him as well. "For $59.95 you can buy a star for your loved one!" http://www.nameastarlive.com/?src=google/ Getting money for selling something that you don't even own...ridiculous!
Physical security - Buying a house at over 5 times the price of a comparable house just 1/2 mile down the street in the hood. Why? Because you wanted some security and thought it'd be nice NOT to come home after work one day with your windows smashed in and a crack feign in your kitchen scratching his neck all while chanting "skeet....skeet....skeet." The amazing part of all this is that the real estate agent convinced you that your house is worth every inflated penny paid. "Security doesn't come cheap...would you rather live in the ghetto and risk the safety of your family's well-being," she claims. Funny how this is all so true though. I think one day the hooligans from the hood will stumble across a map and find out that the real pot of gold is only 1/2 mile up the street. Then we'll see property values drop really quick.
Job security - Pulling out of the garage at work each day knowing that the nameplate on your 3 foot cubicle wall will still have your name on it tomorrow morning. It doesn't matter how much you slack off or how many days you come in late....you my friend have job security. Now whether your job security has risen from the fact that you have stellar performance reviews or simply because your job is so pathetic that your employer would never be able to fill your position if they fired you...it doesn't matter...you have job security! Slap a gold star next too that nameplate and go catch an early happy hour!
By now you should have a clear idea of what security is. So on to my point...or lack thereof. Everyday when I come to work I swipe my badge to get into my building. Without my badge, I am unable to access my building nor the floor in which I work on (you need to swipe your badge to get into the bathroom as well...I will never understand that). This provides a type of physical security...something that appears to be useful and practical. The opposite of this however is something that is about as useful as a flashlight for a blind man. Like all things in life...for every brilliant invention...there's a stupid one. What I am referring to is the exit button apparatus. Why in gods name do I have to press a big red button that says "PRESS TO EXIT" in big bold letters to exit my building after 7pm. What is the purpose of this thing? It doesn't prevent people from entering the building...it only delays those from leaving. In fact...if anything it's a bad thing to have! In the event there is a mass murderer, fire, or wild tiger roaming the building...I shouldn't have to walk across the lobby to press a big red button then run back to open the door before the button's 5 second useful life-span ends. There is no security in this thing...no value...no purpose! Whoever invented this thing needs a gold star. Not for inventing something that's helped saved the planet or man-kind...but a gold star for inventing garbage and making millions off of it. While we're passing out gold stars...go find that person who sells stars to people for money and slap a gold star on him as well. "For $59.95 you can buy a star for your loved one!" http://www.nameastarlive.com/?src=google/ Getting money for selling something that you don't even own...ridiculous!
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