Clear as Mud

Last night's Pacquiao-Marquez fight, which some people have called "controversial," was a Rorschach test for viewers.

The choice of words is curious to me, because while i believe it was "close," i disagree on the "controversy."  For every person who says that Pacquiao "clearly" won, there's probably and equal number who would say he "clearly" lost.  In both cases, it's really only as clear as mud, which is why we needed the judges to render a verdict.  

I personally agreed with the judges on this one (my opinion on the scoring was near-identical with the "Lederman Scorecard"), and i think that while Pacquiao's inability to beat the feisty Marquez to a pulp was a disappointment, it is not enough reason to award the win to the latter. The fight went down the wire, and in the end the judges did what they were supposed to do: they judged based on how they thought it should be judged.  On this particular night, they thought that more punches taken/landed made the better fighter, so Pacquiao won.  If they had felt that better defense and more counter-punching would have been a better benchmark, then Marquez would have won.  

It's a little weird to me to take the booing crowd into consideration.  More people sang the Mexican National Anthem than the Lupang Hinirang; doesn't that in itself indicate that the audience consisted of either more (or more vocal)  Mexicans than Filipinos?  Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate.  Personally, i'm looking forward to the fourth installment on this one.  

Fall Fun with Knives

So this year, we carved a pumpkin for the first time.

Despite having been in the US for 7 years, we never completely got into the Fall/Halloween thing.  I've always been mildly interested in carving a pumpkin, but owing to laziness and cheapness (i didn't want to spring $$$ for the fruit), i never tried.  Well, after this season's trip to Koetsier's, we managed to score a free small pumpkin that was allegedly "good for carving and for making pies," so we decided to finally go for it.

The procedure is actually quite simple.

Use a sharp knife!   

Take off the top.

Nobody told us that it would be yucky.  

Scoop out the insides.

Mark out the design.  Since this was my first outing, i decided on a basic one. 

Gouge out the eyes. 

Pose for the camera!

Final step - carve out the nose and mouth! 

It should be an enjoyable endeavor. 

Nice and creepy when the lights are off! 

For extra creepiness, add a sad child to your Halloween decor. 

Roid Rave

I just started steroids, and i feel great!

For the first time in what seems like an eternity, i woke up this morning with NO PAIN in my Achilles tendon, just a mild stiffness that quickly went away with some stretching.  It's probably from getting my Dexamethasone Iontophoresis yesterday afternoon.

To be more precise, my steroid is not the (alleged) Barry Bonds type of steroid, which would be more of the androgenic/anabolic kind, but rather a glucocorticoid, which fights inflammation and causes a host of other effects when taken systemically.  This is significant difference, as when people hear the word "steroid," it evokes plenty of (undeserved) negative connotations.  I myself actually grew up deathly afraid of steroids, having grown up with the phrase, "Naku, naka-steroids ka na!" ("Oh no, you're on steroids now!") from various sources whenever i got a severe asthma attack.  Only much later (in medical school) did i realize those people probably didn't - and maybe still don't - understand what steroids are and what they do.  Not all steroids make you big, beefy, and angry.  Used with a clearly defined indication, dose, and duration - they can actually provide significant relief of symptoms.

So i'm supposed to get around five to six treatments delivered locally through the iontophoresis patch, and if it works - perhaps another six.  I'm optimistic right now, but i'd like to see what happens when it wears off.  I'm also a tad bit skeptical because the treatment seems odd: Astym to promote inflammation, but steroids to calm it down?  Ummm...  But anyway, i am trusting my therapist to know what he's doing.  I personally know how annoying it can be to have your opinion questioned by somebody else in a semi-related medical field, so i'm trying hard not to be "that" patient.  Onward!

Ouch

So today i had my first PT session.  It overall wasn't too bad, mostly a lot of information-gathering on the therapist's part with some exercises thrown in for good measure.  The worst part was when "massaged" my left calf using a treatment called Astym.

That treatment is borderline horrendous - at least for me.  It essentially consists of mashing plastic implements deep enough into your skin to hit whatever's underneath, and then pushing said plastic implements along the direction of the muscle fibers.  As explained to me, the underlying principle is to stimulate the body's inflammatory response, hopefully promoting healing of the deeper tissues.

