Ten Statements

Ever want to say something to someone, but for whatever reason you don't want to address them specifically? You want them to know what's on your mind and what's in your heart, but you shy away from making these statements. Not necessarily due to a fear of how it will be received, but rather you hold back for numerous reasons. Reasons only you and you alone know. Don't let it naw at you. Free it. Write "Ten Statements". Composing a list of ten statements allows you to communicate messages that were once nonverbal. A declaration that once went untold and most likely went unknown, until now. Like everything I write, this too is open to interpretation. If it should be misunderstood, if I should be misunderstood, please understand this...

The Ten Statements list below is my round-about way of expressing myself today. It's a way to say things to people that makes them stop and think. Am I addressing you? Only I will know that answer for sure. The rest is open to your own interpertation.

• Share your world with me. I'm so interested in learning all about you and the life you embrace.
• Please don't ever grow up because I will miss tucking you in at night.
• I don't love you and haven't for some time. Accept it, let go and leave me be.
• Tell me you're proud of me, who I've become. Look me in the eye and say it. So I believe it. So I truly feel it.
• If you were with me, I guarantee I would make you feel beautiful, everyday.
• Something tells me that I could fall for you. Something tells me that you could possibly fall for me too?
• Don't chastise me for being a dreamer. My dreams have fueled my passions and given me wings. Watch me soar.
• I take it as a compliment when people tell me I am so much like you.
• You're still my favorite person in the whole wide world.
• Thank you for loving me that day.

Be Inspired To Be Uninspiring

There will be no writing from the heart today. There will be no baring of the soul. No deep thoughts. No poetic pen attempts. I put that on hold and instead I leave you with a fast half-assed blog post. A little something left in my e-mail inbox today. This doesn't deliver much substance, but may be entertaining none the less. 22 inspiring/uninspiring lessons and sound advice for life.

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead.
Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow.
Do not walk beside me either.
Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.

3. It's always darkest before dawn.
So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.

4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.

5. Always remember that you're unique...just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.

10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day.
Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

12. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.

13. Some days you're the bug, some days you're the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket!

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like "The Force". It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

Meterosexual Me, Dissected

Somewhere between heterosexual and homosexual a new breed of man was invented. Maybe not a "new" breed, since this breed of man has been around for quite some time, but rather a title was given to a certain type of guy. The title - a meterosexual. A guy that is straight, but carries some of those, dare I say, pretty boy qualities to him. Just for the record, I hate the term "pretty boy". However, I am going to use it here so that I can help you decipher between the black, white and gray areas of meterosexual me. Yes, I've been labeled a meterosexual by some. Not sure if I should be insulted by that title or complimented, but it is what it is. I'm also not sure if I totally agree with that label some are placing on me. I've compiled a short list of some of the qualities that fall under my meterosexual side and some of the qualities that fall under my very boyish heterosexual side. The two sides often clash heads. They often mix well. They make me...well me. This is sort of like the good, the bad and the ugly...but with a twist. Now may the battle of Metro vs Hetero begin!

Metero Me: I know what a shower pouf is. Taking big brave gulp as I admit this...I've used one before too.
Hetero Me: There is nothing gay about a shower pouf if you take into consideration that I was introduced to this scratchy sponge-like hicky-ma-jiggy while taking a shower with my then girlfriend at the time. Seriously, those things might be girly, but they feel kind of nice. It's like a girl scratching her nails across your back. Mmm.

Metero Me: I've tried yoga...and actually liked it.
Hetero Me: When you only see your sister once or twice a year, I do whatever she wants to do. Whatever makes her happy while she is visiting, count me in. It was sort of fun to see her get irritated when she discovered that I have better strength and balance than her. Although I contribute that to years of boxing and conditioning. So yeah, I know what downdog is and all that other lingo. Test me.

Metero Me: I know the difference between polo shirts that have the eagle, the alligator, the horse and the moose.
Hetero Me: This again relates back to my sister. She's in the fashion industry, so some of that was bound to wear off on me. Although, I'm thinking I have too many old preppy polo shirts in my closet that I never wear. Leaving them in there taking up space would be the boy thing to do. We don't reorganize our spring, summer, fall and winter wardrobe line like girls do...or gay guys do. The annual "separating of the garments" does not exist for us. It's a closet, it all goes together. Flip flops next to snowboard boots - perfect.

Metero Me: I have a regular tailor. A little Italian guy the fits my suits.
Hetero Me: I don't wear suits all the time. Actually I wear casual clothes to work more than a suit. I like suits though. I'm just as comfortable in a suit as I am in my favorite broken-in blue jeans and tee. And with my favorite jeans, there is no tailor touching them! Time has tailored them to my body. A perfect fit! I like the fraying and naturally worn holes. FYI, boys like being comfy.

Metero Me: I've been massaged at a spa before.
Hetero Me: I don't care if you are gay, straight or somewhere in between...get yourself a REAL massage. You will love it!

Metero Me: I own a pair of Pradas.
Hetero Me: That's a hard one to defend. On a meterosexual scale from 1-10, I believe that ranks in at 12.

