This post is boring

Saturday doesn't count. It can't. I went to the lake - one cannot be held accountable for things that happen (or do not happen, for that matter) at the lake. Somewhere — in that vast pool of water that spans as far as the eye can see — there is a whirlpool that sucks all the knowledge and desire for knowledge into a deep, very intelligent, aquatic chasm. A lengthy way of saying it is nearly impossible to get anything done while sitting at the lake.

Today, however, I studied. I went to the library and made a legitimate attempt at learning. I put amino acids down on cards, pretended to do some problems (but really just let the back of the book guide me through the answers — which inevitably screws me on a test) and talked to Hamilton about the electrician's report on his new house. Trust me, that last part is very necessary in biochemistry.

Do you think people who haven't gone to, or registered for college get the "101" reference? I've seen it a lot today "church growth 101," "downtown artists 101," and I am afraid there is a large portion of the population who have know idea what 101 means. Just another case for making education more accessible.

#1 distraction today: sleep. It's so great. As a person who is deftly skilled in the art of sleep, I hone my skills whenever possible. I took an impressive nap. Some people consider napping and sleeping in to be a waste of time, but really, if I could do one thing for the rest of my life it would be sleep. So really I am just doing something I love.

To end this disjointed post: a recipe (dinner tonight).

Cream sauce

8 oz. cream cheese

3/4 cup grated parm

stick of butter

1/2 cup of milk

1/2 tsp garlic powder

dry basil (probably about 1/2 tsp)

nutmeg

Mix it in a saucepan, don't let it boil. Use your favorite pasta (bowtie, in my case).

Notes: use less cream cheese, fresh parm and just add nutmeg to individual bowls - but it really kicks off the flavor.

What I should be doing

I'm in school and it's hard. I am frequently told for every 1 hour of time in class I should spend a minimum of 3 hours outside of classes in preparation.

This is simply not possible.

People might disagree, but they shouldn't. Anyone who says they actually study that much is either dreadfully boring or a much better person than I. So, obviously the former. I am much more of the mind that studying for a solid 20 or 30 hours leading right up to test time is more effective (this theory is still being tested with varying results).

So I am going to take advantage of my lack of focus. I will not feel guilt, or wallow in self-pity while my classmates (a.k.a. the people getting into medical school instead of me) bury their brown-noses in a book and try to stay afloat in the cesspool of biochemistry.

I am going to blog about it.

I am going to contribute a few weeks to noticing what it is that I am doing instead of what I should be doing. This is an exercise akin to writing down all one's purchases and identifying the trivialities of spending (yet another goal that is completely unachievable by people of reason).

I should be making out the rest of my amino acid flash cards...instead I am writing this. Day 1.

The perfect public restroom:

Starts with an entry way - just somewhere to stand should a line develop. This will lead to a row of urinals (the right height, and depth as to prevent splashing) spaced far enough apart, with dividers - preferably with a ledge (to place a drink on).

The sinks are on the opposite wall, it's disgusting to be in the same line as men peeing when you are trying to clean your hands. They are positioned on a counter top that is sloped towards the sink in order to prevent a solid inch of water from leaving a nasty line on trousers should one accidentally lean against the vanity. The faucets would have sensors and one thick flow - not the kind with several thin streams. Foam soap...with a sensor.

Hand dryers in order of preference:

1. XLerator. This goes against my typical aversion to clever misspellings for marketing purposes - but this guy makes up for it. It is fast, hygienic, loud (to drown out anyone who might still be trying to talk to you in the bathroom) and entertaining (it moves all the skin around on your hand). Plus they are motion controlled, so you don't feel wasteful for walking away before it is done.

2. Motion controlled paper towel dispenser. Only if it ejects a sheet long enough to actually dry hands with. Few things are more annoying than having to wait for that dang red light to go off so you can wave your hand around like a moron attempting to get another square-inch of paper towel.

3. Lever controlled paper towel dispenser. Preferably the kind that has a big enough handle to push with my elbow. I don't like the tiny ones that you have to grip.

4. Regular paper towel dispenser. When correctly loaded these classic fixtures can allow for perfectly controlled and customizable hand drying.

The following have no place in a public restroom:

5. Regular-powered hand dryers. They are ineffective, slow and wasteful. I always end up giving in and just wiping my hands on my jeans.

6. Funneled paper towel dispensers. The kind that looks like you are pulling a Clorox wipe out of the bin. By the time the towel is flattened to full capacity it is too wet to do any good. Also difficult to pull out the right amount, they just keep coming.

7. The fabric towel swing. While this is an entertaining novelty - it is just sick. Sick.

8. "Using both hands, pull firmly on edges of towel. If no towel is present turn wheel on side of fixture." No, just give me a damn towel. This isn't a freaking Olympic sport.

