Thanksgiving with the Rock Clan.....

(Fat Rock note: Yes, I know this is late. Bite me)

Ah, the holidays. Time to pause and give thanks for the bounty that God has bestowed upon us. Time to reflect on our lives and be gratefull. Time to spend an entire extended weekend with people you would normally do anything to avoid. Not that all my family is odd. There's lots of cool people in there. It's just that....only the wierdos show up consistently to holiday gatherings. The cousin that's a PR exec that's funny and is happily married to a super guy? Yeah, I haven't seen her in years. The Uncle who is rarely employed, been married four times and is so poor he won't fix one of his broken teeth fixed and instead opts never to smile? Yeah, he's there every time I'm there. Insane aunt who's in her 60s and recently got a tatoo of her favorite NFL team ON HER ASS and wants to show it off to the family? She's there all the time. Aunt who is really nice, has two cats and two wonderfull kids and the friendly and earnest husband, hardly ever there. See what I'm getting at? Well, this is what I brought my wife into for Thanksgiving. Her family is pretty small, with very few extended relatives. I have 13 cousins, numerous aunts and uncles, and about 6 2nd cousins. Add to that several ex-husbands, illegitamate children, and "new" Signifiacnt Others and you have quite a stew.

My wife spent the entire time saying "..uh.....WHO are you again?...." and trying to make small talk all week. For those of you who don't know the Lemur Queen, she hates small talk. Oh, and one of the cousins had a baby. This would make my grandmother a great-great-grandmother. Now, due to the size of the family, I am certainly NOT the first grandson to get married, but in the family I am the only son/child of my father, so I am exepected to reproduce. So the question was posed to my wife many times......when are you two going to have a baby?

Lemur Queen does not like that line of questioning. We have discussed children. We will be having them. But we were married less than a year ago and live in a small apartment. We need to get a house. THEN baby. But before we get a baby, we're going to get a parrot. Probably an African Red-Belly Parrot. They are not as loud as other parrots, and can talk and play. Also, they should live around 25 years. I figure they'd be great training for a kid. I'd have to spend time with it, train it, and not cuss around it or it will learn the bad words. Just like kids right? And if I can't kill a parrot, I won't kill a baby. This line of logic is Lemur Queen approved.

Fat Rock.

I hate everyone

Yes everyone. Even you. Everyone except for Fat Rock. He cooks for me and gives me back rubs.

Yeah, so work's been crazy the last two weeks. Everyone is trying to get in before the new year, AKA when their decuctable starts anew. These same people are also in the "doughnut hole" of Medicare part D, and are paying for their medications out of pocket. This makes them RABID for free samples.

Fun

But not as fun as today's patient. Let me set the scene: a young female, Jabba-huge. I've seen her before, and she is definately......slow. This makes obtaining a decent history a long and painful process. Throughout the interview process I found out:


1) She haden't taken her insulin in a week, for no partcular reason.

This was extra bad because of

2) she had been taking Prednisone because "it made her legs feel better" She doesn't know the dose. She got it from, someone, I'm not sure who. It may not have actually BEEN Prednisone. It may have been magic beans she got in exchange for her insulin. Of course it's an A #1 BAD IDEA to take other people's medications, but espically Prednisone. You can't just stop it all at once, unless Adrenal Crisis sounds like fun. (Note: It's not fun.) Oh, it jacks up your blood sugar too.


*Fat Rock note: Prednisone is a corticosteroid used to treat a variety of inflamatory conditions. It is usually dosed in a taper, as in big doses leading to smaller doses leading to none. Just taking a handfull is an extremely bad idea. I love my wife*


which brings us to:

3) checked sugar in the office. 375 (normal is 70-120) Give patient 10 units of insulin. One hour later sugar is 425. THE HELL!?!? 15 MORE units of insulin, ANOTHER hour later, blood sugar 330. Good enough. Whils't waiting for the insulin to do its magic:

4) she had an accident.

It's days like these I wonder why I ever left the lab. Sure it was soul crushing work, with terrible hours. But I was never peed on. Well, almost never. The mice do get nervous.

Merry Freaking Christmas

Lemur Queen

An Ode of Praise.

As I was in Food Kitty yesterday, I happened on a near miracle. "But what was it, Fat Rock?" you ask. An act of unselfishness? A story of bravery? A really really fat guy with a hot chick? (Well, besides me and Lemur Queen)

NO! None of the above. What I heard first was actually a loud burst of yelling. "I don't believe this! This is BULL!" Then I heard a low mumble that sounded like "Sorry, I'm not doing that", and then I saw a woman with a big ass cart FULL of groceries wheel angrily out of a checkout lane. As I walked by with my purchase (candy bar and a diet coke. Yes, a diet coke, although I don't know why I even bother. I mean, I'm buying a freaking candy bar, and it's not like they cancel each other out.......) I saw that the same lane was open, with a SMILING cashier staffing it. I walk up, and set my items on the belt. It's at that second I realize that I'm in an express lane, with the cutesy and often ignored "12 items or fewer" signs. Well, this cashier COUNTS! And if you have more than 12, you are kicked out of the line! A-FREAKING-MAZING!!

Tanya was her name. And upholding the sacred trust of Food Lion was her game. I was astounded. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Haven't you been behind those jerks at Wal-Mart who stand there in the express lane with a full cart and then squable with the cashier and hold up the line. Also, I hate the mexicans that pretend not to know english and push two full carts down your lane when you work at K-mart and are yelling "hey you! you can't use this line!". But this cashier actually followed that rules! I was so impressed. It's a miracle!


Fat Rock.

Christmas Whimseys....

Hello all. Fat Rock, back again. I was pretty pleased when I snagged my wife, the Lemur Queen. She's a gem. One of the many reasons I love her is that she doesn't take for freaking ever to pick out a Christmas Tree. When I was growing up, my mother Barbie would spend HOURS dragging my father and I from lot to lot to look at frickin' trees. It got to the point where the tree sellers at the local farmer's market would recognize my dad and point out all the new tress they had brought in for the day. But buying the tree was ony half the pain. THEN we had to get it home, and my mother would come out with a tape measure and delineate exactly how many inches we were allowed to cut the lower branches off. Then we would cut exactly 1and 1/4" off the bottom to allow the tree to suck up the special water my mother had prepared.

THEN we would take the tree inside, and prop up the tree and move it around the room to the spot my mother wanted. Once we had the spot picked out, we would rotate the tree in the base(not tightened, of course) untill the "least bald" side was facing out. Then we would tighten the screws, and begin to maneuver the tree to the appropriate angle. And then we would often repeat the process as mom changed her mind several times. All this took several hours. And we haven't even started decorating the tree.

Oh, and a word on my mom's secret tree formula:

6 cups of unfiltered water

3/4 cups sugar

10 grains (650mg) of aspirin.

1 teaspoon sea salt

Optional: 1 to 2 pellets of Miracle Grow (use only after tree has been in house for a week)

And she would make this up OFTEN and pour it into the tree base.

So last year, I was working at a hospital, and didn't have time to get a Christmas Tree with the Lemur Queen so I sent my beloved father, Major Rock, to assist her. We were expecting a death march like what my mom does, but boy were we surprised! She took 10 minutes to find a tree. Lemur Queen had basically three requirements for a Christmas Tree:

1. Green

2. Tree Shaped

3. Not too tall for the apartment.

And Boom, Major and Queen had a tree. Then they brought it home. "How much to cut off?" says Dad. "Whatever you think is appropriate", she says. Dad has the tree up in less than 10 minutes. My future wife compliments the job dad did, and talks about how nice the tree looks.

Fast forward one year.

Lemur Queen and I are standing in the tree lot that a buddy from work has a stake in. What kind of tree do you want honey? Her reply:

1. Green

2. Tree Shaped

3. Not too tall for the apartment

4. Doesn't cost too much.

We have a tree in 5 minutes. We get the tree home. I trim the bottom branches off and the bottom of the tree is cut whatever way I jolly well chosse, because she doesn't have an opinion on it. At this point I'm falling in love all over again. Then we move the tree into position. Fine, tighten the screws on the base. Fine. Straighten the tree. Fine. "Tree looks good honey" From the way she was standing, it did look good.:

She was happy. I was happy. I went into the kitchen to make holiday Rum and Cokes. Then I saw the tree from the side:

Yowsa. We're going to need a LOT of Rum and Cokes before that starts looking straight. Well, my wife has a solution. She digs down into the big delicious brain of hers and remembers something from our preparation for marriage
Yep. We shoved our "Dummies" book under there. I mean, WE wouldn't use it. Right? Who's crazy enough to have a SECOND freaking wedding? I mean, the first one was frazzling enough, but could you imagine getting all those relatives together again? *shudder* So anyways, Lemur Queen held the tree, and I shoved it under the base. We really liked the result:

By the way, this holiday is being made bearable by Gosling's Rum

Fat Rock Holidays

Ok, Lemur Queen's turn.


