Friday, August 10, 2007
New Band Name
The Wife inadvertently came up with a new band name while describing my son, Luke: Perpetually Pantsless. Note, I also think this could be the name of a gay bar.
Continuing Progress
Yesterday was a momentous day for me. I bought pants. One of these days, I'm hoping to buy underwear too. But, that's probably just a pipe dream.
The significance of buying pants was that these pants have size 33 waists. The last time I wore 33s was about 5 years ago. I was 10 pounds heavier and I was desperately trying to wiggle my way into them in a futile effort to convince myself that I was still "thin." Once I got into them, well, there wasn't a whole lot about my lower body that people couldn't figure out from a quick glance. I distinctly remember someone commenting about me being circumsized. That's when I decided it might be a good time to move up to 34s. (Note, not once did it cross my mind to lose weight.)
Yesterday, I tipped the scales at 176.6. I'm only 1.6 pounds away from my goal for the triathlon (which is amazingly in 2 weeks!). I got dressed that morning and realized that I was basically folding the waist of my pants over to make it snug enough to wear. So I decided to do a little shopping after work.
To my surprise, I found that I actually fit in 32s! Well, kind of. My waist fits, but my abnormally large ass and thighs did not. And that's when I made one of those rare "rational" decisions. I decided I'd rather be comfortable in my clothes instead of wearing the smallest clothes I can possibly fit into. It's crazy!
I'd still like to get down to about 170, and it might even happen. At that point, I should be able to fit more comfortably in 32s. Which means I'll have a wardrobe that consists of pants with 32, 33, 34, and 36-inch waists. I'll be like Jackie Gleeson, who had 3 full wardrobes for his various levels of girth.
In other news, my training is going well. I've discovered a new way to massage the pain of my plantar fasciatis away. Wish I'd known about that 3 months ago. So now I've been able to run. And surprisingly, now that I've lost close to 25 pounds, I'm actually running FASTER. I don't get it. Don't big things always move faster? I mean, I'm not as fast as a deer. Or a car. I'm going to have to investigate this. Are there any physicists out there who can help?
The biggest stumbling block for my training right now is a wedding. One of my friends from First Grade is getting married this weekend, and I'm standing up in the wedding. That means I've got all kinds of important duties. Last night, we had the rehearsal dinner. I had to go to make sure I knew how to walk 10 steps, take someone's arm, walk 2 more steps, bow, and then sit down. Then stand. Then sit down. Then kneel. Then stand. Then kneel. Then sit down. (God, I hate Catholic mass. I'm so glad I'm now a Lutheran. Though their services are longer. I need to find a religion with services that are about 20-30 minutes. Maybe I'll just start my own.)
By the way, I'm so anal about being late for things. As we were driving over, we managed to catch 3 consecutive trains (and then a fourth a few minutes later). I was getting annoyed because I was going to be about 5 minutes late. Then The Wife pointed out that I didn't have anything to actually DO at the rehearsal. So I needed to calm down. I agreed with her. I KNEW I didn't have much to do. But I was still stressing out. It's great being anal.
So after my strenuous tasks at the rehearsal, I got rewarded with a wonderful rehearsal dinner. It was absolutely delicious. And I'm sure I gained about 5 pounds from it alone. Tonight (Friday), there's a BBQ for a bunch of the groom's friends. Let's add another 5 pounds there. Then on Saturday, there's about 10 hours of drinking and enough food to choke a horse. Another 5 pounds there. So, one weekend, 15 pounds. And this is why I'm keeping those 36-inch pants.
The significance of buying pants was that these pants have size 33 waists. The last time I wore 33s was about 5 years ago. I was 10 pounds heavier and I was desperately trying to wiggle my way into them in a futile effort to convince myself that I was still "thin." Once I got into them, well, there wasn't a whole lot about my lower body that people couldn't figure out from a quick glance. I distinctly remember someone commenting about me being circumsized. That's when I decided it might be a good time to move up to 34s. (Note, not once did it cross my mind to lose weight.)
Yesterday, I tipped the scales at 176.6. I'm only 1.6 pounds away from my goal for the triathlon (which is amazingly in 2 weeks!). I got dressed that morning and realized that I was basically folding the waist of my pants over to make it snug enough to wear. So I decided to do a little shopping after work.
To my surprise, I found that I actually fit in 32s! Well, kind of. My waist fits, but my abnormally large ass and thighs did not. And that's when I made one of those rare "rational" decisions. I decided I'd rather be comfortable in my clothes instead of wearing the smallest clothes I can possibly fit into. It's crazy!
