Towering Inferno of Rock & Roll

We've been using Microsoft Office Communicator at work for instant messaging. It stinks, hard, but that's beside the point for now.

I'm not sure if it's people who have never been exposed to instant messaging before and they're just trying to fit in, or if they really think it's kosher, but I've experienced a HUGE number of people who type like a 12 year old. Now, I type out text messages in full sentances with capitalization and punctuation, so I know I might be a little reactionary on the subject. But I'm not talking about a your - you're mix up, which does happen, I'm talking about a you're - UR replacement. Unforgivable.

Ziggy sat on the scanner.

Link to larger size.

Dear Internet:
I love the funny t-shirts you make. Please start making them in bigger sizes so I can give you my money.

Sincerely,
HuskyTed, The Fat Guy.

Last night, I had dinner with cre8vsteph after years of meaning to get together when one of us when in the other's town. She is probably one of the first people I befriended online, after meeting somehow through DeviantArt.

After picking her up at her hotel, we went to Kuma's Corner. The wait was shorter than we expected, but I think the hostess called me "Kevin" on our way in. (Wait times at Kuma's are generally 60-90 minutes)

Steph had the Kuma Burger, but I went a little out on the ledge and tried the burger-of-the-month: The Swine Flu.

Fried tortilla strips topped with chorizo potato hash, roasted green chile, pico de gallo, fresh cilantro and some sort of cream sauce. All the waitstaff had surgical masks somewhere on their body too. It was good times.

Uh, I don't think anyone ever said that torture wasn't effective. Infact, I'm sure most people will agree that it's really, REALLY effective. The problem is that it's immoral and against US and International law.

Does anyone think it's odd that we've heard Dick Cheney speak more in the past few months than we did in the past 8 years? 

I'm wearing dress slacks, a pajama t-shirt, and slippers. And my brown bandanna.

Sitting in the hospital lobby, I'm perfectly comfortable.  Sipping coffee. Working on an animation.

Melissa is taking a little nap.

I feel like I've been neglecting y'all for Friendface & the Twit recently. Sorry.

After seeing that a couple blogs I read posted about United's new fat-flyer policy, I thought I'd scroll down and read the comments.

I had no idea there was still so much virulent hatred of fat people in this country. I know that the comment section of the blogs I read are not a good cross-sampling of the population, but the sheer volume of people who felt the need to speak up and give their "I had to sit next to a lard ass one time on an airplane" stories were staggering. Also, the perception that every fat person you see is a slobbering pig is still prevalent, evidentially. Strangely, there was little-to-no outrage at the airlines for continuing to make seats smaller and closer together over the years.

I should mention that I agree that if you take up two seats you should pay for two tickets. Southwest's armrest policy on this matter seems to make sense to me. United's is a little oddly worded.

The main complaint seems to be that if you sit next to a fat person, you will have an uncomfortable and unpleasant flight. I assume this is mainly due to infringing on personal space. I might be okay with charging fat people extra if you could charge people for hogging the armrest, eating smelly things, spraying smelly things on themselves (and often others), elbowing their neighbors every time they move, demanding a window seat and getting up to pee 30 times, and/or just being a douche in someone else's general direction. If all that were fineable, I might be okay with it.

The best part is, it's up to the flight-attendant's discretion. Would you bet, within 5 years we'll hear a news story that a flight attendant tried to charge a pregnant woman for 2 seats? Well, maybe not. You're not supposed to fly in the third trimester anyways, right?

All of these people think that getting thin is as easy as hopping on a treadmill. And why EVERYONE hasn't done so yet is beyond their comprehension. Just in case one of those people ever happen to read this: It's not that easy, and YOU are one of the reasons why.

I'm not blaming it on them, far from it - my size is my issue and I will deal with it on my own terms - but they are not innocent. It might be as easy as hopping on a treadmill if I didn't have all of these mental issues from people saying horrible things about fat people. If my childhood wasn't a constant stream of people commenting on my weight, I might have dealt with it long ago. In fact, the only thing that happened when people teased, poked, made fun, or otherwise commented upon my size (even in an honestly helpful manner) was that I shelled up and wanted to think about anything BUT my weight. Losing weight, for me and for many people, brings up so many negative connotations that it's just not worth it.

Maybe if I got a few less stares and snickers when I went to the gym, I'd be more likely to hang out there.

Normally, I don't let things like that bother me. I don't see the staring in the locker room & I don't hear the groans as I waddle onto the airplane. Instead of letting people tease me, I spent a couple of years in my childhood developing what experts like to call a "personality" and a "sense of humor." It made me more friends than a fat guy probably should have had. But this has all knocked me off my defenses and left me feeling vulnerable - and I'm already a little out-of-sorts lately, so you all get to hear me whine about it. Not that anyone is still reading.

