The Real Sicat

F'n Holidays

2011-12-24T22:56:00.000-10:00

Life's been really busy. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

I must warn you, if vulgar language offends you, leave now, otherwise.....................................................

--Fucking Holidays--

What the fuck is Christmas?

What the fuck is New Year’s?

What the fuck is Valentine’s?

Just another goddamn fool here.

Everyone says I should do this,

Everyone says I should do that.

Why the fuck does everyone say,

That I should do a goddamn thing anyway?

There’s a specific gift for certain days,

And a fucking mascot as well.

Who the fuck said a goddamn rabbit,

Is Easter’s William Tell?

Dead trees wrapped in flashy lights,

Loud ass firecrackers starting at midnight,

Shitty tasting chocolates stuffed in a heart,

Why can’t cranberries be a daily tart?

While some are fucking happy,

Others are fucking sad.

Depending on what the calendar says,

This bullshit’s driving me mad!

– by Mark Sicat 12-24-11

Another Sad Story

2011-02-20T21:39:00.000-10:00

The suburbs are a wonderful place to live if you like the extremes of life. I, personally, don't live in the suburbs. I live in what's considered a rural area and I absolutely love it. I've lived in the burbs before and I can honestly say that it really isn't my gig. Then again, by some standards, the entire island can pretty much be pigeonholed to be one way or another.

Back on track, the suburbs offer a choice of three (usually) different models of homes, with options like vaulted ceilings, dual master suites, 2nd story balconies, dual or tri car garages, etc. It's really like a combo meal for life. To live in the burbs, you have to have a job (mooching might pass in some cases), you have to have a vehicle (public transit is fine, but you have to showoff your sweet, overpriced, expensive brand ride to your neighbors, so a car is a must, even though like most vehicles, it still has only four wheels and does the exact same thing that any other vehicle does in the suburbs....drive you from point a to point b, c, d & h), then you get to pick one of the three options for a brand new built home.

One your home is built, by the lowest bidding contractor, you are all set to move in. First, you need to pay a mortgage, insurance, home owner's association dues & utilities. Other expenses include planting a yard, furniture, decor, compact fluorescent light bulbs (because everyone knows that they are so in right now), school lunch, school magazines, school uniforms, school supplies, school sports dues, school yearbooks, school pictures & school donations (because they ask for more, even though everything else has a big markup). Don't get me wrong, schools definitely need all the support they can get, but I have four kids now and I am a newly confessed cheapskate.

After managing all the things that need to be done just to live, where do you find the time to vent steam? Some people play sports, workout, play video games to argue with 12 year olds online and some people just bottle it all in. Some of the people that bottle it all in are the "soccer" moms & dads that are so socially acceptable in the public. They go to all the games, practices, rehearsals, plays & school functions. You are usually conversing with them about the weather and coaches. The conversations are usually pleasant and mildly entertaining. All is well until you drive off. Not in the parking lot drive off, but further down the road, drive off.

You know exactly what I mean. Those drivers are the ones that are driving freaking huge SUVs, minivans, trucks & full sized cars that cut you off to get a parking stall 3 spaces closer to Walmart or Safeway. They speed past you on the freeway, cut you off, only to slow down in front of you because the car in front of them is only driving 5 miles over the speed limit. As you're trying to enter the freeway and merge, they speed up to block your merge, as if you stole something from their children. I get it, some people are so frustrated with their lives, that they have to vent out their frustrations behind a moving vehicle. Some people call it road rage, but these people are what I like to refer to as Another Sad Story, or ASS to keep things simple.

Whenever an ASS cuts me off on the freeway, I proceed to cut the ASS off myself, then slow down to make the ASS slam on their brakes. If an ASS honks their horn because they want me to hurry and back out of my parking stall so they can take it, I lay my seat back and take a nap. I then step out of the vehicle and walk back into the building I came from (keeping an eye on my vehicle from afar to make the ASS doesn't do anything to it). I pretty much emulate the behavior of an ASS, whenever an ASS, ASSes me. For all the people with ASS-like behavior on the road out there, please keep in mind that you can ASS some other people, but some of us will definitely ASS you back!

Revenge(d) by Paper

2011-01-28T22:47:00.000-10:00

Well, I received a reply from Burger King after my Original Chicken Sandwich incident. Quite naturally, I am still a bit bitter about the whole thing. I spent a lot of time to type up my complaint and have received a "copy/paste" reply letter in return. Then again, I didn't really expect much else.

Cheers Burger King, you may now officially eat it...but don't expect to get another "it" free, it doesn't apply to combo meals....

Flight 376

2011-01-13T19:59:00.000-10:00

As I boarded my 19:55 flight back home last week Tuesday, the look on the flight attendants' faces held a sense of urgency.

The flight attendants were gossiping about the Obamas leaving Hawaii and the problems it would cause for our return to Oahu. One fellow passenger heard the gossip and immediately called someone over their phone to boast the news that a flight would probably be delayed because of the President. They were in row 8 or 9, I was in row 1. They were speaking so loudly into a device that was an inch and a half away from their mouth, that I could hear them clearly as if they were next to me. This person went on to say that President Obama, himself, has ruined their vacation because the airspace restriction has locked down the airport. This news spread amongst the passengers as multitudes of people began making phone calls of the same nature.

It was a pathetic thing to see & hear...

At this point, we were still boarding and hadn't even pushed back from the gate yet. The ranting, blaming and name calling continued on and evolved from a simple, "oh my, we are going to miss our connecting flight back home", to a full blown political argument.

Seriously people....get a life, enjoy your vacation and quit worrying about things that haven't even happened yet. Be prepared for the worst case scenario, but don't guarantee that it is going to happen. I just wanted to get home, I really didn't feel like listening to the political rhetoric that all these people were jabbering about. I popped in my earbuds and jacked my little iPod shuffle up to 11, or whatever number freakin' loud falls under.