I'd still like to get down to about 170, and it might even happen. At that point, I should be able to fit more comfortably in 32s. Which means I'll have a wardrobe that consists of pants with 32, 33, 34, and 36-inch waists. I'll be like Jackie Gleeson, who had 3 full wardrobes for his various levels of girth.
In other news, my training is going well. I've discovered a new way to massage the pain of my plantar fasciatis away. Wish I'd known about that 3 months ago. So now I've been able to run. And surprisingly, now that I've lost close to 25 pounds, I'm actually running FASTER. I don't get it. Don't big things always move faster? I mean, I'm not as fast as a deer. Or a car. I'm going to have to investigate this. Are there any physicists out there who can help?
The biggest stumbling block for my training right now is a wedding. One of my friends from First Grade is getting married this weekend, and I'm standing up in the wedding. That means I've got all kinds of important duties. Last night, we had the rehearsal dinner. I had to go to make sure I knew how to walk 10 steps, take someone's arm, walk 2 more steps, bow, and then sit down. Then stand. Then sit down. Then kneel. Then stand. Then kneel. Then sit down. (God, I hate Catholic mass. I'm so glad I'm now a Lutheran. Though their services are longer. I need to find a religion with services that are about 20-30 minutes. Maybe I'll just start my own.)
By the way, I'm so anal about being late for things. As we were driving over, we managed to catch 3 consecutive trains (and then a fourth a few minutes later). I was getting annoyed because I was going to be about 5 minutes late. Then The Wife pointed out that I didn't have anything to actually DO at the rehearsal. So I needed to calm down. I agreed with her. I KNEW I didn't have much to do. But I was still stressing out. It's great being anal.
So after my strenuous tasks at the rehearsal, I got rewarded with a wonderful rehearsal dinner. It was absolutely delicious. And I'm sure I gained about 5 pounds from it alone. Tonight (Friday), there's a BBQ for a bunch of the groom's friends. Let's add another 5 pounds there. Then on Saturday, there's about 10 hours of drinking and enough food to choke a horse. Another 5 pounds there. So, one weekend, 15 pounds. And this is why I'm keeping those 36-inch pants.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Trivial Matters
The other day, I went to lunch with some co-workers. For some reason, I made a reference to Thor Heyerdahl and Kon-Tiki. Everyone looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. (In a way, I suppose I was.) Apparently, they'd never heard of him. Later, I asked some other people (who I thought knew a bit of trivia) if they knew who Thor Heyerdahl was. Nope.
In another conversation, I was talking to someone who was about to honeymoon in northern California. He was asking if I knew anywhere worth visiting (because I'm such the world traveller! Ha!). I mentioned that there were two places I've always wanted to see: the Hearst Mansion and the Winchester Mystery House.
(By the way, I love the Winchester House, which was built by the heir of the Winchester rifle fortune. She was convinced that she had to be CONSTANTLY building the house to keep away the ghosts of the people murdered by Winchester rifles. So the house was under construction 24/7 for 38 YEARS!)
This guy gave me that blank look that I'm now familiar with. He'd never heard of either place. (In fact, I'm not even sure he knew who William Randolph Hearst WAS.) This just made me wonder why *I* know of these places. Why do I know so much freakin' trivia? More importantly, why do I want to know more?
I think the "problem" started with my friends when I was growing up. They're all pretty smart people who enjoy trivia. And so if you wanted to be the King of the Dorks, you had to know MORE trivia. (In fact, I remember one bus ride home from Great America in high school where we played Blues Brothers Trivia, trying to pull obscure facts from the movie. For example, what drink does John Candy order at the Blues Brothers concert? "Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips.")
And so it started with movie quotes and had morphed into some horrible beast. Not only do I watch the History Channel and Discovery, but I actually TIVO shows on those channels. You know, so when I'm bored at home, I can see how the Babylonians engineered their civilization.
The other big factor is my love of crosswords. Crosswords are essentially a big collection of trivia. And the more crosswords you do, the more you recognize certain clues and answers. For example, "Heyerdahl" is a frequent clue because "THOR" fits in a lot of crossword puzzles. Interestingly, my hometown of Des Plaines is also a frequent clue because "DES" fits very well too.
I don't see this "problem" getting any better either. I think at this point, I should actually INCREASE my trivial knowledge. Hopefully, then, I can get on Jeopardy and win me some money. Or at least look way cool doing TNT Trivia at the local BW3. Yeah, I'll settle for looking cool (for once).