Metero Me: I wash my face with facial cleanser and not ordinary soap.
Hetero Me: What? My skin is sensitive. And you would of thought that a zit couldn't exist after age 19, but they can sneak back in your 20s. So I'm a blemish-free, soft skin, baby face boy. I have extra manly days where I don't shave and sport a shadow. I also walk around on those days pounding my chest with my fist and grunting like a caveman as I chomp on raw meat.

Metero Me: I put alot of thought, more than any guy I know, into selecting the right flowers and gifts to give a girl.
Hetero Me: I shouldn't have to defend this. That should be a good thing, right? It shows that I'm thoughtful and/or romantic. That I'm selective, creative and put forth effort to ensure her happiness. I think giving a gift should be as unique as the person receiving it.

I Thought There Was No Crying In Baseball?

Minor league manager Joe Mikulik had a major league meltdown over the weekend. To say Mikulik, skipper for the Asheville N.C. Tourists, lost his cool Sunday against the Lexington Kentucky Legends would be a gross understatement. Video footage of a Class A South Atlantic League baseball game has finally made it onto ESPN, but not for a clip one would think. This Sports Center highlight reel from today may quite possible be the highlight reel of the year! It contains all the temper tantrum hissy-fit laughable antics one could ever hope for from a terrible 2-year-old. However, Mikulik is a grown man, which also makes his childish behavior highly inappropriate. Although given the fact he is a baseball player, it makes his behavior highly predictable. Watch him chew the ump out, kick dirt, break bats, throw water bottles, tear up bases and toss them into the outfield. It's truly priceless.

Watch The Video Here

Ahhh. His wife and kids must be so proud. By the way, Coach Mikulik was kicked from the game, no surprise. On top of that, his team lost 5-2. I bet it was fun for the players to go back to the locker room after that game!

"Are you crying? There's no crying in baseball!"
- Tom Hanks, from the movie "A League Of Their Own"

When Did She Get Hot?

Have I been stuck in a cave lately? When did Nelly Furtado get hot? I just saw her video for the song "Promiscuous" (good tune by the way) and not only are the lyrics kind of sexy, but so is she. I don't know when this happened. Years ago she emerged onto the pop scene with the likes of Britney and Christina, and back then, nobody paid much attention to her. Now, I'm defiantly going to pay more attention to her. It almost reminds me of Jr High when that one shy nerdy girl would return the following school year and you wouldn't even recognize her. Somehow over the 3 month summer vacation she turned from a bookworm/caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly. Perhaps Nelly has emerged from her cocoon...in a big way!

A sculpted body, piercing blue eyes, stilettos and some low rise jeans to shake around the dance floor in...yes she's definitely turning my head. And it's a good thing because with Britney all bloated and nasty now, we need some good 20something singing eye candy.

I know this is a very superficial post, but when a girl looks good, I think she should know it. And I for one am not afraid to speak the truth and let her know - you're hot.

Expressing My Horizontal Desires

I've always had a thing for girls who can dance, not strippers, real dancers. Someone who can dance is just...well, sexy. Recently I was reading Steph's blog "Much Ado about sumthin!" In it she proclaims her love for dancing in the piece "Slave to the rhythm." Naturally, her closing words in that post caught my attention...

When I dance. I'm possessed. I don't leave the floor till my feet are blistered and I can't breathe. It's the only respite I get from a million and one thoughts that rush through my head on a daily basis. It's the only time I'm truly happy within myself and totally confidant and in control. It's been said that dance is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, and for myself, it's as close to an orgasm I can get while standing up and fully clothed.
It's my passion.

Every time I hear the phrase "dance is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire", one thing comes to mind. One of my passions...

DIAMONDKT said...
If you haven't already, you might want to try the "horizontal desire" standing up and "partially" clothed...and against a wall. That's my passion.
12:16 PM

Steph said...
DiamondKT, Phwoooarrrrr!!!
12:35 PM

Jill said...
MY GOD, DIAMONDKT, THAT WAS HOT. That was so worthy of gooey sticky drippy hot fudge sauce. My. word.
2:10 PM

One of my favorite body parts on a woman is the small of the back. Feminine and delicate. To me, there's something so very beautiful and sexy about that thin line that divides the center of her body. The graceful arch that never touches the wall. A perfect fit for my thumb to trace that inner curve leading downward to her hips.

Express your passion, horizontal or vertical. What do you desire?

How To Steal An Anti-Theft Car

Let's say you just bought a 2006 Mercedes S550, a state-of-the-art, high-tech vehicle with an anti-theft keyless ignition system. After pulling into a Starbucks to celebrate with a grande latte, you pull out your Blackberry to send off a smug e-mail to a colleague, boosting about your new ride. As you are typing away, a man in a t-shirt and blue jeans sits down next to you. He opens his laptop and starts up a friendly conversation. "Is that the S550? How do you like it so far?" Eager to share, you converse for a few minutes. The man thanks you and is gone. A moment later you look up to discover your new Benz is gone as well!

Remote keyless entry systems, those black fobs we all have dangling next to our car keys, have been around since the 80's. The RFID chip in the keyfob contains a select set of codes designed to work with a given car. These codes are rolling 40-bit strings, meaning that with each use, the code changes slightly creating about 1 trillion possible combinations in total. When you push the unlock button, the keyfob sends a 40-bit code along with an instruction to unlock the car doors. If the synced-up car receiver gets the 40-bit code it is expecting, the car performs the instruction. If not, the car does not respond.

