I had this marker board sitting around in the basement, so I hung it up and wrote "Leave notes for Daddy on it."

Turned out to be a really good idea.

Note how when I didn't write "done!" after completing the task on the bottom left, one of my kids did for me... Exclamation point and underline... just like me.

Tomorrow I leave for Montauk at 5am. Spending the week with Maggie and the kids, who've been there since Wednesday. I hope there's some restorative interaction for me and Maggie. Although when I told her that I was looking forward to being her boyfriend again, she told me that she was, too... and then started to bring up lots of negative things about me, and then either her phone died or she hung up on me.

Maggie things the medication I'm on is making me less happy. That might be somewhat true. On the other hand, this medication I'm on has brought my life into focus, and seeing how much there is to do at home, and at work, I've started doing it. I don't want her to take it personally, but she does. And as I tried to point out before, there were a lot of concurrent stressors. This was definitely a two-way street.

Wow. This post turned depressing. Sorry about that.

I'm going to do my best to facilitate other folks having a fabulous time. That's my goal.

Love to all. Even you, the big-bellied dude who threatened to throw the skater kid off the train because he didn't like his shirt.

Note to self.

When the VP of HR at one of the largest national media syndicates says that a job offer for someone you were pushing to get hired is being withdrawn due to a failed drug test, don't say:

Do you really think marijuana is more dangerous than alcohol?

Love to all. Even me.

It just keeps going.

Okay. This is my final "jackass cell phone user on the train" post. The reason she was especially annoying was that:

1. She cleaned her pores with seriously smelly chemicals, and then left the cotton pads on the seat in front of her.
2. She took up three seats with all her crap.

Love to all. Even you, the lady trying to annul her marriage, even though she has three grown children and was married for 25 years.

I realize that I have electronics, too. But my phone is on vibrate, I move to the doorway if I need to talk to someone, and dammit, I keep my computer close, and out of anyone's way. Electronics can be used politely. I swear.

Why, iPod, why?

I know I have "Def Leppard's Greatest Hits." I did it for the history, the majesty, and the cheesy perfection of "Photograph" and "Pour Some Sugar on Me."

But why do you always pick songs from this album, iPod? Why? There are thousands of other songs to choose from... why are you making me listen to "Animal"? Again?

iPod, are you mad at me?

Love to all. Even you, Rick Savage.

Wait! We have a new winner!

Right on the heels of my mini-epiphany about "how to love different people the right way" comes a dude who just rockets me right back to my character defects. Meet the ickiest train rider yet, completely displacing the previous June winner.

He was using a tablet computer, and every time he got to the bottom right of his screen, he was wacking the crap out of my arm. It wasn't subtle. It was repeated, as if he were trying to move me off my seat. He also had a bag on the seat in front of him.. and had his feet on the seat, too. (We were in a two-facing-two seat arrangement).

So after whack number 20, the following conversation ensues:

Me: Excuse me, can you move your computer two inches to your left, every time you draw on part of your screen, you're hitting me pretty hard.
Him: No.
Me: No?
Him: There's no room to move an inch. This is the only way to do it.
Me: Wait. Are you fucking telling me that you're going to keep hitting me?
Him: Yes.

I take out my Palm, put it in his face, take his picture, and say:

I'm posting your picture online as the biggest dick ever to ride a train.

I got up and moved to the doorway, and did crossword puzzles. Admittedly, this wasn't my finest moment as a Christian, but damn, dudes... what a prick! AAAAAH! Maybe it's something about me that attracts these kind of people.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who let her viscious dogs off lead.

A sudden realization.

I woke up this morning in turmoil. I knew I was spiritually out of balance, and had been for a while. My purity of dedication to my family was eroding. Maggie and I were becoming more distant, and oppositional. My thoughts were wandering elsewhere.

I went for a run.

Four miles in, out of nowhere, this thought takes over: "Your job in life is to get closer to God, and to love everyone the right way." It was a strange, simple, and powerful moment.

I feel clearer, more properly directed, than I have in a long time.

Love to all. Even you, whoever designed the keyboard on this Treo 650.

A new phishing variant.

I've gotten used to the email scams from people pretending to be eBay, Citibank, etc., claiming you need to login immediately in order to verify your account. But this is the first time I've gotten an eBay phishing scam as a pretend "Item not received" dispute.