All this leads to a trash can near the door, one without a lid and no overhang (to allow for an easy toss-in), and a door that you can push open. Yes, push. Why would I go through all the trouble of sanitizing my hands just to have them soiled by the neanderthal before me who wouldn't know good hygiene if it licked the underside of his shoe.

One day I will find this place and I will pee a very happy man.

Dave Ramsey has nothing

I am not embarrassed to admit, my money management skills are paltry. When it comes to all things financial I am a lost cause. (Side note: I actually think it's an endearing quality of mine, this lack of interest in all things fiscal. (A side note to that would be - most other people consider this to be irresponsible and lazy, not charming. Which really leads me to another thing I find beguiling about myself: I am able to recognize my charm, even when others do not.)

Needless to say, I am acquainted with the 'overdraft.'

Today I was overdrafted. Luckily, today I also received a paycheck. However, I have learned from experience that a check does not necessarily equal money. Meaning, if I have zero dollars in an account and deposit a check - that does not mean I suddenly have check amount of dollars. It simply means I have deposited a check. For those of you who aren't following, I can't explain - ask Missy at Regions, she seems to know what she is talking about (but don't talk to Walter, he just reads you all your transactions for the past week and you can hear the judgement in his voice when he reads, "McDonald's -- $3.96," for the fifth time.) So, I decided to have my check cashed and deposit cash (which is actual money, despite what Ron Paul says.)

Being a resident of Memphis, I thought I was aware of the widespread ability to cash a check in nearly every neighborhood in the city (at least the ones who choose to exclude the prefix "neighbor"). Much to my surprise, things are not nearly as easy I thought they would be. When the big neon-balloon-letters on the window say "Cash Today" or "Checks Cashed" they do not mean the same kind of cash I mean. They actually mean "not cash."

A rundown:

Suntrust Bank - I thought a bank would be a good choice. I know they have money. The cashier was a lovely lady who used to work at the branch of Regions I use. They don't cash other bank's checks if I don't have an account with the bank...she suggested a liquor store. (I should have followed her advice more quickly.)

Kroger - The service center lists "check cashing" as one of the options - right under "money wire" and "tobacco sales." It takes 3-4 business days to get approved for this service. I needed somewhere faster, shadier. She suggests Check Advance, in the same shopping center.

Check Advance - They made promises of 'Cash Your Check for Less,' 'Up to $300 Same Day.' But they put it on an electronic debit card, which is also not real money, and I don't think I can deposit it in my account. He suggests Kroger.

Cash Advance - This one said "cash" in the title, so I figured it was a good move.

Me: "Can I cash a check here?"

CA: "We don't cash checks here."

Me: "How do I get a cash advance?"

CA: "We don't actually have any cash here."

Me: "What is it that you advance?"

CA: "Can I help you with something else?"

She suggested I try Hewitt Financial Services. She was crazy.

Memphis Cash for Checks - I knew this would a shoo-in. They had everything I wanted in the name. It was not. They did not. They did not know where I should go.

BP - I went next door to the Memphis Cash for Checks because there was a sign in the window that said "we cash checks" in both English and Spanish. After proving I am who my check says I am. Describing my job in detail. Calling the check issuer and explaining why I am not cashing this check at my bank. He handed me cash for my check (minus a 2 dollar charge)...and said next time it would be easier.

I deposited the cash and asked Missy about overdraft protection...but that is a story for another day.

For full disclosure: I went to several more similar places, but since none of them could help - I don't consider them worth mentioning. However, if you need to cash a check fast...go to the liquor store.

Teachers just don't understand.

One of the menial projects we were forced to complete in kindergarten involved the creation of an "All About Me" cut out. After having your outline traced onto a piece of butcher paper (which inevitably leaves everyone in the class looking like a frumpy white blob), and drawing clothes and features on with crayon, (I was ridiculed for using orange as my skin tone, but when we are only given the 8-pack of crayola there are not a lot of options. Most people left theirs white, which is far more lame.) we were forced through a stupid series of tests that would later appear on the body-shaped poster as a pseudo merit badge. Tying shoes, buttoning shirts, knowing the alphabet - we were all individually quizzed during nap time to make sure we were developing normally.