As far as stimulating an inflammatory response, i can attest to it somewhat because at times it truly felt like my leg was on fire.  I half-expected to find my calf skinned, raw, and bleeding at the end of the session.  Surprisingly, my Achilles was fine - it was every other nerve ending that was screaming out in pain.

Hopefully it gets better and i don't feel like i'm getting flayed the next time.  And even if i do - i'm willing to tough it out if the end justifies the means.  My therapist seems optimistic though, and thinks he can get me to finish a turkey trot next month.  We'll see.

The Source

In all honesty, things have not been right since the marathon.  Little aches and pains have been popping up here and there with annoying regularity.  But the worst has been my left Achilles tendon.  It first hit me in May, a little before the Riverbank Run.  Since then i've tried NSAIDs, ice, and prolonged (up to two weeks) rest, all to no avail.  Two weeks ago i finally relented and went back to see the Orthopedic surgeon.  He set me up for an MRI, and finally found Achilles tendinosis.

Not being an orthopod myself, i had to go look it up (do not click this link if you're squeamish, as it contains pictures of someone's ankle being dissected).  Apparently it's a chronic condition associated with gradual degeneration of the Achilles tendon, resulting from microtears related to overuse.  

It's more than a little disappointing to me, as i've previously speculated that i may just not be built for the activity that i've come to love - running.  Well, at least i don't have to have surgery (yet)... for now i'll be going to physical therapy, hopefully to rehab the injury away and get me back up and running (pun intended).  Maybe, just maybe - i'll be able to do the 25k in the spring before we move to Pittsburgh.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 

Awesome (C. Diff, Part 2 of 2)

The "alternative treatment" is actually fairly simple and one that homeopaths would probably appreciate.

Since the problem is caused by a dearth of normal gut flora (bacteria), the solution would naturally be to re-populate the colon with good germs.  And where else to get the good germs that normally reside in your colon but... in somebody else's healthy feces.

The procedure is as follows*: take a little over an ounce of a healthy person's poop (about half the size of a large Snickers bar), mix with two ounces of normal saline, and blend on high until nice and smooth.  Run the mixture through a coffee filter twice, and administer the elixir through a nasogastric tube (i've heard of it instilled via colonsocopy as well).  The recipient must have prepped beforehand with a few days worth of vancomycin and a few doses of omeprazole (very important steps, as you don't want to have to do it again because you forgot to prep the poor patient!).

I've never had the privilege of doing this procedure, but i believe some of the Infectious Disease doctors in our institution have had success with it.  Due to the "ick" factor, it's often a treatment of last resort - prior to calling a surgeon and taking the whole diseased colon out.

This is extremely is fascinating to me, as it illustrates important dichotomies in medicine: antibiotics, powerful drugs that can save lives, can also cause horrible disease and death.  And feces, shunned as disgusting and a vector of disease, can actually promote health and life.  Truly, in many things, there are both awful and awesome sides that need to be respected and understood.

Anyway, the mere mention of Snickers has made me hungry enough for a snack...

After a hard day's work of curing disease and saving lives, one has to unwind with a nice snack.

Mmmm, Snickers (a full two ounces worth).

Chocolate milk to wash it down.  

Got milk? 

*Source: Aas, et al. Recurrent Clostridium difficile Colitis: Case Series Involving 18 Patients Treated with Donor Stool Administered via a Nasogastric Tube. Clin Infect Dis. (2003) 36 (5):580-585.  Link to the article.

Awful (C. Diff, Part 1 of 2)

Antibiotics are not harmless.  

This may come as a shock to some people.  After all, antibiotics kill germs, and germs cause disease. So what's wrong with that?  

A lot, actually.  

For one, the antibiotic you're given may not kill all of your bad germs.  The ones that are left can develop drug resistance (essentially, immunity to the antibiotic) and/or cause an even nastier infection.  

One of the bad infections i've come across is from an organism called Clostridium difficile, which is somewhat affectionately referred to as "C. Diff."  In short, if you've used antibiotics recently and have killed enough good germs in your gut, C. Diff can gleefully step in, take over your colon, and obliterate it.  

One of the hallmark symptoms is diarrhea.  Not just in the soft-and-could-use-a-little-more-bulk-poop kind of way, but in the belly-hurting, toe-curling, run-to-the-bathroom, explosive-and-sometimes-bloody kind of way.  Imagine doing that once after an ill-advised trip to the Chinese buffet.  Then imagine doing it fifteen times in one night.  See what i mean by "obliterate?"  

