Oh Pichia!

They're growing! Those eccentric unicellular bugs that prefer methanol over conventional drink are finally drafting their own pungent fragrance in the 30C incubator. Cause á celebre.

Every picture tells a story

If a picture is worth a thousand words, are the blurry ones offered on discount? Again I find myself at the end of a holiday, clamouring for more of what was yesterday, last night, this morning. But the undeniable fact is that I am in Philly and work, chores, and whatever else awaits.

TTC: The only trash I could spot was of the white variety, but even that was scant.

Friday started at noon, as I hauled my refreshed ass by subway up to Fairview Mall to meet up with Ken and Nels and Jessica at the Sportchek closeout. The TTC is great though a little hefty at 2.50 a go. Subways are clean, heated, free of trash, and most importantly don't smell like a toilet at a Chinatown restaurant on a bad day. They are, however, a bit slow so that on the way, I was able to catch yet another NAP, and ponder on the finer things in life which I was about to enjoy.



If one thing characterizes my love for Toronto, it has to be food. Whereas Montreal has the finest cuisine, SFO the most exquisite, and HK the most variety, Toronto has a great balance between quantity and quality. In other words, "qualtity" (see below). Thus Friday's lunchtime activity was to hit out our favorite Asian mall in Bayview and attack the $15 sushi lunch buffet with gusto. I would play midfield while Kenneth rounds off the defense as everyone else goes up front to strike. Except on this day, we hit a little snag.

"I swear, I was going slowly and this curb came out of
nowhere and hit us real hard" testified Nels as we drove through the parking lot in a parabola. To cut a long story (say, 25 minutes) short, it officially takes 4 Asians to change a tire in the snow. And we had phó instead at around 3, which isn't such a disaster either.

He can squat, but can he screw? No longer the rocket, Kenneth's car takes on a donut for an afternoon

The rest of the afternoon was spent NAPping and sifting through a few books as we made our way to Nels' mechanic who fixed up the tire in good old Asian fashion - by replacing it with whatever was laying around. But I guess it was all worth it when we realized we could once again drive straight again, especially as this was crucial if we were to navigate the streets of downtown. Because we live in a highly urban lofty/condoish district where people are rather pretentious, the area boasts a sushi bar per block ratio of about 1.4. As Jacky was at the annual firm Christmas party (aka the big open bar), we succumbed to the tempation around us and settled on Sushiman for a big big meal. Maxing out your credit on fish is always rewarding in its own right.

Overpriced: Three years ago, KY Ho was accused of insider trading, ATI shares dropped a whopping 54% in one morning, and I could no longer afford a 328i. This week, he was acquitted, declared that he was innocent throughout (never having made such a declaration when it would have counted), and announced his retirement and plans to invest in Asian holiday resorts. I hope, to the tune of 65K, they turn out to be beachfront property on tsunami prone areas.










Worth every cent: this platter cost less than one-half share of ATI corp. at the end of trading on Friday

Vietnamese DIY. Order by writing the number from the menu, the price you want, and the qualtity (presumably a blend of both quality and quantity). See, in TO, you can have your cake and eat it too!

Salad King vs The Hound

At around 6:30 pm last night, two hounds were strutting through the lower level of the Eaton Centre looking for a third hound with an awful mullet. When we found him, we were suprised to find that he still needed a call to locate us from 4 feet away. Ken had officially landed in downtown Toronto. And within a few minutes, he had landed himself in some hot water with us which I will not detail here. However, we did gave him the according scalding.

So what do three hounds do in a relatively upscale mall in the middle of a city where almost a quarter of the population is Asian? They go shopping, because eye-candy is so ubiquitous and one only craves things when they're scarce. I'm sure the employees at Teuscher never have cocoa cravings. Or at least not the perfect blonde chick who ran the store downstairs from our infamous HdlM (Hötel de la Montagne). Surrounding by great shoes stores like Browns and new yoga trendsetting Lulusport, we managed to walk ourselves through a candy store of another kind. And because people are somewhat more rationally sized here, the aisles are stocked with sizes such as M and 40, and are much easier to walk along as well.

