Status

I find it refreshing when people give an honest status update. Whether through Facebook, or just when asked... "How are you?", honest and strait-forward answers are by far the most interesting.

This morning I exchanged these messages (via text) with a friend...

"How R U?"

"Hungry. You?"

"Sexy."

Also, to spice things up, you can include activities like video games, books, and movies in your status update, but be vague as to how these deeds were accomplished.

"What did you do today?"

"I went into work this morning, but things didn't pick up till this afternoon."

"Yeah? What did you do in the afternoon?"

"I started by laying siege to this castle, but that was taking too long, so I watched the police bust up a drug running cartel, and shot my friend Chris in the head since he was screwing around and not helping fight the Germans.... what an idiot."

And if you are wondering if I talk to my fiance' like this... I do.

Crash

Apparently the missing half of the slogan "Get You There" reads, "Get you (and only you) there, but you'll be hungry." Delta Airlines is now charging it's passengers for tickets, bags, and snacks... that's right... snacks. As if I didn't need one more reason not to fly Delta. So quite literally their only concern is to get your person to the destination with no regard for luggage or caring for you in the air.

When your organization is in trouble and the chips are down... every decision makes or breaks your future. And in my opinion only the bold survive.

Maybe it is lack of faith. Maybe it is fear. Maybe it is ulcers. But it is the same every time. A organization reaches an impasse. It has grown in size, it has to shift direction, it has to reevaluate, or it is in financial trouble. So the decision makers come to THE meeting to find THE answer. Whether or not the people in the room know it, they are there to only make one decision. They think they are there to talk about business models, vision, and damage control. But all of these are just HOW you are going to proceed. The question that needs answering is FORWARD or BACKWARD and there is no third direction. "Maintain" "Riding it out" are illusions. FORWARD or BACKWARD?

In this meeting, someone will make a bold suggestion. We should go after a new market. We should proceed. We should spend money to make money. We should be more active in the community. Lets bring in new blood. Of course, it is risky, but better to go out with a fight then die a slow death. This will be met with a few hesitant nods and some mixed mummers. The responsibility and sacrifice lies with the leadership of the organization... and that makes everyone uncomfortable.

Then the spineless will get their excuse to back down from the wormy guy in the corner... who, of course, was never really in favor of the things that has brought the organization to this point. You know, the guy who knew it all along. And he delivers his miracle. You know, we don't have to be responsible for the failure. We don't have to take risks that might put us in a tough spot. We can just pass the cost onto the customers. We don't need to grow, we need to start building the walls that hold out the problems and keep us safe (without considering the problems are inside the walls or even in the room). Lets charge for bags and snacks. If we make everyone else shoulder the cost, we don't have to sacrifice a thing. And even if the business, the church, or the organization fails we can milk it for at least a while longer.

FORWARD or BACKWARDS? Delta will crash. No one wants to pay $5 for a bag of chez-its. I'll fly Southwest who not only is not charging extra for bags and snacks, but is making it more comfortable to fly. And Southwest will grow and Delta will not. How do small-minded and tight-fisted men who lack vision get into positions of leadership?

Has anyone else been to this same meeting?

Service

Unbelievable.

I like to think that I have some empathy for people in the service industry. I apologetically hassled homes as a telemarketer for a short spell, cleaned up after students while washing dishes, and helped people eat fresh as a Sandwich Artist at Subway. I also was a waiter (server) at Cracker Barrel for one of the stranger portions of my life. I say strange because everyone working at the country fresh restaurant was either a Bible college student, an ex-stripper, a current stripper, or a combination of these. But never in all my years have I ever ignored a customer to the point that they would leave.

Unbelievable.

After a hard day of moving and playing video games, Tyler and I found ourselves craving a Frisco Melt and chili from Stake and Shake. Those of you that know the craving can sympathize. So we went to the local S & S, were greeted, were seated... and there we sat. We sat patiently for fifteen minutes. No one so much as looked in our direction. I guess the three servers, two cooks, and one manager were WAY too busy waiting on the other three parties that were there. The place was not busy. We were baffled. It was even more ridiculous that earlier we had left a restaurant at lunch... so we did it again. We just left and drove down the road to the other Steak and Shake by the mall.

Unbelievable.

Of course, this wouldn't be blog worthy if it didn't reach a level of ridiculous that is recognizable from space. And it did. We drove to the other Steak and Shake, were greeted, were seated... and there we sat. We sat for about five minutes... an other couple came in, were seated and their order was taken. We still sat there. Just as I was rising to go to my car to get the necessary materials to burn this place to the ground... they sent the trainee to wait on us. A crisis averted. I mean if one business's service sucks, you just go down the road, but what if all service sucks?