(Interestingly, when i was in the RP, C. Diff struck me as kind of a semi-mythical beast, like PE (pulmonary embolism), which was only typically talked about in CPCs (clinico-pathologic conferences).  Or maybe i just wasn't exposed enough.)  

Left unchecked, this type of infection can kill not just your social life, but YOU.  So it's always important to talk to your healthcare provider about whether or not antibiotics are really needed for your current illness, or if you can fix it with just rest and fluids.  It's not advisable to press him or her for them "just in case it helps."  

Thankfully, there is a treatment for C. Diff, if not a guaranteed cure.  But ironically, it mostly consists of... more antibiotics.  If however this treatment didn't work (or if you just flat-out refused to take any more antibiotics - which i'm certainly not advocating, since they do have their place), there is another way that is near and dear to my heart.  

TO BE CONCLUDED

A Big Milk Letdown

Although i'm not a fan of sweets, one of the things i absolutely cannot resist is good pastillas de leche (literally - "pills of milk").  Done well, it can be exceptionally rewarding: a delicate interplay of creaminess and sweetness one one's tongue that can bring tears to anyone's eyes.  I recently had the privilege of tasting such divine creations at a friend's birthday party (i literally gorged myself on the wonderful stuff), but i digress.

During this year's annual trip to the Philippines, while deciding what pasalubong (homecoming gifts) to bring people back to the US, we happened upon a stall in Greenhills selling local "delicacies."  Among its stock were boxes of pastillas de leche, just begging to be bought in bulk and carted off overseas.  It looked more than decent, with a tasteful picture on the outside showing off the candy in all its glory.  So we bought a box to sample...

And were underwhelmed.   

Don't get me wrong - it tasted just as wonderful as i expected it to, but all the milk and sugar in the world can't make up for the bad taste in the mouth caused by deceptive packaging.  

The piece of candy on the lower right hand corner (did you miss it?) is the ACTUAL SIZE!
Don't buy from these dishonest A-holes!

Oh well, at least it only cost me PhP70.  But despite my disappointment, i'm still better off than this little girl: 

There should be a law against this sort of thing... or if there already is, they should enforce it better.  

Bad Memories

PREFACE: Early last month i received an email from the Educational Commission for Foreign Medical Graduates (ECFMG) soliciting narrative contributions for their Acculturation Program.  As a self-identified victim of a "clash of cultures" early on, i thought my input might be valuable.  I banged this piece out this afternoon and immediately sent it in.  I don't know if it'll actually be accepted (i'm suspicious that it won't - it's mostly storytelling with little in the way of advice), but i thought i'd post it here anyway.

-------------

“Lost” is an understatement for the way I felt during my first month of Internship. 

Having come into the US only a week before, I was quite literally a stranger in a strange land.  True, I was already a practicing GP in the Philippines, spoke English fairly well, and had been in the US twice before (for my CSA and Residency interviews), but the shock of starting on my floor rotation with just a half-day orientation was like being thrown into the deep end of the pool with a guidebook on swimming tossed in as an afterthought. 

It wasn’t the Medicine itself that was the issue – but rather everything else.  My previous exposure had only been to third-world medicine: unquestioning allegiance to consultants (even when wrong), minimal charting, no EMR, TB as a differential for everything, diagnostic studies not done due to expense, suboptimal therapy given for financial considerations, and NO DISCUSSION OF CODE STATUS.  But here, everything was evidence-based, no stone was left unturned, money was almost inconsequential, and code status was always, ALWAYS addressed on admission. 

Unfortunately, my senior Resident – who I looked up to as God, was no help.  Queried about the basics, such as “Why are all these people on subcutaneous heparin?” he would look at me disgustedly and say “Just do it!”  Between my sheer bewilderment and lack of strong supervision, I consider it a minor miracle that I didn’t kill anyone. 

And that was just in the hospital.  After work, I still had to stress over getting my social security number, fixing my immigration papers (my DS-2019 had mysteriously vanished), stocking my apartment, and buying a car – with only a barely-functional social support system, as my blushing bride was on the other side of the globe working on her own immigration stuff and my closest relative lived four hours away.  Getting around was in itself a challenge; I didn't know how to get anywhere and didn't even understand how to get through a four-way stop.  