Dinner was had at the equivalent of Ryerson's Thai cafeteria aptly called the Salad King. Ironically, there is no salad on the menu, though it may only be offered at lunch. What it did have though was near-authentic Thai stir-fry dishes at a reasonable price and a cute hostess with the prettiest eyes so far in November to boot as well. If I were a betting man, I'd say her mascara will be the next big thing. Phud Thai, Phad Thai, and some shrimp fried rice and mango sticky rice (which I realize is more addictive than anything else on the planet) made the evening a great one, as did sharing a table with working types who live around a college and have opinions about your dinner talk. If you mention the Paris riots to Philadelphians, they will proudly respond that they too have rioters on the East coast and that theirs can destroy and loot each time someone is alleged to have been profiled [and happened to carry a weapon linked to a crime]. In Canada, most people probably don't have any such experience but are sufficiently educated (albeit via the CBC) to have annoying semi-informed opinions. Thus the woman with the nice purple cashmere sweater next to us with the big nose offered uninvited that while it is alright to discriminate against economic immigrants, doing so to their kids is absolutely deplorable.







Once upon a blustery night in Toronto,
Three kings paid visit to the King













As a matter of fact, though, the kids were not repressed and the fact that they could freely riot and burn cars was a clear indication of their assimilation into general European society pointed out big purple's partner (who was unlikely to get lucky this night after this statement). He succinctly pointed out that Canadians do not have the freedom to toss molotovs. At the end of the day, though, I still firmly think that the economic immigrants got what they sought - an economic environment (as opposed to living, say in the Sudan, where there isn't one at all). It's just that they may have overlooked that the economy and society share the day and simply hadn't made provisions for trading off the latter. In the end, it's unfortunate that they encounter such a fate, but the French public, who were in fact quite against immigration from the start, never promised at any point to provide anything other than an opportunity. Most regrettable is that an entire generation of youths will have to endure the consequences of their parents' misjudgement. Then again, all kids face this mountain.

Against the flow

You've read it over and over again. Whenever the phrase "I should've realized" is used, it actually means that a little more thought should have been applied. Or that I could have reached just a little deeper into my mnemonic recesses and recalled that a certain road should have been taken or avoided. Instead, I was merely reminded today that there are always (!) delays at airports. If they don't occur at the departing airport in the form of insinuating "mechanical problems", they will definitely appear at the point of arrival. If there's one thing that I have been reminded of over and over again, it is that Immigration Canada always poses a formidable obstacle. Even though their American counterparts are more xenophobic, paranoid, and fixated on analities, they simply don't present the sort of delays capable by IC.

Fortunately, airport queues are perhaps one of the few things that are bad about Canada - that and taxes - and I found my self on native turf again. Free to breathe the bitterly chilly air, cast my sights over a skyline made almost invisible by fierce artic flurries, and walk with a satisfying icy crunch beneath my feet. Despite being somewhat underdressed today, things were just fine. Having made my way to the heart of Bay street, Jacky and I had lunch at a quaint little bistro named Hiro's which is purported to have the best sushi in town. Indeed, even the reasonable $15 set lunch did the reputation justice as I tasted fresh fish again for the first time in weeks.

Lunch was followed by an afternoon spent overlooking the lakefront from 42 storeys up, as one finds himself in the little box that forms J's abode these days. With a stack of GQ's stacked on the coffee table, I couldn't resist and spent the better part of the afternoon reading, learning, and absorbing life as it should be, before topping it all off with a magnificent NAP.

Dance like Chris

Seeing how Google's "context" search has littered SNL ads, today's keywords will be Chris Farley, dance, and Patrick Swayze (hopefully Google can spell too).