Now, decrypting one 40-bit code sequence can not only disengage the security system and unlock the doors, it can also start the car...making the hack tempting for thieves. The owner of the code is now the TRUE owner of the car. While high-end, high-tech auto theft like this is more common in Europe, it will soon start happening in America. The sad thing is that manufacturers of keyless devices don't seem to care.

How a keyless car gets stolen isn't exactly a state secret. Much of the required knowledge is Basic Encryption 101. Given that the car is more or less broadcasting its code and looking for a response, it's possible that a thief could try different codes to determine what the responses are - AKA, crack the encryption. By sitting close to someone with a keyless ignition device in their pocket, it takes less than 1 second for a thief to perform several scans without the victim knowing. Using a laptop equipped with a microreader, you can capture the code sequence, decrypt it and then disengage the alarm. Ultimately this will allow you to unlock and drive away without the key. If you think that such a hack could only occur in a pristine academic environment with the right equipment, you're wrong. It's happening in local coffee shops.

It's suggested that car owners wrap their keyless ignition fobs in tin foil when not in use to prevent active scanning attacks and that automobile manufacturers place a protective cylinder around the ignition slot. This latter step would limit the RFID broadcast range and make it harder for someone outside the car to eavesdrop on the code sequence. Unfortunately, the companies making RFID systems for cars don't think there's a problem. Most likely, preventive action will not be taken by the automotive industry until this method of car jacking reaches epic proportions here in the States. Consider yourself informed and warned.

Earn Your Hacking Degree

This isn't a bad infomercial that runs late at night with promises of getting rich quick or landing the career you've always been dreaming of. You've heard "earn your degree at home in as little as 6 months", blah blah blah. I don't believe in those "degrees". To me they aren't real. They hold no real value in the workplace, but if it makes some high school dropout feel better about himself by holding a half sheet of paper that claims he's a certified public accountant, than so be it. I just know I won't be hiring him to do my taxes - sorry. I'm a big fan of education. Not late night TV at home degree education. I mean real education. The kind where your have to sign those AES loan checks every month, making you wonder when they will stop bleeding your dry of your paycheck. The kind where you have to actually step foot inside a classroom. There's just no comparable substitute. With that said, some things in life can't be taught by book. They can't be taught by a professor. They are taught with life. Thru experiences. Thru growing.

Despite any of my own degrees and certifications, at times I feel I've learned the most on my own. Thru trial and error. Thru inquisitiveness. Thru experimentation. Thru challenging what shouldn't be challenged. By bending and sometimes breaking rules to discover and explore new found territory to quench my thirst for knowledge. By repairing the irreparable and making what wasn't broke stronger than it once was. In short, much of what I know today is self-taught. For me, it's the best way I learn. For others, they may want to quench their thirst in the UK.

The University of Abertay in is offering a first ever for Brits, a degree in computer hacking. The 3 year course will guide students through the intricacies of computer security systems and how to get around them so that they can become the insecurity experts of tomorrow. Upon graduation, students will be able to hawk their skills to the highest bidder. However, applicants will be subjected to a vetting process overseen by the Home Office and Foreign Office to make sure undesirables don't get themselves equipped with a cyber terrorism kit. A professor teaching the course states "We will be monitoring the students very closely because we want them to come out on the other end as ethical hackers."

Keep in mind that giving someone the necessary tools and know-how to do evil, doesn't necessarily mean he will do evil...but it doesn't mean he will do good either. It comes down to ethics, more than tools and know-how. Some poses it. Some do not. After all, hackers are only people. And we all know that with people, ethics often play a huge role in the workplace. I hope the dean keeps that fact in mind when he is handing out the diplomas. Putting a "hacking degree" into the wrong hands could be like handing out a license to kill, no exaggerating. See the cyber terrorism post...

• 03/27/06 Think A Virtual 9-11 Can't Happen? Think Again!

Dear Dad

You worked hard. You worked long. Way more than a 9 to 5. You did it for us. So we wouldn't be without. But it was at the dinner table where we were without. Without you. It was you that was missing when I looked to my left. Wondering where those set of overworked hands were that should be passing me the mashed potatoes. Mom would hold your plate. Looking up at the kitchen clock. The same clock that hangs on that wall to this very day. Hearing that familiar tick. You could set your heart by that clock. Round and round the hands would turn. Waiting for you to come home. Dinner is getting cold. Mom instructs us to go ahead and eat. "He will be home soon" she reassures 3 small heads. We finish. We help clear the table and still the front door hasn't opened. The hours are passing. The sun is setting. I count the minutes as they go by. My bedtime is growing near. "Put on your PJs and brush your teeth, Dad will tuck you in."

I pull-on my fuzzy red footed pajamas. The ones with the Ferrari look-alike racecar embroidered on my chest. I search for the white snap that fastens tightly just under my chin. That white snap that I could never see myself to close. The plastic white bottom feet that make my toes sweat. Plastic white bottom feet that cause me to slip and slide as I run from the kitchen to the living room chasing Jen. As I brush my teeth, I look in the mirror. The reflection of my eyes in the mirror are a reflection of you. I have your eyes. I have your mannerisms. Even at such a young age, these truths are evident. I belong to you. The girls are sent to bed, but Mom allows me to stay up to wait with her. Despite being the youngest and needing my rest, Mom understands the importance of a son needing to see his father after a long day. Even if I only get a few moments to help unlace your boots and hear you ask "how was your day buddy?"