Thankfully, it all worked out in the end.  With time and voracious reading, my knowledge bubbled to the surface and my synapses made the connection between third- and first-world (read: uninhibited by poverty) medicine.  I got my social security card.  USCIS issued a new DS-2019.  I bought a “new” used car.  Before the end of the month, my wife arrived and made me whole again.  And then we went shopping and stocked the apartment. 

Although I never considered self-mutilation, there were times that month that I felt my mind teetering dangerously close to depression.  Whenever that happened, I just doubled-down and worked harder – another legacy of third-world medicine.  But I wonder how much of my stress could have been alleviated by a simple helping hand. 

I’m happy to report that in the seven years since I arrived in the US, our Residency program has made a better effort to reach out to new Interns, reducing their workload and assigning “guardian angels” to help out in their first week.  There is now also a longer orientation.  Because of my own experience, I try to be more attuned to the Interns’ stress levels and try to actively mentor them early on.  I hope other programs out there also appreciate how starting Residency can radically change an IMG's entire world, and show appropriate understanding and sensitivity.  

Hello to Buyer's Remorse

Many moons ago, i talked about the PS3 being money well-spent.  It's taken me almost a year, but i realize now that it is in actuality a "poison pill."

My problem is that the damned machine does its job too well.  It truly does everything, which translates into a huge time-suck away from active productive pursuits (e.g. blogging) into passive consumption of entertainment (e.g. Netlifx, BD, and games).  I blamed my mental constipation (read: lack of interest in blogging) solely on the "great weight" that was my fellowship application, completely ignoring the fact that my creative juices had almost completely dried up from playing God of War, watching back episodes of No Reservations, and enjoying masterpieces like The Human Centipede (First Sequence).  It's not the machine's fault, of course; the predicament is my own doing.

Bah, never again.  Now that i've identified the problem, i can direct my attention to it (or, in this particular circumstance, AWAY from it).

Enema administered, let the diarrhea begin.

Silently it waits, with the single red light staring at me like the unblinking Eye of Sauron.

Shifting Back into Gear

And so the final chapter begins.

Late last year, a convergence of circumstances jarred me out of the complacency i'd been lulled into since graduating from residency.  Life was good - and would probably continue to be so for the foreseeable future - but it was time to move on.  So i decided to try my hand at getting into a Pulmonary Critical Care Medicine (PCCM) fellowship.

My friends know that i haven't always wanted to do PCCM.  For most of my medical career, i wanted to do Hematology.  But after some soul-searching and re-examination of priorities/aptitudes/interests/skillsets, i realized that what i truly want to do is down-in-the-trenches, hands-on hyperacute internal medicine founded on a solid, procedurally-inclined subspecialty base.  PCCM FTW!

(This is not without precedent, as i had spent most of my medical school wanting to do Trauma Surgery, which i ultimately decided wasn't all that i thought it would be.)

The beginning of the process was laced with hubris.  I thought i was prime beef, the shiznit.  But as the months dragged on and the response rate to my application turned out to be considerably less than overwhelming, i began to fill with quiet despair.  At some point i decided to keep my intentions under wraps, mainly to avoid embarrassment if i didn't get in anywhere.  Not that my self-esteem is extremely fragile, but i didn't want to have to explain/speculate why i didn't match over and over and over.

So June 15 came and went, and i found out that all my worry was for naught.  I matched to a great program in a great city - Pittsburgh! - and now my anxiety has been replaced by its more pleasant cousin: excitement.  Our family's Grand Rapids sojourn ends next June, and over the next three years we can finish writing what is hopefully the final chapter in this Dugyot's adventures in the USA.

Yup, from where i'm standing, the future looks bright.

Bright, indeed.  (Picture taken in Batanes, not Pittsburgh)

P.S. Thanks to all the well-wishers and supporters! 

Life is Good

So this has been a good week so far.  Except for the fact that Miami lost... but depending on when your week starts (i.e. Sunday vs. Monday), that might still be considered part of last week. 

I just finished nights, which is always good. 

I'm running four-milers again on a consistent basis with little or no pain, and am slated to rack up twenty miles by the end of this week. 

I've been spending quality time (well, watching movies - to each his own) with Gianina.  Two superhero movies down so far (X-Men and Thor).  

My new Android phone is working better than expected (more on this later).  

And oh yeah... I matched. 

I'm Rich!

