Instead of typing something that would take you 15 minutes to read, I decided to just record my door-to-door commute today, and wouldn’t you know it turned out to be just shy of 15 minutes.

Thank goodness YouTube increased their maximum video length to 15 minutes, or you would never get the priviledge of seeing this.

Enjoy. Or don’t.

Click here to view the embedded video.

A man isn’t poor if he can still laugh.  ~Raymond Hitchcock

Laughter is the best medicine.

Smile, it increases your face value.

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.  ~e.e. cummings

Smile and the whole world smiles with you.

There are myriad quotes about laughter and its impact on our wellbeing. Ranging from popular quotes in movies like Steel Magnolias (“Smile, it increases your face value.”) to poetic interpretations from lower-case-only authors (see above), laughter takes a prime spot in the lives of healthy people.

I myself have experienced an influx of laughter over the last month, and it’s not because the wine shipments have increased. It’s because of a major life event – a new job.

Most of you know that for nearly 15 years I worked in a large high-tech manufacturing company, and many of you also know that I’m no longer there. On August 2, I began a new phase of my career working for KVIE Public Television – a place I had volunteered at for nearly 15 years, but had never really thought about working for until the cards fell into place.

But this isn’t about one job vs. another job, it’s about laughter – and specifically, how much laughter I’ve experienced in the first four weeks of this new job.

* Artist: Glen Hettrick

Every day there is something that sends the office into a giggle fit. It might be seeing a painting of a cow titled Huell Cowser (a painting that will be featured in our upcoming Art Auction); it could be an entertaining letter from a viewer to let us know how much they adore the president of the station (and who wouldn’t?); or it might be a funny office situation like me figuring out that when I print on one side of the colour printer in order to print on the other side I have to remove the paper, make sure it’s upside down and rotated 180 degrees so that when I print again it won’t look backwards.

Ok so that last one was more of me chuckling to myself, but it still counts as laughter.

Every day it’s been one thing or another that makes my heart do a little tiny pitter patter of laughter – and it has made a noticeable improvement upon my general health and well being.

I’ve been in a better mood generally; I’ve felt more productive; the day has gone quickly and I get to the end with a list of big accomplishments; I just FEEL better.

It reminds me that it is important to find something to be happy about each and every day and keep the momentum going. It’s not enough to laugh on Monday and be sour the rest of the week – it’s got to be sustained, and by the end of the week you might suddenly realize that you’re a much nicer person than you were the previous week.

Or, it could just be the wine. But I’m willing to test it.

When you hear the phase “I’m covered in BEES!” you usually think of Eddie Izzard. And if you don’t, then really what are you doing with your life?

Eddie introduced us to the hilarious gnahhhhhhhh gnahhhhhhh sound of bees buzzing around his head. Urban Dictionary even has a listing for it:

Said by the masterful comedian Eddie Izzard, in his set “Glorious,” to describe what a beekeeper must occassionally say when he freaks out and realizes that he is in fact covered in bees. Great line to quote at random times when surrounded by a lot of people.

And I’ll even include a youtube video for those of you who still just don’t get it:

Click here to view the embedded video.

* Image (C) AP

Okay, now that we’re all on the same page let me direct your attention to Wake County North Carolina (where I’m originally from), United States, where a policeman was surrounded, in his car, by 50,000 bees. We’re not really sure how the bees were counted, but there you have it.

I find this to be completely and totally delightful.

Bees are pretty intelligent creatures. Due to an unfortunate accident they were flung from a truck and of course the first thing they see is this police car. Seems as good a place as any to take out their collective wrath.

I think the real tragedy here was that several of the bees were killed because they got into the car. Too bad the trooper didn’t just take the stings like a man. Instead he played the “personal space” card.

‘It was more or less self-defense. There were a couple of bees in my personal space, my comfort zone, and I just wanted to get them out,’ he explained.

Shame on you. Respect the hive.

* Image from Metro UK Weird News

This girl likes her hair.

She likes it so much that she eats it.

That’s right. She eats her hair, and not just a little bit, a LOTTA bit. Like 1kg of it.

Apparently this is a REAL disease, as opposed to one of those silly made-up ones. This one is called trichophagia. And yes – it’s the compulsive eating of hair.

This one is really hard to wrap my head around. Literally. I don’t have enough hair to even reach it with my mouth…that’s the benefit of having short hair – I can’t have trichophagia in the classic sense.

