joatsaint

First, let me say honestly and with all my heart – I hate telemarketers.
 
I believe that anyone that is a telemarketer is an undiagnosed sociopath and should kill themselves.
 
Seriously, if you are a telemarketer – KILL YOURSELF! Really, I’m not joking…KILL YOURSELF, NOW… I’ll wait.
 
Now, this may sound like a conversation right out of sitcom, but it happened to me.
 
A telemarketing firm was trying to gather information about our company to include us in some kind of “green” business directory. My office was bombarded with literally dozens of phone calls.
 
Basically they wanted to know what we did, how many employees we had, the amount of our budgets, and the who’s who of our executive staff.
 
At the time, we had over 120 employees and everyone’s phone number is published on our web site. So it was very easy for the telemarketers to get ahold of us.
 
Apparently they had a team of callers, each with a copy of our phone numbers. We were getting repeated calls to the same phone numbers over and over, from different telemarketers.
 
Now as we are a service oriented business, we are trained to be polite and courteous to every caller, no matter the situation. They would call, we would politely tell them that we could not give them the information they wanted, 30 minutes later -a new telemarketer would call, rinse and repeat.
 
We had so many repeat phone calls that it was interfering with our regular business operations.
Finally, our executive director sent out an email telling us, next time we get a call, please tell them politely to stop calling us.
 
Day one was irritating, day two was annoying, and on day three – they finally picked my phone to call.
 
The first call I received, I politely told the sociopath on the other end that we could not provide them with the information they were requesting. Two hours later, I told the next sociopath, politely, that I was not allowed to give them (and I was not privy to) information regarding our payroll and budgets and to please stop calling our offices. The third call, I recognized the number on the caller ID, I was ready for them.
 
The conversation goes as follows:
 
Me: “Thank you for calling ______. This is Randy”
 
Sociopath: “Hello, I’m calling from ______. Can I ask you for some information about your company?”
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out over the phone. What information we do give out is posted on our website.”
 
Sociopath: “Can’t you tell me who your director is and the approximate budget size of your department?”
 
Me: “No, I’m sorry, but I can’t provide you with that information.”
 
“Your associates have been calling our office for the past two days asking those types of questions, and repeatedly calling the same phone numbers over and over.”
 
“Our director has told us to ask you to stop calling our office. I have had two other calls from your company in the past few hours. And I have asked each caller to stop calling, but your staff will not stop calling.”
 
“We cannot give out the information you want.”
 
Sociopath: “Hold sir.”
 
At this point I’m transferred to a manger or some higher up sociopath.
 
Sociopath Manager: “Hello, my name is ____. Don’t you want to be part of our “green” business directory? We are creating a business directory that features companies like yours that recycle and operate in and environmentally manner.”
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but we cannot release the information you want over the phone. If you want a list of our staff, it is on our website, but I don’t have access to or permission to give out financial information about our office."
 
“On top of that, your people have been calling us for the past three days, calling the same person multiple times, even after being told that we were not allowed to give out the information and please stop calling. Some of our people have gotten a dozen calls in one day.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “Maybe you don’t understand. Don’t you want your company to be listed in our “green” directory? I’m sure it would be a plus for your company to be recognized as being an environmentally friendly business.”
 
At this point, an evil thought entered my head. (Picture me sitting there with an angle on one shoulder and a devil on the other – scratch that, there was a devil on both shoulders! :-P)
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but maybe you don’t understand. We are an information business. And information is valuable. We charge for providing information.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “Yes, sir. But what has that got to do with being in our directory?”
 
Me: “Well, we charge for answering questions. We charge $25 for each question we answer over the phone.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “That’s a lot, to answer a question.”
 
Me: “Yes it is, but information is valuable. At this point I must inform you that this phone call is being recorded and if you ask one more question, you accept our terms and conditions and agree to pay $25 for each additional question.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “You’re kidding?”
 
Me: “Thank you for asking a question and acknowledging that your company is agreeing to pay the $25 per question fee. Please feel free to ask anything you want.”
 
CLICK!...
 
He hung up!...
 
The nerve!
 
When I hung up and turned around, my director was standing there with a horrified look on her face.
 
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
 
And she asks, “What if they file a complaint against us?”
 
I asked, “File a complaint with WHO? They called me, I didn’t call them. I was polite and treated them with respect at all times. They have been calling all our departments for three days now, repeatedly calling some of us, even after we have nicely asked them to stop calling.”
 