Thanksgiving with the Fat Rock clan. I come from a small family. Most holidays are just Frank, Marie, Robert, and myself. We may be loud, we may be annoying, but it's safe, predictable, and calm. Well, as calm as the Queen Family gets. No cousins, no aged grandparents, no long car trips.

Then I married Fat Rock.

I should have known it was coming. At our wedding, we had 50 guests. 25+ were Fat Rock family members, 5 of my guests were family members. They are kind, welcoming people, but there are SO MANY of them. Uncles, cousins, grandparents, and various hangers on. And they are POLITE. What's their angle? I can interact with people on a professional level, which is a little cold for family, or I can interact as we do in the Queen household. At volume 11, speaking in insults and rude jokes. I have a feeling that this is equally inappropriate.

Back to Thanksgiving. Fat Rock's family lives in northern Florida, in a small resort town. We would be sleeping at the grandparents. So far, so good. I'm quiet and polite, and think that I can keep it up for another 3 days. Thanksgiving dawns, and we head out to the Turkey Trot. Yep, a Holiday is no reason to miss out on a 5k. One of the numerous cousins is also running the race, and I am pleased to announce I kicked her ass. Than it was off to find coffee.

You see, Fat Rock's grandparents are older (of course), and not in the best of health. This makes entertaining difficult, but as they are fine southern folk, they want to be good hosts. So for us, this means crappy coffee. I NEED coffee, it is part of my DNA, my rason d'etre, my only means of waking in the morning. We couldn't bring coffee in the house, as we may hurt grandparent feelings. So there we were 9:00 Thanksgiving morning, driving through a mostly-deserted beach town, desperately looking for a Starbucks.

"Don't they have coffee in this God-forsaken town?" Apparently not. I guess vacationers just drink all day, and sleep off the caffeine headaches on the beach. Finally we find a Starbucks, and pound down that lovely nectar. Thus re-energized, it's back to the house to prepare for the BIG event.

Thanksgiving dinner. With 20 people. And they watch football. And don't drink. Holy crap. I am doomed. I spy cousin and cousin's wife, and their new baby. Relief, that will take the pressure off. Oh no, now everyone is asking ME when we'll have a child. Briefly, I toy with the idea of saying "actually....." and patting my stomach, but decide that is a class A BAD IDEA.

Time for dinner. On the menu: Turkey, Ham (yuck), Shrimp (double yuck), Okra (ugh), Mashed Potatoes (yay!) Corn (yum, carbs!) Salad (good) Gravy (ok, or so I thought) Stuffing (ok #2 or so I thought) A little different than the Lemur Queen house, but I'll manage.

Turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, veggies and salad. Hmm the dressing is thicker and chunkier than I'm used to. Oh well, I guess not everyone uses the canned Peppridge Farms gravy.

Then I find out the truth. GIBLETS. Freaking GIBLETS. Turkey parts. I won't even even eat chicken with bones. AND it had an egg. With the yolk and everything. shiver. Thank goodness I didn't find out about this atrocity until after dinner. And luckily, I didn't have any of the stuffing. Which contained sweetbreads. Which have have on good authority, are COW parts.

So we survived. One holiday down, one million to go. Christmas will be at the Queen household, so be on the lookout for Fat Rock's interpretation of the festivities.

Lemur Queen

My Addiction

I'm on SMACK! Just kidding. I play a game called World of Warcraft. For those who've been living under a rock or in a cave for the last 3 years or so, World of Warcraft is an online multi-player game where people play as characters and complete quests, raid dungeons, and interact with other players all while trying to build their character/avatar into the bad-assest on the block. I know, "why play the game, when you can interact with REAL people in REAL LIFE". Well, I can't rightly shoot a fireball out of my fingers and roast people who annoy me. Now can I?

In reality, I'm a fat guy. Not really tough. Not really strong. In World of Warcraft (WoW), you know what I am? A big-ass cow. A big-ass shapeshifting cow. A big-ass shapeshifting spell-slinging cow that can put the smack down on any and all! A big-ass shapeshifting spell-slinging cow that can put the smack down on any and all AND rides a GIANT GOAT! A big-ass shape.........well, you get the idea.

It's an escape, and a chance to play with friends no matter how distant they are. Most nights I play with Robert and MC. We run around and yell at each other just like we were in the same room, even though we're hundreds of miles apart. I even play with friends form work, and we bitch about work and what-not. It's an escape, because at my work I have a new supervisor who used to be at my level, and has now been granted the mantle of authority. He used to be a fun guy. Now, he stalks around the plant, punished people he doesn't like by screwing with their work schedule and giving them bad jobs; and a few weeks ago took me aside and told me that I needed to start talking to him with "mo' respek't". We had a disagreement in th way I answered him when he asked me a question. I have been told that "that dog won't hunt, boy". Now, I could cuss at the guy. I could bottle it up and yell at Lemur Queen when I come home. Or I can be polite at work and pleasant at home, and play Warcraft for a bit and let it all out.

I'm sure this won't be the last post on this, as there is an expansion coming out in less than a week, and Lord knows, I can't give up my WoW.

Fat Rock.

Half-Marathon: 13.1 miles, 2 hours, 30 songs

So today was the day. Half marathon day, my fist one in Coastal NC. It went pretty well. Let me walk you through the adventure via my custom made itunes play list, cleverly named "1/2 marathon."

Mile 0-The start
Whoa, that's a lot of people. They really weren't kidding when they said it was the biggest in the state. National Anthem, cheers, and we are off! I hit play. U2's "Beautiful Day" starts playing. And you know? It WAS a beautiful day. Perfect Carolina blue sky, cheering crowds, surround by thousands of runners. All ages, all sizes, all speeds. And we were all running together. Yeah, I almost teared up.

Mile 1-Wait, the crowd hasn't thinned out?
The excitement of thousands of people rapidly wanes as I continue to Army shuffle over the first bridge. I signed up to RUN! Smashmouth's "All Star" pumps up my energy, and I start ducking and weaving through the crowd. They will probably pass me later, but for now, I need to stretch my legs.

Mile 2- Downtown, watch out for the cobblestones!
Yay! The pack is thinning, and more cheering spectators are on the sidelines. Including my husband!! Hi Fat Rock!! My legs are feeling good, it's early enough in the race that the cobblestones don't trip me up. Gwen Steffani and Moby serenade me with "South Side." It seems appropriate for our trek through downtown. Even if it is a peaceful, quaint downtown, with you know, cobblestones.

Miles 3-5 Water stop #1, and heading to the park
This section is pretty boring. First water stop is dodged. I've got my dorky water bottle pack, and I've only been running 20 minutes or so. Just heading down a side street in an industrial area of town. I attempt to entertain my fellow runners with my singing skills. Jimmy Buffett time! Sadly, "Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw" came on near the waterstop. I think I may have inadvertently caused an uncomfortable conversation between a waterstop volunteer and her young son.

Mile 6 Into the Park!
We hit the park. It is BEAUTIFUL! Big lake with cypress trees, Spanish moss hanging from branches, herons and other interesting birds silently watch our progress from the shore. It seems really appropriate that Harry Connick Jr.'s "With Imagination (I'll Get There)" is playing. It's a scene right out of the Deep South.

Mile 7-8 Still in the park?!?
The park is becoming less beautiful. How long is this freaking trail? That's right Billy Joel, "I'm Moving Out." Oh, wait, the park is ending. And what's that? In the distance? Could it be?

Mile 9 Work?
We are running disturbingly close to my workplace. I like to imagine that work ceases to exist on the weekend. Stop screwing with my magical thinking! Ahh, Barenaked Ladies. Now THAT'S good weekend music. "You can be my Yoko Ono" and "Alcohol" carry me through, back to downtown. Hmm, two songs about alcohol. Three if you count "Piano Man." A scary trend or a suggestion on how to cool down after the race?

Mile 10-12 Into the last 5K
Back through downtown, past the abandoned housing project. These are always the toughest miles. Still several miles from the finish, no cheering spectators. You just want to be DONE. The Dave Matthews Band helps me re-center. First with "The Best of What's Around" and then "Ants Marching" helps me pick up the pace. We're crossing the third bridge! Won't be long now.

Mile 13-The finish is in sight
Just a mile to go! Anyone can run a mile. I start trying to pass people, and hope they can't hear my music. It's The Gourds "Gin and Juice," alcohol song #4 and the least family friendly of the lot. The in love with the world feeling that surrounded me at the start has been supplanted by my primal desire to be done running.

13.1 2:20
Two hours and twenty minutes. Not my fastest time, but the chip time should be about 2 minutes faster, thanks to the crowd at the start. I proudly receive my finishers medal from the Marine, in his snazzy dress blues at the finish line.