Finally the knob turns. I jump up from constructing my fort out of wooden blocks and exclaim "Mom, he's home!" I rush over to the corner of the living room where I keep my wagon-full of wooden building blocks. I dump the remaining blocks out. They scatter aimlessly across the floor. I grab the tethered blue and white rope attached to a worn-out wagon and run to greet my Superman. "Dad, race me! Race me!" You are barely inside the door before I bombard you with play requests. In my haste, I stumble. Those slippery footed PJs get the best of me as I fall to my knees. I am a clumsy child that seems to trip often. Both knees already worn thin from previous incidents. Tonight I tear a hole in the fuzzy red covering. Carpet burn on my knees. Red and raw. Just a small trickle of blood. I don't cry. I stand up as if nothing happened. You smile and put your hand on the top of my head asking if I'm ok. A hand that nearly covers my entire being. A hand that is comforting and protecting. Kind and powerful. I barely notice I have patch of skin missing from my knee. A warm drop of blood beginning to trickle down my shin. All I notice is that you are finally home.

"Let him eat dinner first David and then he will pull you in the wagon" - Mom has to be the mediator. I oblige and plop myself down next to you on the couch as Mom hands you your dinner plate. "How was your day buddy?" It's the usual question, but one that I long to hear. One that Mom permitted me to stay up to answer. An open question that works well because it allows me to talk your ear off while you listen (or pretend to listen?) as you eat. How could a little boy have so much to say? My life consisted of catching fireflies, hitting whiffel balls and running relay races with my sisters in the backyard. Because these things were important to me, you made them be important to you. Thank you for that.

You may of worked long hours and you may not of always ate dinner with us as a family, but you were always there. Really. You never missed the big things like my basketball games. You were in my corner for every boxing match. You've been in my corner throughout life. You helped me night in and night out with my algebra homework. You were the one that taught me how to drive a stick. How to train a dog. How to throw a perfect spiral football. How to tie a necktie. You were the first one dressed and ready to roll on the days of both my HS and college graduation. Although at times you may of scolded me and been a little hard on me, you always made sure to praise me when I did well. They say it's the little things in life that count and if you weren't around for a little thing called dinner on a Wednesday night, that was ok by me. Because in my eyes, the little things you did like pulling me up and down the hall on that wooden wagon after a 12 hour workday, that was huge! Sitting with me and listening to me tell you all about how I caught more fireflies (or as we nicknamed them "lightening bugs") than the neighbor kid, that was huge! It didn't matter that you weren't there to pass me the mashed potatoes. You made me feel like my life mattered to you, period. That's what really counts when a son thinks of his Dad. Because of what you did then, today I know I matter.

A Rarity, The Open Letter

I rarely talk about him. And I don't know why. I've never posted about him. And I don't know why. I never heard him say he loves me. And I don't know why...but I don't care. I know he does. It shows and that's all that matters. I don't need to hear it verbalized. I see it in his actions. I heard it when Mom told me you brag about me to strangers. It's visible on your face when you smile and joke with me. It's all around me and it's something Hallmark couldn't capture. So instead I write you an open letter this Father's Day. Say it in my words, the best I know how. For me to write. For you to read. For us to later ignore. Some wouldn't understand, but it's how we deal with this sometimes awkward father/son relationship. No need to be all touchy/feely. No need to say you love me back. Just a need for me to recognize the tremendous impact you've had on my life. Helping the footed PJ boy grow-up to be an "amazing young man" - your words, not mine. (Mom never could keep a secret.)

Happy Dad's Day.

Related post from this past Mother's Day...
05/12/06 More Than A Mom

Anger Management For Bloggers

99.9% of the time Blogger is lovely! Yes, I used the word "lovely". Giggle at it and enjoy it because it's not a word I say often. And perhaps I over indulged in the amount of generosity I gave to that percentage mark. A more accurate number would be 90% of the time Blogger is "swell" - another word I don't say often. So what's my point? The point is that most of the time Blogger treats me kindly, but lately Blogger has kicked me in the balls and ran away laughing. I'm left face down in the dirt tasting my spleen and dying in agony! Ok, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but to be rather blunt, Blogger sucks lately. The feeling of having your image upload repeatedly fail on a blog post isn't really the same as the excruciating pain one feels after a quick swift kick to the nuts. However, it does maintain a certain level of hatred just the same.

The Blogger tech glitches can be enough to send some into a rage! Personally, I think there is something wrong with you if you let a blog work you up this much, but then I'm not the IT guy who has to deal with the failing network equipment attached to Blogger's server. Above is just a small sample of the beat-down some of the Blogger.com equipment went thru, after it was already pronounced D.O.A. before even making it to the parking lot burial grounds. Unintentionally mimicking the movie "Office Space"...a furry of kicks, punches, golf club swings (no baseball bat in sight, sadly) and even stone throwing ensued. I don't know if this release of anger and frustration will help the Blogger network improve, but at least for a day, the IT guy there wasn't left face down tasting his spleen. For once in his life, he won the battle. Or at least he got the last word in, which was probably something like..."Yeah, take that b*tch! Who's the man now, huh punk?"