Now, I suppose I could cut my hair off and then eat it, but what’s the fun of eating hair that’s no longer attached to your head? I mean, if you can’t put it into a ponytail and then suck on it in your mouth, why bother eating it. Once you cut the hair off it’s not part of your body anymore – it would be like clipping your nails and THEN eating them, vs. chewing them off directly into your mouth. Who does that?

Nobody does that.

Incidentally, if you eat your own fingernails it’s considered self-cannibalism, but if you eat your own hair it’s trichophagia. I guess hair eating is so exclusive that it gets its very own disorder named after it. I like that. It feels like something I’d want because it’s exclusive. Who doesn’t want to be exclusive and unique, just like everyone else?

Anyway – these are the things that are important today. There was no other news to speak of – so enjoy the hair eating.

Delicious French-Fries

When I began my career at age 15, McDonald’s was the obvious choice. Several of my friends worked there and it seemed like a fun place to be. Plus, who doesn’t love McDonald’s french fries? Seriously, they were delicious at the time (keep in mind this was a LONG time ago).

I started out as a crew trainer – I didn’t really train that many people, but it was on my badge so there you have it. Basically, I ran drive-through, which was THE place to be. You know it was the place to be because I capitalized THE. And it really was. The best part was being able to feed my dramatic needs by putting on different voices when customers came to the ordering microphone.

Sometimes their order would be taken by Mae West, but then Heath would hand it to them out of the next window and take their money. Sometimes a large woman named Shaniqua would take their order, only to be replace again by Heath (not so large white male).

It was an absolute joy coming up with different voices and inflections to use that would throw people off – and even more fun to see or hear their reactions (I could see their faces through the mirror system as I took their order).

But McDonald’s didn’t last long once I was off to college, although some friends of mine continued their employment only at a different restaurant location. I, however, opted for jumping right into technology as one of the computer lab operators for the academic computing department. But I didn’t stop there. I also was the network administrator for the Student Health Services (actually installed a Novell network and ran it for a couple years), and I did some consulting with Administrative Computing too. It’s a good thing, because I’m sure all that computing experience is what helped me land my next job – Intel Corporation.

Yay computers!

Right out of college I went to work for Intel – and there I stayed for 14.5 years. I had a variety of jobs even at the same company, ranging from: database administrator, project manager, program manager, product manager, product line manager, people manager, instructor, social media consultant, community manager, organization development consultant, and more. The variety was endless for a while because it was very easy to move around the company and look for new things that sparked my interest.

But then my interests changed pretty radically, and it was time for the next big thing. And here comes broadcast media. I’d been volunteering at KVIE for almost 15 years, and out of the blue an opportunity arose that I just couldn’t pass up. I had never really considered leaving Intel, but sometimes you just know when it’s the right thing to do – to make a huge life change.

And so it happened. As of 1 August 2010 I am an Intel Alumni.

And as of 2 August 2010, I am the Director of On-Air Fundraising and Special Events at KVIE Public Television.

Who knows what the next 15 years of my post-college career will bring, but it’s sure to be an adventure! Thanks for coming along with me!

It’s become an annual tradition for us to go to the State Fair at least one time when it’s in town. This year we only had a short time to get there because they not only moved it ahead a month, but the duration has been shortened to a mere 3 weeks.

Budget crisis anyone?

Unfortunately it was not only the timing of the fair that was reduced this year, it was also the quantity and quality of the rides. A warning for those of you buying tickets or wristbands – there are very few rides this year that are worth the price you’ll pay, and those rides are mostly the roller coasters.

* Club Idol, the American Idol knockoff that wasn't even playing an Idol music.

Our big joy of the fair is usually the fun house. Moscow Circus has been missing for the last two years, which is a shame because it was the BEST fun house at the fair. It’s been replaced with knock-off American Idol and Michael Jackson attractions, along with haunted houses that appear to be Pandora themed but on the inside are nothing but skulls with glow-in-the-dark paint sprayed on them. I don’t remember any skulls from Avatar, do you?

Other attractions included a veritable cornucopia of food vendors selling things like chocolate covered bacon (delicious), waffle cones (delicious), and corn dogs (yuck). It was a deep fried paradise and let me tell you there were plenty of people partaking in the joy that is fat.

Wow. Just...wow.

As usual there was another gay creature on the carousel, although this time we completely forgot to ride it. We had unlimited wristbands, but for some reason we took pictures and then walked on by. We were hoping for something more magical, but this year fell very flat when it came to the attractions.

After a tour through the pared down midway we spent some time looking through the fine art and contemporary art exhibits, as well as a Disney sponsored animation exhibit that was quite delightful and magical, as one would expect from Disney.