I'm sore, I'm tired, and as usual, am slightly unhappy with my time. I CAN'T WAIT for the next 1/2 marathon. Hope to see you there!

Lemur Queen

Forget Iron Man.......watch for back for Iron Heidi!

So, my lovely wife and I were at another race the other day. Last weekend, to be exact. Last weekend and 0730, during my usual sleepy-time. And my wife was actually in the race, I was there to grunt a lot and of course do some freak-watching. This particular race was an 8K race, or about 5 miles. The Lemur Queen is doing several such races as she is building up to run her Half-Marathon shortly. She's been training for a couple months, and she thinks she's almost ready. I think she needs to sit on the sofa with me and have some nachos. 'Cause running for 13.1 miles is just crazy. The farthest I've ever ran was 20 yards, and that was from my seat to the General Tso's Chicken pan at the local chinese buffet. Gotta get it while it's FRESH, people!

So, my wife runs the race. She makes a great time, actually beating her projection by about 6 minutes. I'm very proud of her. Of course, she wanted to have made a better time, but she's satisfied with what she's got. Then we look around. And notice someone who finished about 15 minutes before my wife. I hadn't paid attention previously, as I was looking for the white shirt/red shorts combo that would mean "start hooting for your wife". However, standing about 10 feet away from us was Iron Heidi and her family. She was about 5'8", had blonde hair in two braided pigtails and these stretched the the middle of ther back. She was clad in spandex, as was her husband (also blond hair, didn't get close enough to see their eyes to check for blue). The had a son, about 10, WHO RAN IN THE RACE AT HIS PARENT'S PACE, and a sister who was about 6 and riding her bike along with the family on their run. What really got my attention was the stroller this woman had pushed for 5 miles. It was a two seater (with 2 small blonde children inside it), and it wasn't a side-by-side stroller, it was linear. Also, the wheels......had those plastic covers on them like competitive byciclists have on their wheels. Holy crap. Hence the name: Iron Heidi. You may think I'm joking, but I have pics to back it up.



Fat Rock.

Creepy Work Update

Me and the Lemur Queen love gossip. We both do. It's horrible. When I'm at work, I naturally gossip worse than an old woman at church. Well, today I found out something interesting.

Seems that one of the *guys* I work with is out to make a little money. Working for about $200 an hour. As a male escort. A boy-toy. A man-whore.

Guess where he advertised? Our city's Craigslist. Guess who found it? A female member of our staff.

Scandal Shock Intrigue!

Just thought you oughta know.

And I thought I had bad luck......

Well, this month is Lemur Queen and I's 5 month anniversary. Yes, we're been in wedded bliss for all of almost half a year. Time flies when you're having a blast. Anyways, we went out to a Middle Eastern Restaurant, Chez Car Bomb. No, sorry, my bad. *slaps hand* *bad Fat Rock!* It was Cafe Mediterrania. It was actually really nice, and in the non-scary part of downtown. We had appetizers, wine, and a quiet dinner. Lemur Queen has the Corfu Chicken and it was great. I had Honey Glazed Lamb in Couscous, and was underwhelmed. Usually, when I order a dish with "lamb" predominantly in the title, I expect there to be more than 2 oz of lamb in the dish. And the lamb in the dish should not be 50% fat. So, I didn't really like my food. But I digress. We had a waitress. She was nice. Not very attentive, but nice. She took forever to get our orders, bring out our apps, bring out our meals, and she never refilled my water. I usually have a thirst like a dying man in the desert. I need water. I never got a refill. Lemur Queen says that what was going on was a leasurely, relaxed dinner; and I that I needed to calm down. When I disagreed with her, she reminded me that all my recent dining experiences had all be in restaurants whose names ended in -ardees. But still, the no water thing means BAD TIP. We were mulling over whether to get desert when a large group enters the establishment. A large group of old people. We're seated very close to the door, so we can see and hear the entire conversation between them and the hostess and waitress:

Perky Hostess in Tiny Vest: "Hi, Welcome to the Cafe, how many for this evening?"

Old Woman #1: "Oooooh Heellooooooo!" (Think Jerry Seinfeld making that noise at George)
Old Woman #2: "Heelloooooooo!"
Old Man #1: "EH!?!?"

At this point my wife and I are thinking these people are drunk, or insane.

PHiTV: "Uh, so there's (counts) seven of you for this evening?"

Old Man #2: "Heelloooooo! We would like to dine here!"
Old Woman #1: "We want to sit THERE!" Points to tables right by the window, which need to be bused, and oh yeah, are RIGHT behind me. Oh, and the tables are a 4-top and two 2-tops. Not a large table for a large group.
PHiTV: "Uh, those aren't clean, yet. But we have some other tables over....."
Old Woman #1: "Noooooooooo, we want there! *points with granduer at dirty tables*"
The oldsters immediately being shuffling at the dirty tables while the PHiTV is trying to corral them somewhere else.
Old Woman #3: "We have wet jackets. WE would like you to take them and put them somewhere."
PHiTV: "Uh, why not keep them with you.....
Old Woman #3: "WE do not keep our jackets. WE want to give them.....to you."
Old Man #1: "Eh? Jackets!"

At this point our waitress comes over to the dirty tables, which the oldsters have now seated themselves at. While she is clearing off the plates, taking her tip off the table, etc, the Oldsters all thrust their wet dripping coats into her arms.

Waitress: "Uh, so, uh, is this going to be all on one check?" The menu clearly states a 16% automatic gratuity on tables of 6 or more, so she is just making it.

Old Woman #1 :"Oh no, we're all separate. We don't want to spend any more money than we absolutely have to."
Old Woman #3: "Noooooo! WE do NOT! Fetch us a Menu!"

As our defeated waitress is walking past us, she asks if we want dessert. We immediately ask for our check. No way in hell we're eating next to Monty Python's Flying Cheapskate Circus. Because we knew that girl was going to have her butt run off and was NOT going to see a penny from those geezers, we left her over 20%. She didn't deserve it, but damn. we felt so sorry for her.

Not another running post!

Oh yes, another running post.

I just finished my third 8k. I had never heard of this race distance until I moved to coastal NC. For you non-metric folks this works out to 5 miles.

Today's race had every opportunity to be a total disaster. The tee shirts were AWFUL. Inmate orange with pumpkins that looked like beach balls. Last night, it rained and rained. Usually not a big deal, but this race featured an "off road" portion. Off road + rain = mud. Costumes were encouraged. It's the weekend before a 1/2 iron man distance traiathon, so all the seroius runners stayed home, slept in, and ate pasta. Possibly all at once. The total race pack was definately under 100. And there was some question about the race start time.

Despite all these hardships, the race was AWESOME. The rain held off until the race was completed, the course was well marked, so even with the small crowd, I didn't get lost. The mud was REALLY fun, and it gives me an excuse to get another pair of running shoes. (Sale at Omega, 50% off! Yippee) Also, the mud provided excellent perperation for the Marine Corps Mud Run . My aerobics class is planning on competing next year. Oh, and did I mention that I KICKED ASS? Cut 2 minutes off my last 8k time!! In less than a month! Yeah, I rock.

And did I meantion the Worlds Strongest Man (TM) was there? He totally was. FYI: Worlds Strongest Man (TM) does not appear to equal world's strongest knees.

Lemur Queen

Weight loss = Cult?

Call me crazy, but that seems the be the case over at Medical Practice That Shall Not Be Named, As Lemur Queen Still Owes 80G On Her Student Loans. *Deep Breath*

Anyway

I work at a subspeciality medical practice, and our patient population tends towards "fluffy." This fluffiness does not bode well for their medical condition. Weight loss will minimize their medication usage, improve their overall well being, and keep that heart ticking. Unfortunately, for my patients, as for most of the nation, they are having limited success with this on their own.

So the office is now in the midst of picking out a medically supervised weight management program. Think somewhere between Nutrisystem and the Duke Diet and Fitness Center.

It actually looks like a pretty good program. Patients use packaged meals + fruits and veggies, with weekly medical supervision and meetings. The meetings are where the program takes a sharp right into crazy-town. The paperwork we were given STRONGLY encouraged us to use the official scripts and "key phrases" when talking to clients, as they have "proven success." See, I did it right now. "Clients", not patients, not customers, I guess that's to make them feel warm and fuzzy. And we are on the hunt for a program administrator. This person will lead the non-medical, office type aspects of the program.