I didn't click. I did think about it for a second, because of the "What the hell is this?" instinct.

But, paranoid dude that I am, I checked the headers (and besides, you should always type the address in manually, never click an email link), and saw that, no, it didn't come from ebay. Rather, it came from ip address 61.211.238.83.

Running a port scan on the offending computer reveals that it is associated with the hadano.tv domain, has a slew of open services, and is running Linux.

This phishing scam was better written, and a bit more sophisticated, than the run of the mill crap we're all (hopefully) fully aware of.

Let the surfer beware.

Love to all. Even you, the kid who has an answer to everything, and then some.

And the award for...

...most obnoxious cell phone user for June, 2006 goes to...

THIS GUY!

Because he wasn't only loud, but his phone's volume was turned up so high I could hear his wife clearly through my Sony Fontopia Noise Isolating headphones.

Fuck, dude. Get a grip on politeness.

In second place was the jackass next to me playing a game on his Treo with the sound on, followed closely by the guy two rows up who repeatedly adjusted his ring volume. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THESE PEOPLE?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!


Love to all. Even you, the Physician with the Mango Juice Pyramid Scheme.

Tattoo questions, answered.

Squipo asked:

Hey, hypothetically speaking, IF things with Maggie don't get better, what will happen to your arm? Just curious... Does she also have your name tattoed on her chest?

Answer 1: When I got the Maggie tattoo done, the artist pointed out to me that there's room underneath to write in fairly large letters, right underneath "Maggie", the word "LEFT." Besides, any woman who was willing to bear three kids for me deserves her name tattooed on my body regardless of any current or future status.

Answer 2: When I told Maggie I was going to get her name tattooed on my arm, she said "That's really sweet, but I will never, ever do that for you."

And that's the scoop.

Love to all. Even you, the dude with the bad, bad cough who was hanging out in the doorway of Whole Foods.

Feat of Survival and a New Profile Picture.

Well, we took 8 ten-year-olds to Rye Playland (plus three other children), and we made it back with the same number with which we departed. That, in itself, deserves a round of applause.

I said, THAT IN ITSELF DESERVES A ROUND OF APPLAUSE.

Sheesh. Anyway. I put up new profile pic, which features my other arm, and my slowly developing musculature. Accent on "slowly."

Love to all. Even you, the sleepover participant who I hear running around upstairs. Again.

159.6 and a Pre-Teen Adventure.

159.6 this morning. That’s kind of fucked up. I’m going to have to make a conscious effort to eat more, because I’m certainly not going to stop the exercise thing.

Today, I’m taking the 5:30 train to Manhattan, going to my morning AA meeting, going downtown to the gym, running 6.5 miles, doing the weight circuit, possibly having lunch with a friend, then coming back to Westchester to take 8 pre-teens to Rye Playland to celebrate my oldest’s 10th birthday.

Although scheduling the trip was kind of a hassle, I’m totally psyched to go now. It’s a mix of boys and girls, and chaperoning the group should be really interesting. My oldest is friends with the school psychologist’s daughter, so he’s coming as our other chaperone. Always interesting to watch a psychologist interact with his kids.

Ten. My oldest is turning ten. Holy SHIT.

Love to all. Even you, bleeder.

Return.

Like a breaking fever, things between Maggie and I have suddenly improved. I think both of stepped back and truly acknowledged, the way a lot of commenters on this blog saw right away, that the combination of stressors in our lives has been unusually high. I also think (hell, I know), that Maggie realized that she had been very (even uniquely, in terms of our 12-year history) harsh with me. I feel weird saying this, because this is the reverse role for our normal experience together.

I’m the jackass, dammit. Not Maggie.

Maggie’s a fine lass and a good person. This has been a unsettling, painful, and upsetting couple of weeks. But I’m done with it and moving on -- just in time for our vacation in Montauk, which starts for Maggie next Tuesday, and next Friday for me.

Love to all. Even you, the less friendly fraternal twin who we always have to invite along with the twin we actually like a lot.

Verizon sucks [the happy ending remix]

So, a while back, I mentioned that I was able to patch my Treo 650 to use bluetooth syncing and, more importantly, enable the Treo's wireless dial-up connection. I was told by the Verizon sales guy that this would let me use my Treo the same way I used my V710... that 1x data calls would use minutes, and not charge me on a per/kb basis.