I finally got my lucky break!  I got this in my email yesterday:

Woohoo!  Now i can stop working and finally retire into a life of luxury! 

So long, suckers! 

28:42

Yesterday i finished the Fifth Third River Bank Run 5k in 28:42.

Apropos that it was raining the whole time, as it was a disappointing finish that capped an  unfortunate series of interconnected circumstances.

I had been wanting to do the 25k, but because of my skiing mishap two months ago (which completely demolished my training schedule), had to shoot for doing the 10k instead.

In trying to get back into my groove after being cleared by my Orthopedic surgeon, i developed horrible left Achilles pain (i'm going to call it "Achilles tendinitis" for lack of a better term, even though i think it kind of implies that i'm more of an athlete than i really am) which limited my ability to rack up the miles.  It still hurts after every run, and consequently i haven't even hit 10 miles per week.

At least i finished under 30 minutes at a semi-decent pace of 9:15, which i consider to be more of a consolation prize (for context, my PR is 27:09).  It looks like i still have a fitness base to work from, but what kills me is the idea that i could have done the whole 25k at an even faster pace had i not been sidetracked.  Or at least set a new PR, maybe even under 25 minutes (wouldn't that be something!).

Bah.  Although i am given to introspection, i only allow myself a few minutes for self-pity.  At least i've run one of the Fifth Third races, which i've always wanted to do but have never found the time to.  And this Achilles pain definitely needs to be dealt with decisively so i can finish that elusive sub-4 marathon this year.  Onward!

Ethnocentric

Part of the job description of raising Adrian to be a good Filipino citizen is enculturation; that is, to raise him with a Filipino mindset.  Of course, he is both Filipino and American, but i think the American worldview will permeate his (along with everyone else's) consciousness regardless of anything we do (that's also a political comment, but i will end there).

There are times when it feels like a losing battle, but there are also times when the Pinoy in him shines through, such as the time we were browsing through the magazines in Barnes and Noble and i quizzed him about who was on the cover of "Famous Monsters of Filmland."

 

"Anak, sino yun? (My son, who is that?)"

The answer, of course, is "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," aka "the Dark Lord," aka Lord Voldemort.

My Filipino son's answer?  After a second's consideration: "ZUMA!"

 

The immortal Max Laurel playing the title role in "Zuma" (1985).

Zing!

The First Mile

Today, i ran a mile.  I feel good. 

It's something that i'd been looking forward to with equal parts excitement and trepidation ever since the unfortunate incident that injured my left knee a little over a month ago. 

The past 30 days have been eye-opening.  I didn't realize how important running was to me until i was suddenly, violently forced to stop it.  Aside from the persistent limp, my body was strangely alien.  I felt bloated and heavy.  My sleep was erratic and my mood mildly depressed (too depressed to blog about it, even).  The worst part came when weather started to warm up: once i saw more people running along the sidewalks i could do nothing but burn up with envy and frustration.  But there is an endpoint, and at least my injury was minor, requiring no surgical intervention.  Despite the difficulty i had to endure, it was temporary; i can only imagine the horror people go through when the functio laesa is permanent.  

Everything was nice and familiar: the gentle rhythmic tapping of the soles of my Mizunos hitting the pavement, the steady thumping of my heartbeat to the pleasant exertion, the quickening of my breath as i picked up the pace.  For an admittedly non-athletic person (with a body full of "factory defects" as i jokingly refer to my shortcomings), it feels good get "back in the groove," or - more accurately - to actually have a groove to get back to.  Now i won't be able to do the upcoming 25K Riverbank Run, but perchance i'll be up to the 10K. 

Things are definitely looking up.  When i started my run, the sky was a solid wall of cloudy gray.  Somewhere towards the end, the sun peeked through and started to bathe me in its warm glow.  It felt perfect: a cool relaxing run on a sunny afternoon.  It was as if Nature itself was trying to tell me: No need to worry, everything's going to be all right.

More Injurious Behavior... with a Comic Interlude

I think i injured myself skiing today.

It was supposed to be our last hurrah for the winter.  With the weather warming up and Daylight Savings Time expiring tonight, the timing was perfect.

And in deference to El Cheapo, we also used a Crystal Mountain Groupon.