We toured around on the monorail, sampled delicious BBQ beef and pork from our favourite food vendor, then took off to see the baby piglets that had just been born. For some reason we always wind up going from BBQ to livestock when we’re at the fair. Coincidence, or psychotic behaviour? I’m not sure.

Aren't they just yummy looking?

This year we didn’t even go into the main buildings to see the county exhibits or sample the usually delicious fudge. It just didn’t feel like the fair this year. Lots of hottubs, which we always enjoy, and plenty of slushies and fried foods – but it just didn’t feel very fairy for some reason.

The only new attraction this year was an animatronic dinosaur pavillion which we didn’t even get to see because the line was so long. In fact, it was the ONLY line we had to stand in the whole day. Apparently everyone got the memo that the rides weren’t worth waiting for.

Overall it was still a fun time because we were with some friends, and really you can’t beat chocolate covered bacon. But if I had to give it a grade this year it was a C+. The rides get a failing grade, but thankfully the food and the exhibits made up for it somewhat. Better luck next year I guess.

You can see more pictures we took at the fair by visiting my flickr page.

Three days ago a pilgrim arrived at the shop I run on Fourth Street. I was fussing with boxes in a back corner when the tinkling of the old rusty bell above the door signaled a customer. It was a rare sound – customers weren’t in the mood for rare books these days, what with the economy in such a slump – so I quickly pushed a box of old magazines into a shelf and hurried to the front of the store.

I paused at the top of the three stairs that led down to the cashier desk – a pilgrim? There was a pilgrim standing just inside the door, his left hand still on the knob as it closed behind him. When he turned to check that the door was closed I quickly pushed my lower jaw up and maintained my composure.

“Good morning!” I said cheerfully as I stepped down behind the desk and casually glanced at the month calendar under the glass counter top. It was not anywhere near Halloween or Thanksgiving. In fact it was the middle of May.

The pilgrim had not yet responded to my greeting, so I continued, “are you looking for something special today?” It was my standard intro – I had tried a number of them in the last ten years of owning the store, but this was the one that seemed to work best. Most people found it patronizing when I tried “Looking for a rare book today?”, especially since it was a rare book store.

“How may I help you?” was a tried and true one, but it was also somewhat dismissive and too easy for them to respond with “Just browsing.” Those people would be in the shop for five minutes and leave without even touching a single book.

“Are you looking for something special today?” seemed to evoke mystery for the customer. Why yes, something special – they hadn’t thought about it that way but this was a special book store! Most of the time this question got a detailed reply, including a whole back story about why they had arrived at the shop on this particular day. The pilgrim did not disappoint.

“Something special?” he replied. “Something that goes beyond special young man. I have been to every book store in this city looking for something special – all they have are trash books. I do not need books about computers or about sex, but that is all they sell these days. But not you. You are going to show me something different today.”

It was the first time I’d had a customer tell me what I was going to do. Usually I was telling them where to start their browsing experience, and how to find a particular volume they were seeking. But this was new. He wanted me to choose from thousands of books on the shelves, and hundreds more in storage boxes in the back, to come up with something “special” for him to read? I instantly regretted not going with “How may I help you?” this morning.

“We have a number of special books here,” I began. “Is there a particular style or genre, or writing period that you’re interested in?”

The pilgrim seemed perplexed by the question. He put his hands on his hips and ticked his head to the left so quickly I was sure his hat would fly off into 1940′s Egyptology, but it was firmly attached. I thought I might have seen a hair-pin holding it down, but he moved his head upright before I could get a better look. He sighed deeply without saying anything.

I was about to give him a run-through of the major sections of the store, but he turned away from me and headed down the closest aisle – 1800′s Poetry. It was actually one of the more popular sections of the store, when people were in a buying mood, but an odd choice for a pilgrim I thought.

Then that thought gave me pause. What would be a normal choice for a pilgrim? And seriously, why is there a pilgrim in my store? Pilgrim’s aren’t something one sees in downtown Atlanta in the beginning of summer – or any time of the year outside a Thanksgiving festival.

I watched him in the large dome mirror on the ceiling as he stepped slowly past the rows and rows of poems. He periodically reached out to touch one of the books, but before his fingers could reach the worn cover he pulled his hand back with a jerk as if the book was a snake that would bite him. My face was a wrinkle of confusion. Was someone playing a joke on me? Did they pay this man to dress up in a ridiculous costume and give me grief?

In the mirror I saw the pilgrim spin around and stare at me. Well, not at me, but at me in the mirror. I jumped back from the cashier desk and hit the banister behind me. The pain hit the small of my back, but I clamped my mouth shut. It was embarrassing enough to be caught spying on my first customer in a week, much less having him scare me enough to hurt myself.