Now, I've lost a considerable amount of weight in the past couple years for various health and personal reasons. I could give you a ballpark number of pounds, but I don't really care. This makes me wish I could gain them all back. I know that sitting next to me on a plane isn't always the most pleasant thing, but I take strides to stay on my side of the armrest. If someone gets jammed into the middle seat next to me on the plane, I usually offer to buy them a drink. It's a convenient mixture of manners and shame.

But mostly, I enjoy being who I am. It's been a long time since I've been self-conscious about my weight (at least at these teenage-girl levels.) I just can't believe some of those hateful things that I read. People who, in one breath, would chastise you for using the word "gay" or "retard" in ANY manner, seemed to utter a resounding "lard-ass" with the next breath. It's hateful, and I'm a little scared.

 scroll, scroll. read, read.

"oh, hey! I took that picture!"

http://chicagoist.com/2009/04/07/around_town_99.php

http://www.darklordday.com/

The new system of purchasing Dark Lord went live this morning. You have to buy tickets in advance (today) to be able to buy bottles of Dark Lord, so make sure to get yours, if you're planning on going.

Crossposted, sorry.

I stopped in around 7:30 and Melissa and Amy were sleeping so I dropped off a thermos of coffee, kissed Melissa’s forehead, and walked to work.

Today is my first day back since this whole thing started. It’s a little odd. I won’t be able to grill the doctors on any little thing that pops into my head. I won’t be able to annoy Melissa constantly with “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?” I won’t be the first line, like I’ve grown accustomed to.

I suppose I feel much like many of you do, receiving secondhand information and feeling a little helpless.

But really, it’s not so bad. The hospital is about 2 miles away from my office building. I can hop on a train or jump in a cab and be there in a few minutes. I’ll be spending the evenings with her, and might spend the night a couple times.

And I know that Melissa is in good hands. Her mom, Erin, and Zoe are taking good care of her. I am so thankful for all the support they have given to Melissa, and to me. And continue to give.

I'll be posting updates on Melissa @ http://hellodru.blogspot.com/ from now on. Just so you know.

Okay, so, here's the latest.

Melissa's doctor's are pretty sure that she has Acute Leukemia. She wasn't responding to treatment as they hoped and so they did some more tests and attempted a bone marrow biopsy. The blood tests indicated Leukemia, but her bone was too hard to get through to get the marrow.

On a lighter note, after her biopsy, Melissa refused morphine so that she could propose to me when she got back to the room. We're engaged now.

She has been moved to Rush Medical in Chicago. They're going to attempt another Bone Marrow biopsy tomorrow or Tuesday to make sure completely that it's Leukemia before they start chemotherapy. The doctors think that it's type "m3" which is, they tell me, the easiest type to cure.

I'd write more, but Melissa's mom is glaring at me with contempt because I'm typing and not eating the spaghetti that she cooked.

If I haven't told you yet, carmen_queasy  has been in the hospital for a few days.
( Here's the story, for those who are interested.  )

 Oh, thank goodness! It's the answer to all of my prayers! 

Thanks to the marvels of modern technology and the geniuses in R&D, I will now be able to suckle on the sweet teat of Starbucks anytime, and at any place! In an instant! I mean, I wouldn't need to use it at work because we have a Starbucks downstairs. Nor would I have to use it anywhere else in a 50 mile radius, because there is a Starbucks within walking distance just about everywhere I go. 

But somewhere, there's a place devoid of gift from God that is Starbucks drip-coffee, and where coffee-brewing appliances are not allowed - and THAT, my friends, is the place that I will be mixing up my Starbuck instant coffee. 

Huzzah! 

Made with a MiniDV tape box (see the same on the right being used for monitor platforms) and some foam. I even cut a hole in the back to run my phone charger in. I thought of cutting the back off, but using it to hold post-it notes seems nicer.  

Every February 3rd, I expect to wake up to find that it is yesterday again.

No luck this time.

Not many of you reading this are likely to be interested, but if anyone would like to commission an artwork or buy a painting that you've seen me post previously, now is a fantastic time. Traditional or digital art -  fine art or commercial.

The steering in my car has finally died and the bill is hefty, so any additional income right now is welcome. Feel free to contact me through the comments or by email at "teddy at not-to-scale.net" 

Thanks much. 

 It's remarkable that how, when a popluation is exposed to an air temperature below a certain degree, they are instantly addled and cannot speak of anything excepting, of course, the coldness of the air. I have witnessed learned men shift from scholars to schoolboys in a matter of mere moments when confronted by nothing more than a cool breeze. The effect does not wear off immediately, either. Through the course of the day and into the next, even if the temperature has risen, there is naught else they can force their tongues to wagger about than the bitter, unloving cold. 

Perhaps the cold latches on to their brain and renders them incapable of coherant thought. Perhaps the fluids freeze and they are only able to percieve the most basic things. They so love to complain about it that it makes me wonder if perhaps the complaints make them warmer, if only for a short time. 

"Hey Bob. Can you believe the audacity of the air to become this cold?" 

"I know, right? It hasn't been this cold since last winter!" 

And so it continues, day after day, until the weather is more agreeable and their brains have unfrozen.