In another conversation, I was talking to someone who was about to honeymoon in northern California. He was asking if I knew anywhere worth visiting (because I'm such the world traveller! Ha!). I mentioned that there were two places I've always wanted to see: the Hearst Mansion and the Winchester Mystery House.
(By the way, I love the Winchester House, which was built by the heir of the Winchester rifle fortune. She was convinced that she had to be CONSTANTLY building the house to keep away the ghosts of the people murdered by Winchester rifles. So the house was under construction 24/7 for 38 YEARS!)
This guy gave me that blank look that I'm now familiar with. He'd never heard of either place. (In fact, I'm not even sure he knew who William Randolph Hearst WAS.) This just made me wonder why *I* know of these places. Why do I know so much freakin' trivia? More importantly, why do I want to know more?
I think the "problem" started with my friends when I was growing up. They're all pretty smart people who enjoy trivia. And so if you wanted to be the King of the Dorks, you had to know MORE trivia. (In fact, I remember one bus ride home from Great America in high school where we played Blues Brothers Trivia, trying to pull obscure facts from the movie. For example, what drink does John Candy order at the Blues Brothers concert? "Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips.")
And so it started with movie quotes and had morphed into some horrible beast. Not only do I watch the History Channel and Discovery, but I actually TIVO shows on those channels. You know, so when I'm bored at home, I can see how the Babylonians engineered their civilization.
The other big factor is my love of crosswords. Crosswords are essentially a big collection of trivia. And the more crosswords you do, the more you recognize certain clues and answers. For example, "Heyerdahl" is a frequent clue because "THOR" fits in a lot of crossword puzzles. Interestingly, my hometown of Des Plaines is also a frequent clue because "DES" fits very well too.
I don't see this "problem" getting any better either. I think at this point, I should actually INCREASE my trivial knowledge. Hopefully, then, I can get on Jeopardy and win me some money. Or at least look way cool doing TNT Trivia at the local BW3. Yeah, I'll settle for looking cool (for once).
Like a Broken Record
This blog has slowly shifted its theme to "Geez, am I old." (Exacerbated by the word "geez," which is unfortunately actually part of my vocabulary.)
Last night, I went out with my softball team, made up entirely of people I work with. We were supposed to have a game, but apparently Lollapalooza messed up our field. Given that we've only won 1 game all year, we decided to have a practice. All we practiced, though, was drinking. (If you're familiar with Chicago-style 16-inch softball, it's actually one of the most essential skills.)
As luck would have it, I ended up sitting directly across from a U of I student intern. Right next to me was a U of I new hire. Being an alumnus, I chatted it up with them about campus and whatnot. As we were talking, Don McLean's "American Pie" came on the radio. I asked Intern whether they still sang this song at Joe's every Thursday night. He wasn't sure (I'm guessing he doesn't frequent Joe's). Then NewHire said, "Thursday night? Isn't that 90's Night?"
There's already a 90's Night! It's been 10 years since I graduated, and I know that we had 80's Night when I was in school. I don't know why I find this so shocking. But I do. And to make matters worse, NewHire made a comment about how she "grew up" listening to that music. Uh-huh. You see, I was ALREADY grown up when it was all being written. Hell, I'd already GRADUATED before some of it even hit the airwaves.
And so the moral of the story is that I need to stop sitting next to people who are 10 years younger than me. It's just too friggin' depressing.
Last night, I went out with my softball team, made up entirely of people I work with. We were supposed to have a game, but apparently Lollapalooza messed up our field. Given that we've only won 1 game all year, we decided to have a practice. All we practiced, though, was drinking. (If you're familiar with Chicago-style 16-inch softball, it's actually one of the most essential skills.)
As luck would have it, I ended up sitting directly across from a U of I student intern. Right next to me was a U of I new hire. Being an alumnus, I chatted it up with them about campus and whatnot. As we were talking, Don McLean's "American Pie" came on the radio. I asked Intern whether they still sang this song at Joe's every Thursday night. He wasn't sure (I'm guessing he doesn't frequent Joe's). Then NewHire said, "Thursday night? Isn't that 90's Night?"
There's already a 90's Night! It's been 10 years since I graduated, and I know that we had 80's Night when I was in school. I don't know why I find this so shocking. But I do. And to make matters worse, NewHire made a comment about how she "grew up" listening to that music. Uh-huh. You see, I was ALREADY grown up when it was all being written. Hell, I'd already GRADUATED before some of it even hit the airwaves.
And so the moral of the story is that I need to stop sitting next to people who are 10 years younger than me. It's just too friggin' depressing.