Not very energetic today as I continute to recover from a mild cold, last night's workout, and yet another brain harvest today. Modern life is so integrated these days that it seems as though its end is perfectly timed to precede the holiday rush. Thus, with feet kicked up and surfing the channels for a St Joe's game that won't be aired, I end up watching MTV fabulous celeb parties. Very impressed with JayZ, who actually puts both Mark Cuban and Donald Trump to shame - runs multiple (>3) media companies, owns a basketball team, and looks after Beyonce. Trivia of the day: which celeb owns an original copy of the declaration of independence? [answer at below; shame on you if you didn't know such an important fact about the nation's history]

Of course, if you thought MTV lacks credibility, mainstream TV (which might as well be abbreviated mTV) isn't much better. An Example. In the past, movie trailers included excerpts from positive reviews. Sources of critical acclaim (as realistic as relaxed lab meeting when PI is present) were rational, normally literate, institutions such as the New York Times, the Guardian, and Newsweek. In the current trailer for Rent, none other than well-respected Maxim magazine is quoted. I guess it's the next best thing in the Stephen Glass era.

In the meantime, everything looks to be winding down for the holiday ahead. One more meeting tomorrow, followed by another day of listlessness, and then it's off to the motherland for a break.

Oh yeah, the owner of the DoI is none other than Diddy. That's P Diddy.

P Diddy says: Don't forget to put your chairs back when you're done.

Another day

I can't figure out the mouse. The same mouse that arranged to have my sundries delivered to my doorstep yesterday is now on strike and refuses to work. Perhaps he is demanding overtime - a similar gripe shared by his postdoc owner.

Hope that grape seeds aren't toxic because I've been eating a lot of them this evening. The grape binging probably stems from a general craving for something that's cold, sweet, and relatively healthier than the entire bag of cookies I devoured last night after hitting the gym. Having gone again tonight at Anthony's beckoning (and trying to tally more of those logged workouts before the holidays really hit), I simply ran out of cookies to devour. Thus the grapes.

Frozen grapes are always a treat, though the only other person I recall liking them was in fact a dog. Sheeba, the only other german shepherd that I have ever been acquainted with apart from Tiger, also shared the same penchan. I wonder what has become of Sheeba? It's been over ten years since I last saw her. I'll make it a point to find out when I travel to Toronto later in the week.

I shall deem today national german shepherd day

The amazing grocery mouse

You know something wrong when a mouse does your groceries. Thus I have finally reached an impasse. For the first time, I have ordered toilet paper online. Yep. After noticing the low stock in the cupboards, I decided to try out drugstore.com, which I saw on the 20/20 holiday shopping special last night. Apart from buying enough toiletries to earn free shipping (OK, now I have 6 toothbrushes), I shall also soon receive a gallon of environment-friendly soy-based laundry detergent. Let's see if this little part on my behalf will help clean up America.

At any other college, the gym would be empty on weekend evenings as students are busy watching movies and participating in other unsavoury activities. Tonight at the Penn gym, it was packed. Either there are too many college students without a true saturday night life or this represents the normal "non-social" group, and there are ten times this number out clubbing. Unlikely, since the gym is never 9 times as crowded during the week when the other crowd needs to work out. You get the point.

The generous people at Google has now embedded a link to download Firefox, a non-MS mozilla browser, from this page. Although I have no idea what it means, give it a try, because they have also promised to make me marginally richer for each download. I guess it's their veiled way of trying to take over the world.

Cause for celebration: Eva Longoria hosts SNL tonight. Staying home wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Autumn rites

It's November, it's cold, and it should be soccer season. Instead, it's been two years now since the Bavarian crew won their last title. Here's one for the good old days. Oh, and just to put reality in it's place Ken - this was the only game she attended...

Fly hound fly

A fruity wine is not a wine for the gay but a wine that goes down easier. [Doesn't that just make it even more so?]

Today's humorous excerpt comes from Tracy's blog. Trace has always been likeable, but she has definitely endeared herself by posting not one, but two, photos of one of my most beloved delicacies boeuf tartare in the span of a week. The Euro equivalent of sashimi, it consists of high quality rare beef or veal mixed with onions, capers, celery bits, and some really fresh pepper topped with a touch of lemon and olive oil if so desired. A Scottish variation applies smoked (or better yet, native) salmon. Absolute heaven when served with a fresh baguette or toasted rye. Yumm. On a year-long oddessy to find la joie de vivre in Paris, thinly disguised as a work sabbatical, she has definitely proven herself the wisest of this year's Montreal diaspora. May you learn to cook as well as Carmen, who made the best of her year in France. Sadly, after her bust up with Xian, I may never have the chance to savour the best coconut shrimp ever.