They have suggestions for this person. Note that they are suggestions, as I belive making these requirements would, in fact, be illegal. The administrator (who also has a fancy name that I can't remember) should be:

Non-smoker
At or near ideal body weight
Willing to use *diet company name* products
Energetic (possibly code for young)
Perky (possibly code for babe-a-licious)
Supportive of *diet company name* ideals and goals (definitely code for drink the low calorie Kool-Aide)

Scary stuff. Our patients need to loose weight, no doubt. They are not doing it on their own, and bariatric surgery seems like a mighty dramatic step. But loosing weight by selling your soul to *diet company name*? This may be too much

Lemur Queen

Food Fight

In many ways, Fat Rock and I are ying and yang. There's gender, of course, and religious upbringing, and relative volumes of our households (Fat Rock 4, Lemur Queen 10), but the largest difference may be diet. This has afforded us the opportunity to expand our culinary horizons. It has also brought to light that what you think is perfictly normal, delicious food, is, in fact, crap.

First, an admission. Fat Rock does >90% of our household cooking. This is a wonderful declaration of love, and a way to ensure that Fat Rock does not begin gnawing on my shoulder "Alive" style. It's not that I CAN'T cook, it's just that my cooking fits into 3 major categories.

1) Slow food: sauces from scratch, lasagna, homemade bread. Yummy, but time consuming. Not practical for daily food needs.

2) Microwaved food: popcorn, Lean Cuisine, frozen veggies. Fast, delicious, and a one way ticket to protein starvation, according to my husband.

3) Salad and a Bagel: my main source of sustenance while in college. For more details, ask Magnolia Belle.

So Fat Rock cooks. and he cooks the HELL out of most foods. BBQ chicken pizza, Asian chicken salad, potato soup. The man doesn't even need a recipe. He has already introduced me to several new food groups. Such as:

maple cured bacon
pork chops
spam
pork "cracklins"
any pork product in general. Who knew the Lemur Queen household kept Kosher?
sauteed beef
liver pudding
boiled peanuts
Goo Goo Clusters
drop biscuits

I have introduced:
pita
hummus
perogi
stuffed grape leaves
chicken paprikash
curry
tastee cakes
the entire line of Morningstar Farms "meat" products (they are, in fact, textured soy product)


Now, CLEARLY my list is superior. Pita and Hummus and Perogis are now our go-to Tuesday/Thursday post workout meals. And yes, I have discovered that pork chops with rosemary are delicious. But seriously? BOILED peanuts? I have never eaten a food and thought, "it's good, but I wish it was more slimy." And liver pudding? UGHHH, don't let ANYONE trick you. It's NOT pudding.

To be fair, Fat Rock has taken one for the team. He gamely tried my Morningstar Farms "sausage" and didn't even gag (mostly). He even lets me eat microwave popcorn for dinner. This is HUGE, it was one of my fears about marriage. "I'll never be able to eat popcorn or cereal for dinner again!" Yeah, I'm a special kind of stupid. I know.

So we are learning, and growing. We keep trying new foods, and with the help of supportive friends and family, I will learn to prepare a meal in more than 3 minutes, and less than 3 hours. Tonight's attempt; chicken pot pie, with biscuits on top. Didn't realize until the first bite that it was a *shiver* casserole. Where's the hummus?

Lemur Queen

Pharmaceutical Sales Representatives

Ok. I may be getting into LaLa Land here, and may leave a few people behind. Before I worked in the manufacturing/development side of the pharmaceutical industry, I worked in pharmacy. I actually started school with the intention of being a pharmacist, but succumbed to the dark call of industrial pharmacy. Anyways, I worked in pharmacies for 10 years, went to conferences, went to "drug dinners", and met a lot of drug reps. I thought I'd weigh in on them. Not that you asked or wish my opinion at all. Lemur Queen will probably have something to say about this, since she works in health care as well.


Drugs reps are major pains in a pharmacist's ass. We can always tell when they've been though the local doctor's office, because suddenly people are coming in with perscriptions (scripts) for expensive, brand name drugs that aren't really the best therapy for whatever illness the patient has. Want an example? Prozac was the brand name for a drug called Fluoxetine, used to treat various and sundry mental problems. Anyways, the brand name drugs costs about $3 dollars a pill. The generic costs about $0.45 per pill. There is NO difference between the generic and brand drugs, aside from the price. We know a rep for Prozac has been through when patients start coming in with orders for "Prozac 40mg, one capsule once a day. Dispense #30, 6 refills, NO substitutions".

Son of a Bitch.

There's no reason for it. But the drug rep got him. Hence why I don't really like them all that much. Also, sometimes the reps play hardball with the statistics for the trials of the drugs they represent. Huh? Ok, example: "Plomox" is a drug that treats high blood pressure. It works the same way, same mechanism of action as another drug "Cheapo" that comes in generic and costs a fourth of the brand name. "Cheapo" is also a gold standard for treatment of hypertension. So, trials are done on "Plomox" and data is gathered. Well, the data doesn't show that "Plomox" is better than "Cheapo"; so instead of saying that Plomox is not superior to Cheapo (and thus worth the price), they say it's "non-inferior". Or they try to dig through the results to say some minor aspect of "Plomox" was superior to "Cheapo", like patients had 3% less flatulence or something.

But yet, pharmacy people can never seem to bring themselves to throw out the drug reps. We like them, even though we hate them, Why is this so? Because drug reps are H*O*T. Seriously. If you work in a pharmacy, doctor's office whatever; what you're mostly going to see are sick people. And sick people are not pretty people. Sick people are icky. The daytime TV drama where the beautiful girl is in a coma and wakes up with nothing wrong? Yeah, total fairy tale. I mean, what do you look like when you're nauseated? Like a pinup model right? Yeah, I'm a regular Chippendale's Beefcake when I have the flu, let me tell you. Well, that's prettymuch all we see in the pharmacy are uggos. I mean, we get the occasional pretty girl coming in for her birth controll, but ususally it's nasties and old people wanting to talk to me about their bowel movements (note to readers: old people ALWAYS want to talk about their bowel movements. It's like the latest episode of Desperate Housewives to them.). Then all of a sudden a supermodel comes in and wants a few minutes of your time. Those are drug reps. That's why doctors like seeing drug reps. Well, besides the hotness they always bring food to doctor's offices. And in case you think I'm joking about the hot part, here's a few pics trolled off google. Try searching for "drug reps", you'll get something like this:














And seriously, this is what they look like. Well, maybe not so much skin, but prettymuch this was it. When you spent your morning staring at some morbidly obese woman's bunions, it's a change right?

I mean, seriously, they look like barbie clones, right? The last time a woman who looked like this came into the pharmacy and she wasn't a drug rep, she offered to sleep with me in exchange for her prescription. Let's just say she was a professional, but not the good kind, ok?

Well, enjoy your Plomox!




Fat Rock.

Bong Hits for Shopping Fantasia

Ok, so I found some stuff at the antique store that I didn't quite get. I took some shots of it, and maybe you can help me. I just......I just don't understand how anyone could want this stuff....
First thing we found were the creepy ceramic penguins:

We decided to name them Beelzebub and Janet. It just seemed fitting. They were probably normal penguins, just going on a road trip and got in a big fight because Beelzebub wouldn't stop for directions and "knew where the hell he was going" and right at that second the artist who sculpted this magnificent pair captured the moment in cheap ceramic. I'm sure the artist later killed himself, as to look into the penguin's eyes is have your life essence pulled into a black hope of despair as the cold washes over you and all joy leaves. GAZE upon the penguins:

Moving on I spotted a pervert monkey. He just seems a little too happy clinging to that mango there, if you know what I'm saying. *wink*wink*Nudge*nudge* My boy Cheeta needs to take a cold shower, or at least put some pants on. Then I made a discovery that I actually tried to purchase. I was intercepted by the Lemur Queen midway to the cash register and had to put it back; but I did get a photo:

I just KNOW that our house would be enriched by having a lovable ceramic die cast of a lovable transient hobo with possible ringworm/foot ulcers with a lovable dog and is moving to/from London and probably smells like some lovable cabbage and cheap booze. Wouldn't you want it? That's what I said. My wife is nuts.


Next up is something that we found together. Lemur Queen and I were wandering around saying "our apartment's nice, but would really make it pop would be some giant ass oil paintings of parrots". We rounded the corner and ZING! there we were:

"But Fat Rock," you say, "Those are actually big ass oil paintings of Macaws, which are technically different from parrots, how can THEY make your apartment awesome?" Well, I know they're Macaws, but I just said "parrot" because that's most most people think of for the imagery. Our reader pool is more popular in the "lay-person parrot" category. So shut it.
We did find another awesome "parrot" (well, actually, this IS probably a parrot. Looks like a Yellow Shouldered Amazon) lamp fixture. Unfortunately, all this crap/treasures were out of our budget, or we'd have an EPIC apartment.
PURE AWESOME There was one item that utterly defied description: The Orbs of Mystery.
At first I thought that they were just weird glass grapes. But upon closer inspection I found they were so much more, they were Orbs of Mystery. Who knows what mighty powers these mystical objects might imbue? A side view of the ORBS: Perhaps these orbs are more than they appear. Perhaps, in my mind, I can use the Orbs of Mystery to summon any object or person. You know, kind like they do in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons(you know, since we can't tell reality and fantasy apart). Hmmmm...... Well, you know, I've always loved "The Fifth Element" starring Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich.......maybe if I concentrate really hard.......