“Obviously, they do not care what we want or that they are costing us man hours and interfering with our operations.”
 
She says, “You lied to them. We don’t charge for answering questions over the phone.”
 
I replied, “They don’t know that. And how would they find out?”
 
At this point, my director gives up and walks away. With a worried look that said, “Somehow a telemarketing company is going to lodge a complaint against us.” Because I lied to a telemarketer!
 
But we didn’t get any more calls from them – ever.
 
P.S. I’m still trying to figure out who the telemarketing company would complain to and how the conversation would go?
 
I imagine it would be something like this:
 
“Hello, we would like to register a complaint against a business that lied to us.”
 
“Yes, sir. Could you describe the situation?”
 
“Yes. For three days, we have been repeatedly calling every phone number at a business, asking them for their financial information, budgets, names of staff, names of their directors and executive staff. And they have told us that they can’t give us that information and to please stop calling them. As our phone calls are disrupting their normal operations.”
 
“Yes, sir. Go on.”
 
“Well, on the third day of calls, I talked with a gentleman that informed me that THEY charge $25 per question. I was so perplexed that I hung up, told my staff to stop calling, and have been afraid to call them again – as we might get charged. Since then, I have been afraid to make probing calls to other businesses! Afraid to ask questions that even I realize no sane business person would answer over the phone.”
 
“It’s really interfering with my staff’s ability to continue normal business operations.”
 
“Since that time, I have learned that gentleman lied to me. They in fact, DO NOT charge $25 per question. I want to lodge a formal complaint!”
 
Pause
 
“Thank you for your call sir. I would be happy to register your complaint. But first I must tell you that this phone call is being recorded and that we charge $25 ……………”

First, let me say honestly and with all my heart – I hate telemarketers.
 
I believe that anyone that is a telemarketer is an undiagnosed sociopath and should kill themselves.
 
Seriously, if you are a telemarketer – KILL YOURSELF! Really, I’m not joking…KILL YOURSELF, NOW… I’ll wait.
 
Now, this may sound like a conversation right out of sitcom, but it happened to me.
 
A telemarketing firm was trying to gather information about our company to include us in some kind of “green” business directory. My office was bombarded with literally dozens of phone calls.
 
Basically they wanted to know what we did, how many employees we had, the amount of our budgets, and the who’s who of our executive staff.
 
At the time, we had over 120 employees and everyone’s phone number is published on our web site. So it was very easy for the telemarketers to get ahold of us.
 
Apparently they had a team of callers, each with a copy of our phone numbers. We were getting repeated calls to the same phone numbers over and over, from different telemarketers.
 
Now as we are a service oriented business, we are trained to be polite and courteous to every caller, no matter the situation. They would call, we would politely tell them that we could not give them the information they wanted, 30 minutes later -a new telemarketer would call, rinse and repeat.
 
We had so many repeat phone calls that it was interfering with our regular business operations.
Finally, our executive director sent out an email telling us, next time we get a call, please tell them politely to stop calling us.
 
Day one was irritating, day two was annoying, and on day three – they finally picked my phone to call.
 
The first call I received, I politely told the sociopath on the other end that we could not provide them with the information they were requesting. Two hours later, I told the next sociopath, politely, that I was not allowed to give them (and I was not privy to) information regarding our payroll and budgets and to please stop calling our offices. The third call, I recognized the number on the caller ID, I was ready for them.
 
The conversation goes as follows:
 
Me: “Thank you for calling ______. This is Randy”
 
Sociopath: “Hello, I’m calling from ______. Can I ask you for some information about your company?”
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out over the phone. What information we do give out is posted on our website.”
 
Sociopath: “Can’t you tell me who your director is and the approximate budget size of your department?”
 
Me: “No, I’m sorry, but I can’t provide you with that information.”
 
“Your associates have been calling our office for the past two days asking those types of questions, and repeatedly calling the same phone numbers over and over.”
 
“Our director has told us to ask you to stop calling our office. I have had two other calls from your company in the past few hours. And I have asked each caller to stop calling, but your staff will not stop calling.”
 
“We cannot give out the information you want.”
 
Sociopath: “Hold sir.”
 
At this point I’m transferred to a manger or some higher up sociopath.
 