We made it back to Oahu on time and with no abnormal circumstances. The person who started all the needless and just plain idiotic commotion was saying that they were going to miss their flight back to the mainland, even though we arrived at the gate, right on time. I guess the Obamas changed that person's itinerary and forced them them to be late on a flight in which everyone else took and was on time. Pundits are freaking idiots and I hope they all miss their flights that they are on time for...I guess I'm a pundit too, for posting a blog..

By the way, thank you President Obama and family! You continuously put Hawaii into the spotlight and give us free added attention in the national media. Our economy isn't as bad as other metropolitan areas, but we sure do appreciate any boost to it.

Another sun orbit complete

2011-01-01T01:29:00.002-10:00

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------DISCLAIMER-- DO NOT read any further unless you don't mind being subjected to vulgarity.

Enjoying this new year's celebration with my family, we stood in our backyard at midnight. There was a fireworks display all around us, as many of our neighbors were shooting illegal aerials that rivaled many small town July 4th celebrations across the mainland. The new fireworks ban will go into effect January 2, 2011, which bans sparklers, fountains and assorted "weak" fireworks that Walmart and other retailers sell without a permit.

Sparklers and fountains have been a part of my family's July 4th & New Years day celebrations for many years. We usually build a bonfire out of all the wasted fountain containers as the kids dance around it with sparklers. Realizing that we won't be able to do this anymore (legally) it made me quite sad. As we watched the fireworks display of our brave neighbors in Wahiawa heights, I noticed the theme was pretty much the same across the board, no one cared if they got police citations. It was very obvious that my neighbors didn't care if patrol cars were nearby or not, they were going out with a very intentional and quite literal, bang. I pondered a little deeper and realized something else. This past year, I worried too much about menial shit that I probably shouldn't even spend much time on. I am usually pretty good at setting some outlandish new year's resolution and sticking with it. A sales trainer I worked with many years ago once said, "setting a new year's resolution every year is good practice because it is a perfect test at how good you are at setting goals and sticking to them." I completely agree and have one more statement to make as I get ready to crash for the first time in 2011.

This year, I resolve to say, "fuck it!". Happy New Years everyone!

Revenge by Paper

2010-12-09T15:10:00.002-10:00

During my vacation this week I've replaced a window regulator in my Civic, replaced a drive belt and pulley in our dryer and still need to find time to rearrange my downstairs office. The office is loaded with electronics and accessories dating back to the early 80's (Data General diagnostics reel to reel tape). Whenever we did go out this week, I was able to relax and enjoy the soothing atmosphere of December shopping with plenty of available parking at any shopping center/mall on the island. /sarcasm

The other day, December 6th to be exact, we were heading up to Kaneohe to place flowers on my father and uncles' graves. We decided to grab a quick bite at "the king". There is currently a promo going on right now where you get an Original Chicken Sandwich (r) (hereby known as OCS) free after purchasing one. Our order consisted of a few different combo meals and the OCS was one of them. We received our food and didn't get a free sandwich. To make a long story short, I was pissed and left "the king", still hungry. To make a short story long, read the following PDF. Signed and sent out via my friendly neighborhood postwoman today because "the king" does not accept email or online correspondence, it has to be either verbal or via snail-mail. I actually tried to call the customer service hotline during their normal business hours and a message stated that they were in a meeting. I'm pretty sure that my written words do much more effect than my words verbally in this situation. I want a response already.

Happy ________ day, federal monkey!!

2010-11-27T00:15:00.000-10:00

I hope everyone had an awesome Thanksgiving and an even better Black Friday. With Cyber Monday rolling around the corner as well as Christmas & New Years, I wanted to make another useless point. Why the heck doesn't the federal government just say everyday is some sort of holiday?

Yes, this is another ranting about crap, please proceed with caution, or simply hit alt-f4 or ctrl-w if you're a multi-tabber like me.

I notice that a lot of different people that I ran into outside of my home smiled and said, "happy Thanksgiving." These people were complete strangers that I do not recall ever meeting previously. I too, give holiday greetings on the federal mandated days off and the occasional state holiday. On the other hand, I also give friendly greetings on regular Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Regular Tuesdays and Thursdays don't apply, days that start with "T" sometimes feel offensive to me for some reason. Maybe it's the fact that an uppercase "T" sort of resembles my sign, a Libra. Seeing another Libra may be the reason for it all, who knows, then again, I guess it really doesn't matter. I have no idea about Sunday either.

Getting back on track, on regular days in which the federal government has not decreed it as sacred for some reason, people, in my experience, tend to be generally, well, mean. When the postal workers have a day off to go contemplate the meaning of life (42 by the way), everyone else seems to be in a better mood as well. Drivers pause and allow you to get in front of them during traffic, people hold doors open and smile at the same time, neighbors all wave to you as you drive by and telemarketers understand what "no" means the first time they hear it. On Boxing day, everyone else in the civilized world seems to be happy, but back here at home, you get cutoff in the parking lot, no entrance openings in traffic, thicker than usual bird crap on your car, the rental you really want at Blockbuster is completely sold out and the line into the gas station will burn more gas idling than driving to the next town to fill up.

If everyday was a federal holiday, you would be able to have a Black Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, any day, however day, whichever day and whatever day. Imagine all the sales you could take advantage of! 50% off of an item that has been marked up 300% is only a markup of 50%. 70% off of an item that has been marked up 500% is a net markup of only 50% as well. What a steal! >_> Retailers wouldn't have to dub a certain day of the year as the day they finally turn a profit, they would never be in the red. Retailers would be in the black, year round. With that case in point, the aforementioned Black Monday, Black Tuesday, etc, would simply be called Monday, Tuesday, etc. All this hoopla about a "special" sales day after a federally mandated holiday is the government's way of saying, "spend money to boost the economy, you call it Black Friday, we'll call it, Friday."