Perhaps he's not the only Blogger in need of anger management classes. I think the Blogger glitches got to me the other day also. I became irritated with image uploads failing and decided not to retry anymore. Although, I realize Blogger is a free service and the saying is true..."you get what you pay for". So since I pay nothing for the service, I don't have too much room to complain. So I won't.

Instead I logged out of my account and went to read my e-mail. There I see an e-mail from a guy who wrote to the CEO of a company I am working with and CCs every single employee in the building on it. The letter is sharply worded, ignorant, arrogant, self-righteous and generally an ungrateful piece of crap...much like the way he is as a person. He has the nerve to complain about some free t-shirts that were handed out to everyone in the company. He states that XL "does not fit all". Then shrink it you a-hole or don't wear it. Wash your car with it, wipe your butt with it or better yet, let me smother you with it! THAT would be the best use of a t-shirt that is too big for your puny body. Go hit the gym and make the shirt fit if it's that big of a deal to you. Wow, what an ungrateful whiney b*tch. If luck is on my side, 100% cotton won't breathe.

End of rant. I feel better now. Thanks for listening/reading.

Talk Amongst Yourselves

Remember that old skit from SNL with the 3 Jewish women who hosted a show called "Coffee Talk"? I feel a little like them today. I feel like this blog has become a show. A show I don't want to be part of right now. I don't feel like entertaining people with my words. When I lack the motivation to write, I walk. It's when I go for a run or even just take a stroll that I often find inspiration. It's that alone time that clears my mind and rejuvenates the ink within my pen. So today, talk amongst yourselves. And tomorrow, maybe I'll be inspired to write. And maybe you will read. Until then, this ink well is dry.

You Can Learn Alot From A Dummy

Why must it take something earth-shattering to happen for us to realize we aren't invincible? Why must you be rocked to the core to face the facts, that you are no more immortal than the next? Why is it so difficult to comprehend that the reality in this world is that life is short and precious and it can be taken away at any given moment? For thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies like myself, these are questions we are often asked...and often ignore answering. Unless you were genetically programmed with that "daredevil" personality from birth, it's difficult to explain how we see things. How we strive to rationalize something that many label as irrational behavior. It's overcoming the odds. It's pushing the envelope. It's living your life to the fullest and if your day should come, may you have no regrets when you take that final breath. Take it knowing that you lived your life on the edge and to you, that was living. Then die a happy man...or so we hope the story would go.

If you haven't heard already, Pittsburgh Steelers star quarterback Ben Roethlisberger was injured in a motorcycle accident late Monday morning. It occurred at the intersection of Second Avenue and the 10th Street Bridge in Pittsburgh. According to police, Roethlisberger was traveling on Second Avenue when a vehicle coming in the opposite direction turned left in front of him. Roethlisberger was unable to stop and hit the passenger side door of the vehicle. Following the accident, Roethlisberger was transported to Mercy Hospital where he underwent 7 hours of surgery. He was listed in critical, but stable condition. Today he has been upgraded to fair condition and is resting. He suffered many injuries including...

• jaw and nose fractures
• a mild concussion
• fractured facial bones
• multiple head lacerations and abrasions/contusions
• loss of two teeth and chipped several others

Why so many head and face injuries and nothing else? Simple - no helmet. Two years ago the state of Pennsylvania passed a law that gave motorcyclists the option of wearing a helmet. Big Ben opted NOT to wear one. Not to wear one riding one of the fastest street bikes in production, a 2005 Suzuki Hayabusa which tops out at around 200mph. Dumb move? Ahh yeah, I would say so. Not to worry (Mom), I would never ride my bike without a helmet. I've never ridden any motorcycle without a helmet. Riding a bike without a helmet is just asking for trouble, especially on something as powerful as a 'Busa or Ducati. There is a difference between being a "daredevil" and being a "dumbass". And there is a difference between tempting fate and begging fate to kill you.

Not only did Ben not wear a helmet, but he didn't even have a motorcycle license! Even worse, he didn't even have a learner's permit to ride. So what was he doing with a street bike of that caliber? It's obvious money talks and he bought the bike when he shouldn't of legally been able to. I wouldn't be surprised if the guy doesn't even own a helmet. I've seen him riding around the city before and he never has one on. In fact, his head is usually gawking around looking for girls to notice him on his 'Busa, rather than looking at the road. Don't get me wrong, I think the guy is a pretty good football player and from what I see of him being interviewed, he seems like a pretty decent person as well. I just feel he has no brains when it comes to motorcycles...well other than choosing a nice bike. I have to give him credit there.

Now that I think about it, maybe I'm the dummy. It's true that a helmet saved my life about a year ago when I was struck by a drunk driver. He had pushed me into a cement barrier at around 80mph. If it hadn't been for that helmet, I would of never survived the impact. My helmet was nearly sliced in two, which I've kept as a reminder of how precious life is. I suffered a ridiculous amount of injuries, too many to list. I spent 2 months in the hospital and underwent countless surgeries. A year later, I go and by myself a new bike. I decided to go faster, upgrading from a Kawasaki Ninja to a Ducati 999r. Many people thought I was insane for doing that, for wanting to get back on a bike and to go faster than ever before. I would be lying if I said my hands didn't shake the first time I sat on a motorcycle after nearly losing my life on one. Of course you have to push past the fear if you ever want to experience life...or at least that is my motto. But maybe I'm just a dummy too.