Sociopath Manager: “Hello, my name is ____. Don’t you want to be part of our “green” business directory? We are creating a business directory that features companies like yours that recycle and operate in and environmentally manner.”
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but we cannot release the information you want over the phone. If you want a list of our staff, it is on our website, but I don’t have access to or permission to give out financial information about our office."
 
“On top of that, your people have been calling us for the past three days, calling the same person multiple times, even after being told that we were not allowed to give out the information and please stop calling. Some of our people have gotten a dozen calls in one day.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “Maybe you don’t understand. Don’t you want your company to be listed in our “green” directory? I’m sure it would be a plus for your company to be recognized as being an environmentally friendly business.”
 
At this point, an evil thought entered my head. (Picture me sitting there with an angle on one shoulder and a devil on the other – scratch that, there was a devil on both shoulders! :-P)
 
Me: “I’m sorry, but maybe you don’t understand. We are an information business. And information is valuable. We charge for providing information.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “Yes, sir. But what has that got to do with being in our directory?”
 
Me: “Well, we charge for answering questions. We charge $25 for each question we answer over the phone.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “That’s a lot, to answer a question.”
 
Me: “Yes it is, but information is valuable. At this point I must inform you that this phone call is being recorded and if you ask one more question, you accept our terms and conditions and agree to pay $25 for each additional question.”
 
Sociopath Manager: “You’re kidding?”
 
Me: “Thank you for asking a question and acknowledging that your company is agreeing to pay the $25 per question fee. Please feel free to ask anything you want.”
 
CLICK!...
 
He hung up!...
 
The nerve!
 
When I hung up and turned around, my director was standing there with a horrified look on her face.
 
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
 
And she asks, “What if they file a complaint against us?”
 
I asked, “File a complaint with WHO? They called me, I didn’t call them. I was polite and treated them with respect at all times. They have been calling all our departments for three days now, repeatedly calling some of us, even after we have nicely asked them to stop calling.”
 
“Obviously, they do not care what we want or that they are costing us man hours and interfering with our operations.”
 
She says, “You lied to them. We don’t charge for answering questions over the phone.”
 
I replied, “They don’t know that. And how would they find out?”
 
At this point, my director gives up and walks away. With a worried look that said, “Somehow a telemarketing company is going to lodge a complaint against us.” Because I lied to a telemarketer!
 
But we didn’t get any more calls from them – ever.
 
P.S. I’m still trying to figure out who the telemarketing company would complain to and how the conversation would go?
 
I imagine it would be something like this:
 
“Hello, we would like to register a complaint against a business that lied to us.”
 
“Yes, sir. Could you describe the situation?”
 
“Yes. For three days, we have been repeatedly calling every phone number at a business, asking them for their financial information, budgets, names of staff, names of their directors and executive staff. And they have told us that they can’t give us that information and to please stop calling them. As our phone calls are disrupting their normal operations.”
 
“Yes, sir. Go on.”
 
“Well, on the third day of calls, I talked with a gentleman that informed me that THEY charge $25 per question. I was so perplexed that I hung up, told my staff to stop calling, and have been afraid to call them again – as we might get charged. Since then, I have been afraid to make probing calls to other businesses! Afraid to ask questions that even I realize no sane business person would answer over the phone.”
 
“It’s really interfering with my staff’s ability to continue normal business operations.”
 
“Since that time, I have learned that gentleman lied to me. They in fact, DO NOT charge $25 per question. I want to lodge a formal complaint!”
 
Pause
 
“Thank you for your call sir. I would be happy to register your complaint. But first I must tell you that this phone call is being recorded and that we charge $25 ……………”

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Here ya go!

Here ya go!

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ok, get your minds out of the gutter! This is just to show anyone that cares what the scars from surgery can look like at 8 weeks. The biggest scar is where they pulled the stomach leftovers out during surgery and it's about 2 inches long, the rest could be covered with a dime.
 
You'd think after 12 years of experience, my doctor could put the scars in a more creative layout! At least he could have tried to make a happy face or something.

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ok, the good news. I graduated from walking indoors to walking outdoors. Now the bad news. Monarch butterflies are bullies!
 
I've finally gotten enough endurance and stamina to start walking outdoors. I still don't like exercising, but I do like the effects. And I just can't make myself use either my recumbent bike or treadmill - they're just too boring. And besides, the computer is just 10 feet away the whole time, pouting from lack of attention. Did I mention that my Dell is an attention wh*re?
 