Being a hero, oh

2010-11-17T22:22:00.003-10:00

Our second car had a blown out headlight the other day. I, doing the responsible and mature thing, went out the next day to get a new headlight from Walmart. In Walmart, a plethora of headlights were available from standard bulbs to super-duper, barely street legal, ultra bright yet seemingly blueish bulbs. Being that the price difference between a standard bulb at 5.50 a piece, was much cheaper than the high end shinier packaged bulb at 30 some odd dollars, I went with the cheaper bulb. My reasoning is that if it wasn't ample enough as measured in lumens, they wouldn't sell it. Of course this may be trusting a huge monster of a retail organization to do the right thing for the very same people that make it a huge monster of a retail organization. Anyhow, I got the cheaper bulb.

Installing a headlight bulb is very simple, as long as you have small hands. Aiming a headlight is a totally different story, but is easy in itself as well. Case in point, I opted to install the new bulbs, yes I bought two. I figured that I might as well replace both, so I don't have one of those cock-eyed cars with a super bright right headlight and a dim, crappy, brown looking left headlight. As some of you may know, I now have long hair, shoulder length, with a bit of a wave to it, to be more descriptive. I figured that if I was going to be reaching into the engine to be able to access the bulb holding apparatus and extremely tightly placed retaining clip, I should probably tie my hair back so that I don't get any hair in my eyes.

The areas of skull hair that reside towards the front of my head are not as lengthy as the hair on the sides and back of my head. Whenever I put my hair in a ponytail, the front hairs do a little prison break from the ponytail band and dangle freely in the front of my face as I lean forward. This, of course, happened while I was reaching into the engine, leaned forward, with my face parallel to the Walmart parking lot ground, as I was trying to reach a retaining clip. This madness ensued for about 5 minutes until I heard footsteps walking toward me in a delicate, yet confident demeanor. I could tell that the person walking toward me was wearing boots and was on a vector heading directly towards my bent over head, from the opposite side of the hood of the car.

"Excuse me, MA'AM. Do you have a tow truck coming? Do you need any help?"

Yes, some man had just walked up to me as I was bent over, leaning into the engine of a car, trying to reach my hands through a tight space to reach a FREAKING RETAINER CLIP so I could change a simple headlight bulb and called me MA'AM.....

I looked up in dismay and the first reaction the man gave me was sheer horror as I said, "naw, I'm good, thanks though.."

The man stammered a bit then said, plain as day with a solemn poker face, "oh." Then turned around, walked away and headed for his car.

I pondered deeply for about five seconds and peeked around the cover of the engine hood to catch another glimpse of the ego destroyer. He was pretty close to who I would assume was his wife, as he made a gesture towards her then nodded so subtly. The wife then reacted to his motions with laughter and general entertained bodily movements which included thigh slaps and pointing.

I replaced both bulbs within two minutes after that.

Thrice as High

2010-10-17T23:47:00.001-10:00

I've been really sick the past few days and was feeling especially down and out last Friday. My stomach was dying for something really really heavy during lunch, so I ventured over to Burger King(r). I was looking forward to ordering a BK Double Stacker(r) combo when a beam of light glared at me from the menu. I saw a picture of a burger with three patties. I immediately assumed it was that sumo-sized triple Whopper(r) and ignored it initially. Three Whopper(r) patties was a bit too much. You figure that one patty is called a Whopper(r) for a reason, imagine trying to down three of those bad boys at one time.

I pulled up to the ordering mic and asked for a quick minute to review my choices one last time. This brings up a common dilemma. Why do we ask for a few moments to review the fast food menu at drive-thrus(throughs), when we already know what is on it? Anyhow, moving along, I cleared my throat, and stated, "I'm ready to order."

The attendant politely replied, "go ahead with your order, sir."

"I would like a double stacker....wait a sec, scratch that.." I saw that the triple patty delight was in fact not a Whopper(r) at all. It was a BK Triple Stacker(r). This may not be much difference, but a Whopper(r) is indeed a huge sandwich just because of it's name. A BK Triple Stacker(r) is much more enjoyable, because it's name implies that it is a regular burger, just stacked thrice as high. "I'm sorry, I would like to order a BK Triple Stacker(r) combo instead."

I drove through(thru), paid, received my paper drink cup and bag of wondrous delight, then parked right outside of Burger King(r). I could've just parked and walked inside of the restaurant, but that would've required way too much work getting out of my car, I chose to keep my carbon emissions a bit higher, by driving thru(through).

I took a sip of my tasty beverage (thank you Samuel L. Jackson, saying tasty beverage is synonymous with your awesomeness) and inhaled all of the stale and heavily salted fries. Whenever I eat a meal, I tend to save the best item for last. In this scenario, the BK Triple Stacker(r) took priority as the best item because fries and a soda are just plain dull in any meal (if you call it a meal). When I finally got to the burger, cheese stuck to the waxy paper wrapping and I took my index finger and wiped off the separated cheese and simply wiped it back onto the side of the burger from where it came from. I opened my mouth, in the same sense as opening for a dentist, profusely wide open where your jaw bones actually make that popping noise. I bit down onto a massive helping of the burger as my teeth easily glided through(thru) the soft, flamed broiled patties, bacon, cheese and stacker sauce. I completed my journey through(thru) burger awesomeness and found myself quite content, yet extremely overstuffed of junk food.

The next next thing I remember, I woke up fifteen minutes later. Seriously, I freaking fell asleep due to the burger I just ate. I had a good night's rest the night before, I wasn't sleepy at all. The caloric overload of a meal I just had, quite literally knocked me out. I think I'll leave the multi-stacked burgers with more than two patties to the big(ger) boys...

Cynical Karma

2010-09-28T00:03:00.000-10:00

An old superstition is that terrible things happen in threes. When a family member passes on, it has seemed pretty accurate, in my family at least, that two more will follow within a relatively close timeframe. This has happened to me twice already. It seems as if the worst things happen in threes, but the little bad things that really irritate and get under your skin happen in powers of threes. When something in daily life goes wrong, have you ever noticed that the entire day seems to be a string of bad events? That is, until you just don't care anymore...