Vanilla - From Ordinary To Extraordinary

There's a new saying..."have a cone". I'm sure few have heard it. Although I am wished to "have a cone" at least once a week if not more. It's become the 3 little words I enjoy hearing the most lately. They are the closing words spoken by my 2-year-old niece to me upon departure. Usually after I am told "no go home" (her way of convincing me that I shouldn't leave just yet and play a little longer), I am given a hug, kiss and told to "have a cone". So what does "have a cone" mean? Well it's short for ice-cream cone. It's not that she is a huge ice-cream fan. It's not that I'm a huge ice-cream fan. It's simply a symbol of something that makes people happy - having a cone.

How can ice-cream not make you happy? A pint of Ben & Jerry's is consumed by nearly every heartbroken woman in America. It's become a food of comfort for many. It's that sweet treat you allow yourself to have on a hot summer night. But taking something as ordinary as vanilla and making it extraordinary is not an easy task. However, the saying "have a cone" does just that. The way I see it, she is perhaps the most perceptive 2-year-old that exists. I believe that having a cone means more than her suggesting I indulge in a desert. I believe having a cone means to take an ordinary day and make it extraordinary.

Life should never be basic, common and usual. It shouldn't lack adornments like vanilla ice-cream. Instead it should be something that beautifies and adorns your very being. I don't want to live a vanilla life. I want to break away from ordinary and be extraordinary. I want to be highly exceptional, remarkable and memorable. To go beyond where no cone has gone before. Today I wish you all to "have a cone" too.

Mind Over Matter

Hey, what am I thinking? No, don't journey into the dirty side of my mind, this is a PG-13 blog...or at least I try. Tell me what's on my mind besides the things that a typical 20something year-old boy has on his mind 24/7. Can you read my mind? Can you see past mysterious eyes and peer into another's thoughts? In a step toward linking a person’s thoughts to machines, Japanese automaker Honda said it has developed a technology that uses brain signals to control a robot’s very simple moves.

In a video demonstration in Tokyo, brain signals detected by a magnetic resonance imaging scanner were relayed to a robotic hand. A person in the MRI machine made a fist, spread his fingers and then made a V-sign. Several seconds later, a robotic hand mimicked the movements. See, this is why they would never let me work on this project. I would of had the robot demo it's abilities by programming it to giving the guys in the little white lab coats the middle finger. What dork had it give the "peace sign"? Nerd. I'm thinking this hand could come in handy in the ghetto. When girls get into fights, they don't have to lose their "lady-like appearance" by rolling around and scrapping in a back alley. Instead they can mentally tell the robotic hand to bitch-slap the other girl for them! Genius!

Honda officials said the latest research was important not only for developing intelligence for the company's walking bubble-headed robot, Asimo, but also for future auto technology. I know some people that can barely do 2 things at once, like walking and chewing gum at the same time. So I'm not too sure I would trust them to steer a car strictly by thinking how it should maneuver. Although when you think about it, people are already way too distracted behind the wheel. How on earth would America survive if they were unable to gab on their cell phone because they had to focus on traffic?

I'm thinking this robotic hand will find more use in hospital operating rooms. Let's just hope the doctor doesn't find the sudden urge to bitch-slap the assisting surgeon while you are lying on the operating table. It probably wouldn't be a good thing for him to let go of your pulmonary artery to engage in a cat-fight. Of course, I will tell my robotic hand to give the doctor the finger if such an act takes place...and it will mark my final words (gesture) on Earth. May I, and my robotic hand, rest in peace.

See-Thru Skirts Are All The Rage, Really?

Most of the time, Japan is on the cutting age when it comes to technology. But when it comes to fashion, I think Japan should stop trying to "outhip" New Yorkers. In my opinion, the Japanese should stick to designing video game consoles and stay away from woman's apparel. And I don't say that as a video game junkie or a fashion critic. I say that as a straight guy with more than a half a brain who can easily say "this just isn't a good look for anyone, no matter how hot you may be". This latest Japanese fashion trend has been drawing alot of attention and it's obvious why. It's as close as you can come to public nudity while not actually being nude. Take a look for yourself.

What you are looking at (perhaps drooling at or maybe puking a little in your mouth at) is the latest fad to hit Japan. They are skirts with a "see-thru" appearance. At first glance, I too was fooled. It appears that the skirts are made of mesh or some type of very thin fabric, but really what you are seeing is nothing other than a printed image on the back of the skirt. The idea is to fool you into thinking what you are seeing is the girl's panties thru the skirt. However, that is really not a wedgie butt that you are seeing. Well it is, it's just not a REAL wedgie butt. Ok, it is a real wedgie butt, BUT it's not the butt of the girl who is actually wearing the skirt. There, all clear? Yeah, I thought I made perfect sense.