So I have to get outside to walk. I have a state park just a few miles away and there are some nice nature trails that are about 1 mile in length.
 
I've only been out there with my best friend. That way, if we run into a bear or wolf, I don't have to outrun the critter, I only have to outrun my friend!
 
But this week, my friend is out of state, visiting his sister in Ohio. So it was questionable if I was going to motivate myself to get out and walk today at the park. But I mustered up the energy and drove out to the park.
 
So here we go. I got my bright yellow shirt, the $5 forest green cap that I picked up in Alaska (is says, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!") and shades. Oh goodie, I look like a guy cruising the park looking for other guys - that has been known to happen at this park.
 
Luckily for me the park was almost deserted and even better, no one was on the trails. So I started my normal route. Around the lake, skirt the canal and head back to the car through the flat areas.
 
There are some ups and down areas that I think help strengthen my legs and ankles, but not so steep as to cause me pain, or worse, hurtle down hill out of control! Going uphill is no problem. I just don't do down's very well. I'm not good at getting down, boogieing down or going down hill.
 
Anyway, back to my story. I was minding my own business, walking the trail, hugging the shade, and lost in my own thoughts when suddenly a black shape swoops out of the woods. Mere inches from my left arm.
 
And I did what any manly man would do. I flinched and started windmilling my arms (oops, I meant to say, "used my master karate skills"), to swat away whatever that deadly critter was - to keep it's venomous fangs away from my throat!
 
A lifetime later (or about 3 seconds in real time), I realized it was just a huge Monarch butterfly fluttering by. He casually fluttered across the trail and back into the woods. But I swear, this was no ordinary butterfly. I think it was a Pimp butterfly, cause he fluttered with a limp and was very colorful, like a pimp, and had an attitude. I swear I heard him say, "Punk ass bit*h!" as he fluttered back into the woods.
 
I'm sure he told all his butterfly friends about how he - a 1 ounce butterfly - scared a 280 pound man and made him flinch. I guess I'm lucky he didn't give me two punches for flinching or have a smart phone to capture a video of whole thing. Otherwise, I might be on Youtube ring now, going viral.
 
P.S. The good news is: I managed to walk just over 2 miles AND, as a bonus, got in a killer arm workout. But I fear the psychological scars may never heal.
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Is this just evil or the ultimate "Man" food?
 
OMG! Just had a piece, tastes like little bites of heaven! Little bit crunchy, but still a little chewy - call it al dente. Basically tastes like bacon. No surprise flavors!
 
2.5 servings per bag
 
per serving:
130 cals
1 gram carbs
12 grams protein
9 grams fat

*******************************************************************************************************************
Update:5/23/2013
Man, reading these old blog entries is strange. It's only been 5 months and I'd forgotten almost everything that happened pre-surgery.
 
After these few months post-op, it just seems that I've "always" been living this way and my previous lifestyle never happened. I feel like I've "always" eaten such small portions and could walk away from food. I've "always" gotten out and walked around. I've "always" had a positive attitude and energy.
 
Anyone else feel this way?
 
*******************************************************************************************************************
 
Being my first blog entry, I plan on keeping it short and sweet. I'm about 3 weeks pre surgery. Had my psych eval, NUT counciling, chest x-ray, liver/kidney ultarsound, blood work and EDG. I am going in this Sat. for the pre-surgery diet counciling.
 
Expected surgery date is 12/27/2012. I am on the "fast track" for surgery. Got the insurance approval in just 2 weeks.
 
So far my out of pocket expences have been about $3000.00, that includes the doctor's office visit and tests at the hospital and gas going back and forth (my docotor and hospital are 2 hours away.)

Today was one of those scary days were it seemed like I just never got enough to eat. I have days like this on occasion and don’t really know what triggers them. I haven’t strayed from eating “good” foods, so I don’t think it has anything to do with the foods that trigger my hunger monster.
 
But, the amount of food I have been able to eat is really starting to scare me. With everything I’ve eaten, I definitely feel full, but the feeling doesn't seem to last but an hour or so.
 
So to combat those feeling of “I’m going to obsess about eating until I’ve eaten something,” I keep plenty of lean protein in the house. Grilled chicken breast, grilled pork loin and plenty of low sugar sauces. I don’t keep any temptations in the house to ward against days like this. Maybe I need a WLS voodoo doll with pictures of bad food and pins stuck through them.
 