Take a bad hair day for example. You wake up late and start to get ready for your daily routine. Not too bad so far, until you try to fix your hair. No matter what you do or try, it just won't sit the way you want it to. Too much mousse, wash it out, not enough mousse, add more, it kinda leans one direction too much, brush it out, then you look like a mixture of Prince and John Edwards. You wash your hair to start all over, then realize that you just spent 25 minutes accomplishing absolutely nothing at all. Bad event number one..

You finally decide that you don't have enough time to style your "did" just the way that you want, so you slick it all back with just water and hope it falls into place by the time you get to work. At this point, you're running late, so grabbing breakfast/coffee on the go is the most feasible option due to time constraints. Pulling into the McDonald's drive-thru ( I still don't understand why it isn't drive-"through"), you see that you are only one car behind the guy in the pickup truck with no passengers. You think to yourself, "this'll go fast. At most, he'll order a meal with a large coffee and I'll be up to bat."

After ordering, you pull around the corner to pay and the pickup truck is still sitting at the food pickup window. No big deal, your order was easy, a simple fruit parfait and a coffee. It took less than 20 seconds to order, according to the McD's drive-thru timer that you can clearly see next to the drive up register. The monetary transaction is complete and you pull forward, to get behind the truck still standing at the food pickup window...9 minutes have passed and you've seen 6 bags pass through the pickup window along with 4 cup carriers stacked with large coffee orders. Yes, the guy in front has ordered breakfast for the entire jobsite that he works at. A typical 5 minute drive-thru has turned into a 15 minute disaster. By the way, your coffee is bitter, the hash browns are stale, and the cheese in your McMuffin is hard and brittle. Bad event number two, three, four and five..

While driving into work, you muscle down the corn derivative breakfast because you are absolutely starving and finally get to your jobsite. There seems to be construction at the site and you are forced to park in a shaded area under a tree. It may seem like a nice place to park, until you step out of your car. Looking at the ground, you see splatters of avian defecates and some wild berries all around your car. No big deal, there aren't any birds in the tree right now, and the wind isn't blowing, which would cause the leaves to shake about, dropping berries all over the place. You get into your office and notice an influx of messages that are high priority and demand your attention for the remainder of the morning. By the time lunch rolls around, you bolt out of the front door to find your car covered in red and white splatters. Red from the berries, white from the ... well you know. Alright, no biggie, you'll run it through the carwash during lunch. As you stand next to your car door, you go to press the unlock button on your keyfob and notice that you left the window open. Yes, your seat is covered with berry and crap splashes. You get so mad that you let out a primal scream then through your hands up into the air and slam them down onto you car roof. Yup, you just smacked your hands into the same stuff that is covering your seat. Bad event number six, seven, eight, nine and ten..

On the way to lunch, you are at the point where you just don't care anymore. Your seatbelt isn't strapped, you're talking on your phone while you're driving, without a handsfree device all while speeding through the city streets. Every stop light you go through is green and every car in front of you seems to switch to the next lane over. You decide on a light lunch and grab a salad from a local cafe. The cashier says that they shorted you change from your last visit and gives you the salad gratis. You are able to find a seat overlooking the street next to a window, under the air conditioning vent. You are waiting for something bad to happen, just so you can rub it off and say, "so what." It never happens, while you are in the, "I don't care frame of mind." You get back to work and are given the rest of the day off because of a gas leak in the building. You get home, then your favorite sports team wins.

The point is, when all else fails, stop caring. Life's too short.

Feather in, feather out

2010-09-14T19:24:00.001-10:00

Gang initiations can be events that include jump ins, armed robbery, rape, assault or even murder. As a gang applicant, you may be required to do these things as a show of commitment and trust to the other gang members. Many gangs exist all across the world and some actually span worldwide. For some people, being a member of a collective that hails from the same street or just hates a certain color, is enough to supposedly die for. That is until they are faced with death, then residual thoughts of dying for a cause that is feeble at best, dwindles away and is replaced with realism. Let's examine the psyche of living things during a gang initiation through dialog.

"So, you's wanna hang out on the same power line as us, huh?" questioned the sparrow.

"Well, yeah. You guys have the best view of the park," the robin chirped.

"Only the toughest birds get to hang out here. Do you's think you's has what it takes to be a Power Line Dangler? We only want the cream of the crop."

"I guess, I mean what exactly do I have to do to prove it to you?"

"You's see that highway there? The one with all the cars driving by real fast."

"Ummm, yeah," eked the robin.

"Look here, you's gotta' fly real close to the ground and cross the highway between them cars as they's driving by real fast."

"But, what's the point? I can fly higher than that, where they'll never hit me."

"Listen, I don't make the rules, I just live by 'em. It's always been the same for eh'ry gang out there. Squirrels, cats, dogs, mongooses, deer, but the most famous gang, the frogs, have been doing it longer than anyone else. Them humans even made a vid'ya game out 'dem frogs."

"I really don't understand why we have to do this to sit on a wire, but I'll play along anyhow..."

I've got the power

2010-09-08T00:28:00.000-10:00

The kidneys work to remove impurities from the bloodstream. Whatever gets processed is excreted in the form of urine. For those without kidney failures, it usually works like clockwork, except whenever you have to take a mandatory drug test. No matter how much water you drink, you just can't "go". Whenever you are in the middle of something else important, like the good part in the movie, you can't help but need "go". Karma seems to hold a lot of pull in the world of "going".

Different apparatuses have been created to collect and dispose of urine. Trees, canyons, walls, cups, buckets, toilets, balconies and urinals all serve this purpose. Of all of the different objects, one has the most stigma, urinals.

Urinals have one purpose and one purpose only, to collect urine from males. There are nothing fancy about them, they simply are mounted on a wall and have water released from the upper portion of the contraptions. Gravity does the rest. There is no suction and no hydraulic engineering marvels about them. They collect, release, then flush away. The men that use urinals do so, because it is quick, efficient and they simply can. I, myself, have used a urinal or two and can't complain. Urinals with partitions are widely used, yet urinals without partitions built between them are seldom used. Why is this?