Minutes, not data.

So I was checking my bills today, and I noticed 50.5mb in data usage. I called Verizon, and the lady told me that, no, even though I WAS using the phone in the exact same way I was using the V710 (I mean, I even use the same modem scripts), and even though the person at Verizon told me that it would use minutes only, I now owed them $780 dollars for data usage.

I disagreed.

After some discussion about the identical nature of the services used, she basically said "tough shit, the Verizon store guy didn't note on your account that he told you this." So I was out of luck. So I finally said "Fine. So let me sign up for data, and backdate the plan a month."

She said: "We don't backdate plans."

Now, I know this is a lie.

I said, "Okay. Let me make sure I understand what you are saying. Are you specifically telling me that Verizon, without exception, doesn't backdate their plans?"

She said "Um, no. I meant they don't backdate data plans."

I said: "I don't mean to be rude, but I think you should get a supervisor."

She: "If you want, you can, but they don't have any authority to backdate data plans."

Me: "Still, I'd like to speak to a supervisor."

The supervisor gets on the phone. We have three seconds of conversation.

She says: "No problem! And while we're at it, we can reduce your calling plan by $20/month, so your net increase will only be $20/month after backdating the data plan."

Thus, I saved $760 by politely not believing the original Verizon person.

I don't even know what to say about this, but that's the scoop. Verizon kind of sucks, because you have to doubt certain people to get to other people who will help you. That's all. Weird experience. But I'm psyched on the savings.

Love to all. Even you, Andrea from the South Texas Verizon Call Center.

Current body update.

Oh, what a transitional state I'm in!

After hitting a low of 160.xx pounds, I seem to have leveled off. This morning I was 163.

I've never enjoyed lifting weights before... but now it's just a blast. Makes me wish I had a "before" to go with an "after." Of course, right now I'm in the "middle," and I'm using "quotes" in a way that I "can't" "stop" "doing."

""
Running-wise, I had a big few days. I did 12.5 miles on Saturday, 4 on Sunday, and 7 today. I'm taking tomorrow off, but Wednesday we're on it. On July 3, I start my actual marathon training.

I'm hugely "psyched."

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Young, Stupid, and Clueless.

Stupid funk.

I’ve got to shake this funk. I’m super-upset and disappointed with how I’m being talked to and treated these days. I know I play a role in it, but I also know that there are much better ways to talk to me. And if I take the time to say “the way you are talking is really hurting my feelings,” maybe that should be taken into consideration.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to compare me to my father.
Maybe it’s a bad idea to say I consider my son and wife The Enemy.

Maybe things can be said in a less hurtful manner.

I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll look back at this in a week and be like, “God, you are such an idiot.” But for the moment I’m pretty bummed out.

Maybe seven hours of sleep will change my views.

Love to all. Even you, the crazy fuck who spit on my employee.

Fairly crapalicious, and a movie review.

Father's Day kind of sucked.

So did Nacho Libre.

With Maggie at work all day, I had to contend with my youngest acting out nearly non-stop, which basically involves him ignoring anything I ask him not to do. Like "Please don't jump into the deep end of the pool, because you can't swim!"

...

{Splash}

I did take the kids to see Nacho Libre... we were pretty psyched, all of us being huge Jack Black fans and all. But, alas, the movie was... dull.

Towards the end of the day, Maggie called from work. I was telling her about the day... how my youngest hit my daughter in the face twice, how my oldest twisted her arm immediately after I told him not to touch her... when Maggie said (about the altercation between my oldest and my daughter), "Well, she really picks on him."

That totally pissed me off, because:

1. I don't care if she picks on him. If I fucking say don't do it, you don't do it.
2. He comments on everything she says, and I don't think that justfies her smacking him.
3. I just wanted Maggie to listen to me, because the kids were making me nuts.

So, in glorious Rich fashion, I said: "I don't want to hear you explaining why it's okay for him to hit her. I just want to vent for a second." She got pissed, I got more pissed. We got off the phone.

When she called back later, I had actually forgotten about the conversation, and she was still really angry. I said "what are you mad about?" She said: "Are you kidding me?" I said I wasn't. She reminded me abour the prior argument. So it started up again. When I asked her how her telling me why my oldest hurt my daughter wasn't explaining away his behavior, she said:

"Don't even go there."