I really started thinking about how and what I've been eating. And I have read the warning stories about people regaining their weight after surgery and it is a really scary feeling. I would never forgive myself for having gone through all this just to gain all the weight back.
 
So, I've set some limits on myself. Not so strict as to feel deprived, but not so loose as to let myself get out of control.
 
I will eat healthy food first. Protein/vegs/fiber every day.
 
I will let myself try a dessert, but never eat more than a bite or two. (And by bite, I don’t mean “as much of the cookie as will fit into my mouth at one time” bite. :-P)
 
I will not bring unhealthy food into the house. If I want something that bad, I’ll have to get off my butt and drive to the store. Most times, the craving does not overrule my need to stay camped out in front of the TV in my underwear or by the time I DO get there, the “craving” has worn off.
 
I will make my own lunches to bring to work. That way, I can’t rationalize going out to eat and making food bad choices, convincing myself that eating healthy food costs too much.
 
I’m trying to be realistic and know that I’m not always going to be faithful. But having the rules reminds me to stop and think before making a food choice. It’s a tool, just like WLS.
 
Knowing that I am allowed to eat SOME bad stuff removes the stress of “I can’t ever have that again!”
 
Knowing that I CAN eat a little of anything puts the power back in my hands and puts the responsibility on my shoulders to CHOOSE to eat the right way. It is empowering to feel like I am allowed to eat anything I want, but it’s my CHOICE to pick a different food option.
 
I like this new lifestyle and after 5 months of hating to get out and walk, I am beginning to WANT to go on daily walks. Although I don’t necessarily like them, I do like seeing the scale drop and my energy level go up!
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ok, in the interest of full disclosure, the 1st part of the title isn't true about green beans - at least not in my case, they don't give me gas. But the good news is, they do make me "regular."
 
Garden season has sprung in Texas and my dad's green beans are coming up like weeds. As usual, he planted waaaaaaay too many green bean plants and is complaining about having to get out there and pick them. And when I say waaaay too many, I mean just that. He has 3 rows of green bean plants - each row about 40 feet long. That's a lot for just my mom and dad.
 
I know that he secretly loves the fact that he has too many. He enjoys giving away the extras. But is always complaining that no one wants to come and pick. I try to tell him, "Grow something that people
want and they'll come. No one wants to come dig turnips!"
 
Now a normal person would just pick what they could use and let the rest rot on the vine. Not my dad. He grew up at the end of the Depression and can't let anything go to waste - even if he never uses it.
 
So they will pick and can fruit and vegetables until the garden dies. Then, a year later, he's throwing out the old canned and frozen stuff to make room for new.
 
Mom, dad, and me picked about 5 gallons of green beans off one row, and that was AFTER they had already picked the row two times previously! So, they gotta lotta beans left to pick on the other rows.
 
Now I have a freezer stocked with fresh green beans.
 
Cooking them is simple: put in water, bring to a boil, add garlic, salt, and onion to taste.
Boil for about 15 minutes.
Poke with fork to test tenderness.
Grab one with tongs for taste test.
Blow on green bean to cool it off.
Taste.
Hold ice cube on burned tongue.
Eat meal with green beans - not being able to taste anything because of burned tongue.
 
I've eaten a cup or two every evening for the past 4 days and I've gone to the bathroom once a day since I started eating green beans. My normal schedule is once every 4 days, until now. So I'm crediting the fiber in the green beans.
 

 
A cup of green beans has about 40 calories - 2 grams of fiber - 2 grams of carbs.
 
All varieties of green beans are low in calories and contain healthy nutrients: dietary fiber, calcium and iron.
One cup has 200 milligrams of potassium, plus beta carotene and vitamin A.
 
Next month: One potato...two tomatoes
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ok, in the interest of full disclosure, the 1st part of the title isn't true about green beans - at least not in my case, they don't give me gas. But the good news is, they do make me "regular."
 
Garden season has sprung in Texas and my dad's green beans are coming up like weeds. As usual, he planted waaaaaaay too many green bean plants and is complaining about having to get out there and pick them. And when I say waaaay too many, I mean just that. He has 3 rows of green bean plants - each row about 40 feet long. That's a lot for just my mom and dad.
 
