Q: WTF, yo? Where you at?
A: Right here! Hi! Thank most of you for your patience during the Omar outage of 2008. I have been pretty busy and haven't had a ton of free computer time, but I've kept up pretty well with everyone's sites.

Q: I thought you said you were moving your blog?
A: I am.

Q: But... it's still right here.
A: Yes. I have been experiencing some trouble with coming up with a suitable domain name that is both appropriate and available. I can be indecisive when it comes to things like this. And though I know I've said this before, I think I'll have the new site up --

Q: So you mean to tell me that you haven't been blogging because you can't make up your mind and pick a domain name?!
A: I sense a touch of hostility...

Q: Good.
A: Um...

Q: How's the new kid?
A: She's growing, crying, grunting, eating, peeing, and pooping. Par for the course.

Q: You take a month off and that's all you have to say about your kid?
A: Having our daughter with us has been a beautiful, life-changing experience. As soon as I get some sleep, I'll be able to coherently tell you about it.

Q: Is her on-blog name "the girl," to keep with the existing theme?
A: I'm not sure yet. Probably, though. We call the boy "the boy" at home. That's actually why I started using those names, "the boy" and "the wife." I actually say those in real life, and have been doing so since before I had a blog. But the girl goes by "baby sister" or some other nickname. I don't call her "the girl" in conversation, at least not yet. So that's why I'm not sure.

Q: How's her mid-forearm fat roll?
A: It's developing nicely.

Q: How's the boy dealing with it?
A: Very well! He loves his baby sister and is very gentle with her.

Q: Should your readers expect another month to pass before your next post?
A: No. I think it's safe to say that the break is over.

Posted by omar at 6:15 AM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

I'm a man of slightly above average intelligence. And I'm not afraid of the kitchen. Heck, I've documented enough pie making adventures on this site, so you already knew that. But there is something have kept from you, until now. I suffer from KCSAD (typically pronounced as if it were the two words "kick" and "sad" together), or Kitchen Container Spatial Awareness Disorder.

For those who may not be familiar, let me explain what KCSAD is. KCSAD essentially makes a person unable to accurately correlate the spacial capacity of available food storage containers with the amount of leftover food. It's a disorder that, in terms of its medical acceptance, is in its relative infancy. The disorder affects men at a much higher rate than it does women, but women are by no means immune.

Growing up, I never even knew such a thing existed. If my mom said, "Put away the rest of the dinner," I would simply slap the lid on the pot and put it in the refrigerator. Two pots? I'd stack 'em. This strategy got me right through my adolescent years. Everything changed when I got married. It wasn't a direct result of marriage, but as a wedding gift, we received several Rubbermaid food storage containers, varying in size from "curiously small" to "unnecessarily big."

I distinctly remember the day when I first suspected something was wrong. We had a nice spaghetti dinner, and we had some leftover sauce. When asked to put it away, I grabbed what I thought would be an appropriate container. About halfway through pouring, I wondered aloud, "I wonder if this is all going to fit?" Needless to say, it wasn't going to fit. But because I thought it would be close, I kept pouring...

I'm always conscious of that moment when I'm putting food away, to this day. And yet still, I'm unable to select a correctly-sized container. I don't always underestimate storage needs, in fact, I'd say the opposite is true. I usually choose a container that is too large, then overcompensate with subsequent containers. For example, for dinner last night, we had a wonderful veggie and chicken stir fry with rice. First, I put away the rice. I know it didn't all settle properly in the container, but I can still see the bottom in some spots:

So then I put away the stir fry.

Note that I was only able to close the lid because I kept eating items from off the top until it would seal. Even still, as you can see in the picture below, the vegetables on top were fighting for their lives under that enormous pressure.