Unfortunately, during one of our runs - on a measly green slope! - i wiped out and twisted my left knee.  The medial knee pain was immediate, but fortunately subsided by the time the "Ski Patrol" arrived, hence i avoided the indignity of being carted away by a snowmobile.  Actually, i was still able to ambulate and get in a few more (green) runs after then.

But the pain just kept getting worse.  And by the time we got to the house, i was hobbling around like... well, House.  Sans the Vicodin.

On diagnosing myself, i think it's most likely a medial collateral ligament tear... a minor one.  The worst case scenario would be a medial meniscus injury, which would be devastating.

(Yes, i am a hypochondriac.  I looked up "hypochondriac" and i have all the symptoms.)

Oh well, only time will tell.

On a lighter note, we were at least able to watch part of the "Slush Cup" before we left.  To sum up what it is - people ski/snowboard down a slope and try to make it over a decent-sized man-made body of water.  Predictably, most people didn't make it.





Every once in a while, somebody is able to do it... and in spectacular fashion:



Well, even if i sustained a horrible injury (although at this point it's still uncertain just how horrible), at least i was entertained. 

iPad 2!

Dinner Theater

A few months ago, Gianina bought a Groupon to a "Murder Mystery" dinner at Brann's Steakhouse.  Since we've never been to either one, we thought it'd be a good way to hit the proverbial two birds. 

Well, the dinner was tonight.  In a nutshell, members of the audience - while enjoying dinner - are assigned certain characters to play (complete with biographies) and tasked to solve a murder.

I was expecting to just sit back and be entertained.  But as is the usual case when i try to mind my own business, i was accosted by a member of the cast and made to become part of the show.

The character i played was named Sylous.  The name evokes fond memories of the NBC show "Heroes," but alas Sylous is nowhere as cool as Sylar.  Instead, he is the sleazy purveyor of a pornographic periodical called "The Naked Ankle."

 (I forgot to mention that the mystery is set in the late 1920s.  Apparently exposed ankles were considered pretty titillating back then.)

Like the hat?

It makes me wonder how they selected members of the audience to be part of their "cast."  Generally, people looked their part.  A burly gentleman was cast sort of a "mob enforcer" and the guy who played the milkman looked... well, like a milkman.  I guess there's just something creepy about me that screams "sleazebag!" 

I won't spoil the story by going into details.  Suffice to say that it was moderately entertaining, especially if you try to get into it.  I even finished the night with some recognition for my efforts.

 Did you miss it?  Here's a bigger version:

Note: although it says "The" Best Actor, there were actually two of us.

 All i can say is.... lol. 

Anyway, in case anyone's interested, there's still shows going on at Brann's until early March.  It also looks like they're doing events all over the country.  Check them out here. 

Rude, Lazy, Disengaged

I saw it on Good Morning America a few days ago (link to ABC News here).  A teacher in Pennsylvania named Natalie Munroe was excessively candid in her blog (which has since been taken down and replaced with this one) and called some of her students "rude, lazy, disengaged whiners."  Other quotable quotes in describing the students in question include, "although academically okay, your child has no other redeeming qualities," and "a complete and utter jerk in all ways."

I take exception to this.  I was never a whiner.

I can however attest to the fact that i truly was a complete and utter jerk to most of my teachers in high school.  I thought i was cooler, smarter, and had more money than those losers standing up front.  I am now of course older and wiser (please click here for context), but this in no way mitigates my abhorrent behavior in my younger years.

Whether how i acted is a fair representation of all high school students or not is a moot point, because let's face it: kids can be a-holes.  Sometimes - que horror! - they might even pick this up from their overprotective parents.  So instead of shooting the messenger who tells us what we already know, we should reflect on the message and figure out how we can make it better.

Another Reason to Teach the Kids Filipino

Back in 2006, when i was still fairly active posting on doktorko.com, i wrote a blog post called "Why Can't Filipino-Americans Speak Filipino?"  It was (if i may say so myself) a decently-researched, fairly coherent rant lamenting the Filipino parent's apparent lack of interest in teaching his/her American-raised children their mother tongue.  The original post can be found here.  (I've actually imported it into this blog as well, but i'd like to send some traffic Dr. Barias' way.)

Anyway, the evidence seems to keep coming in.  Now they're saying that being bilingual could possibly stave off Alzheimer's disease.

I guess these kids will have just one more reason to complain when they grow up.  On the upside, they might forget their angst when they hit sixty.

Inappropriate?