I saw him turn back around and continue down the aisle, then disappear into the tiny alcove of Shakespeare.

I took a deep breath and rubbed the spot on my back where the banister hit me, or rather where I hit it. I was going to have a bruise, I was sure of it. I stepped back up to the cash register and ran a quick inventory report to start the day, when I heard a loud yell from the back.

“I’ve found it!” the pilgrim cried out. “It’s here!”

I jumped back against the banister again, and this time I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Ow!” I grimaced. I was definitely going to have a bruise this time.

I waited for the pilgrim to share his find with me, and through the mirror I saw him stepping back through the poetry section toward the front, cradling a thick black book in his hands. His face was lit up – as if he’d just witnessed the birth of his first child – and with a grand gesture he set the dark book on the glass counter top in front of me.

Cautiously, I stepped forward and looked down at the book. The embossing on the cover was barely legible, and although he had referred to me as a young man I was no longer young enough to be able to read without glasses. With a finger tip I pushed the corner of the book and spun it around to face me and leaned in.

Pressed into the cover of the book were two words, and when I read them, I was sure I had never seen this book in my store before. I knew I hadn’t stocked it, and I’d never seen it on the inventory list, but there it was. Pilgrim’s Pride. A rectangular, dark, thick book that looked to be from the early 1900′s based on the style of the cover material. I was positive that I had never seen the book before.

I looked up into the eyes of the pilgrim and they were wild with excitement – an almost frantic look that made me take a step back for fear that he was going to attack me at any moment. I stood up straight and looked at the man again. “Pilgrim’s Pride,” I said. “Where did you find this book?”

to be continued…

Have I mentioned lately how uninspired I am, lately?

I look to my right and there is a stack of books just waiting for my red pen to edit them. Good books too. Books that you probably want to buy some day. Books that mock me relentlessly with their mockyness.

Do you fall asleep at your computer?

And then there are the books in progress. Add another stack of those, only the stack is on a hard drive mocking me with all its mockinglyness.

And it’s not that I’m truly uninspired – why just the other morning I woke up in the middle of the night (or I might have already been up with my chronic insomnia and just stayed awake) to write down a dream I’d had that I thought would be an absolutely marvelous short story.

Have I written said story yet? No. I have only written down everything I could remember about the dream – now I’m just waiting to find the time to turn it into something real. There really needs to be an easy way to transfer a dream to a page – can someone come up with a dream transcriber? Google? Where are you Google? This is right up your alley!

But speaking of insomnia – oh my gosh there’s a lot of it going on at our house. It has been weeks since I’ve slept through the night, and now that I think on it, it’s probably been months and possibly years. What with the cats walking on me or sitting next to my ear and meowing uncontrollably until I wake up – how am I supposed to get any sleep??

I’ve had a couple employees who complained of insomnia – in years past. I have lent both of them a book called The Insomniac’s Handbook. I never heard from them again, so I assume they fell asleep finally and never woke up.

I am tired. So increasingly tired.

I have practically worn out the snooze button, which is quite an accomplishment since I use my phone as my alarm clock and the snooze button is simply a “zone” on the screen where the image of the word SNOOZE appears. It would take a LOT to wear something like that out.

Can you tell I’m tired?

I’m rambling.

Goodbye.

I wish you and yours a most wonderful 4th of July…

no matter where you may be…

Wow...look at that forehead.

I am often embroiled in conversation with coworkers about the stress and life-sucking that goes on because of work and life distractions. I was also preoccupied with the number of grey hairs I have developed above my ears. It might have been that which concerned me more than the life-sucking, but regardless it prompted a question which I’ll get to in a moment.

In the last year or so I have gone from having 5-10 grey hairs above my ears to over 30. Ok, maybe 40-50. And let’s not even get started on the tell-tale signs of male pattern baldness that I’m noticing, or the thinning of the hair on the top of my head. (Note to self: no more shaving my head for summer weather.)

Granted, my work life is exceedingly stressful, but come on – I’m really not that old, and yet there goes my hair…and those grey ones aren’t from age they are 100% confirmed from stress. I’ve had them tested. But that’s not the point. The point is the thought that occurred was, could I sue for damages because my life has been sucked away from me not unlike the Pit of Despair scene in The Princess Bride? And if I could, how much is a year of life worth?

What is the value of one year of your life?