Now, I'm a big jackass, and I'll also take a lot of shit, but ladies and gentlemen, I seriously doubt I could remain married to someone who says "Don't even go there," and means it.

I'm only sort of kidding here.

Anyway: I feel pretty much like Maggie and I are misfiring, the kids are missing her and acting out because of this, and, well, this to shall pass.

Bleah. What a lame post. Ah, well. Such is life, and such is blogs.

Love to all. Even you, the A&P patron who lost her shit because the credit card machines went down.

Whirlwind.

Father's Day weekend. Maggie worked yesterday til late. Same with today.

Craziness abounds, time is short, tickets are bought, plans are made.

Love to all. Even you, the fast-driving, tailgating couple in the BMW and Chrysler Vans... sorry about the mailbox.

I am 40% girl.

I’m not kidding. I came to this conclusion a long time ago… so long ago that I don’t really remember when I first started saying it. I’m not sure what it means beyond the simple fact that I am, indeed, 40% girl.

Anyway. Over the last two days, I spent like $500 on Personal Upgrades. Normally, I’m somewhat reticent to shop for anything except for computers, but I’ve been mulling over a moderate clothing overhaul for a while, and a perfect storm of sales and opportunity presented itself.

The dust is settling, and I see:

3 Brooks Brothers shirts. 40% off.
2 pairs Brooks Brothers Gabardine Pants – 40% off.
1 pair plaid Gap summer shorts – 50% off
1 pair olive Gap cargo shorts – 25% off
1 pair flat-front blue Gap shorts – 25% off
1 pink and green Gap shirt – 50% off
1 in-ear Bluetooth headset from Plantronics – 25% off
1 pair Sony in-ear headphones, 0% off – oops.
2 pair suede Pumas, 1 pair bright blue, 1 bright red – Buy 1 pair, get on 50% off

Craziness, right? I can’t think of another time when I bought myself clothes like this. I think maybe I’m upgrading my look as I upgrade my way of doing business.

The only thing is, I bought stuff based on the size I think I’m going to be, when I weight stabilize… and that’s about 10 pounds higher than I am right now. So the shorts I bought are kind of loose. Okay, REALLY loose. Kind of freaky loose. But I’m hoping to gain back some good kind of weight soon, and… it was a sale!

I have officially decided that another $280.00 of spending is in my future. There’s absolutely no chance that I’m not going to buy the Nike+ iPod Nano connector kit, with attendant iPod Nano and Nike+ sneakers. Yeah, I’ll have three iPods. It’s true.

But I want to reward Nike and Apple for targeting me so perfectly: I AM THE AUDIENCE, AND I SHALL PURCHASE.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who prefaces nearly everything he says with “I’m sure you don’t know this, but…”

161.0: Adderall, caffeine, focus.

I’ve got some new observations on this whole Adderall thing, for those of you keeping track. (And I know you’re out there, because I pay you damn good money to pretend to be interested in me.)

Creativity: I was worried that Adderall would bring my creative side to a dead stop. This has turned out not to be true. I think. Feedback from my most reliable critics on my last direct mail piece was excellent, so that’s good. My friends (unpaid) have also been unfailingly excellent in telling me that I’m simply a less distracted version of the same ol’ idiot I’ve always been. And THAT rocks the house.

Caffeine: Holy crap. I used to drink a lot of coffee. Now I only have a small cup in the morning, and a small cup in the afternoon. There is definitely a synergistic effect between Adderall and caffeine, and if I have that small cup at 4pm, I’ll be up until midnight. Also, it seems that a small cup of coffee in the afternoon.

Weight: Still dropping. Since May 12, I’ve lost 20.5 pounds. Simultaneously, though, I’ve increased my exercise about threefold. I’m up to 30 miles a week running, and I’ve been doing the most serious weight circuit I’ve ever done.

Mood: This has been the hardest thing. Since Adderall affects mood directly, but also causes sleeplessness and lack of appetite (two things which can affect mood as well), I’ve had to be really careful to try and maintain balance while I adjusted to the stuff. The last 4 days have been such an improvement, though. So, yay.

Focus: It’s a freaking gift, this medicine. I’ve completely revamped my work life (I’m not finished, but hot damn, am I making progress), and my desks at home and work have both been clean for 41 consecutive days. It’s absolutely unbelievable. My colleagues are happily amazed, and I feel that, whatever sparse talents I may have, I’m bringing them fully to bear.