Odds Eliza will try salmon tartare: 1:2.5

You'll notice the odds are lower than for her hooking up, but even that's up in the air now that it's been revealed she is willing to rig the results. On the note of fixing, a German judge has sent the referee responsible for match-rigging in the 2nd Bundesliga to the slammer for 2 years. Ironically, the prosecution had recommended a suspended sentence and a hefty fine, hinting that I wasn't the only one betting against Paderborn. Total bribes accepted: 45,000 quid and a flat screen TV. As would be expected, a Croat mercenary was the mastermind behind the scheme (21 months) while his brother (11 months) set up books at his local pub.

With a little more chin, Robert Hoyzer (pictured here) resembles a young John Travolta, whose appearance in their locker room was described as the highlight for Australian keeper Mike Schwarzer following their thrilling win over Uruguay. With Viduka and Guus Hiddink leading the squad, they may just make a mark in Germany next year, especially considering competition like Trinidad (what were the odds of that?).

Hoyzer (pronounced Hoser): Never should've messed with the Hound

The road runs both ways

Wow. It's Wednesday already. Between today and Monday, something happened, temporarily dubbed Tuesday.

The last 48 hours have brought a few surprises, most of them pleasant. It turns out that Eliza's bandaged hand was the result of her secretly practising tennis somewhere in Centre City. Just as with other repitive wrist movements (like pipetting) too much results in injury. However, all is well again as wrist has healed nicely and racquet has been unstrung - temporarily. With bruised ribs, MW is still basking in the effect his motivational speech had in bringing Eliza back with the ball. Now, he's anxiously awaiting to see if his playbook will help her snag Mr Dork, Esq., and demonstrate that Starbucks is a pillar of the local community in more than one way. I give it 1:3 odds.

If there's something more addictive than maintaining a blog, it must be reading them. Imagine my surprise when Deepa queried, with some conviction, why this page hadn't been updated more often (recall: Monday, Wednesday, separated by Tuesday). As I recalled angry hecklers lining up for bread just after glasnost when there was none, I realized we had enlisted another fan. In fact, I should thank my readers for their support as hits have skyrocketed, and ad-related revenue for the month will finally eclipse the $1.00 (yep, you read right) mark. A special congrats to Ian who managed to find the only adult-rated ad (as defined by the insidious Penn filter) from the Google bar. The more I witness, the more I'm impressed.

My latest surprise came this evening just as I was leaving the tennis courts into the rain outside. As would be expected at a Korean tennis club, the words that reach my ears normally translate to "blah, blah, blah". Rustic mandarin entered the mix today as it turns out that Jaemin (one of 15 other people whose name starts with a J at the club) learned it at college. Another gap bridged.

Finally, one a more lighthearted note, I leave with this little conundrum...
While sifting through my hotmail, I notice this little morsel of eye candy on the side. She's 27, tall, fit, and makes roughly twice what I do - so how is it that she would have to subscribe to a service to peddle herself to strangers? Eun-jin, taking a brief look at the photo agreed. But then as any great scientist in the making would point out, she noted they're not showing her legs. Like a suspect blot in a mid-tier journal, there's more to this story. But instead of clicking on the link (I wonder how much hotmail gets paided by Lavalife), this hound has better things to do - sleep.

Waterdrops on concrete

Quite a few years ago, when I was still patient enough to listen to them, a grumpy old man told me this: "we're like waterdrops on concrete."

"You mean unsightly wet patches?" I replied

"No, we just last forever. " he quipped back, "Slowly eating away at the stone, making ourselves felt ever so slightly. Slowly but surely, until even the concrete dents."