My understanding is that some men are either well endowed, or not. Being well endowed is a matter of opinion and reference. A concern for some men, is that they do not want to have to deal with a potential situation of another man looking over and complimenting or prodding about. Insulting one's manhood can be devastating to the psyche and could possibly destroy even the most egotistical of males. This behavior all goes back to childhood years. Everything is compared, everything. At what point or age does a man move on from hiding, or being concerned with self-perceived inadequacies? Is there such a stepping stone in life? I believe there is. This stepping stone is called the "screw it phenomena".

The "screw it phenomena" is the point in life when you realize that you aren't the only one. You are not Neo, and you definitely are not special. The concern that you have with yourself is a concern that many others share as well. Groups and communities are built on such inadequacies. Once you realize that the "thing" that you have been hiding is the same ratio as the other "things" in this world (for the most part), you too can use the urinal in the middle and will never have to wait in line or casually walk over to the enclosed toilet that just opened up. FREEDOM!!!!!

Gimme MMOre

2010-08-30T20:37:00.001-10:00

There are quite a few great MMO games out there. There are some that you pay a monthly fee for, and there are some that you play for free. The trick is to get you sucked in so that you spend as much time as possible playing on, or logged into the game. There are those who powerlevel and become level 2389475627836 dark druid warrior magi grinders, and there are those who just log in to chat with online buddies. The powerlevelers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are your stereotypical gamers as portrayed by the movie "Gamer", huge slobbish forms that play as g.i.r.l.s (guy in real life) in-game. There are also gamers that are quite athletic as well. A gamer nowadays actually means anyone really.

Facebook has forged social networking with mindless clicking to farm virtual cow patties in an endless endeavor to expand something completely virtual.

First person shooter games have built up to a point where ranking individuals compete for the top spot in some huge conglomerate's online spreadsheet.

Why do we burden ourselves with such nonsense? Douglas Adams was correct..The mice control us. By the way, since you're going to quit now, can I have your stuff?

Coffee Candid-uh-see

2010-08-23T19:21:00.000-10:00

'Tis the season to knock on doors, wave signs at busy intersections and proudly debate your favorite candidates for public office. It seems there's always a hot debate on the table that candidates focus their agenda to during campaign season. Politicians rarely speak of the "change" that they will impose on policy once already in office. It's all about the campaigning before the vote and the politicians know this. Whether you're democratic, republican, tea party patriot, green, socialist or even libertarian paternalist, you're probably well aware of the campaign agenda hype. Say what everyone wants to hear and you're in. Once you're in, it's hard to change the status quo, then politicians look even worse because they didn't succeed in doing what their campaign promised.

I personally don't blame them, the way I see it, they're just doing their job. A lot of people practice this. Imagine if you did exactly what you do at work, just at home. Of course this may be the case in some situations, but what about careers where you have to be someone completely different from who you actually are. Imagine working at a customer service counter in any retail establishment. All day, you hear customer complaints about products or services. You are well mannered and retain any expletives to yourself, then address the customer as if both parties are having a calm conversation, even though the other party is not. If this were to happen within your own home, or your car for you road-ragers, you would probably speak your mind, quite frankly as a matter of fact. The problem that is being addressed here, is that jobs and careers shouldn't change people. Wouldn't life be so much simpler if everyone were just themselves, even while they worked. The solution is in the coffee...

If I were running for government office, an interview of myself would be like so.

"Mr. Sicat, how do you feel about our current economy?" asks a reporter.

"Well, our current economy is the same as it always has been. Good for some, bad for others. Expecting the same results with all of your daily activities without regard to the state of your region's financial stability is definitive cause for failure. If you are not synchronized with your surroundings, you're bound to stick out one way or another," I'd reply.

"Since you dodged that question, how are you going to better our educational system?"

"I'd raise taxes and funnel that extra income directly into the board of education's fiscal budget," I'd reply.

"Raise taxes?"

"Yeah, raise taxes. Where else is the money gonna come from? If the people want better public education for their children, then pay for it," I'd reply.

"Mr. Sicat, you do understand that raising taxes is a direct means to put your opponent in a better position to take the seat that you are running for, right?"

"I'm well aware of that. Money doesn't just appear out of the blue."

"Alright, moving on, are you pro-choice or not?"

"I could care less. What does a medical decision have to do with budgeting a government?" I'd reply.

The interviewer glares at me, then asks, "Mr. Sicat, are you seriously running for office? The answers you have provided me are something I would hear during a morning conversation at the office coffee machine. If you want to gain voter's trust, you'll have to answer the questions truthfu.......ahem, I see."

I would then moonwalk away and bob my head to an imaginary (black) Michael Jackson beat.

Fontophile

2010-08-18T17:48:00.002-10:00

Working on different machines and brands definitely has it's benefits. You get multi-versed in different engineering designs and experience different clientèle. For example, maintaining high end servers puts you in enterprise class server farms, workstations in office settings, gaming rigs puts you into the depths of pizza box hell and rooms that smell like butt (for the most part), and Apple MacPros puts you into fanboy shrines dedicated to Steve Jobs and anything resembling white fruits.

The different engineering designs are pretty consistent amongst the brands. Most Dell lappys you work from the keyboard down. Sony lappys, bottom up. Apple components, well, let's just say, bring your entire toolkit, it's an adventure every time. I truly believe that Apples are designed from the outside in (in Cupertino - heehee). I envision an aesthetician drawing up a design, showing the design to Mr. Jobs, Mr. Jobs says, "make it white with shiny parts and then take it to engineering."

The aesthetician revises the design, takes it down to engineering (why is it always "take it DOWN to engineering", why not take it UP to engineering, or OVER?), and says, "here, make this work."

The engineers say, "ok, what the heck is this supposed to be?"

The aesthetician says, "it's an i_____".

"Oh, I understand now," states the engineer.

In the Apple engineering department there are no service technicians present. This is quite obvious because of the hundred of different screw and fastener types within each Apple. The Dell engineering department is comprised of all service technicians. When you open a machine from Dell, usually all you need is one tool, yourself. Yes, you tool, you can too, service Dells.