Overall, I’m going to say that this has been a really amazing thing for me to do. If the moodiness hadn’t started to level out, though, I would have quit the stuff. I’d rather be happily married and utterly distracted than completely on-task and divorced.

And that is quite enough from me.

Love to all. Even you, the expectant-poppa who was so unadmittedly nervous that he threw his back out on his wife’s due date.

oh man oh man oh man

I just took delivery of the coolest thing I've every bought: bulk glow sticks, in seven colors.

Love to all. Even you, the older guy at the Affordable Art Fair who was utterly transfixed by the charcoal trees.

Plain.

Today:

I wrote a new direct mail piece.
I interviewed someone.
I got elected Treasurer of my home AA group until 2008.
I bought a Skype phone.
I started to setup a Crontab to backup my databases and FTP them to my house.
I made chicken and macaroni n' cheese for the kids.

Maggie is working until 9 or 10 tonight, so it's me and the kids. To be honest, I'm letting them watch a show before bed, to make cleaning dishes easier. To be even MORE honest, and STOP READING RIGHT NOW IF YOU ARE EASILY MADE QUEASY... I'm writing this entry from the potty. Really.

So this is one of those times where I say: "Thanks, God. Thanks for my life, my family, my job, and my day. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to come home from work and make dinner for the kids. Thanks for helping me do these things without being an unbelievably irritable dickface."

Love to all. Even you, the lady who took ten minutes to unwrap her jolly rancher before shifting it noisily from one side of her mouth to another every...ten...seconds.

Like a hammer.

I was sorting through my company’s mail today… lots of notifications from various NY state agencies, bills for medical and worker’s comp, other stuff… and there at the bottom of the pile is an envelope that's a little out of place.

It was a Wonder Woman envelope. And it was addressed to “Richerd” at my company’s address. I recognized the handwriting immediately, and then it was hard for me to see.

Dear Dad,

I hope you are having a nice day at work.

Love and kisses,

[my 6-year-old daughter]

My friends, let me you tell that nothing, and I mean nothing, beats the feeling I got from receiving and reading that note. It was like being hit in the chest with an hammer. I love that girl so much.

When I think about her, all the colors in the room saturate and intensify.

Love to all.

The best pharmacology report ever.

So, I've been having side effects: sleeplessness, irritability, weight losss. They're ongoing, but starting to lighten up a bit. I've slept fairly well for three nights running, and my weight has leveled off, it seems, at 164: 17 pounds down.

Still concerned about the side effects, I called the doc to ask the scoop.

She said: "Everything you're reporting is typical for this medication. By the time I see you for our June 25th, all of the symptoms should have resolved, except for one: weight loss.:

I was like: SCORE!

Admittedly, the weight thing has been helped by getting my running mileage up to 25-30 a week, and the near-total elimination of sweets... but if I have to have ONE side effect, I'll take it.

Love to all. Even you, the costume designer who forgot the dancers were children.

Why do I care so much about Gay issues?

ITS asked me:

Rich,
I wonder why do you feel so passionate about supporting the gay cause?
Could it be because the New York Knicks suck?

No, but that could be why I avoid walking near Madison Square Garden... I don't want the sticky aura of suckage which surrounds the building to rub off on me.

Here's why I care so much about gay rights: it's black and white. There are so many issues in this country with nuance, where both sides have points to make, and even though I have specific opinions on one side, I can see where the other side is coming from. See: abortion, Iraq, NSA wiretapping, nuclear energy, etc., etc.

Gay rights, however, is a one-sided affair. I believe that absolutely any rights that are afforded a heterosexual couple should be afforded any couple of any gender mix. Our representative republic is designed to allow it's citizens to grant and withdraw rights, which then must be evenly applied. Period. As a country, we have decided to grant rights to legally married couples. This must be applied to all citizens equally.

It's that simple. No muss, no fuss.

Love to all. Even you, the puppy with a piece of my couch in her mouth.

Just one of those convergent times.

I think between marital miscommunication, lack of sleep, business challenges, and chemical adjustments, I'm having a bit of a hard time with things. But it's all relative. I mean, it's not like I'm waking up in the back of my car, wondering how the hell I got there... that's SO 1987.

