A person can live a humorless, hysterical existence for only so long (especially a person who used to laugh at everything). So I made a decision to once again approach the world with my clown glasses on. The decision didn’t make me any more social or leave my cave more often … it just made my perpetual grimace more of a shady smile and I look up from the ground once in a while now.

Scene: Beautiful sunny day. Main camera is focused on a fairly busy intersection in a suburban neighborhood. Two cars are waiting at a red light. The camera is focused in the second car. I rocker looking dude in a sporty vehicle with the windows down is clearly enjoying the classic rock music he is playing. The radio is not blasting but loud enough to share with anyone in the vicinity. Suddenly Roy Orbison’s voice starts that that iconic song …

Pretty woman, walkin’ down the street
Pretty woman the kind I like to meet
Pretty woman I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth
No one could look as good as you, mercy …

Cue sidewalk camera: in slow motion, to the rhythm of the music, the camera is focused on a dog with a leash walking up from the direction behind the car. The focus expands back to the dog walker, smile on the face, hair blowing back in the breeze with a slight head shake, enjoying the day, the walk and the general ambiance. The music is the only sound.

Right out of an 80’s movie, right!

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech! < that is the needle being pushed back on the record (to blatantly mix metaphors and probably confuse anyone younger than 40). The image is spot on except the dog walker was … you probably guessed it … ME. Everything described happened, EXCEPT I don’t actually have any hair and it is quite evident that I am NOT a pretty woman. I am pretty sure I am not a woman at all.

The slow motion part may be accurate.

This amusing(?) anecdote brought to you by a recovering grumpaholic. Hopefully it will bring a smile to someone’s day!

The post Movie Moment first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Headaches fell into the rarity category for me. If I got them, it was almost always because I somehow maltreated myself, such as doing  my best to empty all the bottles in a bar or trying for records in sleep deprivation. So when I suddenly had a rather intense (definitely on the migraine side of the affliction) headache that lasted a week, despite living a chaste and quiet life of late, it seemed likely that something in the old bod needed a bit of tuning up. I swallowed  anything left of my pride and went to ye old human body mechanic. They did the required poking and prodding, and came to the conclusion that … dun, dun, dunnnn …

… I had a headache. Why I had a headache was as much a mystery to the doc (technically Nurse Practitioner) as it was to me, since there are about as many different causes for headaches as there are stars in the sky (very slight exaggeration). Further testing was suggested, and some pain killers to help with the actual ACHE part of the issue were prescribed.. The pain killers helped, but they had the standard long list of possible side effects, top of the list being …  well … headaches. The MRI was done with little difficulty, the only exception being the resultant headache. It revealed that I had a sinus infection, so I was given some antibiotics, with a long list of side effects that included headaches. The antibiotics had little effect, prompting a visit to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist, who verified that I had an infection, though the infection seemed in the wrong place for my headache. So he put me on an even stronger antibiotic, with similar warnings and results as the first one.

By this time, the intensity and persistence of this demon headache had significantly lessened, so I decided that I would call it a day and just take Tylenol when the monster returned, which it was now doing frequently. For the next few weeks I had an uneasy alliance with the creature that insists on inhabiting my cranial space, and life went back to what passes for normal to me. Just a few days ago, I went to see the doc for the semi-annual emissions testing (I got my new sticker with no issues), and mentioned that the headache demon had taken up permanent residence, though Tylenol seemed to mostly keep him from partying it up. Doc kindly informed me that there is this wonderful phenomenon that occurs when you take too many quick pain relief meds to deal with headaches … namely something called Rebound Headaches … so I should probably stop taking the Tylenol.

Let’s recap. Headaches are when the head part of us … well … aches. There are a gazillion reasons for headaches. Tests to isolate the reason might result in headaches. There are medicines to help headaches, which usually have headaches as a possible side effect. Quick working painkillers that will stop headache pain can result in having rebound headaches, so it is best to NOT take said painkillers to avoid getting a headache as a result of making your headache feel better.

Moral of this story: the best cure for a headache is to not have one in the first place.

The post A cure for headaches first appeared on thrumyeyes.