Foundation

The saying goes, "... it's like pizza. Even when it is bad it is still good." Pizza is just one of those things that is really hard to mess up. That doesn't mean that all pizza is made equal. Absolutely not. Some stand above the rest, each being appreciated for its superiority in its own subtle differences. For instance, I don't really enjoy Pizza Hut, however, their stuffed-crust is genius and the taco pizza is one of my favorite pies. Monicals thick crust?!? Is there such a thing?!? And if you want Chicago's deep dish you need to go to Gino's East or go home.

It seems you can put just about anything on pizza and it is tolerable. Toppings don't really make or break the pizza. It is the basics that count. Crust, spices, cheese and sauce. Make a pie with a weird topping and you can shrug it off as not great but still pizza. But, I have never in my life been more shocked than when I was duped into going to Emo's pizza. They make their pizza with provel cheese "St. Louis Style." It sucks. And anyone that says different is a dirty communist. You don't want to be a communist do you?

I just had a slice from a mom and pop pizza place someone offered me, and the sauce tastes like it was made in someone's arm pit... or Decatur. And it is always shocking to find pizza that is actually "bad" not just mediocre. But every time it happens, its not the toppings. It is the fundamentals that get lost in the quest for "interesting" dishes. So for all you up and coming pizza places... make sure you can walk before you run. And don't be a communist.

Reposition

Lord knows that by this time I should be an expert at moving. I've called hotel rooms "home" and lived by the graciousness of spare bedrooms more times then I wish to recall. My baggage is travel worn and I'm sure that post offices and DMVs all over the mid-west rue the day my name appeared on their forms. But the truth is, moving is not systematic. In fact, the art of relocation is an awkward dance that will stretch your endurance as much as it stretches your relationships.

Nothing just fits. The doors and corners aren't wide enough, and all the stuff in my life doesn't fit into this new space like it did in the old. But this is the way of change. You decide to move to the next space: a new house, a new job, a new relationship, a new marriage. Nothing just fits. It is push and pull. Some things stay. Others, even though they still work, just don't fit anymore... and they have to be stored away until their day rises again, or they simply have to go. Forcing doesn't work. I mean sometimes you have to use something until you can replace it, but you can't kid yourself... it doesn't look good with the new surroundings. And if you are combining two lives into one space... forget about simple.

Simple is overrated. Two people moving into one space is about compromise... not simple. It's no longer about what I want or what they want, but what fits best in this new location. Even though I own just enough plastic tubs to pack my life neatly into boxes, and I do, it is not just me anymore. New spaces come with new challenges and new opinions. Even your friends feel the effects. "Can you help me move?" The sounding horn of change is met with silence, resistance, and spite if it happens too often. Nothing is simple.

Some things in my life are becoming staples that will survive the move with me, but leases are temporary and change is a much inevitable as it is not permanent. Every change, every move is slightly awkward, but it is our ability to adapt that will make or break us.

Inovate.

I had a thought that occurred to me today on my way to work that blindsided me. Sometimes there are moments when someone is fiercely outraged about something only to be brought a piece of evidence that makes them reconsider their whole argument. There is that pause (sometimes mid-sentence and it is written all over their face "What if I've been wrong this whole time?"

I was driving to work and decided to stop at my favorite BP to get a drink. As I was pulling in, I glanced at the price of unleaded and was momentarily relieved to see that it had dropped below four dollars per gallon. That warm caress of relief was then roughly thrust aside by my righteous anger at being conditioned through the numbing effects of shock value to accept four dollars a gallon as the standard price of gasoline. It was not four years ago that my anxiety over gas prices found its central median at one dollar per gallon and I was outraged if the price climbed over fifty cents past the bench mark. Further more I was annoyed at our government's inability to deal with this problem. But here is the twist.

"What if it is all on purpose?" And crazier than that "What if things are better this way?" On the United Nations list of major issues there are a few that line up with the top seven things the American government listed as this millennium's issues. Energy consumption was on both lists. Maybe this is too "conspiracy theory" but whether it is intentional or accidental "being green" is only at the forefront of the news these days because Americans finally found a common ground with the hippie environmentalists... our wallets. Of course, no one would come out and say that. That would be political suicide. However, people are paying attention now. Save the whales... eh. Save the Rain Forest... you mean the cafe'? Why wouldn't I use oil indiscriminately... it is cheep. Why would we change the combustion engine?

Taking care of our planet is not a priority for most. Doing the right thing because it is the right thing to do is not our natural inclination. We need insensitive. We need to know what is in it for us. I don't like paying four dollars per gallon for gas, but let's face it... when the price doubled, Americans didn't even flinch. When just kept consuming. Triple, still going. If this is what it takes to make us wake up and find new energy sources and take care of the planet then I will endure.

It was just a lot to process when all I wanted was a beverage.

Nerfed.

As one grows older, stories or yesteryear seem to just come streaming from your lips before you can dam them up and contain them under the heading "No One Cares But You Grandpa." However sometimes one has to relieve the tension and allow some current lest the levy break.