Oooh. That didn't work too well. Wow, if you look at the picture closely, you get the feeling that she hungers for your very soul.

Reverse, REVERSE!!! Maybe if I just put my hands back on the Orbs of Mystery, I can conjure up something in it's place!

Well, let's try it again. You know, I always thought Lindsay Lohan was cute. Maybe if I think of Lindsay.........

Wow, even in my imagination I can't get crap to work right.......













Now I know why those things are in the "Discount" bin.

Fat Rock.

Creepy Local Update Post

Well, as some of you know, I live in the south. There are certain stereotypes about people who live here, and most of them are not flaterring. Well, those stereotypes exist for a reason. Here's an example:

Me (walking out of a Little Ceaser's, holding my $5 pizza): "Do do do do I love cheese do de doo do..."

Middle Aged Dude in Overalls: "'Sceuse me buddy, have yew gots some nail clippers by chance?"

Me: *looks at my nails* Uh, no sir.

M*A*D*O: "Yew ain't got no nails?"

Me: "Well Sir, I've got nails, I just don't use a clipper. I bite my nails. Bad habit I guess."

M*A*D*O: "Hell, that won't werk fer me. I ain't got no teef!"

At this point he opens his mouth to smile, and I see his fully toothless and caverness maw for the first time. Yowsa.

The South Shall Rise Again! As soon as we can get some dentists!

Fat Rock.

Shopping Fantasia!

So, we went shopping the other day. Shopping for furniture. As a newly married man, I had no idea I was missing out of the some of the utter necessities of life until my wife told me. WE NEED A CHINA CABINET was rattling in my brain at high volume from my lovely lady Lemur booming it at me with the same force of a physician saying YOU NEED A TETANUS SHOT the last time I was in an ER. I guess it's one of those things you didn't know you needed until *poof* you really need it, and now. So we looked around. A few notes on the places:



Rooms to GO: Evidently the newest haunt of Cindy Crawford. While I can understand that anyone would just leap at the opportunity to design your own crappy living room set to foist on people, c'mon Cindy, you can do so much better. I did enjoy walking into the store and being totally ignored by the salespeople, who were arguing over who's turn it was to go to break. But they're stuff was overpriced, and not exactly what normal people would need. Unless you course you needed to drop $300 on anatomically correct metal greyhounds.

Haverty's: If King Tut were alive now and looking to decorate his new "crib", he'd be shopping at Haverty's. Mind you, my wife bought a very nice bookshelf from there that was quite tasteful, but that line was discontinued because "shoppers thought it was too plain". I guess by "too plain" they mean "not enough gargoyles on it" or "not something a Neuvo Riche tasteless dweeb would want to decorate his overpriced south Florida mansion that he just bought and now wants to decorate in true Tony Montana style"

*Note to Wife's Friends: The above was a Scarface reference*

*Additional Note: Wife has just informed me that the Haverty's furniture reminded her of how "Guidos" would decorate, if they came into some sudden money. More on "Guidos" later*

Ethan Allen: Wow, are THEY ever proud of their furniture! I'll admit it's nice stuff, but it's three times the price of other furniture stores! It was nice however to be able to wander about the store unmolested by over-eager salespeople. I guess we smelled like poor people to them or something. What do poor people really smell like? Cabbage and cheap booze I guess, or at least that what the sales lady told us.

Ivy Cottage Antiques: Nice place, smack in the middle of the ghetto. Seriously. We were right across the street from "Dr. Stylz Urban Threadz" and the parking lot had big signs up pleading with us not to leave valuables in the car. Aside form that, the place was great. Good prices, helpful sales staff, and a lot of really quite stuff. A few close runners up, taken using the old cell phone cam.

Those were nice, but this is the piece we bought. It was not too expensive, delivery fee was very small, and delivery people were very nice. But this is it:

I like it. Tune in next time for what else I found while we were out, and how my rampant case of the giggles almost got us thrown out of the furniture store.

Fat Rock.

Ballet Flamboyance?

As my darling wife said earlier, we went to the ballet the other day. This was the same day as the "Neighbor Domestic Violence" episode, so I've had other things on my mind. But I need to let a male point of view be heard for this event. A bit of background: I used to be the head administrative TA of the theatre dept where I went to college. I was a science major, trapped with a bunch of "artists" who thought they could dance, sing and act. It made me appreciate artists, their processes and what they have to go through to be heard. Also, I got to torment arts majors by using cold calculating logic and reason to destroy whatever argument they presented for extra points or a higher grade. BUT I digress.

So Lemur Queen and I have been to ballet before: Carmen. It was good. Very good. I actually have a favorite male dancer in the troupe, and he was the bullfighter. Good mechanics, good emotion, good synchro, good dancer. Good times:
http://www.carolinaballet.com/Bio-Bongar.html

It was at that time I found a had a dancer that I didn't like so much, namely because the entire time he was dancing, he looked like he was straining on a toilet or recovering from a particularly potent kick to the groin. I prefer my dancers non-weepy, thank you very much:
http://www.carolinaballet.com/Bio-Bourtasenkov.html



Anyways, the ballet we went to had three parts. Something classical with 4 pairs and a big finale. The second part was supposed to be a "representation of human rights abuses in the world", and the third was a new piece of work made up by the resident choreographer/Adrian Monk Impersonator. Oh yeah, he totally looked like that Monk guy, and I was just waiting for him to start touching the microphone repeatedly as an OCD guy is wanton to do.

The first part was "eh". My favorite dancer wasn't on there, but this guy was:
http://www.carolinaballet.com/Bio-Barnes.html
I enjoyed his work, he moved well and had emotional expression that built as the piece went on. But they didn't give him enough to do. The girl he was partnered with had this "I just took 20 hits of E" look on her face, and pretty much used him as a coat rack. Oh, and there was an amazon there. She was in the last pair, but she was huge. She had to be 6'. At least. She was good, but big.http://www.carolinaballet.com/Bio-Osetek.html

The second piece was UNBELIEVABLE. The primary dancers (the male ones) were the "prisoners" and they portrayed suffering, fear, strength, despair, and hope all in sequence and all in amazing realism. There was also an asian girl in the red dress who was a primary, who was an incredible representation of both hope, freedom, and rescue. It was great!

The third piece was not so good. Adrian Monk failed us all. The only cool part was a scene with two dancers moving as a heart. The rest was...well........it was a stereotypical modern ballet where everything was laden with metaphysical meaning and depth but ended up being a bunch of very fit people writhing on stage.

Anyways, all in all we enjoyed it. I like the arts, and will probably continue to go to shows and put some money in the tin when it's passed. I also love to people watch. There's a lot of interesting people at the ballet. You have elderly wealthy socialites, trying to show it all off. You've got college girls wearing the latest in unflattering Maxi dresses with authentic 1980's style hooker earrings. There's the obliging parents bringing their daughter out to see the pretty ballerinas (the cutest is when the little girls are actually wearing the point shoes from their class and try to walk out on their toes at the end of the performance). You've also got the date couples there. You can always tell them apart. The girl is usually really enjoying the show, and the guy is freaked out about the guys in tight costumes and whether or not anybody is seeing him do this. The average guy I guess is afraid of "looking gay" by being seen at the ballet. I don't have that fear. Everyone my work knew that I was going to the ballet, and I was looking forward to it. Also, I worked in a freaking theatre for two years and I have seen some pretty gay stuff. You don't want to hear the stories. But I can tell you, going to the ballet never made anyone gay. Go see the show.



http://echosphere.net/star_trek_insp/star_trek_insp.html

A night at the ballet

As you already know I have the greatest husband on earth. Handsome, strong, willing to protect me from bugs, etc. etc. etc.

Well, get ready to be TOTALLY jealous ladies; he goes to the ballet. Back in the day (aka, the ‘90’s) I was a ballerina. Well, more like, I took many classes in ballet, and did something that to the untrained eye, resembled ballet. Not quite as bad as “hippos in Fantasia” but not “opening night of Swan Lake at Lincoln Center” either.

Although my dancing days are done, I still enjoy the ballet more than you average almost-30-something. This is not a trait shared by most straight men. So imagine my surprise and joy when Fat Rock took me to the ballet, back when we were dating. And this was no amateur night. This was front row, center seats to the opening night of Carmen. And if that wasn’t enough, he LIKED it. Nay, he LOVED it. He had favorite dancers for heavens sake!