I know that he secretly loves the fact that he has too many. He enjoys giving away the extras. But is always complaining that no one wants to come and pick. I try to tell him, "Grow something that people
want and they'll come. No one wants to come dig turnips!"
 
Now a normal person would just pick what they could use and let the rest rot on the vine. Not my dad. He grew up at the end of the Depression and can't let anything go to waste - even if he never uses it.
 
So they will pick and can fruit and vegetables until the garden dies. Then, a year later, he's throwing out the old canned and frozen stuff to make room for new.
 
Mom, dad, and me picked about 5 gallons of green beans off one row, and that was AFTER they had already picked the row two times previously! So, they gotta lotta beans left to pick on the other rows.
 
Now I have a freezer stocked with fresh green beans.
 
Cooking them is simple: put in water, bring to a boil, add garlic, salt, and onion to taste.
Boil for about 15 minutes.
Poke with fork to test tenderness.
Grab one with tongs for taste test.
Blow on green bean to cool it off.
Taste.
Hold ice cube on burned tongue.
Eat meal with green beans - not being able to taste anything because of burned tongue.
 
I've eaten a cup or two every evening for the past 4 days and I've gone to the bathroom once a day since I started eating green beans. My normal schedule is once every 4 days, until now. So I'm crediting the fiber in the green beans.
 

 
A cup of green beans has about 40 calories - 2 grams of fiber - 2 grams of carbs.
 
All varieties of green beans are low in calories and contain healthy nutrients: dietary fiber, calcium and iron.
One cup has 200 milligrams of potassium, plus beta carotene and vitamin A.
 
Next month: One potato...two tomatoes
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ok, in the interest of full disclosure, the 1st part of the title isn't true about green beans - at least not in my case, they don't give me gas. But the good news is, they do make me "regular."
 
Garden season has sprung in Texas and my dad's green beans are coming up like weeds. As usual, he planted waaaaaaay too many green bean plants and is complaining about having to get out there and pick them. And when I say waaaay too many, I mean just that. He has 3 rows of green bean plants - each row about 40 feet long. That's a lot for just my mom and dad.
 
I know that he secretly loves the fact that he has too many. He enjoys giving away the extras. But is always complaining that no one wants to come and pick. I try to tell him, "Grow something that people
want and they'll come. No one wants to come dig turnips!"
 
Now a normal person would just pick what they could use and let the rest rot on the vine. Not my dad. He grew up at the end of the Depression and can't let anything go to waste - even if he never uses it.
 
So they will pick and can fruit and vegetables until the garden dies. Then, a year later, he's throwing out the old canned and frozen stuff to make room for new.
 
Mom, dad, and me picked about 5 gallons of green beans off one row, and that was AFTER they had already picked the row two times previously! So, they gotta lotta beans left to pick on the other rows.
 
Now I have a freezer stocked with fresh green beans.
 
Cooking them is simple: put in water, bring to a boil, add garlic, salt, and onion to taste.
Boil for about 15 minutes.
Poke with fork to test tenderness.
Grab one with tongs for taste test.
Blow on green bean to cool it off.
Taste.
Hold ice cube on burned tongue.
Eat meal with green beans - not being able to taste anything because of burned tongue.
 
I've eaten a cup or two every evening for the past 4 days and I've gone to the bathroom once a day since I started eating green beans. My normal schedule is once every 4 days, until now. So I'm crediting the fiber in the green beans.
 

 
A cup of green beans has about 40 calories - 2 grams of fiber - 2 grams of carbs.
 
All varieties of green beans are low in calories and contain healthy nutrients: dietary fiber, calcium and iron.
One cup has 200 milligrams of potassium, plus beta carotene and vitamin A.
 
Next month: One potato...two tomatoes
 
Keep Pimpin that Sleeve!

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

Ahh, progress. We have a new supermarket in my neighborhood. It is beautiful, brightly lit, with almost anything you could want, from artisan bread to flat screen TVs.
 
And as with all businesses, they are doing everything they can to make the shopping experience as awesome as possible.
 
But they may have jumped the shark on this one:
 
There is automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh and pretty. Just before it goes on, you hear distant thunder and smell fresh rain.
 
When you pass the fruits, you smell fresh cut apples and peaches.
 
When you pass the vegetables, you smell hot buttered corn on the cob.
 
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
 
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks and sausages.
 
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
 
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and cookies.
 
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.