WARNING: I may be about to whine.

I feel like the way my wife and I are communicating recently just sucks. I realize there's a LOT of history of me being an irritable dickhead, so I guess I shouldn't expect those times when I'm NOT being an irritable dickhead to be greeted with responses as if I've NEVER been an irritable dickhead.

But still, I'm getting really tired of this dismissive attitude I've been getting recently. I hate, hate, hate being shut down pre-emptively. I hate global statements about my behavior. I hate being told what I'm thinking.

And I found our Big Date yesterday evening very difficult. My wife was twenty minutes late to the dinner, then wanted to "freshen up" before we actually went into the restaurant, then rejected the first table we were offered, then asked to move from the second table we were offed, knocked over a water glass on the way to the third table (it was an accident, but it was annoying), but she really like the third table, although I was next to a giant pole... then, after good appetizers, the entrees were actually CLOYING... then we left the balley early because both of us were tired, then we argued on the way home, when (okay, I admit this was a stupid move on my part) I asked her to either stop taking her foot off the gas every 20 seconds, or shifting to 5th so the car wouldn't lurch, since she was at 4700RPM. We went to bed displeased, to say the least.

And when I try to talk about stuff, I'm told to get over it. Which I guess I should, but it makes me not want to talk to her at all, if her response to my having things to talk about is either "get over it" or "I'm not talking to you about it."

I'm frustrated. I don't know if my new-found focus has allowed me things in a different way, or if the way I'm seeing things is tainted by Adderall. I should talk about this with my Professional Dude on Monday.

Note: I realize that I'm probably completely full of shit.

Love to all. Even you, the weird-ass Spanish businessmen who flushed the urinals at Cafe Grey with their feet.

Nothing.

I'm just really pissed off right now.

Love to all.

Gay Marriage: My County Approves.

Just want to toot the local horn, here.

My county just officially recognized gay marriage via an executive order. Here's the scoop:

The effect of the order is to give married gay couples the same county privileges as heterosexual couples, such as the right to buy family passes to county parks and the right to seek emergency housing as a family.

"I don't see why people, just because they're the same sex, shouldn't have the same benefits," Spano said yesterday.

Exactly. It's that simple.

Love to all. Even you, the poop-dragging corgi.

Thanks, JP Morgan Chase!

On April 23, 2006, I forwarded a phishing email to the abuse mailbox at JP Morgan Chase. I occasionally do this, just in case the security folks are being proactive. Last night, almost two months later, my inbox started getting bombed by autoresponses. Nice. I just started filtering them at the server level.

Love to all. Even you, the bank who refused me a business loan in 1999 even though we’d been profitable for four years running.

166.4

Well, I now weigh less than I did when I got married in 1995.

Wild.

Love to all.

This means YOU.

You know how at the beginning of every single ride, the train conductor always says "Keep your feet off the seats?" That means YOU. You think people want to sit down on top of whatever it was you just fucking walked on? You think we want NYC detritus ground into the seat of our pants?

I believe I speak for all of Metro North when I say, "No. We don't."

Love to all. Even you, the lady who yelled into her phone: "I'm on the train!" Four times in a row.

Gay marriage redux, again, etc.

My President, via CNN:

"Ages of experience have taught us that the commitment of a husband and wife to love and to serve one another promotes the welfare of children and the stability of society," Bush said in his Saturday radio address. "Government, by recognizing and protecting marriage, serves the interests of all."

Fine, as far as it goes...

But how does gay marriage not promote the welfare of children and stability of society? How does gay marriage demote the welfare of children and the stability of society?

What the fuck is going on here?

Can someone please, please, please explain it to me?

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Feet on the Fucking Seats.

Fatherhood, Rock and Roll, and 26 seconds.

I used to be the drummer of a half-decent band. We played loud rock and roll, had three guitars, and permanently damaged the hearing in both of my ears. We played in NYC, Jersey, and Philly. Our little vinyl singles made the playlists of several dozen college radio stations around the country. It was fun as hell, and I still miss it.

Click here for 26 seconds of my life in 1993.

I left that band in 1995 to pursue a career, get married, have kids, and, of course, start a blog. I've played out a few times since then at the C-note in Manhattan, but never anything approaching the regular kind of situation like I had in the 90's.