Yep, slowly but surely, time always continues to take a small step each day. Whether you're collecting a zillion data points a minute with your new fancy almost-a-million-dollar robot or just invalid in your bed with the latest strain of avian influenza today, time will take just a step. And another one tomorrow.

After watching Spanglish in HDTV on an otherwise uneventful Monday evening, I realize that a few things clearly hint that time has moved on. Back in 1992, I had read in Newsweek that one day the US government would make all broadcasts in HDTV. It would never happen claimed the critics. And it never did for the next five years. Then ten years. And although it hasn't quite happened yet, I do know that the entire HBO is in HD (yep, that's why they add all those salicious scenes to Entourage and Rome - just to showcase their technology). What also got me was when I realized how old Adam Sandler was as he played the role of a husband in mid-life crisis. And to hammer the nail in the coffin, Tea Leoni (aka Mrs David Duchovny) is the over the hill wife. Whoever would have thought. And to think that those Friday nights we spent at Dave Suzuki's place watching the X-files were like yesterday. Andre Agassi lost (in Shanghai, of all places) to a player who was born the year he turned pro. And, oh yes, one of my plasmids were cloned correctly. Time must have gone by.

Up by 8000

A typical Philly mo-Pho. When used properly, chopsticks should allow you to eat your food upside-down. Try it Deepa.

Actually, I'm about $25 bucks down for the day, but in return I'm about 8000 calories up though I still feel hungry. Either it's the pre-hibernation pangs, or those workouts are finally paying off. Woken up by Leo's phone call this morning to play tennis (1.2h) + ran to catch the bus (8mins) + carrying basket of balls one block (4mins) + hardcore workout at the gym (1.1h) = tired for the evening.




The Lads put one over the Argies today (I can hear Dick Greenwood laughing in Huddersfield). I'm beginning to regret not being in a soccer city as the WC buildup continues for Germany06. Too poor to fly over in person, too busy to drop everything and hang out in Little Italy for two weeks, too timid to cram into the ethnic restaurants where waiters may fire rifles if a team representing a former dictator state scores against the US.

Margarhitas lead the way

The most beautiful thing about Fridays is that Saturday always follows. That way, you can do as you wish and still not have to wake up for work (unless you're a dedicated postdoc pushing for hot data). Either way, each of us have an innate programme which activates early in the afternoon, and by nightfall, we have instinctively ingested vast quantities of alcohol while concurrently losing our senses. Tonight's activity centred around Mad4Mex, a small TexMex joint close to the edge of campus.

Things weren't quite perfect as first the obnoxious bouncer refused entry to Eun Jin for lack of ID in American (i.e. English). I would have argued that he would not have been able to read [it] even if it were local, but seeing that he was 8 inches and about 8 stone bigger made me relent. In the end, she got in after fetching her (Korean) passport. Yes, homeland security sure is making its presence felt. My second gripe was the mango marg that tasted like salted fish. While I've tasted better dishwater (read: roomates who wash but don't rinse), I must admit it gave me quite a punch. Later I realized it must have contained the liquor that the barmaid had set aside for Ian's drink as he bemoaned his extra virgin raspberry slurpy.







Clockwise from top-left: Christine and Deepa take a stab at their dumplings; Xiao cleans up (box + pizza + pizza + ?); the Unabomber's image has been altered to protect his true identity; Eliza tries on a new pair of glasses


Ian makes great company for two particular reasons: a) he knows everyone on and around campus; b) he knows people who know the people he doesn't already know. Apply this equation to chicks and smart people, and you suddenly find yourself in good company. Tonight's case study was Chris, who we bumped into at Mex. After witnessing a few moves, we understood how he came to be "the number one player of the year". Smooth...except it must have been low tide, because the blonde draped over him looked more mink than fox. Maybe it was just a warm up exercise for a young night.

Our next stop was our latest fave eating spot - a Korean joint Leo brought us to a few weeks back where the tables are actually in the parking lot. Such a cold night (nearing freezing point) called for hot food, and we all munched on dumplings, spicy chicken, Jam bong, and Jaechabab with lots and lots of turnips and kimchi. It was only afterwards that I recalled that I should be avoiding the latter, but I digress.