There used to be one and only one measure of success when it came to building, owning, and operating a swimming pool. The diving board. Is there a diving board? How is the spring on the board? How high is it off the water? After all, the fun of swimming is not actually being in the water, but getting in and out of the water in the most creative ways that we can find. This mindset is the explanation for the line of shivering, wet boys holding there elbows while standing in a line outside of the pool. They and their chattering teeth are waiting their turn to show everyone else how spectacular their entrance into the cool blue can be. And so, they go in and out and back again because they push their art form to be bigger, higher, and better executed.

Disappeared. Where are the heroes of the high dive? Maybe it was one too many faulty flips ending in painful belly flops. Perhaps the duties of life guarding is too stressful, the whistles being abused by power hungry teens headed for careers in the post office. Who knows why, but we all saw it coming. First the high dives were replaced with small slides. Then the low boards were abducted leaving only bolt holes in the concrete... a monument to the fun that once was. Are they gone completely? In our quest to turn the globe into a soft foam ball so Sally doesn't scrape her knee, are we wiping out fun faster than we can down the rainforest? The boards are extinct and the deep ends are endangered, but shhhhh... it will be okay because you can play Wii diving in the safety of your home. So label all the risks "X-treme", stay in the shallow end, and enjoy your padded room. Me and my skinned knee will be outside playing on the concrete at dangerous heights and break neck speeds.

@ PETA

Get a life.



In the news today, PETA is going after the Wimbleton Tournament because they hired marksman to shoot pidgeons. The Tournament actually has pet hawks that scare away most of the pidgeons, but a few slipped through and were landing on the tennis courts and food courts. So, they killed them. They killed the pidgeons, the birds nicknamed "rats with wings." And poor little PETA thinks that is cruel. So I would like to say some things to PETA on behalf of the people of America that agree with me.



1. Why are you even watching tennis?



2. Pidgeons are one of the most disgusting, disease carrying animals and they were in the food court. It is a health issue, and who cares if we kill three... there are billions of them.



3. They are not torturing the birds... they just shoot them. It is more humane than the electric chair... that we strap humans to.



4. No body likes you. Anyone who is not a card-carrying member of PETA thinks you are rediculous. Why? Of all the issues in the world today, the PEOPLE dying all over the world... you are concerned with pidgeons.



5. Get a life. That is all.

Hybrids....and why I'm being screwed by the ones I trusted.

Over the coarse of the four years I have owned my Toyota Matrix, I have fallen in love with it. It is more than just the normal maintenance, love/hate relationship every man inherently has with his vehicle. There is just something there between a man and his car that is different from the connection a woman has with her car. He doesn't even have to be a "car guy" to have this tangled web of loathing and love for the vehicle he has been through so much with. But on the other hand, my relationship with The Matrix borders on unhealthy.

In fact, I refer to it as "The Matrix" and probably don't go one week with out vocalizing to someone (usually Charissa) about being genuinely impressed by it. The head room, the versatility, the cargo room, the sleek design, and the wall outlet on my dashboard... these are just a few of my favorite things.

But Alas, I'm not what you would consider a "good driver" and The Matrix has taken some scrapes here and there. So I took it to Toyota, the makers who introduced the two of us and they stroked The Matrix lovingly and said, "We can fix her... make her whole again. And we can do it for around $700." I agreed and then left in a rental Prius Hybrid.

I really don't like this car. Hybrid or not, its like driving a golf cart. It is so unsafe. The blind spots are terrible and the climate control is overbearing, but I can't take my eyes off the touch screen on the dash. It shows me the current MPG I'm getting at all times. I'm not even watching the roads or the speed limits, just the screen. It's like a video game. The better MPG, the higher the score. And when I only put 5 gallons of gas in it... that was 3/4 of a tank. Glory sweet glory.

The Matrix is still not fixed... and Toyota is sicking it to me with a bill that is almost double what they started with. I started off mad. But now I feel like a parent with a child held for ransom. "I'll pay anything you want, just bring The Matrix home... just bring it home." God, I'm sick.

Combo points

"I'm afraid if I tell you what it is... you won't even try it." - Dr. Hannibal Lector

As I sojourn on this earth, I find my self eating food that appears strange, maybe even repulsive, yet turns out to be pleasantly surprising. There are a number of strange dishes I have tried, but I'm fascinated most by the dishes resulting in the combination of two unlikely heroes. The odd couple de jour so to speak.

Today I ate my Wendy's fries (which are not particularly great) with a chocolate frostie (which is simple chocolate soft-serve). Apart, they are too salty or too ho hum. But together they create an explosion of taste on your palette. The same is true of McDonald's french fries with McDonald's sweet and sour sauce, or Monical's pizza with Monical's french dressing! It's the combinations that make these foods truly great.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm really hungry... someone get me some Monical's pizza!