Baseball Season is here!

I hope you understand. 3 hour games 5-6 nights a week will be taking up most of my free time. I've got some stuff I've been meaning to post, so hopefully I'll get around to it soon. In the meantime, share the love: *Look at the disgust on J. Sanchez' face. Priceless. And then of course, there's Zito in the background daydreaming about how he's going to spend his $126 million. Sigh.

Spring?

I know, it sure doesn't look like it, right?

Well, for those of you that want a little something to look at until we get some Spring weather of our own, check out a new tumblr dedicated solely to sunsets.

One Million Sunsets, to be exact. The site allows you to upload your own sunset photos, too. So if you think you've got some good ones, go ahead and post 'em to the site.

As of this posting they only need 999,911 more sunsets to hit the 1 million mark!

Get crackin! Here's some inspiration:


Virginia


Rio


Unknown

Friday's "Best" - Rebecca Black Edition

Simply awful.

If you wanna drive in The City, learn to park in The City.

This is fantastic.

Click to expand - and read the most ridiculous, passive-aggressive parking note. Ever.

Looks like Kevin over at Uptown Almanac found this over at The Tenderloin Geographic Society. Naturally, it's created quite the debate. Do these thing actually change parking behavior in the future? Do they just piss people off? Does whoever wrote this live in their parents' basement with 12 cats and knit all day in between making ridiculous capitalization and punctuational errors on insanely long notes to leave on cars?

Yes, yes, and most likely, yes.

However, I have to give some credit on this. Having not seen the way in which the car in question was actually parked, it's hard to pass judgement. What I can do is empathize with the author about the all to frequent use of two parking spots for one car. This happens far too often and I myself I have been tempted to leave a note so polite little note on a couple of cars over the years.

The funny thing is, I was victim to one of these notes not too long ago. It's below for your viewing pleasure:

Now, let's break this one down. Fortunately, I know EXACTLY how the car was parked - since it was my car. And it was not "in" a red zone. My front bumper may have been butting up against the edge of the foot of red paint near the driveway of this person's apartment, but in no way was it blocking free exit or entry to the driveway/garage. Furthermore, I know a tenant of the landlord who left this, and he confirmed the guy is a lunatic - as if the note in and of itself doesn't give off a red flag from the outset.

At least the thinly veiled sarcasm was rife with minor threats, right? Was he going to call the SFMTA to come ticket me if this were to happen again? Perhaps this was his attempt at drawing attention to the Parking Ticket Folks in the first place, since the note was BRIGHT yellow...

Who knows? More importantly, who cares?

Oh yeah. The reason why I was so close to the red in the first place? Observing the first and second rules of parking in a three car spot: 1) not taking more than my fair share of space, and 2) moving all the way forward to ensure common courtesy that two other cars would be able to fit in behind me. Trick.

Check it out...

Unsolicited Advice LADY at the gym (#2 does refer to a guy, but only because it's more common).

I don't care if you think you know something about working out. I'm sure you played college basketball or something and those 15 wind sprints you got as punishment that one time for talking during the video playback of last night's loss made you think you were super tough, but I know a thing or two myself. And I know that I was using proper form - because I always do. Dipshit.

So, while I know I was on the one machine you use at the gym, don't think that you are somehow going to scare me off it by telling me I'm "doing it wrong" and that, "everyone always does it wrong." You ever think that you're the dumb ass who is doing it wrong? Hmm, I know you read one article in SHAPE Magazine 10 years ago, and still hold it to be the workout gospel, but come on...

If anything, I should have been giving you advice. Your cankles were sloppily smushed into your one size too small 'workout' pants, your baggy shirt was hiding your spare tire, and that microfiber, fast wicking hat wasn't doing much since you weren't breaking a fucking sweat. I mean, if you looked like this I might be more apt to listen to your advice. But when you're shaped like Jennifer Hudson (even after the weight loss), I really don't care what you have to say.