All and all, another Friday passed. And all this time ahead of me to sleep.

With open palms

Dear fans and readers (hopefully, the latter are also the former), please click more of the ads on the side bar as you scroll down. They provide valuable revenue (though it's been less than $4.00 so far) which I will definitely need now that I am one step closer to never being filthy wealthy. The earth turns faster than it used to and my dreams of ruling over a biodiesel empire ended abruptly upon sifting through the current issue of Nature and stumbling upon an article about bacteria which, for all intents and purposes, will clean our oceans, fuel our factories, and feed our children. The irony is that their existence has been refuted by "eminent" scientists for decades. Perhaps I'll still have a chance of walking into a lump of gold that hasn't moved an inch for 3 million years. It's still better odds than winning the Powerball.

Missed ping pong again due to fatigue. After tennis, and the big Korean meal last night followed up by a really early start this morning to make the S meeting rush, it was all just getting to be too much for me. Instead, I still got home rather late, ate pork chops, watch CSI, and then a K-flick. This time, it was a lot tamer than the previous K-offering, though I still don't know the title of the film. Perhaps it was because it was in Korean, though that didn't really matter because none of the characters spoke during the entire 80 minutes. I'll divulge into the contents on another day. Needless to say, I am once again loaded with fresh ideas (and stereotypes).

Finally confirmed my way to Toronto for the TG weekend where Ken and Jacky will be waiting. Can't wait till turkey time rolls around again.

The eyes have it

Purple specs, purple dress, purple demeanour. There's been a lot of commotion about Eliza lately as Halloween came and went. To be perfectly honest, I had underestimated what a little pinache can do and the upside-down, inside out, purple/orange geometric rims have now taken a life of their own, like a runaway goal fest at a Madrid derby. With the hair appointment tomorrow, it's clear she is shooting high - or at least for the Russian-wannabe engineer in her class.

Still on the topic of lab gossip, it now seems that Chi has the Midas touch for the football lines. His conviction (the Patriots must lose) is as compelling as is prescience (they got trounced last night). Behind the wall of his wife's office football pool, I'm sure he's laughing all the way to a brand new civic which he keeps recommending to me.

Tonight saw me revisit the scene of the disaster that has highlighted the low (how low does one have to stoop to high-light a low anyway?) of my soujourn in Philly thus far. After the strike, buses have been less crowded as usual, though it only takes one fat ass to jam the entire walkway. As I walked to my classroom, my disappointment soon drifted away as I realized that my students had actually done their homework. And as they continued to recite seemingly tedious prepositions, it dawned upon me the significance of their achievement. A group of middle-aged folks, mainly barely literate housewives who have probably never finished school of any sort, now have the ability to write. Well, maybe writing does not accurately describe their scrawls, but a method of communication has now been established for them. I'm excited to see what comes next.

The ride back home will probably be the last for a while in one of Esther's colorful assortment of cars provided by the insurance company. She too has heard the call of the Civic and will be finalizing her purchase over the next few days. She's hooking me up to her mechanic which means that I can now thoroughly investigate the eighteen hundred dollar wonder that's being dangled in front of me. With winter coming along soon, no bike, and the fatigue of living through a bus strike, I may just capitulate this time.

Fire it up!

While reading the recent update on J-Dawg's, I figured the elixir (you gotta love the word) for Eliza's tennis woes. It's when you taste things for the very last time that you truly find you miss it. Like the last pop off a great set of strings. The last stretch of sidewalk on a trusty and beloved bike. A last birthday for someone you know will not live to celebrate any more. Then you feel the emptiness before it actually arrives. Then you know how much it really means, and that no matter how you want to put it in a box and toss it out a 21st floor window, it's just too valuable to lose. And if you realize you love it, embrace it. Take it on with gusto. Make it a point to stick it to the skinny chicks on the court. Then you'll be glad. And you'll make us all happy that we have someone great to hit with.