Velcro shoes and t-shirts got me through most of my trials, unfortunately I had a difficult time determining the difference between my right and left hand. To add insult to injury, my kindergarten teacher did not apprehend the importance of logic. Typically the pattern went something like this:

Teacher: Cliffy, do you want to come over here and work on your About Me?
Cliffy: Not particularly. I'm trying to take a nap.
Teacher: Cliffy, come over here.
(I pretend to be very sleepy and stumble over to the table, accidentally tripping over Molly and Whitney along the way.)
Ok. Now, hold up your hands and tell me which hand is your right hand.
Me: You mean, my correct hand?
Teacher: No, I mean your right hand, as opposed to your left hand.
Me: Wouldn't it be easier for you to ask which hand is my left hand? That way you wouldn't have to clarify.
Teacher: You are the only student I have to clarify for.
Me: Then maybe I am the only student who should be asked for my left hand instead of my right.
(I notice my teacher is getting annoyed, but have to keep going in hopes of getting a hint.)
Teacher: Ok, Cliffy. Which hand is your left hand?
Me: That's not fair, you asked everyone else to show their right hand.
Teacher: Just wave your left hand.
(I hesitate, think really hard about the last time we went through this, upbraid myself for napping while Matt was doing his hands...he always knows his hands...and wave my left hand - and also my other hand just a little bit, in case that is the one she is looking at.)
Teacher: Oh, I'm sorry. That is your right hand. We can try again tomorrow.
Me: Well, why don't we try again right now. Ask me to wave my right hand.
Teacher: (laughing) That wouldn't be fair, would it? You have to have time to forget.
Me: (not laughing) What's not fair is that you want me to forget. Shouldn't you be trying to help me remember? I'll never really need to know this anyway.
Teacher: What about when people are trying to give you directions?
Me: Most people point. I would know which one is my left hand if you would point at it.
(Dejected, I return to my mat...again.)

Eventually Matt Morris helped me cheat. For this I will be eternally grateful. To this day, I have a difficult time quickly identifying my left from my right hand...and to be honest, I'm glad. Serves her right.

p90x

Blogging is hard...for me.

Whereas I constantly have things I think are important enough for everyone to know, I rarely have the patience or attention span to write them down.

You know what else is hard? The first day of p90x. Which, for me, was today.

I should start by saying, I hate working out. I think it is stupid and typically a waste of time. However, since I first heard about p90x I have wanted to do it. I know, I know - it is very difficult and requires extreme amounts of dedication...which isn't exactly my forte. But looking amazing is...and as I was recently reminded, "sometimes we must sacrifice comfort for beauty."

As I sit here on my yoga mat, in my briefs, dripping sweat on my MacBook, I can't help but think ...this was a very stupid idea.

Stay tuned. 90 days yet to come.

My Pomade Smells.

I have, for the past ~10 years, been in search of the perfect scent. One that really captures my essence. I have tried a few out, but have yet to be truly content with one that I can wear for the rest of my life. Most of the contenders are either too sweet or too fruity...neither of which are words I wish to be associated with my presence.

As I am preparing for a life in the medical profession, I realize it is more important than ever to find something that really sets me apart. My family doctor always has, and likely always will, hold the title of "Best Smelling Person I Know." Since I have known him (he delivered me) he has continued to impress me - whether it is on the football field (he was the team doctor), at Mi Ranchito (where it is difficult to distinguish many scents above the bliss) or the delivery room (I still hold to remembering the smell at birth) - he never lets me down. I want to do the same for my patients for years to come.

Currently, my deodorant is coming the closest to ideal - though I have yet to start rubbing it all over my body. And my old surf wax actually got some good compliments - when people happened to be near my head.

However, this will not do. My new pomade is sick. Sick, sick, sick. It smells like cheap rubber, burning.

Needless to say - I will be returning this crap to Walgreens.

Levya

This post contains vulgar and profane language. RAYOR

This past weekend I received a text message from an unknown number...it seemed important, and I didn't want to leave the person hanging...so I responded.

What follows is a transcript of the conversation - not suitable for adults.


Unknown: you made my prom shit nasty ho you stay way from darnell he only like u cuz u weak

Me: bitch, i don’t know what u talkin about

Uk: oh u know don’t pop da cherry if you aint ready to drink ta juice

Me: i dunno. Darnell like doing both 2 me

Uk: o girl this caints be u the ho don’t blame tis on darnell

Me: girl jus cuz u like the taste of his juice don mean u should b a bitch 2 me

Uk: u want to go where you at

Me: im waitin 4 darnell 2 come pick me up when he done wit u

Uk: fur real where you at i coming

Me: i not gonna tell u cuz id feel bad for messin u up

Uk: u know who my cuzin is dont you

Me:

Uk: wait tis aint krina who is dis

Me: who dis?

Uk: levya

Me: o. oops. Wrong girl.

Uk: actually this is [a mischievous married couple I know] – we’re sitting in the airport trying to pass time. Thanks for your help

Josh Pastner...

...is obviously an Affleck brother...

Ok. I'm done with these for now.

Elvis Presley...

...looks like Elizabeth Taylor...

I'm just saying, if things hadn't worked out for him the legitimate music industry, he could have made a killing as an impersonator.