Since Gianina is in Chicago towards the end of every week, Adrian and i have made Thursdays our "Boys Night Out."  While the night's activities are never set in stone - sometimes we just stay in and watch a DVD, and sometimes we go to the mall - we typically go out for dinner before deciding on what else to do.

This week we went to the local Quaker Steak and Lube for some chicken.  Aside from being neglected for five minutes after sitting down at our table (try listening to a toddler saying "I'm thirsty" incessantly for five minutes, and you'll know how it can seem like an eternity), dinner was uneventful.  I did however espy something odd going on at the bar:

Missed it?  Let me point it out for you:

That guy is reading his Amazon Kindle... while sitting at the bar, where everyone else is watching sports and having a good time.   

Now, i know it's a free country, but it just seemed weird to me.  In this increasingly digital world, the sheer technological aspect may make this slightly more acceptable.  But, translating it into its analog counterpart - walking into a sports bar, sitting down to order a beer (and maybe some hot wings), and then suddenly whipping out a pocketbook (or worse, a textbook) - reveals how simply ridiculous it is.

It makes me wonder about the other inappropriate stuff that's slowly seeping into our lives, mainly because technology has outpaced social conventions: checking email and playing games while at a business meeting, ignoring common courtesy when conversing online, and interrupting real-world interactions to answer a call on our nifty little bluetooth headsets.

Of course the latter example crosses beyond simple inappropriateness into the realm of actual douchebaggery, but that's exactly the point: technology may be cool, but unless we put it in its place, we'll all just end up douchebags.  Or dorks who read Kindles at the sports bar.

El Cheapo Does Blu-Ray

The hidden cost of buying the PS3 is buying stuff to actually play/watch on the thing.  Being a new format, blu-ray as a medium is still fairly expensive.  But not to be beaten, El Cheapo is still on the hunt to get the best deals possible.

This weekend, Barnes & Noble emailed out coupons with major discounting power.  The range: 10% (meh) all the way up to 50% (wow!).  Of course, El Cheapo managed to snag the 50% one.  To further sweeten the pot, they also had a "Buy Two, Get One Free" promo for DVDs and BDs.  Unable to resist, off i went to B&N.  

In total, i picked up a mix of box sets and individual BDs:  

1. The Matrix Ultimate Collection (actually also had an additional 10% off!) 

2. Batman Begins Limited Edition Giftset 

3. The Dark Knight.  

Yes, i know this says a lot about my taste in movies. 

List price (including tax, but minus the 10% Matrix discount): $114.97. 

For comparison, Amazon price (no tax, natch): $78.47.

The El Cheapo price (including tax): $57.48.

Booyah!  

Cashier: "Congratulations!  You got 50% off!"
El Cheapo (with evil grin): Muhahahahahaha! 

Tenth?

Apparently the Newsweek article i posted yesterday has hit a nerve (please note that i'm not claiming credit for publicizing article, simply referencing the fact that i also posted it).  Clicking on Grand Rapids and scrolling down into the comments section reveals plenty of righteous indignation.  I guess i wasn't alone in my assessment (mostly based on gut feel) that Grand Rapids isn't on its last legs. 

A guy named Paul Jendrasiak - who is significantly less ambivalent about this article than me - has actually put up a Facebook page wherein he invites a reporter from Newsweek to come to GR and find out the real scoop.  It's not a bad idea, but let's see if there's actually any takers.  Despite protests from El Cheapo - i'd be willing to help fund that. 

Tenth!

So apparently Grand Rapids now has the distinction of being one of America's "dying cities," at least according to Newsweek.  We're number ten! 

I personally would call that into question, seeing as how our provider group has seen a significant explosion in hiring recently.  Downtown seems to be picking up too, with an increase in the number of upscale restaurants and bars.  There's also a significant influx of people with the Artprize, although truthfully it's doubtful that many of those people stay for good.  Oh well, there's really no point in fighting cold hard facts with my anecdotal experience. 

Other cities on the list:

9. Flint, MI
8. South Bend, IN
7. Detroit, MI
6. Pittsburgh, PA
5. Cleveland, OH
4. Rochester, NY
3. Hialeah, FL
2. Vallejo, CA
1. New Orleans, LA

Fun in the Snow

It took six years, but Gianina and i have finally gotten around to enjoying the Michigan winter.  I guess what it really took was to have an irrepressible toddler running around and insisting that we play in the snow - despite his parents' protests.