Just a friendly PSA. I'm by no means an "I Know Everything Fitness Guru," but this is an area I consider to be one of my strongest knowledge bases. I guess I'm just annoyed that she thought it was pertinent enough to interrupt my workout. I get mad when people interrupt my workout to ASK me something. You can only imagine the look of disgust, and the ridiculous eye roll she received when she dared to interrupt my workout to try and TELL me something.

With the stamina I've built up doing my weekend workouts, next time I'm not getting off the machine until I see her leave. I'm thinking 6 hours should cover it.

Friday's "Best" - 3/11 Edition

In the wake of the earthquake that hit Japan last night, I'm sure people out there are looking for a little something less depressing. Perhaps I have just what you're looking for in this week's edition of Friday's "Best".

Good shit from the internet this week, folks. A creepy new dating website, a man on a McMission, Mello Yello!, and a newish tumblr that's guaranteed to give you something to post up as your desktop wallpaper.

First up, Time NewsFeed brings us word of a new dating site set to come out this month that's sure to appeal to the Narcissist in all of us - or, maybe not. It appears http://www.findyourfacemate.com/ is a new dating website that actually uses "facial-recognition technology that zeros in on nine points on the face to find similarities." So what's so weird about that? Well, this isn't something where you just go in and select a bunch of good looking individuals and they come up with some super human ala "Weird Science."

Nope. The research is done on YOUR face and then tries to find people that look EXACTLY like you. Yeah. Not sure I'd like to date a chick that looked like me...just sayin'.

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Most of the people reading this blog (all 5 of you, including my Mom) know that I'm training for a pretty epic race at the end of the month. Between the workouts, the rest, and the nutrition, it's shaping up to be the most physically demanding thing I've ever done.

It would be even more ridiculous if I tried to do it by eating only McDonald's food, right? Well, apparently, there is a guy from Chicago who is doing just that in preparation for the LA Marathon. The guy IS running 100 miles a week though, so please, don't try this...um, ever.

I do have quite the soft spot in my heart (read: tummy) for the McDonald's Breakfast - specifically the Sausage McMuffin w/Egg, however. So I'll let that one slide.

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Speaking of things that are awful for you...MELLO YELLO is back! That's right. Coca-Cola's attempt to rival Pepsi's Mountain Dew is back in California after what must have been a good 15-20 year hiatus. During my Sunday workout I was stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed what had to be a 5 hour workout induced hallucination:

I mean, we're talking Days of Thunder, Cole Trickle, Daytona 500 Winning MELLO YELLO! Legend always had it that this stuff was the most caffeinated soda in the world. Not sure that that is still the case, but 20 years ago, I wouldn't doubt it was in the running (NOTE: Mountain Dew (sadly) has 1.5 milligrams more caffeine per can, just FYI).

Anyway, the soda became too awesome for California years ago and languished in Florida and most of the Midwest for a couple decades. Either way, it's back and though I don't have more than a soda every couple of months...well, let's just say I had to celebrate the Yello coming out of retirement.

Yup. Found it right down the road at the local supermarket. And, yup. It tastes terrible. Just like I remember.

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Finally, I was hipped to this tumblr over at GQ Recommends. The name says it all http://pleasingaesthetics.tumblr.com/. I like awesome looking shit, and I think you just might too. Being mildly obsessed with architecture and landscapes might also help you to enjoy wasting time scrolling through the pages of the site. Here are a few of my favorites thus far:

That's it for this week. Enjoy your weekend. Tomorrow's the St. Patty's Day Parade in The City. So, yeah...

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

If you were fortunate enough to be living in The City last year during October/November, you won't want to miss this:

Looking for work?

Got tiger blood? I may have a job for you. Well, Charlie Sheen might have a job for you. Seriously.

From the job posting:

• Description: Do you have #TigerBlood? Are you all about #Winning? Can you #PlanBetter than anyone else? If so, we want you on #TeamSheen as our social media #TigerBloodIntern!
  
  This unique internship opportunity will allow a hard-working, self-motivated, creative, resourceful and social media savvy individual to work closely with Charlie Sheen in leveraging his social network. The internship will focus on executing a social media strategy that will build on the success Charlie Sheen has attained in setting the Guinness World Record for the fastest time to reach one million followers on Twitter. The #TigerBloodIntern is expected to be proactive, monitor the day-to-day activities on the major social media platforms, prepare for exciting online projects and increase Charlie’s base of followers.
  