My compromise goal has been to find a bunch of dads who want to play, but don't have the time. We'd get together to rehearse when possible, play out whenever we could, and basically have fun and not give a shit.

It appears that my goal is being met. Starting this summer, a few dads and I are going to start practicing together... and likely taking stuff back to our respective suburban enclaves to practice in between meetings. I'm so psyched.

If we ever record anything (ha!), I promise to post it here. And I apologize for that in advance.

Love to all. Even you, the bleary eyed lady who couldn't stay awake during the school play.

Adderall adjustment.

Apparently my body adjusted to the Adderall. Over the last few days, I've been kicking up many notches, sporadic-brain-wise. I've still been better in the office, but it's been a noticable switch back to my main prior mode. As always, with this stuff, it's a funny thing: my adjusting to amphetamines has made me speed up.

The doctor pretty much told me this would happen. In fact, the actual prescription was for 10mg 2-3x per day (depending on how early I got up), with an increase the second week to 20mg 2-3x p er day. I didn't up the dosage, though, because I want to be careful about this stuff.

So I talked to the doc, and she said: "Yup, up it to 20."

And again, I'm having first-day side-effects. The first was that I accidentally ran 10.25 miles while watching Jarhead on the treadmill. This was a problem, because I dehydrated myself and got pretty sick about three hours later. The second side effect was "overstimulation," as in, there was WAY TOO MUCH FUCKING INPUT IN MY HOUSE. Caps intended. Everyone just drove me absolutely nuts.

On the other hand, it definitely brought my thought processes back in line to where I want them to be. I'll give it a couple of days, and if this shit happens, I'll talk to the Doc about cutting back.

Now, though, I'm going play drums for a while.

Love to all. Even you, the neighbor up the street I saw tailgating the hell out of someone on a road near my house.

A period of fucking GROWTH.

Maggie and I have not been getting along that well. She's superstressed from starting her first job in ten years, and she's learning a lot on the fly. The babysitting thing hasn't been going that smoothly, and Maggie has made it abundantly clear that she doesn't want my help in fixing it. Nor my opinion on the subject.

It's frustrating. I've actually taken the time to plan my conversations with her in advance, so that I'd hopefully seem neither bossy or lecturing. My goal, in the last conversation, was to offer having the babysitter four days a week, instead of three, so that Maggie would both be covered for work even if the days switched around, and she'd have one day a week where the babysitter could do housework. Considering that, on net, it would still cost less than when we had a babysitter two days a week and Maggie had no job, I thought it was a good idea.

Maggie didn't agree. She wants a day with kids on her own. Which is fine, if she can work out the babysitting... but what bothered me more was that she was offended by my even having an opinion. She thought I was making a statement of incompetence about her coping skills.

I wasn't.

I think she realizes that, now... sort of. She apologized for the conversation... and I apologized for saying "screw you" and hanging up on her when she told me she wasn't interested in my opinion, and that I was saying she was incompetent.

Ugh. Bad communication, both ways.

Anyway, I realize that we're in a period of growth. Both of us. That we are adjusting to new schedules, ways of doing things, etc. But it kind of sucks.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who nearly flattened a woman trying to get on the 6 train at 8th street.

Dear Verizon:

Thank you for selling me this spiffy Treo 650 with your “new every two discount.” It has all the features I want, for hundreds less than the Treo 700p:

• Bluetooth synchronization of my contacts and calendars with OS X
  
• Bluetooth Dial-up networking for my Laptop… oh.. wait.

No it doesn’t. You disabled it, you enormous corporate jackass. Apparently, you cripple the phones you sell in order to make a lot of extra money by forcing your customers to use your wireless data services. These services, instead of using plain old Plan Minutes (and I have a LOT of Minutes), costs about as much as the monthly plan itself. Instead of cheaply (if slowly) surfing the web and getting email on my big-screen laptop, I’m supposed to use the teensy-ass screen on the Treo to read my damn Slashdot.

Well, thanks so some research and a patched Palm OS Bluetooth Manager from shadowmite, I’ve got my DUN (dial-up networking) working on my Treo 650... and by changing one top-level pop-up menu, I’ve got full iSync Bluetooth data exchange.

I’m posting this from the Metro North train, using my Treo fucking 650. No thanks to you, Verizon, you big beeyotch.

Shit.

Love to all. Even you, James Earl Jones.