It’s got to be a LOT more than your annual salary, because that’s just an artificial valuation of your contributions (hopefully) based on measurements, statistics, averages, and other nonsensical stuff. Even if you determined an hourly rate of your life and multiplied it by the number of hours in a typical year (1 year = 8765.81277 hours) would that still really give you the true value of you living for a year?

How would you value the influence you have on others, or the changes you make that might cause something to happen a year from now that would never have happened had you not done the original thing? And realistically, COULD you even put a value on all the possible outcomes? Unlikely, unless someone comes up with a really easy to understand multiverse calculation that can tabulate all the potential outcomes of a single choice and how that would impact your own personal value but no one would understand the concept in the first place except for really brilliant scientists who get their own programs on channels like The Science Channel or Discovery or what-not.

So really what it comes down to is what would a jury of your peers award you for damages to a year of your life.

That’s where the numbers become fun. You can get billions of dollars from tobacco companies because you failed to heed the warnings about smoking (or the nasty smell that your friends constantly complained about). And of course you can get millions upon millions in wrongful death lawsuits. So let’s say an entire life is lost – what’s it worth? Let’s look to the news.

• $25 million (that’s the supposed estimate for John Ritter)
• Likely hundreds of millions if not more for Michael Jackson (if his estranged father wins)
• $15 million for two sisters who died in a rental car crash (if only they had been celebrities they could have doubled that amount)
• There is even a pending wrongful death lawsuit for two unborn twins (something tells me they might surpass John Ritter on that one)

Let’s go with the first one, $25 million for your life. If you averaged out a lifespan of 85 years, that works out to about $294,117.65 a year. I think we know there are a heck of a lot of people who make more than that in their annual salary, and a heck of a lot MORE people who make a tenth of that in theirs.

Should people who make a ton of money have a higher life value? Obviously someone thinks so or they wouldn’t be making that kind of money. Should those of us who make significantly less consider that we’re not as important, or is it just that our job isn’t very glamorous?

Is there something like an adjustable rate mortgage on a year of your life than can wax and wane based on your annual accomplishments and impact? If you influenced more people this year, are you suddenly worth more? Is the point to go out while you’re on top so your value stays high?

It’s completely philosophical I suppose, and I’m not really overwhelmed with finding THE answer…but I am interested in what YOU think the value of one year of your life is, and why.

* Image from Metro UK Weird News

Looks like the Naked Cowboy, or rather the Underwear-only-wearing cowboy, is back in the news again…

The Naked Cowboy, who is frequently seen in New York’s Times Square, strumming a guitar while wearing only a cowboy hat and a pair of white briefs, has sent a cease-and-desist letter to the Naked Cowgirl.
The Naked Cowboy, whose real name is Robert Burck, is demanding that the Naked Cowgirl – also known as Sandy Kane, who performs in a red, white and blue cowboy hat and matching bikini – stop ripping off his trademark.

Back in October 2003 when I took my first sabbatical, I went to NYC for a weekend to see Eddie Izzard at Carnegie Hall. David Bowersox went with me, and we had a great time – not to mention how much fun we had experiencing the Naked Cowboy. Incidentally, he’s got his very own website (http://www.nakedcowboy.com/) and music albums, and for only $499 he will even marry you. That’s right, he’s the Reverend Naked Cowboy.

Talk about versatility.

Anyway…this news article reminded me that I took a quick video of him strutting his stuff in Times Square back in 2003. Here it is for your ridiculous enjoyment…

Click here to view the embedded video.

The night before Christmas a long, long time ago, there lived a girl named Kay. She hardly ever spoke, so she was called Silent Kay.

On the day before Christmas, Silent Kay was knitting a sweater to give to her mother. She heard a knock at the door. She turned the knob and opened the door. On the door step, was a knight whom she didn’t know.

“Pardon me,” said the knight. “I need your help. I scraped my knees, and knuckles, and I need a bandage. I have some in my knapsack but I can’t get them out because there is a knot in the rope around it. Can you help me?”

Silent Kay nodded her head to say, “yes.” She went to the kitchen, got a knife, and came back to cut the knot.

“Kay,” said the knight. “You’ve been so good to me that I must make the truth known to you. I am not really a knight. I am the king, and I would like to thank you for helping me. If you will kneel down, I will make you a real knight.”

So Kay knelt down and the king tapped her shoulder with his sword, and said, “Kay on this Christmas Eve day, I dub thee a knight. From now on you will be known as Silent Knight.”

That’s how Silent Kay became a Knight before Christmas.

The story of Silent Kay was written when I was 11. This story, along with many other ridiculous words is included in Homo sarcasmus – On the Origin of the Species, available on Kindle or in Paperback.