This was no simple attempt to prove his love to his lady lemur. Oh no. And to prove it, we again attended the ballet. And this one was a true litmus test. THREE world premiere ballets, all created at summer workshop. Those of you not in the ballet know, this is the dance equivalent of avant-garde one artist show at the gallery. Could be great, could be elephant poop on the Virgin Mary.

We head out. Excellent seats in a small college auditorium. We get there early so there is plenty of time for people watching.

There are old people of both the arty and non arty persuasion. You can tell them apart by their attire. The arty are wearing clunky beaded necklaces with their simple dresses. Non-arty? Sunday best with pearls. Oddly enough, this describes the attire of the women AND the men. I kid, I kid! But the men are out numbered 10 to 1.

There are young women of both the young and not so young variety. Apparently the maxi dress is back. This is a dress, strapless or not, that most closely resemble a giant bedsheet. Yes, the 70’s are back and they are angry. Strange hairdos and feathery earrings complete the ensemble. I w as slightly distracted by the girl in the purple strapless dress who appeared to adjust her Junk at every intermission. I never knew girls had Junk to adjust. Live and learn.

Time for the ballet! First an introduction by the artistic director, who bared more than a passing resemblance to “Monk.” Dance #1. 4 pas de deux’s to some Tchaikovsky. Very pretty, very traditional. Only slightly distracted by the GIANT Amazon female in the fourth dance. Seriously, I think if anyone dared to criticize her dancing, she would have jumped off the stage and beat you to death with her pointe shoe.
Dance #2. “Code of Silence.” As stated in the program “Code of Silence is inspired by the tireless efforts of Amnesty International to document human rights abuses around the globe and here in our own country.” Arty, no? It was FREAKING AWESOME. I was on the edge of my seat. I was exhausted by the end of the dance. Brought the house down. Standing ovations for all. Seriously, I’m not sure if it will be added to their usual ballet repertoire, but if you get the chance, SEE it.
Dance #3 “Time Gallery.” Based on time. Choreographed by Mr. Monk himself. This could go either way. Yeah, it went the crappy way. Kind of uncomfortable for us, because the artistic director/choreographer/Monk was sitting right in front of us, taking notes. The costumes were………interesting. Dance #1 had super tight leotards on the girls and boys, every muscle stood out. Hmm. Dancer muscles. Dance #2, Unitards with clocks printed on them. Looked like bubbles were coming out of their……..bottoms. Not the finest moment in ballet attire. Dance #3 red unitards. ‘Nuff said.

A review. 2/3s of the dances were AWESOME. People in coastal NC have interesting interpretations of what is appropriate ballet attire. The artistic director of the Carolina Ballet may, in fact, moonlight as a detective. Amazon ballerina will haunt my dreams.

I love art.

Lemur Queen

Our Impending DOOM!!! (echo: Doom.....Doom......Doom.....)

Gentle Readers and Assorted Ne'er Do Wells!!




The Fortress is once again under assault! And this time it's Mother Nature that's doing the pounding! Seriously, Tropical Storm Hannah is about to hit the Carolina Coast and we may have to vamoose. Of course, the factory I work at will not be closing or even letting us off early. Why do that when they can screw us? Sigh.

But still, it seems that Hannah will not be hitting hurricane strength again, so we should be cool. As of right now I'm of a mind to stay. I sat through Fran, Floyd, Bertha, Dennis, Hugo, and Bob. Mind you, none of that was at the coast, but still I should get some Man Points. Lemur Queen is upset, not because of the storm itself, mind you, but because the storm is MESSING UP all our plans for her parents to come down and visit.

And we were gonna serve blintzes! *sniff* Oh well, more for me!

We'll let you know how this all pans out.

Fat Rock.

Neighbor Update

Ok, so, you know about our neighbors. Well, last Saturday night I was playing World of Warcraft on the computer and Lemur Queen was asleep. It's about midnight, and she stumbles into the room, half asleep

FR: "What's wrong honey, can't sleep?"
LQ: "No, too much screaming."
FR: "Huh?" I had been playing WoW with my headphones on, and heard nothing.

So, I did what any new husband would do: tell his wife to go back to bed, and he'd take care of it.
I opened the door and walked outside. The noise was coming from Thor and Modi's apartment, directly above us. Of course. So I go back inside, and move out to the balcony. Evidently, I came in on the tail end of a "drunk talk"; wherein the participants are wasted and therefore are not arguing their points with the greatest mental stregnth.

Modi (female): ."......all I'm sayin' is that he can't say he love me no matter whut, 'cause he don't know. He don'! If he says 'I love yew no matter whut' he's lyin' and he can't say that........He caint!"
Thor (guy): "Uh huh"
Modi: "but yew know I caint say nothin' neither. But he cain't say he love me no matter whut...."
*I intervene from the porch below them*
FR: "Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen."
Modi: "Whut the fuck was that?"
Thor: "Uh, uh...."
FR: "It's the guy who lives below you...."
Thor (interupting excitedly): "Hey man! Please don't call the cops because I did not hit her! I didn't!"
Modi : "Yes, that's right, I was there, he didn't hit me, please don't call the cops...."

Evidently my gentle neighbors have a history of domestic violence. How.....interesting........
I have often been called a "Walking Anachronism" by some. I believe in Chivalry, Discipline, Faith, and other values of a by-gone era. I also look down on men who hit women. Unless that woman is attacking you and you are in danger; a man should NOT hit a girl. And it seems that Thor has not learned this lesson.

Thor: "Yeah, man, I didn't hit her...."
FR: "Easy there man. I was just going to ask if you could keep it down. It's midnight, and you woke up my wife."
Thor: "Uh, ok man. Ok ok ok..."
Modi: "Hey, whut Arby's do yew work at?"

What the hell? Arby's? Wow, drunk speak has returned I see.

Thor: "He didn't say he worked at Arby's, idiot. He said be quiet."
Modi: "Oh, I'm sorry, we'll be quiet.. He didn't hit me."
FR: "I don't work for Arby's. I'm a machinist, and I do shiftwork. I just need some sleep. I appreciate the quiet"
Thor: "Yeah man, if the cops get called again, I gotta pay a $250 ticket......"
FR: "Well, I'm not going to call anybody. Please just keep it down. You all have a nice evening.....(I go back inside)"
Thor: "Ok man....."

Wow. Thor definately has a history with the local Five-O. Nice. And these people live above us. Lemur Queen was already looking at house adds, I bet she'll redouble the efforts now.......

I am however, looking for a tactical shotgun to keep the garbage at bay. 16 gauge or larger should do the trick.........

Fat Rock.

We're Nerds.

Those of you who know us, know that we are both nerds. We grew up nerds, and remained nerdy throughout our high school, college, and now adult lives. Part of what makes the Lemur Queen and I such a good match is the fact that we are nerds. Mind you, we're different types of nerds but those differences are not important. You see, Lemur Queen is an archetypal "Nerd", a mainline nerd. She's great at science and math. She got great grades in high school, sholarships in college, and has a graduate degree from a prestigious university. The Mainline Nerds are the ones who were glorified in "Revenge of the Nerds". Eventually, they will take over everything, kinda like Bill Gates is doing now. Yes, he's one of us.





I am a Gamer. I am a subclass of nerd that is sometimes shunned by other nerds. The mainlines (or common) nerds were smarter than us, and the drama nerds were wierder than us, the Trekies/Jedi Knights were more belittled. But no one, not anybody, was creepier or more obtuse than the Gamers. I mean, we still have the majority of the characteristics of other Nerd branches: we're smart, can use technology, and have a slight difficulty in inter-personal relationships. But we also have one extra thing.........Gamers....well......we like games. All kinds of games. Computer games, role playing games, trivia games, card games, prettymuch anything that has complex rules. When you go into a electronics store, and some guy is drooling over the next computer game and desperately trying to pre-order it: that's probably a Gamer. If you're shopping in a bookstore and see some guy with his nose burried in a Dungeons and Dragons rule book: that's a Gamer. On saturdays, when the Books-A-Million has their weekly Yu-Gi-Oh and Magic: The Gathering tourneys; the guys you see crouching over the tables are Gamers. Starting to build a mental profile? Good! Time to test it. Pop Quiz time! In this photo, find the Gamer in the group of nerds!