Rumor has it that this trend, fad, craze or as I like to call it "slut slip" will be moving to the US! By all means Japan, keep making cars. Keep making electronics. But for the love of God, please stop trying to make fashion statements! My sister made me proud when she sent me an e-mail saying..."This is one fashion move I will NOT be making. I'm forwarding this to our skirt buyers at work to see if they ever heard of such a thing." Yeah my sister buys clothes for a living. Isn't that every girl's dream job - to get paid to shop? Maybe she can accompany a bunch of Japanese tourists on the "do's and don'ts" when it comes to shopping for clothes.

Drunk Chicks Are Super Entertaining!

Few things in life are more entertaining than watching girls get completely wasted and making idiots out of themselves. Sure guys get trashed sometimes too and can be rather humorous as well, but it's just not as entertaining as when it happens to a girl. And the classier girl, the better! All her inhibitions go right out the window. All her poise and grace and good manners were drowned in a tequila shot and slammed down Coyote Ugly style. Take the most prim and proper girl you know and if she gets the right amount of booze in her (or I should say an OVER amount), you will see her transform into a sloppy drunken fool right before your very eyes. Although, that isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's actually quite entertaining to onlookers. It's unscripted comedy at it's finest...and of course ugliest. Here is a prime example of such a case.

After a long night out partying, a group of guys and girls decided to continue the drinking festivities at a friend's house. One girl in particular had way too much to drink. Who is to say what the rest of her night entailed, we can only guess. Although I do know this, she awoke in the morning still drunk! She hadn't even made it to the hangover stage, that would undoubtedly arrive later in the day. Feeling nauseated, she went to find the bathroom. While hugging the porcelain throne, she came to a brilliant discovery, or so she thought in her inebriated haze. She believed that because she felt nauseas and had been throwing up in the morning, that to her it could only mean one thing - I'm pregnant! I can't say what was running thru her head at this point, but whatever foggy thought passed thru her brain wasn't brilliant, to say the least. She had pretty much drank away any last functioning brain cells she had left. And what she did next, was proof of just that.

While in the bathroom on her knees...which may be a clue as to how she misread puking from drinking too much, to her being pregnant. Being on her knees may of triggered a flashback memory from the prior evening's late night activities? Anyway, while in the bathroom on her knees, she saw a white strip on the counter, which she thought to be a pregnancy test. So she peed on it. When finished, she came out of the bathroom and showed it to her friends in hopes they could figure out the test result.

According to EPT (the "Error Proof Test" or for many it should be the "Idiot Proof Test") reading your results are very simple. 2 lines, you're pregnant. 1 line, you're not pregnant (and don't ask me how I know that). Sounds simple, right? Well when this drunk girl took the pregnancy test, the test results were awfully hard to determine. That's because it turned out to be an iPod Nano, not a pregnancy test stick! She peed on a iPod Nana! I have to admit there is a similarity between an iPod Nano and an EPT stick. Ok, not really and I hate to admit I've seen worse. So what happened to the iPod? It stopped working, obviously. The owner tried to send it in for warranty repairs, only to be informed that "the warranty does not cover pee-related damage". Can you believe Apple doesn't cover pee-related damage? Next you will tell me Apple doesn't cover something like puke-related damaged products! Now it's just absurd that Apple hasn't done something to insure bodily fluids are fully covered in all iPod warranties.

And what happened to the girl you ask? I don't know if she turned out to be pregnant or not, but who really cares? With that embarrassing true tale of hers floating around the net, it's probably safe to assume she won't be showing her face out in public for awhile. She will resort to getting drunk at home. Of course things could be worse. She should be happy she isn't the doctor that told one family their daughter is dead and another family their daughter is in a coma, only later to discover he had the daughters mixed up! That's actually not funny at all, but this is...

What about the black swan that fell deeply in love with a white swan only to learn their love could never be! No, there isn't any racial swan discrimination law. White and black swans alike can all drink out of the same water fountain, I mean lake. The heart break is the swooning swan doesn't realize he is trying to swoon a paddle boat! Yes, a giant sized wooden paddle boat made to look like a beautiful white swan. Apparently looks can be deceiving and he has fallen for her bodacious "carved" feathers. Aww. I feel for this little guy. Moral of the story...life can be a bitch, but that's why there's alcohol. Now go drink and be merry. And where is that love sick swan? I want to buy him a drink. I think he could use it when I break the news to him.

6 New Year's Resolutions For 2006 & 6 Wishes For 6/6/06

I'm a little belated, actually I'm very belated, in stating my New Year's Resolutions for 2006. I may be 6 months late with this post, but in a way, this is the perfect day to post this. Today marks the dreaded 666 on calendars and despite the superstition that surrounds this day, I'm hoping that today brings me a little luck. If not luck, then perhaps some hope for the future and a clearer idea of what I'm striving for in the upcoming 6 months and a reminder of what I've accomplished in the past 6 months. I actually started compiling this short New Year's Resolution post back in January, but for whatever reasons, I sat it on the back burner (and if you read my list below, it's about the only thing I know how to put on a burner). So some of these resolutions may of already been reached and some of these wishes may of already been granted, but I'm including them because...well just because. I don't need to share my "because" reasons.