Enough about machines, aesthetics and engineering! Let's observe the different sociopaths behind the machines. Apple fanboys are easy to work with, just slam every other manufacturer and praise the worthless piece of junk iPad and you're in, buddy! Server administrators are a bit more complicated to deal with. Every once in a while, during your conversation, mutter the words "DEC VAX" and "Clipper" every once in a while. You may look like a fool, but you'll look like a kinda-techno-geek extra-ordin-possibly. Only the author of this prose may use the title, "Technogeek Extraordinaire." Gamers are extremely easy to work with. Regionally, the types may differ. In the region of pineapples and burnt tourists, just say one word before and after every sentence, "dude!"

For example, "dude, my name is mud and I'm here to fix your computer, dude."

"Dude, right on dude. Come on in, leave your shoes on dude, it's kinda messy. I'm in the process of moving, dude!"

"Dude, ok, where's your computer, dude?"

Yes, it's true, this has gained the customer's trust in field technicians many, many, many times, dude.

Office employees are generally easy to work with on any occasion. Fix the problem, and you've saved the day. Or that's what they say at least. They usually would much rather be doing nothing than working on their mindless spreadsheets and memos to post in the breakroom. This is the case except for that one person who wants the font on a printout to be printed 26 micrometers over to the right. No matter what you do, software or hardware-wise, you can't nail down 26 micrometers to the right. 25 micrometers, no problem, 27 micrometers, elementary, 26, not happening.

"Ma'am (or sir), no matter what I do, I can't meet your specification due to hardware and software limitations," you state.

"Well, it worked like this before," the "person" states.

"May I see an example of what you mean please?"

"Well, I don't have anything right now, but it always worked this way before you came in."

"The component I replaced was the power cord. That doesn't have anything to do with the font."

"Well, I'm not happy with the service. I need you to fix this, or I'll call "insert_major_manufacturer_CEO_name_here" and tell them what I think."

At this point, the choose your own adventure page would say something like, "to cuss at the person, go to page 245, to give the general customer service blowoff of I understand blah blah blah, go to page 371."

It's usually in your best interest to turn to page 371. Going to page 245 makes you feel really, really good though.

Check(ered flag)!

2010-08-13T22:30:00.000-10:00

I have always been a pretty fast driver in parking structures, 25 MPH city streets, curvy roads and disastrously wet conditions. Nothing really compares as to driving fast on the highway with moderate traffic. It always was fun weaving between the truckers and buses. As I get older, I notice that I have slowed down quite a bit and drive more calculating than ever before. Instead of looking at the highway like a big road race, I see it more like a chessboard nowadays.

No, no, no, I'm not trying to say that everyone on the road is a pawn except me. I actually see myself as a pawn on the road.

When the big trucks are cruising along with the tour buses, it's like a rook and a bishop. They are nuts linearly, otherwise, they make great walls. Emergency vehicles are like the queen, any direction and as far and fast as they please. Motorcycles are like the knights, pretty noticeable until they maneuver. One second they're behind you, then you look down to read a text on your phone, next thing you know, they're a car-length ahead and in the left lane. Extremely cautious and defensive drivers are like the kings. You know exactly what I mean, you've seen them. The super slow driver that seems to stay 5 units under the speed limit and turn wherever and whenever the heck they please. You don't dare honk your horn or yell at them because you know that you should respect them. Well, that's what your elders always told you to do. Every other vehicle on the road is a pawn. We're all trying to get to our destination (the end of the board) and have to work around all the big dogs on the road. Every once in a while, we get stuck behind another pawn. Sure you overtook someone's position, but guess what, now there's another pawn in front of you.

You can't go left, there's no one to overtake and the opposing traffic didn't skip a space either (en passant). You can't go right because of the guardrail. You are at the mercy of the car in front of you. If they go faster, you go faster. If you get too close though, they might slow down just to anger you and force you to slow down as well. At this point, you already read their license plate and tried to figure out what the encrypted code means. ILV2CK, does it mean I love to cook, or does it mean I love two....nevermind. Get your mind out of the gutter and concentrate on your driving. All their bumper stickers have been imprinted in a special place on your grey matter as well as the shape of the driver's head and the color of their hair or hat. You've already figured out the model year of the vehicle and examined the paint on the trunk of the car. You also notice that you can see the driver's face in the side mirror of their car. This means that they have their mirror looking directly behind them as to see the side of their car in the side mirror, creating a pretty nasty blind spot in their 7 & 8 'o clock position. You wish that they would just speed up a bit, so you can get along your merry way and be free of the moving gridlock. At this point, you may or may not have slung some irrational rhetoric towards the person driving the car in front of you. They have no clue you are yelling at them and as they glance at you in their rear-view mirror, assume you are just singing along with the radio in your car. This whole time, the car behind has examined you in the same exact manner.

The moral of the story is:

Please think twice about vanity license plates. Someone else might construe a whole different meaning from it.

OCMCS!! (Oh Crap, My Cheap Stuff)

2010-08-04T21:02:00.000-10:00

Owning property is a great feeling. When you own your own home, the responsibilities go through the roof (quite literally sometimes) from what your old landlord used to take care of. Well, the good landlords at least. Fixing leaks, changing door knobs and pulling Chewbacca-esque clumps of hair out of the drains are menial chores compared to the other caveats of having no one to accept repair responsibility but yourself.

Owning a car is slightly different. When your car needs repair, the first line of defense, in some cases, is the manufacturer's warranty. You check if the damaged component is covered. If so, you take your vehicle into an authorized warranty repair facility and badaboom, problem resolved. Otherwise, repair shops are widely available to screw you over and advise that the entire air conditioning system needs replacement and that it will cost three times the Kelly Blue Book value of your car.