  You will learn how to promote and develop the social media network of Hollywood’s most trending celebrity.

Hurry though. The deadline to apply is March 11th - yes, this Friday.

I mean, who wouldn't want to work for the most ridiculous man in Hollywood since Gary Busey?

The Anatomy of a 6 Hour Workout

Training took a gnarly turn for the ridiculous Sunday - to the tune of 44.2 total miles and 6 hours of training. In the rain.

After an 80s themed pub-crawl turned dance/pizza party in Oakland that ran well 'til 4:30am Saturday night/Sunday morning, I was more than a bit skeptical about undertaking what would end up being 6 hours of hell (with some awesome thrown in there). Regardless, I was up and on my way back to SF before 9:00am and by 10:15am I was out the door ready to take on the rain for the rest of the morning and the better half of the afternoon.

Here's what I headed out the door with today and carried on my back (or in my belly) for the duration:

- REI Backpack
- 100 oz. Camelbak full of water
- Pack of Strawberry GU Chomps (w/caffeine)
- Chocolate Brownie Clif Bar
- One pita bread
- A bag of dried cranberries
- One Tecate (seriously)

After three and a half of hours of bike loops in Golden Gate Park, I came back to my house to "quickly" transition to the hour and a half run. I'm planning on these transitions being a bit easier during the race since I (hopefully) won't be completely soaked and covered in road grime. In all, the transition only took about 8 minutes - mostly due to the soaked clothing and changing time. I had to change shoes as well, which always messes you up.

Out the door, I was ready for lunch on the run - literally. I cooked some pasta as soon as I got home in the morning, and it was waiting for me when I got back to the house to transition. Nothing fancy - just a sandwich bag full of pasta, olive oil, a little salt and a little pepper. I washed this down with the Tecate I had in my bag. A good move, since the alcohol helped to numb a little bit of the pain, and the additional carbs sure didn't hurt either. Most of the details of the run were pretty boring, although I did head up through Pac Heights and down (and back up) the Lyon Street steps. Planning my mileage accordingly (about 8 miles), I was at the Market Street 24 Hour Fitness just as the run/trek portion was up - luckily too, as my Camelbak had run dry about 20 minutes before.

Once checked in, I moved to the rowing machine and did a 30 minute moderate paced workout which left me feeling reenergized though I was feeling a bit of stiffness in my right lateral collateral ligament. Completed and exhausted - but being only a mile and a half from home, a warm shower and the rest of the day on the couch, I headed out and interspersed slow jogging and walking the rest of the way home. I ended up eating again as soon as I got home and passed out for about an hour on the couch. Before waking up and eating again. Here's why:

Six Hour Workout Totals:

- Miles: 44.20
- Average Pace: 8:15/mile
- Total Ascent/Descent: 7,557 ft
- Hydration: 133 oz water/12 oz Tecate
- Piss Stops: 9
- MP3s Played: 92
- Calories Burned: 5,048

Race is in two and a half weeks. No turning back now.

Note: As much as it completely sucked being out there in the rain, for the better part of what most people my age refer to as either a "lazy Sunday" or "Sunday Funday," I definitely had multiple points during the workout where I completely forgot I was working out and actually enjoyed myself. Most of this came during the run/trek portion, but it was a very surreal experience - one most people will never understand since it takes a certain level of idiocy and slight retardation* to do things like this.

*I know. We're not supposed to use this word. Though, I'm using it to refer to myself in relation to definition 4b. from dictionary.com: i.e. a person who is stupid, obtuse, or ineffective in some way.

Shame on me.

Friday's "Best"

Whoa. Maybe March is more than just another excuse to grow a mustache. I'm going strong on the blogs, and by popular demand, I'm bringing you another edition of Friday's "Best".

Our pals over at SFist, always keep us San Franciscans up to speed on the happenings in our great City, and with the 100th anniversary of the Bay to Breakers fast approaching, it looks like they've caught wind that registration is already over 80% full.