I am bringing my brag on because I did not realize how effective my efforts have been. Due to some local road work that promises to be eternal, during peak travel time traffic is rerouted to side streets … specifically the one that I usually find myself on during my tri-daily harvesting of dog poop. Being a nice, quiet domestic neighborhood, it practically screams, “Embrace your inner racing demon!” In the interest of public safety (or maybe just for personal record keeping) the wise powers that be … instead of actually speeding up the construction project, thus re-rerouting the traffic … has placed one of those signs that tells one how fast they are going. No doubt this sign will fill these speed demons with remorse so that they change their evil ways.

So there I am, walking at a leisurely pace (when not being dragged one way or another by Brown Dog), and I see this new addition to the street decor. It specifically catches my eye because it seems to be registering me. Walking. I glance over my shoulder, to make sure there is no car creeping along behind me, but no … B. D. and I are the only objects moving towards the sign. It kind of surprised me that the sign actually registered a walking pace. It even surprised me more that it told me I was walking at 8 miles an hour. I would have said it was a fluke, except it has happened every time I’ve walked by the sign now. It varies from 5 to 9 m. p. h., but seems to settle at 8 most often.

Apparently I have been vastly improving my fitness without even realizing it. Sure it is not inconceivable for a human to move at that pace. It is not even fast. But it does require actually … well … RUNNING. Not ambling along in glorious apathy. I can only explain my taking a half an hour to walk our average mile walk (2 m. p. h. by MY math) as my failure to adapt to the new math, because there is no way the technology would LIE to me.

The post Just call me speedy! first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Guys? Guys? Yooohoooo! ‘memba me?

Between my cosmic wanderings and my eternal goal to get the world’s record for the most number of unread blogs, I have been fairly busy of late. IN the world even! One would think that would mean much fodder for this site, and one would be absolutely correct. But I have been detoured by all the things I have been doing, like creating YET ANOTHER WEBSITE, and reportedly writing at least three books, so have found little time (motivation?) to interrupt my game playing … er … um … work just to hopefully make one really bored someone or other chuckle for a second.

But just the other day I had a very Ninja Cat worthy moment. That and a sudden inexplicable(?) need for self-promotion … I guess that is like a Blog Commercial … I decided to jump back in and say hi. And maybe even get that chuckle.

The story in a nutshell … well technically the story was in the … ahem … “office”. I was not sitting at my usual “desk”, and that combined with a severe but highly productive lack of sleep for several days, had me a little discombobulated. I said to the young gentleman I was about to do business with … as he put ice in my glass … “Why does this NOT seem like the normal friday staff?”

Without batting an eye (or even throwing in some well-earned sarcasm) he answered, “Because it’s Saturday.”

Does anyone know of a good class in understanding calendars?

The post Lost in time … yet again! first appeared on thrumyeyes.

So let’s talk about city planning.

Being a confirmed nomad means moving around a lot. Which means having an idea not only where you are, but where you might be going, can often be mighty useful. Sadly, this is generally NOT the state of affairs for me. I am generally making it up as I go along, usually relying on the kindness and LOGIC of strangers.

Silly me.

Time for another list folks. Here are a few things I have noted about civil engineering in my wanderings:

• The availability of street signs is determined by how useful they are to telling you where you actually are. The more potential of getting lost means the less likely there will be signs ANYWHERE.
• Sidewalks are only available in the middle of nowhere where people don’t walk.
• Directions are in the eye of the beholder. It is pretty much guaranteed that if it is called 83 south it is going anything BUT south.
• Landmarks are also in the eye of the beholder.
• Maps frequently lie.
• Asking directions only helps when other people have a clue too … which frequently they do not.

Basically, what I have learned is that the best way to ensure you have a clue where you are going is to hire yourself a street urchin.

The post Signs, signs everywhere signs (not) first appeared on thrumyeyes.

I had one of those brief moments of clarity (gas?) recently, and decided that for my mental health it is time I get control of one of the most evil of addictions to date, one that millions are suffering from these days. It has no official name … I personally call it Digital Addiction. It basically takes the form of an inability to remove oneself from online "life" for more than a few seconds at a time. It has really had a detrimental effect on my life!