If your quess was the guy in the Legend of Zelda t-shirt, you are 100% right! Gamers have an almost debilitating fascination with games. I had a buddy who was a police dispatcher and was written up for reading a 200 page rules manual on the job. He tried to explain that he had a big game coming up on Saturday and needed to recall some rules; but his boss wasn't a gamer, so he wasn't as understanding as he could have been. Gamer's also have another thing to struggle against. Even though we're smart and a lot of us have good-paying jobs, and we're really nice, and usually funny........we can't get women. Well, I did, but what I'm saying is that gamers usually can't get no love from the ladies. It seems that we are too esoteric and reclusive(this is all Nerds, not just Gamers here). Also, there is a persistant rumor running around that Gamers(Nerds in general, actually) don't bathe as often as they should. Well, it's a LIE! Most of us bathe daily, and use deoderant. Nerds, particularly Gamers, are desperate to attract and keep women. As such, we'll try a heck of a lot harder than your regular Preppy, Jock or even an Emo Boy. Ladies, do you want romance? Why not date a Nerd and watch the sparks fly? Like being pampered? Do you want to be appreciated and listened to and treated well? Try dating a nerd. Sure, we don't look good on the beach, but we'll be able to troubleshoot your computer and you will never lose on trivia night at the bar with a Nerd on your arm! Just ask my wife: Once you go Nerd, you don't go back.

Possibly the funniest thing ever.

Lemur Queen found this excellent blog about tragic tragic cakes.

http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/

We hope you enjoy it as much as we did. Lemur Queen would normally be making this post, but she snorted granola up her nose when she saw the "Happy Birthday Dickhead" cake.

I guess I know what I'm getting next year.

Fat Rock.

Lions and tigers and bears- oh my!

It recently came to my attention that Fat Rock and I are collectors. How did this happen? We are young, fairly attractive, and perhaps marginally hip. I blame the tea.

Fat Rock and I are both tea drinkers. I grew up in a tea drinking house, with Frank only drinking coffee on the job. Fat Rock grew up with coffee, but converted in college. Sounding a lot like the religion post, isn’t it? In any case, we have a large selection of tea cups, tea pots, and a snazzy new tea kettle.

Our favorite tea is Red Rose. http://www.redrosetea.com/ It’s just your basic issue black tea. Not chi-infused whatever. But it comes with the bonus of a collectible figurine. They are tiny little ceramic figurines, mostly animals. Just the right size for a child’s shelf. Growing up, we had a large box of these stored under the TV. There was discussion of using them for favors at the wedding, but we are selfish and didn’t want to share.

So, I guess we started out as hoarders. Just recently, we found out that Fat Rock had a co-worker who also drank Red Rose tea. She wanted to start a swap system. First one, the Labrador for the Budgie. Done. Now, instead of two Labradors (lame!) we have one Labrador and one Budgie. Today, we received the pony. Holy crap, a PONY. Every little girl’s dream. Who care’s that I’m almost 30. Santa finally answered my letter. I’ll name her Clip-Clop and brush her tail every day.

Em, sorry.

So, a pony. Coworker wants the duck in exchange. No way lady, only have one of those. How about a manatee? Those are out of production. And, you know, endangered. They need a good home. Or maybe a rooster?

It’s about this time that I realize that we are one step away from trolling flea markets and Ebay for these tiny figurines. As though our house isn’t already too cluttered with the accumulated detritus of two pack rats.

Ah well, at least the tea is good.


Lemur Queen

My turn- Lemur Queen

A. Attached or Single? Attached

B. Best Friend? Magnolia Belle, Whimisical Tulips, and Fat Rock

C. Cake or pie? Cake

D. Day of choice? Friday

E. Essential item? Running Shoes

F. Favorite color? Purple

G. Gummy bears or worms? Gummy Bears, but gummy candy hurts my tummy

H. Home town? Milltown NJ

I. Favorite indulgence? Chocolate, or being lazy

J. January or July? July

K. Kids? Only my husband

L. Life isn’t complete without? Friends

M. Marriage date? April 26, 2008

N. Number of brothers and sisters? one brother

O. Oranges or Apples? oranges

P. Phobias? Hights, but I always forget

Q. Quotes? "I have a goal to see beyond my vision" Harry Connick Jr. But it's from a song, I'm pretty sure he's not the profound. I mean-really, SUNCOM commericals? Oh, Harry.

R. Reasons to smile? Family, friends, pet birds, everything, I guess.

S. Season of choice? Summer

T. Tag 5 people: See, this is why I don't do these surveys, by the time they get to me, everyone has already done it. Even Fat Rock beat me to it.

U. Unknown fact about me? I am on a 4 year fainting schedule. 1997: observing a hip replacement. 2001: minor auto accident 2005: observing a knee aspiration. You may want to follow behind me with a pillow during 2009

V. Vegetable? Tomatoes

W. Worst habit? I bite my nails

X. X-ray or Ultrasound? ultrasound

Y. Your favorite food? Pizza

Z. Zodiac sign? Cancer

Z. Which zoo animal is your favorite? Monkeys, Monkeys, MONKEYS!! Oh, and lemurs.



Lemur Queen

Stupid Tag Tricks-Fat Rock

A. Attached or Single? Married

B. Best Friend? I have two. Robert and MC

C. Cake or pie? Pie.

D. Day of choice? Saturday, although friday is good too.

E. Essential item? Food. Or a computer with the internets

F. Favorite color? Crimson, Black and Silver

G. Gummy bears or worms? Worms.

H. Home town? Wiesbanden, West Germany

I. Favorite indulgence? Internets, Happy Gummi Sodas

J. January or July? January, heat sucks.

K. Kids? not yet

L. Life isn’t complete without? Purpose

M. Marriage date? April 26th, 2008

N. Number of brothers and sisters? Only Child.

O. Oranges or Apples? Granny Smith Apples.

P. Phobias? Hights, Zombies, Death by Fire.

Q. Quotes? "That's a negative Ghost Rider, pattern is full"- Top Gun

"This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy." Winston Churchill

"You ask what is our aim? I can answer in one word: Victory. Victory at all costs. Victory in spite of all terror. Victory however long and hard the road may be. For without victory there is no survival." Winston Churchill



R. Reasons to smile? My wife, my blessings, and of course...Victory.

S. Season of choice? Winter.

T. Tag 5 people: NO!! This ends with me! No longer will this be passed on like a plague! I am Fat Rock! Deleter of Chain Letter E-mails! And Terminator of link-posts. However, I couldn't think of an update this week, so I used this.

U. Unknown fact about me? I actually failed out of grad school. I managed to make it out of college, but it took a loooooong time. But I never gave up. Oh, and my alma matter is never going to get a cent from me....ever.

V. Vegetable? I like spinach,

W. Worst habit? Lack of Self-discipline

X. X-ray or Ultrasound? ultrasound

Y. Your favorite food? Rice.

Z. Zodiac sign? Pisces.

Z. Which zoo animal is your favorite? I like big cats. Mostly Pumas, Cougars, and Bobcats.

I'll get you next time....HOOTIE!!!

BAH, WE HAVE BEEN FOILED AGAIN!!!! Those of you who know Fat Rock and I well, KNOW that we have an Arch-Nemesis in the town. Well, F.R. has several, or rather many, well maybe he's just not well liked by a lot of people. Anyhoodle, "WE" have one Arch-Nemesis in town, the infamous DJ Hootie. Who is this mysterious villian, you ask? We don't know. We've never seen him. We only GUESS it's a him due to the fact that the name is DJ Hootie and the trailer that is pulled behind that features an owl sitting on a branch........wait for it..........with a big pair of boobs. Yes, a Hooter with hooters. We're not sure who this masked demon is, but we know this: he is a poor driver and he's fond of birds and boobies. The poor driving angered my road-rage prone husband, I was underwhelmed by the boobs. We *were* going to eliminate this threat, but he escaped through a Hardee's drive thru.


We'll get you next time Hootie! NEXT TIME!!!!

Heresy! Intrigue! Ecumenical Discord! (Holy Wars II)

Yeah, so.......we're looking for a church. My lovely lady Lemur dropped some of the background, though. I was in fact raised Charismatic. That's like Pentecostals, except they're turned up another notch. Church growing up was pretty wild. When I was in high school I branched out some, and started going to a Baptist youth group. Not for any spititual reasons, but because they had GIRLS. The Charismatics did not. So, yeah, I converted to Catholicism in college. Went 180, and went old school Latin Rite. The parish I went to had a priest who was a convert, and a staunch believer in the old ways. So, our church held mass daily, and had a mass in latin on the first sunday of the month. We also had 24 hour adoration of the Eucharist on the first friday of the month. Seriously, that parish was hardcore. Those of us who were students kinda had to be hardcore, as we went to a Baptist university and we were in the serious minority. There was a Catholic Student Group, and all 6 of us met very quietly. Usually out of sight. If the Campus Crusade people found one of us out, we were hounded to come to "real" church.



Not that I'm bitter or anything. BUT......we are looking for a church.



The first place we tried was Tiny Moravian. I like the Moravians, they're a handshakin' bunch of folks. And if you show up at Christmas, they'll give you a candle, some coffee, and a hamburger bun. But don't call it a hamburger bun or they get snippy. But Like Lemur Queen said, they couldn't get our names right, and we just didn't feel at home.