Owning a slightly lesser value item such as a computer or fancy, over-hyped wireless phone is different all in itself. Warranty repairs are available, usually within the first year or 90 days, unless you purchase an extended warranty which covers less than the original manufacturer's warranty. When the device you purchased gets updated, such as the _Phone series from that temptational fruit manufacturer based in Cupertino, or the "dark-colored" -berry series from that Canadian company in Waterloo, you go out and replace your current device, because "everyone else" is going to get one yet nothing is wrong with your old device.

A beach towel, an old bag (no no, not that kind of old bag), cheap slippers (sleepahs) and a reusable plastic cup (one of the fancy types with a snap-on lid and bumpy straw) are financially more affordable, yet extremely more valuable. Let us presume that the mentioned items in this paragraph have a total bear market value of $20.73, which happens to be the INTC closing price of 8-4-2010. You probably purchased them in a local Walmart or any other conglomerate of that magnitude within the same industry. These items do not yield any quarterly dividends like the cash value equivalent of INTC stock. At home, there is no specified or functional use of these items in a collective manner. When you go to the beach, you are "M(r, s, rs). prepared" for a long and fruitful burning of your epidermal pigmentation under the celestial, thermal sphere of gas that second graders usually always draw in their pictures near the upper left or right corner of the page. Beach days would not be the same without these objects and you know this well. One of the reasons we go to the beach is to swim in the ocean to get wet. Some people get wet without water, but that's a whole different story. Far too many times, rain begins to pour from the sky while we're at the beach. We don't mind if we get rained on because we're already wet, but our stuff?!?! Our $20.73 worth of non dividend paying, Walmart bargain isle junk cannot be put through such vile waterboarding torture. What do some of us do? We leave the beach to save our junk from getting wet. Meh..

Salty Power!!!

2010-07-26T21:54:00.002-10:00

Fast food is a gift to the populous. As lunch breaks get shorter due to long lines, over-stuffed elevators, last minute phone calls and the ever annoying boss/client that always has to have something done by 11:59, a quick corn enriched dollar menu burger can be a lifesaver. The side starch is pretty much standard at most fast food joints, fries, french to be exact. There is a plethora of different styles in the manner in which the fries are sliced, deep fried, battered in some cases, laced with milk (I'm looking at you, Ray Kroc disciples) and salted. The one consistent ingredient in just about any and all fast food items in different fast food locations is salt. Salt is the basis for the standard, non-hippie, anti-Jamba Juice, not-so Natural Foods, regular, time constrained American diet.

Sure we can eat healthy and some of us do. It costs a little more in some cases, but we know the consequences of a poor diet. Sometimes it takes longer to prepare, but we know that with a little love, food is superb. Eating healthy has far greater benefits to any fast food item, yet we still eat at fast food restaurants, if you can even call it a restaurant. A more fitting term would be a fast "processed and manufactured corn product distribution center".

For those of us 17 people who watched "Food Inc.", we know that pretty much everything processed is made from corn and that Monsanto is the "Waterboy" proverbial devil. So why do we spend our hard earned pennies on processed food and eating out at fast food restaurants? The answer is that we all want that one in a million, rare moment. We all want to be struck by lightning. Admit it, being on the news to tell the reporter how the experience was, would be an entertaining experience, assuming you would survive. You know that salt water is more conductive than non-salted water, so eating loads of fast food makes you more of a target during a lightning storm. Here's a proposition to our fossil fuel energy crisis, issue out a highly conductive chair rigged to a lightning rod on the roof of your house.

Naturally, the chair would be in your living room, so you could watch the latest episodes of "Real housewives of Sheboygan." The lightning rod on your roof would be shaped in the form of the Democratic Republic of Congo, since Zeus loves to strike near Kifuka the most. A freaking huge capacitor would then be wired to your chair and inline to your electrical power meter so you can turn the meter backwards and get credit from the local electrical utility company. As a catalyst to my completely original power solution, I feel that Americans (myself included) would definitely be on the forefront of a power generation revolution.

The customer is always right....in some cases.... occasionally.

2010-07-22T22:28:00.000-10:00

As I drink a horrific substitute for Guinness...blue mountain thermally activated scratch & sniff Coors Light, I remember a job I did today. The job was to work on a printer for an office with a....let's just say a celestially positioned ranking military officer. For those unable to infer correctly with my mindset, the Hollywood walk of fame has a ton of them on the ground, this guy wears one on his collar.

I go into the office with a spectacular attitude, loving life, living in weather of perfection and confident in my technical and social abilities. I have a conversation with my technical escort into the area and begin working on the machine. I understand the issue and work diligently to resolve it. As I'm working, one of the employees within the same office began gawking about taking bets on if the machine will work correctly after I work on it. I continue working diligently to resolve the issue and the same office employee starts to joke about the company that I am currently representing and the level of expertise required to turn a screwdriver and replace parts.

I am significantly, unequivocally, undeniably, quite discernibly human. At this point in hearing this moron's mockery, I am quite furious and am at a point of domestic verbal abuse of this troglodyte. I, being the consummate professional that I am, hold my personal feelings back and simply ignore the idiosyncrasy of the moron stuck behind a desk all day. I finish the job and leave, without uttering any sentiment of feeling, even though my mind was on the verge of explosion in trying to retain the morally demeaning comments I felt that I should share with the individual.

The moral of the story is, if you are a desk jockey and feel the need to demean service people that work in your office on occasion, I love you. What, are you confused? Yes, I utterly love you. I mean this in the most compassionate way possible, without actually giving you a ring and asking you to marry me. I love you because every time you turn your head to look at that clock tick time by the millisecond, I am outside enjoying the weather as I cruise to the next temporary workplace. Being a field type of person, I get to enjoy different surroundings, stop by the beach for some fresh air whenever I feel like it, have a coffee that isn't prepared the same way, EVERYDAY, and I don't have to sit at a desk, wondering what to do to pretend like I'm busy so as to show that I am a needed employee. I love the fact that you are miserable and I am happy. I understand that some people are extremely happy with working at a desk all day. These are also the same people that do not demean other people and are well respected within the office.