Since I know all of you plan on purchasing your bibs so you'll be allowed in the 2011, non-ING sponsored "dry" race, I thought this was fairly important for you to know. I know I've harped on this before, but do the race organizers really think they are going to stop a 100,000+ person annual event from going on the way it has for decades? I guess we'll have to wait and see. At least this year the drunken stumble home from the Panhandle will only be a few blocks And, just far enough to keep the pissers away.

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In other news, it looks like Nickelodeon game show "Legends of the Hidden Temple" has made a recent resurgence. So big in fact, that they have been allowed to bring objects from their set to show off at the DeYoung Museum. That's right. Olmec. The giant talking statue that spouted off wisdom and had glowing red eyes. One thing I guarantee won't be there is the Shrine of the Silver Monkey- since no one could ever figure out how that thing was put together on their own.
Anyway, I was able to come across an ad outside the museum itself while I was on a training ride yesterday, and all my suspicions were confirmed:

Yup. Production was outsourced to MEXICO! It makes total sense. Think about it...The original show had 6 teams: The Red Jaguars, Blue Barracudas, Green Monkeys, Orange Iguanas, Purple Parrots and Silver Snakes. Have you ever seen any of these in the United States? Hell nah. This is some shit you could obviously only find in Mexico.

Speaking of the Silver Snakes...this team was ALWAYS heavily favored to win. I don't know why, but the producers always loaded this team with the biggest/strongest/smartest/whatnot, that was needed to succeed in the shows numerous levels. I can't remember an episode where the Purple Parrots even got to the second level. They were like the token girl contestant on GUTS getting whooped in every damn event.

If anybody else is into it, I say we gather a crew and get paired up with some shirts, some gold helmets and elbow pads, and go apeshit inside the DeYoung. Just a thought. Let me know if you're down. That also isn't such a bad B2B costume idea either...

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Finally, MissionMission brings us a ridiculous video of some nut on a mountain bike riding through some Spanish speaking village. Check it out for yourself. Nothing I can say will prepare you for this. Pretty sweet helmet cam though. This is pretty much the equivalent of Devil's Backbone in Airborne (NOTE: Not sure who made this video, but it does an awesome job of getting the ridiculousness of the movie across in .

Ain't nuthin' but a gangster party...

But seriously...

Today brings some rather upsetting news about my pre-former home. It looks like gang violence is surging again in the Mission, and that's no good for anyone. Back when I was on Shotwell, there were three murders in a matter of weeks back in 2009, which really put the neighborhood on edge.

For those of you still in the Mission, be careful out there. Not that any of you are bangin', but it'd really suck to hear that one of my friends was an innocent bystander caught by a stray bullet.

Proof girls lie.

You ever notice how girls are ALWAYS complimenting one another on their outfits, and you are sitting there playing boggle in your mind trying to get the letters right to understand what the hell they are thinking stepping out of the house like that? Well, I do.

In particular, there is a girl at work who constantly wears the most ridiculous outfits. Sometimes she looks like a french butler, other times it seems as though she watched an episode of Sex and the City and picked the worst piece of clothing from each episode and threw it all together. You really think you can pull off the shit Carrie Bradshaw does? Guess what, patna? You can't.

Anyway, since my best friend at the office recently left the firm to join the competition - lame -I've been trying to find ways in which to keep myself entertained. This week I decided to wear a hideous thrift store coat that was handed down to me from a friend who bought it to look like a high school principal. Anyway, here's a snap of me in the jacket (and my weekly scruff):


The funny thing? I received more compliments from the girls/ladies at the office wearing this outfit than in the nearly three years I've been there COMBINED. Now, I knew I looked ridiculous. I did. The funny thing is just how over-complimentary all these people felt they needed to be. And it wasn't sarcasm. Anyone that knows me, knows that I lay it on thick, so I'd have been pretty excited to catch a little sarcasm, but I got none! Don't get me wrong here, there were still quite a few people who looked at me like I was crazy, and I even got a couple of really hard double-takes, but the entire day I never let anybody know that the reason for me wearing the jacket was in the name of science. I calmly accepted every compliment, and made mental notes of the sideways glances.

