Month: September 2009

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a techie kinda guy. I love my iPhone, constantly have a computer near me, revel in the DVR, could have kissed my Aunt Bertha* when I got my HDTV (she should be so lucky), has 2.5 computers (one is currently on the fritz).

The problem is everything has to have a light to show you it’s either on OR OFF. Why does it have to have a light showing you it’s not on? Seriously, in the living room in the dark, my TV has a lighted VIZIO logo that’s white when the TV is on and goes orange when it’s off. Then there’s the audio system that shines bright blue when it’s on but still shines out a red light when it’s in standby mode. There’s the HD-DVD player (yeah, I bought the wrong format) that has a red light around the power button that emits a light similar to a beacon at an airport. The DVR/cablebox shows the time in a eye-piercing shade of green. So let’s see, I’ve got orange, red, and green coming at me if I’m trying to get some winks in the living room. Of course if everything’s on, I’ve got blue, blue, white and green. Forget about lightbulbs, you can comfortably find your way around the room in the dark.

Don’t even get me started on the alarm clock by the bed, it’s lighted green and brightens up the room with a lot of candela. Is there a dimmer function for the display? Nope!

This is just a big conspiracy to make people stay awake. I mean, c’mon, help us out an allow us to dim those crazy displays and lights. We need the sleep. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

*there is no Aunt Bertha of whom to speak but I picture her fat, unmarried and wearing a big flowered dress, the kind you couldn’t find at Abercombie & Fitch or even a Dollar Store, she also has a mild but distinct odor about her. Get the picture?

or should I say “Should I change my phone number?”

Here’s the dilemma, I got this phone number that other people tell me text messages them and it’s not the nicest stuff in the world. Apparently, my phone number sends explicit picture text messages. For the record, it is not me who’s sending the pictures. Believe me, I get all of these unwanted text messages asking me about why I’m texting them. Again, for the record, I am not.

Sprint wasn’t able to help me with the problem. Now that I’m with AT&T, I’d hoped they might be able to give me some assistance. Nope. Sure, the technical people sounded like they could, they got my hopes up and then slammed them to the ground in a cold-hearted voicemail.

Their options for me, give them five bucks a month extra and they’d block the numbers from sending me text messages. Ah, no thanks… Option #2 is getting a new phone number. Seriously, after text messaging fights with people I don’t know about why I’m sending them text messages and pictures, I’m ready to give up my cherished phone number for another one.

Seriously, one of the battle of the texts ended with a phrase I’d never heard before. I wish for the life of me I could remember it because not even contextual clues could help me decipher it.

So, should I change my number, go through the hassle of letting everyone know about it or endure the hassle of getting these crazy text messages from these people who insist I’m sending them messages.

By the way, I’m totally getting a vanity phone number if I switch. C’mon 1-800-TAAWD!

I have to admit it, I’ve joined the crowd of people who committed to working out, stuck to it, then lost it.

Breaking my heel contributed to my lack of working out, yeah, that’s the ticket, I broke my heel so I can’t work out.

So, now I’m determined to get back into the routine and losing some of my flab and gaining back some of the unbelievable good body that I once had. I’m sure you’re thinking I’m joking… Well, I am.

So I’ve been good about getting a good workout in at least twice a week. Thankfully the gym has Precor ellipticals. I can’t stand the machines that has the ski-like arms that swing back and forth at you. It makes me dizzier than I already am.

So now, it’s all about working off all of those scrum-delicious McDonald’s breakfasts that I crave every morning when I leave work. It’s time to work off all of that delectable Mexican food. All of that yummy pasta that my girlfriend makes. I need to work off that “I’m comfortable in my relationship weight”. I don’t want to lose her, I gotta look good.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some fatty, I just need to drain some of that baby fat out of my face and a little bit of the freshman 15 out of my mid section. I’ve done it before I’ll do it again… so there!

You: “Which way to the beach?”
Me: “Over there…” {arm flexed to show the puny muscle I already have developing}