By the way, "do not procrastinate" was one of my original resolutions before I realized that making "do not procrastinate" a New Year's resolution and then putting off actually declaring it for 6 months defeats the purpose of having it as a resolution in the first place. Deep thought, huh? Anyway, I don't want to procrastinate another minute rambling, so here is the list...

6 New Year's Resolutions For 2006

• make a conscious effort not to ramble
• learn to cook
• get my Masters from Carnegie Mellon
• when the time comes, find the strength to say goodbye to my childhood dog, a final unselfish act of love
• fly 3,000 miles to cheer my sister on when she runs her first LA marathon
• continue to shed any negativity in my life...they may choose to be ugly on the inside, I just don't have to endure it

6 Wishes For 6/6/06

• fall in love with a really great girl
• hmm...
• umm...
• I'm realizing something...
• that anything I could wish for, I could achieve without "magic"...
• but that one thing.

Nike + iPod = A Match Made In Heaven...Or Hell

It's time to lace up your Nikes and sync up your iPod because a new marriage between Apple and Nike will have your iPod barking out orders to your feet! That will then trigger your unmotivated ass into whipping the rest of your body into shape. Sounds fun, right? Apple is teaming up with Nike to cross-promote sneakers and iPods. The footwear and earwear giants are soon launching a new line of iPod-compatible sneakers, plus a wireless pedometer-cum-connection-kit that pumps exercise feedback into runners' ears. In non-tech terms, your sneakers are finally going to talk to you! Your Nike Airs will now be coaching you! If it's anything like the uplifting and inspirational words my 7th grade football coach spewed, my shoes will say something like "You stink" or "Faster fat ass!" (Note: I did stink in 7th grade football, but I wasn't a fat ass. Just a FYI, not that anyone asked or cared to know.)

The Nike+iPod cross promotion encourages runners to buy a new pair of Nike+ sneakers, which have a little pocket for a wireless sensor. The wireless sensor is part of a $30 Nike+iPod Sport Kit from Apple, which is expected to ship within 60 days. The Nike+iPod Sport Kit also includes a small receiver that plugs into the dock connector on the bottom of the iPod. Out on the road, the sensor sends data about time, distance and pace to the iPod. This then provides unspecified "workout-based voice feedback" while you run. Presumably, it's encouraging...or so we can only hope.

Back at home, the iPod uploads the exercise data to your Mac or PC. It then syncs with iTunes and the NikePlus website which records runs and sets goals. In addition, sporty iMixes, chosen and introduced by top athletes, will be available for download. The site will also allow runners to challenge each other to "virtual races" and download time or distance-based workout routines. Ah yes, competition...NOW you have my interest, considering the fact that I'm a competitive freak!

According to Apple's website (www.apple.com/ipod/nike), you don’t just take iPod on your run. You let it take you. Music is your motivation. Nike+iPod becomes your coach. Your personal trainer. Your favorite workout companion. Until this product hits store shelves, I think I will continue to reminisce about cruel Coach K cussing in my ear at the tender age of 12. He had such a way with words. It truly warmed the heart - sigh.

Tech News and Random Ramblings v2.0

I'm working on a new template/layout for my blog. With time permitting and if all goes well, I hope to have it implemented by the end of the month. I'm throwing around a couple different looks, but haven't settled on anything just yet. Ideally, I would like to work with a professional web designer who could create something for me that I see in my head, but they could produce on paper. Then of course eventually code it. So if anyone out there would like to work with me on it, let me know. If not, then I'm going to do my best to design something myself. Wish me luck!

Scarred

A scar lets you know the past was real. There was a time. There was a place. There was a turning point in your life. As it passed, a scar formed. It began the healing process. Scars. Little remaining reminders that it wasn't a figment of your imagination. Reminding us of mistakes, accidents and incidents that left their mark on us physically, mentally and of course emotionally. We often add makeup to cover the scars, pretending they matter not. A phony mask that tells the world we have healed. The reality is the pain has faded, but we will never forget the reason we have these permanent defects. Defects? I rather think of them as "bravery badges". A certificate proving you have heart. You have character. Unique and beautiful in your own way. Scars that compose and even compliment the very makeup of who you are.

If you are lucky and if you are strong, you have the power to overcome. Most scars fade over time, but what about the ones that linger on? Prominent reminders of the pain you once endured. The same pain you still feel today, but hopefully to a lesser degree. And what about the scars that have faded? They too can be just as prominent...but only in your own head. Nobody sees these scars, but yet you still carry them, buried deep in your heart. Insecurity, self loathing, low self worth, anxiety and depression. All the ugly bitterness. Memories you placed in a box. Tucking it away inside your head, closing the lid. If you dare to re-open the box and peer inside, you will realize it doesn't help. Dwelling on those times just feeds the wounds. Festering like a dirty open sore. Does it ever really fade away? Even the deepest, most filthy cuts? Does time really heal all wounds? Or is that something Hallmark just wants you to buy into?

If I can make scars, do I have the power to heal them? Do I have the power to heal scars created by another before me? It would be amazing if I could lightly trace the scarred line with the tip of my finger. With each passing inch, my finger would act as a magic eraser. Not only removing the thin purplish line, but healing what lies beneath the skin. It is a power I wish to hold. Now that be a wonderful gift to be granted!