This past weekend saw me construct my first snowman ever... or maybe i should say snowBOY because of the size.  In my defense, there was a lack of good "packing" snow, so i was relegated to packing the powdery white stuff and wetting it with melted water from a nearby drain (from the roof - not standing water) in order to maintain structural integrity.

"Is this snowball big enough, papa?"  

Showing off my carefully constructed snowball, which will eventually serve as the snowman's body. 

Adrian carefully packing the snowball while i collect some water. 

Pouring water on the snowball to help solidify the outside layer.

 

At last we can put the head on.  Careful, it might explode.

A successful capitation! 

The finished product!  Don't knock it - it's harder than it looks.

This weekend also had us "tubing" down the slopes of a big empty piece of land in front of a local church.  A short, steep drop only good for a few seconds thrill - an a minute's walk uphill to do it again - but hey, nothing beats near and free.

On top of the world! 

Zooming down the hill at breakneck speed.  And the two spectators can hardly contain their excitement.

Pulling the tube back for another go.  Not fun, but someone's gotta do it.

Another run down the hill while the proud father looks on.  

We'll probably go skiing again in a week or so.  Hopefully muscle memory kicks in and we won't fall as much...

Wandering Eyes

So today in church the sermon was about relationships.  Briefly, the pastor talked about how dating sites like eharmony and match.com are on the rise.  In passing, he mentioned a similar site for people who are already married, which goes by the catchy slogan: "Life is short, have an affair."

While he was nice enough to not mention the site by name, a quick google search leads one to the site ashleymadison.com.  I've never heard of this site before, but apparently it caused quite a stir when it put up a billboard in West Hollywood as part of an advertising campaign three years ago.  I haven't actually entered their site (you have to sign up for that), but i personally find it funny that one of their come ons is "Have an affair... guaranteed!"

I guess there's a lot of unhappy people out there.  Doing quick google searches on affairs and even swingers yields a bunch of resources (mostly sponsored links, some local) where the unhappy spouse could potentially go looking.  Wow.

Whatever floats your boat, i guess.



EDITORIAL COMMENT: For the record, i am happily married to a beautiful, smart, funny, thoughtful, caring, understanding (of course she would have to be, she married me!), sexy, passionate woman.  Her name is Gianina.  I love her and will love her for the rest of my life.  And if i never have to use these sites, it'll be too soon.

"Will you... learn to cook adobo for me?"

Man in Tights

Ever since i started running in the chilly Michigan falls, winters, and springs (cold weather for essentially ten months out of the year), i've been looking for a decent outfit.  Two years ago i bought a few pairs of running pants.  But to be completely honest, two of them look like pajama bottoms and the third one is just too damn big and swishy.

For a year now i've been deliberating about whether i should just go and buy a pair of running tights.  It wasn't the expense that kept me away (i can say that at least this once) but rather the perception that running in skin-hugging Spandex would somehow render me emasculated.

Which is not to say that wearing tights necessarily makes one effeminate.  There are plenty of people who maintain their masculinity while wearing tights.

There are the Supermen - Christopher Reeve and Brandon Routh:

Despite his own set of tights coming only in pink and black, Bret "The Hitman" Hart (also known as "The Excellence of Execution") always made them look good:

Then there's the ripped-to-the-bone John Wesley Shipp as The Flash:

And of course we should never forget the great cast of "Robin Hood: Men in Tights."  Let's face it, you've got to be a man to wear tights!




Which is not to say that i am comparing myself to these exemplars. My body is nowhere near the beefiness.  If anyone, i'd probably look more like Adam West.  I'm not saying that he doesn't have a hot body beneath that layer of fabric, but i'm just sayin':

At any rate, my main concern is function as opposed to form.  I must admit that the single layer of skin-tight fabric does do a pretty good job of keeping my legs warm down to the mid-teens.  So who cares how i look?  Although if you pretended to not know me if i ran by you on the sidewalk, i would totally understand.  At least i don't wear a full bodysuit; i do cover up with a pretty flamboyant jacket. Thank God for small favors, eh?

Obnoxious orange jacket?  Check.  Running tights?  Check.  Screw shoes?  Check.  Ear warmers, gloves, and warm socks?  Check, check, and check.  Dignity?  Errr...