"Me think you no can fix 'da widget. Me think me is smarter 'dan you." The troglodyte muttered to the widget repairman.

"I understand that you have a complacent state of mind in your position of data entry. Your mockeries of my technical expertise in widget fluid dynamics are quite the impressive showing of intellect on your behalf. I am socially and intelligently unequal to a primordial being such as yourself and express my deepest apologies for not being able to compromise with dynamic conversation that can stimulate your mind." The widget repairman stated.

"Me was gonna fix 'da widget me self, but me can no feegur out how to open 'da door to ghet to 'da widget. I bet you no not know 'dat the world be on turtles.." the caveman said.

PS - Thank you Stephen Hawking.

"Einsane"

2010-07-19T19:32:00.003-10:00

Running through my morning motion of printing jobs for the day, I noticed a white & blackish cylinder-esque form atop of a book. Some call it feces, dung, defecates, poop, waste, excrement, turds, kiddies, two-zies, colon cannonballs, butt dribbles or even lawn sausage. Nonetheless, a gecko dropped....well, droppings on one of my books. This wasn't the first time it did it's thing atop this book, as a matter of fact, just about every other day I find crap in the same spot.

I have to admit that I could possibly be insane, but the sheer fact that I am aware of this possibility negates any possibility that I am indeed, truly insane. Every time I clean off the turdburglar's secret tracks, they always reappear a couple days later, yet I always expect them to appear somewhere else. For those unaware, Einstein's definition of insanity is repeating the same actions over & over, expecting a different reaction or outcome. I'll take Einstein's word over anything else, any day. Well, except hair advice, yet I could possibly be quite the attraction when I walk around in public. I might even be featured in "People of Walmart" one day. I could only hope to strive for so much.

Back on track, so to speak, why does this little car insurance salesperson, always drop his kids off at the same pool every time? I quested and ventured upon a path of knowledge into the inner workings of a gecko. The information took many years to acquire and build a case upon, so to publish it as an authority for the world to see. Luckily, all I had to do was hit (CTRL-T) and do a Google search. Tabs are just awesome by the way. I don't know what I'd do without them. I do actually, I would just open another window.

Apparently, accordingly to slogecko.com, Leopard geckos like to use a "defacatorium, meaning they poop in the same spot, often in one corner of the cage." My paraphrasing techniques understand this as, "geckos poop in the same spot because they like to claim the property as their own and do not ever wish to use someone else's restroom, due to thoughts of uncleanliness and unknown cleaning patterns of said host."

This, or geckos are just Einstein insane, hereby known as "Einsane". They poop in the same spot, expecting that the poop will convert into a rocket ship and transport them to their home planet of Geicopolis. Everyone on Geicopolis speaks with a Kiwi accent. I said Kiwi, because the New Zealand All Blacks just simply rock, like AC/DC, referencing the well-known Aussie character, Crocodile Dundee, would just be mediocre, or Hall & Oates.

Human "neigh"-ture

2010-07-17T00:25:00.004-10:00

On my way home from work today, I realized that I have a ton of junk on my to-do list. Knowing this, I also succumb to the fact that I have no motivation to get started or stay focused if I do start something. I always say to myself, "alright, after I close out the books for the day, I'll do ___, then start on ____ afterwards." I find myself easily distracted by family, video games, checking my daily net locations and picking up the acoustic for a few jamming chords and make up slop that I totally rock out to. I have a theory why I procrastinate & lose focus so freaking much.

"Elmer, why is the grass so much greener on the other side of the fence?" said BB.

"Well BB, the gwass is gweener because you can't have it," Elmer replied.

"But I can just go over there and play instead of in our yard, right?" BB probed.

"Dangit BB, we got too much stuff to do in our own yawd. We gotta cut the gwass, wake the weaves, pwepawe fiwewood fow tonight & catch wabbits." Elmer paused in disbelief...

BB glared at Elmer and slowly stretched one leg over the fence. Elmer slowly reached for his rifle and pulled his hat out of his side pant pocket. Elmer placed the hat upon his bald, gleaming head and began to immediately stutter.

"Aaaa-budee-a-budii-ah-buhdiii-dat's all folks!"

Oops, wrong toon, see what I mean about losing focus. I'll get back to the story.......some......other....time.....

Vowel vowel & consonant consonant

2010-07-14T18:32:00.003-10:00

Meliss & I were discussing potential baby names for our fourth kid today. It seems to me, that first name / middle name mixtures sound more "flowing" if the first letters are either both vowels, or both consonants. For example, Anya Cecilia was a potential name, but it didn't seem to have any rhythmic flow, if you know what I mean. Take another potential name, Anya Elizabeth, which rolls off the tongue with so much more finesse. A boy name we (I) discussed was Cailan Ramsey. I only then realized that his initials would be C.R.S. I dunno about most people, but I see CRS, then relate it to the acronym for, "can't remember sh*t".

"Hi, please write your initials, here, here & here, to agree to terms of your mortgage, Mr. Sicat," said the broker.

"Sure thing," Cailan responded, as he initialed all the required lines.

"Sir, I didn't realize your middle initial started with an "r". You know that makes your initials the same as the acronym for can't remember sh*t. Ahahahahahahahaha!!"

"I went through childhood and everyone teased me about that. I used to get picked on by EVERYONE. Are you making fun of me??? I made a vow in my ninja training to dismember anyone who made fun of me furthermore. You shall taste the wind of my blade upon your soul for mocking me!" Cailan boasted as he swiped his cold steel blade upon the broker's.........

Sorry, got carried away there. >_<

Finally decided to get in on the action of, well, I dunno.

2010-07-13T22:44:00.001-10:00

I was doing my nightly net surfing of sites I frequent and decided to finally get in on the blogosphere. I have no idea what compelled me, other than an intriguing notion that someone would actually give a rat's sphincter about my common thoughts. I always thought that my thought process was different, but I have come to realize, that most people really quite are naturally, they just don't seem to show the "darker" side of their thoughts in public. Well, I'm here, now what?