I can’t seem to cut it out cold turkey. No doubt my various digital devices have inserted some sort of digital seeds into my body so I can’t quit altogether. So I figured that maybe if I apply the tricks I have learned interacting with digital friends can be applied to the "real" world as well. Here are a few things I plan on trying:

• I will no longer introduce myself by my given name. Instead I will use a user name that will surely confuse others.
• I will hide my face behind pictures that are not actually of me … unless it happens to be a cartoon version of me.
• I will add the name of everyone I cross paths with to a list so I can call them my friends, even if I never talk with them again. I will carry that list around so everyone knows just how "popular" I really am.
• I will ensure that every picture I have has a notable, moving, or funny quote on it, and share copies of them with … well … everyone.
• I will make sure to tell everyone what I am doing all the time, because I am sure they really want to know.
• I will hand out cards that say "Like" on them to anyone who does something I approve of.
• I will hide from anyone I have a disagreement with, making sure that I close my eyes tightly so they can’t see me.
• I will believe just about anything anyone else says as long as they show me a picture or use a celebrity name as well.

I have no doubt that using these oh so beneficial tricks that have made my digital life so "rewarding" will totally enrich my "offline life" as well. I can see me becoming a social guru in no time.

The post Kicking the habit first appeared on thrumyeyes.

Once upon a time, when we did outdoor activities, such as say … riding a bike … or even more simply … running, if we had an accident, we got cut and learned a lesson. But we survived, and for the most part as functional human beings. Nowadays, we practically wrap our kids in armor every time they leave the safety of their bed, and we wonder why they are so dependent and … well … entitled. There is nothing wrong with being safety conscious, but at what point does it become Fear of … EVERYTHING. The next thing you know everything that goes wrong must be someone else’s fault.

Oh wait.

Now that the xmas selling season has started (after all Halloween was a couple of weeks ago), the savvy advertisers of the world, recognizing that the best way to sell ANYTHING is to convince impressionable children to harass their parents so much that they buy out of sheer desperation, a whole slew of new toy commercials has appeared. Ignoring the fact that it seems that there are few original toys out there, but rather technologically advanced versions of the same ones our grandparents had, there were a few commercials that caught my attention. First was the slew of kids weapons, which seem to be the only toys that actually have original designs and advance at a technological rate that surpasses medicine. Good thing our society knows its priorities.

But there was one "new and improved" game that made me … well … write this post. It is the game called Operation. it has been around at least since I was a kid, so we are talking about CENSORED years. And I am pretty sure it is older than me. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, basically it is a board with a man on it, with various depressions holding "organs" in their appropriate places. The game is to "perform an operation" on the man … basically removing the various "organs" with tweezers without touching the sides of the hole … which would generate an annoying buzzing sound. It is basically a game to help develop manual dexterity … and yes … it could be quite frustrating.

Apparently, however, in the softening of humanity, the NEWEST version of the game is now "easier to remove pieces". SERIOUSLY? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of the game? Back in my day … ahem … when something got hard you just kept practicing until it was no longer hard. Apparently that is no longer politically correct.

What’s next? Magnetized Jenga?

The post I blame the Illuminate! first appeared on thrumyeyes.

The other day, I was getting a little annoyed at my computer’s constant contrariness. Always taking it’s time to do things, refusing to do others, and simply doing it’s best to NOT cooperate. The biggest annoyance at the time was the fact that the DVD Drive one day just refused to work at all. Not even that homey vzzzzt sound when the computer is turned on. And now the mouse was doing it’s best to pretend that I was not actually touching it at all. The machine was just going too far! So being the skilled technophobic techie, I got myself a small enough screwdriver, and flipped the culprit over with every intention of doing unspeakable things to its backside. I unscrewed ten or so tiny screws, and removed the back cover.

I have to admit I was a little surprised by what I found.

There before me was a nest of … well … Dust Bunnies. But they were no ordinary Dust Bunnies. These all had "nasty, big pointy teeth"! And they growled fiercely. I am no expert, but I am pretty sure this is not what the interior of a computer NORMALLY looks like. I out from under the table that I had dived under (two rooms away), and prepared to do battle with these terrifying creatures. First I sent the cat in, but she ran back out almost as quickly, in obvious fear of her life. I guess it was up to me! I got myself a weapon or three, dust rag, little brush, a blowie thing (and wishing desperately for a Holy Hand Grenade) and did battle with the ravening horde of Dust Bunnies. I don’t want to get TOO graphic, but barring a few minor flesh wounds, I prevailed.