My wife forgot this, but we also tried Big Barn Methodist. Nice building, right by an Arby's, so if I'm jonesing for beef during the sermon I can duck out without being spotted. But our fellow worshipers were...........uh........farted dust. The pastor tried to have a special "children's message" with the ONE child that was in the congregation. We were the youngest people there by 30 years. When the "spry young greeter" starts the conversation with "hey, my grandchildren are about your age, litle older though.....", you might not fit in.



The we tried the local Catholic church. Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt. I didn't like it. It was a very modern, and very liberal place. And there was one more thing. The priest. A long time ago I worked in an Army hospital for a few weeks. I used to have to run up to Code Blues and whatnot and saw one or two people die. That priest was the priest on duty at the hospital. He's cool as a cucumber when somebody's bitin' the big one, but I remebered him. And he kinda freaked me out, becuase the voice he used to deliver the sermon was exactly the same pace, tone and loudness that he delivered Last Rights to the dying. Kinda spooky.



THEN we tried Baptist Church #1. Nice folks, good sermon, nice range of people there(NOT all oldies, like some have said, Love you honey!). Then they did the follow-up call. It was pretty quick. The gentlemen was very polite, except when he asked from what church we would be moving our "letters of membership" to. I've never had one of those, as neither Catholics or Charismatics write letters for stuff like that (if there's a clergyman reader, explain please?). So, I just told him what churches we were coming from. Papists must not be welcome, as the call ended 5 seconds after he found us out.



Then we tried Baptist Church #2. Everything Lemur Queen said was dead on accurate. This was a very contemporary church. Big band, lots of singers. I did notice that only one or two singers seemed to have their mics on, though they all had mics with them. BIG jumbotrons with the song words on them, complete with inspiring backgrounds that looked like something from a Christian version of Powerpoint. But again, a good group of people. Then the pastor got up. Wow. Sexual abuse sermon. Wow. Slightly uncomfortable. Wanna know what's more uncomfortable? The sunday that sermon was given.....was Mother's Day. The tabernacle was packed with families. Not good times. What finally did it for us, however, was when Lemur Queen was ambushed by a little girl who evidently thought my wife was her momma. Then she looked up, saw my wife, screamed, and ran away. *I* am an ugly bugger, and I have frightened so many children that it doesn't register with me anymore. Lemur Queen, however, is a very pretty girl and she did not appreciate being yelled at.



The we tried St. Random's Prespyterian. They're like the Anglicans. Catholic Lite, half the saints, all the guilt! I can't really comment about the service, as I was knocked unconscious by the overwhelming stale perfume that was radiating like a stinky halo from the woman in the large hat in front of us. Lemur Queen was ok, as she was off to the side, but I was directly behind her, got a nosefull, and passed out. So, we may have to go back and sit somewhere else so I can remember the service.



The last church we tried was Our Lady of The Scary Part of Town. It's in an appropriate place for the name, and is a very old brick dome chruch. OLD SCHOOL. Hoorah! Old priest, old style servie, and old style building. They even got candle shrines. Of the churches we've been to so far, I like it the best. But my better half wasn't thrilled. So, the search continues.



Before I go, I need to ask two questions of the audience:



1. Why do protestant churches have those little "friendship" books that everyone has to sign? I don't remember Jesus ever doing a parable about the "The Frequent Attender And His Friendship Book" What's the deal?



2. Why are there no Second Baptist Churches anywhere? Or Second Methodist Chruches? The Lutherans, Prespyterians, Anglicans, and Catholics are all named after somebody or something, by why to Methodists and Baptists have numbers? And why only first? What's the Deal?



Fat Rock.

Holy Wars

Let's get one thing straight. Fat Rock and I are Christians. Proud of it. Born, baptized, confirmed, married in the church. We've done our time at VBS, sat through, and participated in many a youth Sunday, and price marked nick-knacks for the church bazaar.

But, as usual, Fat Rock and I are contrary. Me, I'm Moravian. For those NC natives out there, you know this denomination . Old Salem, sugar cakes, all that good stuff. For those of you not lucky enough to call NC home, I think the motto says it all; "In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, love." Basically, your boring old mainstream Protestant church, with the added benefit of eating during church.

Fat Rock started out as a Charismatic Christian. So, let's just say, a slightly more exuberant service. In a church with fairly strong feelings on such things as Harry Potter, Halloween, and booze. Once he entered college, he rebelled. He rebelled BAD. Oh yes, he converted. To Latin Rite Roman Catholic. He's a wild man, my husband.

So now we are married, in a new city, and are on the hunt for a new church. It has been an adventure, and we may go pastafarian just to be done with the church shopping.

First stop, the one and only Moravian church in town. Comfortable, friendly, median age of parishioners, about 70. Congregation size, about 70. Also, they kept getting our names wrong. We are NOT Big Boulder and Merkeet Madam. We are Fat Rock and Lemur Queen. You only have 72 names to remember, get it straight. After only 3 Sundays, we came home to a message on our machine, offering us membership. Still didn't get our names right. Hmm, maybe we should have stuck around. Another month, and we'd be RUNNING the place.

Next, off to the Catholic Church. Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt. Held in a cafagymatoriam. Larger congregation, more varied ages, but kind of impersonal, without many opportunities to get involved. The folding chairs were a nice change from pews, I'll give them that.

Ok, we're in the south, let's give the Baptists a try.
#1 Nice big church, lots of ministry opportunities. Excellent service. But once we let slip that there was a PAPIST in their midst, we were given the cold shoulder. Better not tell them about my dance lessons.
#2 Recommended by a co-worker. We braved a near-Biblical flood to attend this service. This service was a bit modern. HUGE praise band with at least 2 drummers, 4 guitarists and 6 bass players. Screens a-plenty, with praise songs and the minister's head, blown up to Macy's Parade Balloon size. Okayy, let's give them a chance. Sermon starts. The main theme? Sexual abuse. Of the minister. By family members. Um, I think I hear my mother calling, dinner's burning, gotta go!

Last week, we hit the Lutherans. By accident, actually. Looking for another co-worker reccomened church, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, right? Maybe this is the one. Don't think I've ever been in a Lutheran church. Looks like Catholic Church, lite. Average age, Moses. With stale perfume. At least the sermon featured super heroes (really). He had a cardboard cutout of the HULK, with angel wings. Awesome.

But we will not give up, we will not be dissuaded. We live in the SOUTH. There are churches on every corner. We will find our place, and pass the peace.

Pray for us

Lemur Queen

When in a Crowd.......

JUST A FEW FRICKIN' TIPS:



1. Do not walk more than 2 abreast. When you walk in long chains or four or five people across, others can't get around you. Walk in single file, or if you must, want 2 abreast. That way you tend to walk faster and other can get around you. Also, if your family tends to walk in the "modified beehive" pattern, go die. Seriously. The "modified beehive" consists of a core of adults with a protective meshwork of children and adolescents. They're too spread out to go around, and too thick to penetrate. I have tried both, and collided with a worker bee and got a dirty look from a core member. Not that the core members could do anything about it. "Modified Beehives" are usually instigated by old people with hovering family, or foreigners and their kids. Evidently I must give off a "I will punch out an old person and I will call ICE on your family" vibe, because after the initial glare, the cores always leave me alone.





2. Don't get drunk. Mind you, I like to drink. Lemur Queen could tell you of an event last week there I drank 72 ounces of alcoholic beverage in less than 2 hours. But you know what I did after that? I left, and WALKED home. Quietly, without bothering anybody. When you're in a crowd, you need all your faculties of balance, speach, and situational awareness. You don't need to be tottering about and almost stomping on toddlers. Also, if you're a female and drunk, please don't dance. You're going to fall and hurt yourself, and the fat guy standing next to you who just wanted to see the public fireworks.





3. Don't pick a fight. Yes, you may be the second coming of Bruce Lee, but trust me, fighting in crowds is a bad idea. That one annoying guy that made a snooty comment about your woman probably isn't alone. I had a buddy who once THOUGHT he was just going to teach *A* soldier "some manners" and wound up taking on 3 squads (that's 18 guys!). Also, I happen to know that often, that short little guy who's mouthing off to you, may be a master of martial arts, or he's packing heat. Either way is bad, so don't fight. Let the fact that a guy stepped on your shoe slide, and just go home.

4. BATHE REGULARLY. Holy cow. I shouldn't have to say this, but some of you smell like you rolled though a manure and onion factory, put on your "lucky" pants (that you haven't washed since the Carter Administration), and went to town! You shouldn't need to be told this! Soap and deoderant is a good thing! Use it!

Four rules! That's all I ask! Four! BAH!!

Ok, I fell better now.

Fat Rock.