My interpretation: Girls tell you that you look 'good' in the most ridiculous shit in the hopes that you will continue to look like a Project Runway reject and they, by default, will automatically have one less person to outdo. Ladies, especially. Some of the shit you wear is completely sloppy. Seriously. Really think hard about how you look the next time your 'friend' tells you that you look "amazing" in that outfit. It's not fashion forward to look like crap. It's actually crap.

What the hell?

Good question. In more ways than one. A question that is sure to lead me on a different path than most of my blogs to date, but might actually prove to be a little more interesting for some of you. Strap on your reading glasses as this is gonna be a long one. Let's get started.

Last month we received an eviction notice from my landlord. Nothing we did wrong, except for living in a house that he built and decided he wanted to sell. Upon hearing the news we were certain we would receive some compensation under the Ellis Act. Not a bad deal to get paid to move. If that was in fact the case. Turns out that "awesome modern place" I moved into, was a little too modern - only buildings built pre-1979 qualify. So, we were about 30 years off. Shit. This meant we had, as the landlord mandated, 30 days to vacate the unit AND would not be getting paid to do it. Hooray. Having just moved my stuff in back in December, it was fair to say I was less than pumped about having to do it all over again.


After a couple of weeks of looking for places that would work with the current roommates, I realized it was too difficult to find a place that would be comparable with the same guys and ventured off on my own. As it turned out, a friend of mine (heretofore known as Bob) was desperately trying to get out of the Inner Richmond. Can't fault him on that one. In a matter of days we found a solid two bedroom, two bath, duplex with backyard and laundry on site North of the Panhandle at Golden Gate and Lyon. Before President's Day weekend we had solidified a year lease and had our move in date set for the 21st - in honor of FDR, naturally.

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This timing actually worked out well. For one thing, it gave me a week to move all of my stuff before the technical eviction date. Anyone who knows what it's like to move their life in one day understands the huge sigh of relief this provides. The second, and clearly more important benefit, was that I wouldn't have to cancel my planned trip to Santa Barbara for the long weekend. Having had a slightly difficult Sunday from the booze (read: 11th Annual Double IPA Fest/house party with 4Loko ans shots and...), I was definitely looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend of soaking up the sun on the beach and slowly but surely raising my BAC. Ha.

Turns out the deluge from Karate Kid II (do yourself a favor and click that link, you won't be disappointed. The beat down at the 6 minute mark is the most ridiculous fight scene ever filmed) followed me down there from the Bay. When this happens in Santa Barbara, there really isn't much you can do. Oh. Except drink. So we did. Since I had just driven 5 hours straight from work, Thursday night was pretty easy. Al and I had a few pints at the James Joyce (a place that would be visited numerous times that weekend) and pretty much called it a night. Friday was awaiting and would be one for the ages.

Friday was a pretty shitty day, weather wise, which meant we would be back at it - only this time, we had the whole day ahead of us Luckily Al and I were able to get a decent hour long run in before the rain really started coming down. After grabbing some "breakfast" at a Vietnamese place, we ended up heading to the local bowling alley in hopes that there would be some refuge from the storm awaiting us. In fact, all we found was a bowling alley full of elementary aged children and a bar. Guess which one we chose?

After spending a good 4 hours playing pool and drinking 23 oz. glasses of Pabst, we decided we had had enough and figured we'd change the venue, head around the corner and grab a drink at Break Time - an old dive that has way too many reminiscent qualities to mention. Another pitcher of Pabst and we got back to the pool table. To my surprise (read: uncontrollable glee) I saw one of my UCSB Professors walk right by me and sit at the bar. Neither of the people I was with had any clue who he was, but it was none other than the legendary Econ Professor, Robert Crouch.Yes, he really is as crazy as he looks. After my mind (and body) stopped uncontrollably orgasming, I turned around to see someone walk in with what looked like a foil wrapped Thanksgiving Day turkey. Looked like one of the regulars was in a giving mood, but there was no way I was going to risk eating a turkey in a dive bar. As the patron unwrapped the foil, we were greeted with the fresh smell of grease and some sort of meat product. Yep. They had brought in a good 100 homemade Jack-in-the-Box style deep fried TACOS. This day couldn't get any better. Could it? Oh yeah.