Kicked off the treadmill

Sometimes you just can't win. And when you do win, you can't win them all. Thus, even though I put good money on United, Barca, Milan, and Juventus to win today, I couldn't see the draw at Paris (though they could still be forgiven due to the riots currently taking place there). Of course, few in this city are probably aware as they are too busy watching college football or the crap that comprises CNN. Ironically, one of my more media-savvy bosses is due on tomorrow evening. Those who weren't watching were then probably the culprits responsible for thieving my bicycle. Yes, the tally for this week is simple ballocks.

A week where there's been no public transport
+ reasonable weather
+ no significant gains at the bookie
= negative one bike

The only upside to it was that it rained really hard tonight and I was spared another unpleasant cold shower on my way home in the dark. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise as I could have fallen into some huge pothole along the many derelict city streets. Or maybe my black jacket would have mistaken me for pavement that so wreckless driver would literally drive over (ignoring the bright orange bike underneath it, of course).

More sad than mad...

That's how I feel now after an extensive workout to let out some steam and another Korean dinner, courtesy of chez Leo. Rather, Ken's depiction of hedonism (his own in particular) has me thinking. It's only a heap of metal. Yes, but it cost more than most of your neighbor's cars. Divide it over it's useful lifespan (>6 years) and it only works out to be a bit more than a quarter a day. That's a whole lot of laundry. Just get another one. Yes, a lighter, faster, better one. Hedonism wins again. Yes Ken, it's only a treadmill and doesn't lead you anywhere. Sadly, it's the only thing that is able to drive most of us. The only way out? Find another motivation/motivator. Replace money/house/clothes/bar/wild-night-out-with-flaming-hot-chicks with something else, and you'll notice yourself getting off the H-wheel. Just be careful which one your jumping on now...

Versatility in a box

So tired, though I can't figure out why. Even before the evening workout, before the day's work, before trekking the daily 12 city blocks to the hospital. Too tired to do any more work for the evening, but not too tired to think. To realize. It's a funny feeling to finally figure out something. Like getting a joke that everyone else got years ago, but you didn't. Or finally experiencing business class and why people would pay out of their own pockets for it.

Finally realizing also means should've listened from the very beginning. Like Mr Tran telling us property is worth it, even if it breaks the bank. Like Mom saying that medicine, law, and not science, are professions. Like Kristi's fat bitchy friend explaining that anything under five quarter carats just won't do (it's hard to accept people who are right when they look so wrong). Now I know that Steph was right all along. Cereal is King. It works as breakfast, lunch, dinner, and now as snack too. A Cheerios + chocolate + banana milkshake works wonders on a boring November evening when I'm too tired to think of anything else.

How to make your point

They say winter's approaching but the days seem to be getting longer. Despite my best attempts, hours at work haven't been reduced significantly. And since I never leave before the sun sets anyway, it's the same old routine. So much for daylight saving time (neither daylight nor time is saved, if you think about it carefully). However, the same cannot be said about the Septa transit workers who have already taken most of this week off in the form of a strike. For the last four days, I've been covering all my commutes by placing one foot in front of the other. While I'm sure the exercise is good for someone who spends a little too much time on his ass these days, it has resulted in a bit of plantar pain.

At the heart of strike is the workers' demand for more (i.e. more subsidised) healthcare. In particular, they want co-payments eraddicated for each visit to the doctor. Sounds reasonable given the escalating costs of healthcare in the country. Eliminating copays would save these people ten, possibly 15 dollars per visit. For a hypochondriac bus driver this translates to just under $700 per year should he visit the doctor once every single week of the calendar. Unless, of course, he intends to see the doctor much more often. In which case, he could go to work less often, and do so for free. Sounds like a reasonable scheme to strike for...

Adding to today's foot pain is the copious amounts of tennis played last night. As the K-folks begin to assimilate me into their fold, there has also been a happy increase in play time. When everything else is rather drole, play time is good and more play time is even better so I'm happily soaking it up which is why I skipped on ping pong club tonight and arrived home before 8 for the first time in weeks. Vegetating in front of the box and watching the wagers roll in has never been so therapeutic.