I am glad to say that my computer has a much better demeanor right now. It vzzzzt’s again, and even plays DVD’s. And the mouse seems much more cooperative. I guess this time I owe the bugger a bit of an apology.

The post Anybody have a spare Holy Hand Grenade? first appeared on thrumyeyes.

That said, something about the alleged sport seems to go in hand in hand with humorous anecdotes. Fortunately, this time it all happened to someone else, but thanks to Facebook, I have a true to life golfing tale in the words of the poor sod (← is that a good golfing pun?) who lived through it. I had me laughing, and I feel no shame whatsoever in sharing it with others. I will keep Tim’s name anonymous to protect the innocent. The following were his "anonymous" posts throughout the day:

• Sentimental moment:I’m going golfing for the first time ever. I’m using my dads clubs (he’s been gone almost 10 years). I’m nervous because I’ve never golfed anymore than hitting the balls at the driving range.I start looking through all the golf bag pockets and what do I find? Golf shoes, a golf glove, extra spikes, balls, tees, and basically the confidence that I will at least have the right attire and equipment.I think I’ll throw away the 10 year old water bottle though!Thanks dad for leaving me a good time today and some great memories…

  I miss you so much….

• At crosswinds in Plymouth…. This should be f**kin hilarious!
• I feel like the fat kid in gym class who gets picked last….I’m odd man out… In the cart alone…
• Just hit some practice shots….BAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!
• Hole 1 – I lost three balls and could not finish the hole after 9 shots due to being too slow.Hole 2&3 – natural 9’sHole 4 (be ready to laugh uncontrollably) it’s hit as hell and I’m sweaty…. I tee off… The ball goes one way and the club flys another… Slipped right out of my hand…. Embarrassed I look for it through the thick brush only to find it up in a tree 15 feet up… I had to climb the tree to get it…. Came back to the tee to try again (1rt shot was lost) lost two more ale before saying screw it… In skipping this hole…FML
• Double bogie on 7 if you exclude a duff….
• Hey Tim… What’s your handicap???Golf!!!
• Crap… Sand….
• Yup… Couldn’t get out of the sand….9th hole done….I quit!!!
• Let them finish the back 9… I’m going swimming….

I have to admit I am rethinking my stance on golf after this. There must be SOME benefit in something that can cause that level of real life comedy!

By the way, now that I have your attention (if in fact I have ANYONE’s attention), it seems like a good chance to put a gratuitous plug in for my newest site that is aimed at stripping money from you … er … um … helping people get fit and MAYBE allowing me to earn a few buck. Please take pity on a guy and take a wander over there

The post The terrors of golf first appeared on thrumyeyes.

I know … I aim high!

To set me on this path, I have succumbed to infomercials and actually jumped in on one of those look like Hercules in 90 days or less deals. I have already done one workout program, and while I may not look like Hercules in his prime, I might pass as him as he relaxes in a rocking chair at the Mount Olympus rest home. I believe enough in the program that I am actually making it part of my life … and have officially gotten permission to call myself a coach … though I have yet to figure out what to do with my new awe-inspiring credentials. In theory I should be able to help other obtain the bodies of greek gods and goddesses … and maybe make some money in the process (am I selling anyone with my powerful sales skills?)

Despite the  amounts of sweat these workouts have squeezed out of my body on a daily basis for the last couple of months, and meeting new muscles that I don’t remember being in any biology book, I suspect that part of my fitness goals have been reached from an entirely unexpected source. I am thinking of marketing this technique, if I can just come up with a good name for it. It does not require much equipment, mainly you just need someone in your life who is incapable of speaking to you when you are actually in the same room as them. It works best if stairs are involved.

Basically the typical workout is like this … you enter a room where said person is, and maybe exchange a few words. You wait a few moments, to find the conversations is apparently done. You then leave the room, and get to the top of a flight of stairs or two, only to realize that they still have more to say. You go back to the room, and repeat this sequence a few times. In a typical day, you will most likely have walked 10 to 20 miles … mostly on stairs.

Bikinis will be lining up to jump on you in no time!!

The post The "Are you done speaking yet?" Workout first appeared on thrumyeyes.