After slamming down a few tacos, we head to IV to pick up another friend and head downtown. After grabbing some food at one of the breweries, we decide to venture to The Neighborhood - by far the best bar in Santa Barbara that I have ever been to. it truly reminded me of The Mission, Isla Vista, and Butter all in one (please watch the low bit video the owner put up...please). This place had ping pong, pool, cheap pitchers, buck hunter, and an outdoor patio where pretty much anything went. Needless to say, near the time we left The Neighborhood things were starting to get a bit spotty. Over the course of the next 8 hours, we raided Raley's for all the Caguama we could find, played some absolutely unnecessary drinking games, was attacked by a chupacabra, and passed out on the floor waking up trying to use the couch cover as a blanket. Pretty decent little Friday.

Saturday was a horse of a different color. I spent most of the day napping, taking a slight break to attempt some more Vietnamese food but realizing it wasn't going to work, I rushed to the bathroom to handle business. I'm pretty sure I described it as forcing me to "scorpion kick" it was so powerful. Not bad. Finally, 5pm rolled around and there were no more excuses - I took a shower, changed up and we were back downtown for another night at The Joyce. Knowing how I felt that morning I was convinced to take it easy(er) than Friday. Which I did. Still had a blast, ran into some old friends and made some new ones. The camera even made it out, so you know I was keeping it (fairly) under control.

See. Carbombs are the BEST way to maintain for the evening. Right?

Well...this was much later and we look pretty alright, so I guess we can say it worked out well for both of us.

Waking up Sunday had me feeling fantastic. I was certainly out of the doldrums from the morning before. No hangover, and I was pumped to get out and get another run in. The rain had finally let up, and though I initially planned on heading back to SF in the morning, I knew there was no way I was going to leave Santa Barbara on a day like that. I headed up Mission Canyon and even caught a few glimpses of the snow on the mountains.

On the way back down the road, I was intrigued by the idea of cutting through the Botanical Gardens. Running with a backpack on, full trail gear, and having my headphones in, I ran straight past the ticket booth and began my exploration. Despite there not being an official "other way out" that sure wasn't going to stop me. I was able to cut a little path out to the other side and continue my way back to Allison's place. The sunny, yet crisp day had me feeling awesome by the time I finished and I was ready to finally enjoy the sun - beer in hand.

Knowing there was only one place to completely capture the essence of Santa Barbara on a day like this, Al and I headed over to Isla Vista. With sandwiches and beer on the brain, we rolled over to Sam's To Go. A couple of pitchers, a walk around IV and a couple more pitchers set the tone for the remainder of the night. This sunset didn't hurt either:

For the evening, we ended up going back to the James Joyce. Again. But this time it was for a VERY good reason. Sunday is karaoke night. Needless to say, it was as sloppy and amazing as one would imagine me and my very amateur group of friends attempting to sing. The highlight (read: lowlight) is when my buddy Bobby signed up for "Just A Friend," by Biz Markie and about 30 seconds in he realized he didn't know anything beyond the chorus. In a drunken attempt to save him, I hooped on stage and told him to just repeat the chorus over and over. Whether the crowd knew it, or decided to even pay attention to us, I'm not sure, but I felt it went over fairly well. Our friendly host Emmet, felt a bit differently, quote: "No. That's a great song. You guys just ruined it."

Aww, Santa Barbara. 'Til we meet again.

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What else...? As one of my last "real" posts talked about, I've been training since the beginning of the year for the 50 mile AXS race in Moab, UT at the end of March. Training has been pretty solid and for the most part I've stuck to the prescribed schedule verbatim - every other day is either biking or running, with a few rowing workouts or gym circuit training days thrown in there. Most workouts only last an hour, but as we've approached the actual race date, I've seen a steady uptick in the duration of the weekend workouts - this past weekend for example, was a 3 hour 3o minute mountain bike ride on Saturday, followed by 1 hour 35 minute run on Sunday. Not too crazy, except that last Thursday I noticed a strange rash on my inner thigh.

Not being one to bitch or complain, I put some hydrocortisone cream on it and thought nothing of it. I sure as hell wasn't going to see a doctor over a heat rash. Next day...

Fresh 'friends' on my other thigh. This was suspicious to say the least, but the striations simply made me believe that I must have irritated my leg while running. No biggie. The workouts go on...Yet, the next day...

Alright! What the fuck!? Now I'm thinking something has got to be up. My right ankle is covered in what look like little mosquito bites. When I was little my mom told me I was allergic to some detergents, but I hadn't changed the detergent I was using. Hmm...Could it be? Noooo...yes? DO I HAVE BED BUGS? Freaking out now, having awoken in the middle of the night scratching at my legs like a dog scratching away when getting a good petting, I'm truly scared/confused/pissed. I throw off my sheets and begin feeling around my mattress with one hand (mind you it's 2:30am) and scratching my crotch area like a bonobo chimp. I don't see anything, but I don't want to get back in my sheets since there may be critters hanging out in there. Instead I throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie and sleep on top of the covers. Waking up pouring sweat was better than the thought that I was being chomped on all night by some fucked up parasite.

Needless to say, I called the doctor and set an appointment to be seen the next day (yesterday). Anyone who knows me knows that this is rare. I've always fought through most illnesses and ignored the doctor's office like the plague - especially since that's where everybody goes when they are coughing and sneezing germs all over the place. Makes sense right? ANYway, I get to my appointment and I'm greeting by a nurse that looks dead on Blake Griffin. Size, stature, everything. Seriously, THAT Blake Griffin. It was daunting to say the least. We go through the standard weighing, height measurement, temperature, etc. We get to the blood pressure test, and I rank in at 110/70. Considered a perfect score - highly physical athletes, very healthy folks typically score here. (BOOM! Score one for Rick!) He then asks me a few 'lifestyle questions' - uh oh. While most are fairly innocent, he rattles my brain with this one:

Nurse: "In the past year, how many times have you had 5 or more drinks...in a day?"

Me: "In a day?!?" (sideways smirk, big exhale) "psssshhh, man...I don't know..."

Nurse: "...........Well, there are 52 weeks in a year. So, once a week...? Twice a week?"

Me: (Motorboat sound with my mouth) "Uhhhh, sure."

Nurse: "So, twice a week?"

Me: "Not always."

Nurse: "So, 100?"

Me: "Whoa. (Quick calculation in my head...Fridays+Saturdays+ some Sundays and not really wanting to drag this on further than was absolutely necessary) Sure. Let's go with 100."

NOTE: Looking back, this number is completely false, but I figured since I didn't try and overshoot my height when asked (5' 8" not 5' 9") I wouldn't try and undershoot my drinking, neither.

Needless to say, he gave me something to think about - did he really just round 104 down to 100 when I said "not always"? Man, what a jerk. Anyway, he takes off and about 3-4 minutes later the door cracks and I hear a voice greet me. It's my NP who was assigned to me. And, of course, she is bangin'. Awesome. I get to show my rashed up crotchal to perhaps the best looking doc I've ever seen. Oh yeah, she's also got a skirt on. And when she sits down dead in front of me neglects to cross her legs - or even put them together for that matter. I'm thinking, "Am I being punk'd right now?" Sadly, Ashton was nowhere to be found. Instead she cut right to the chase and asked what I was doing there. I pulled up the left pantleg of my shorts and showed her the damage.

"Oh, that looks like it itches." Really? You fuckin' think!? "Umm, yup." Dipshit. "That's definitely poison oak." What? "I've never had it." Bitchily, "And there's some more on your leg. It got you good. Where were you that you might have come in contact with this?"

Santa Barbara Botanical Gardens. You win this round. Karma for not paying, I suppose.

As we wrapped up she gave me some topical ointment and oral medication that I need to take for the next two weeks. Shitty.

I'll let you know how it goes. Or not.