I'm not looking for sympathy, my goal here is just to make people aware of the disorder. If you ask your significant other to put away the leftovers, here are some of the typical responses of those with KCSAD so you can look out for them:

• He/she pretends like he/she didn't hear you
• He/she eats the remaining leftovers as to avoid putting them away, even if he/she just said "wow, I'm stuffed" prior to you asking
• He/she leaves the food in the pot/pan/dish in which it was cooked, and attempts to put it in the fridge as-is, regardless of whether there is room for such a container

At this time, KCSAD has no cure, though its effects can be mitigated using some simple techniques. For example, you can buy storage containers that are all the same size, or provide a storage container to the person you are asking to put the leftovers away. Like I said, simple things like that will allow people with KCSAD to avoid what is often one of the most difficult parts of their day.

Thank you for your attention to this matter that is near and dear to my heart.

Posted by omar at 6:12 AM | Read entire post | Comments (25)

My NCAA Tournament Brackets - I picked Georgetown to win it all. They won't, because they lost today to Davidson College, a school I had to Google to verify its existence. Needless to say, I'm sad. My long history of futility in attempting to pick winners of sporting events continues.

My brother's hair - He cut it. He last cut it during Clinton's first term in office. He last cut it before Tiger Woods had a single PGA tour win. Back when people were walking around saying "you complete me," and "show me the money!" Macarena was tops on the US Billboard Hot 100 chart. I can not overstate how surprised everyone was by this move. His hair was 3 years long when he met his wife, 5 years long when he had his first kid. He had dreadlocks down to his butt, and with no notice, they were gone. I'm pretty sure a few tears of joy fell from my mom's eyes.

My health - Remember how I had the super-plague illness a few weeks back? I'm still not right. Still coughing, and I think I picked up some sort of sinus thing.

My footwear - I did finally find a new pair of shoes. It only took one additional store, and about 20 minutes of internal debate. It's not about fashion, it's about getting the most bang for my buck. I could get $80 shoes that are really comfortable but not quite the right color. Or, I could get $40 shoes that are also not quite the right color, a little less comfortable, and $40 cheaper. In the end, they will both smell like sweaty feet. The right choice was clear.

My new look - After I mentioned the new glasses and the shoe search, a few people questioned why I didn't include pictures. So I was sitting around with the boy, and decided to ask for his help. But since I don't trust him to use my camera, I gave him some tools I can trust him with:

Click to see it larger

After I took that picture of his rendition of me, he decided to add my beard. And tentacles. Here's that version.

Posted by omar at 7:23 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

(There's a good reason for my lack of posting. I just can't tell you what it is yet.)

I got new glasses two weeks ago. My previous glasses were purchased roughly 8 years ago, so the prescription and style were both at least 3 years out of date. Consequently, for the past few years, I've predominantly worn my contact lenses. But now that I have glasses that are the correct prescription, I've been excited to wear them. I've worn them all but one day since I picked them up. And you know what?

Not a single person has noticed.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not all about getting attention. And though I am pretty self-absorbed, I don't often expect others to be as interested in me as I am. But seriously? Mom and Dad? Brother, coworkers, and neighbors? Offspring? You? Yeah you, reading this right now? You didn't notice either! I thought at first that because I didn't often wear my old glasses, people just maybe didn't realize they were new (because they wouldn't have remembered what my old ones looked like). But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if someone who doesn't wear glasses suddenly starts wearing glasses, everyone should suspect they're new.

So I've narrowed it down to three possible solutions. 1) The new frames are too close in style to my old frames; 2) I'm like Bruce Willis in "The Sixth Sense" and (*SPOILER*) I don't really exist; or 3) I'm on a reality TV show called "Pretend not to Notice," and everyone is just messing with me.

Just in case it is #3, I'm going to start randomly throwing curse words in my sentences, as to make sure nothing I say makes for good network TV dialog.

Posted by omar at 9:21 PM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

The double-death plague SARS mad cow bird flu has pretty much cleared out of my system, I'm doing much better now. Thanks for the well wishes, and special thanks to NCS for fighting the urge to leave me for dead and claim my belongings.

One of these days when I was home sick, the boy came up to me while I was laying on the couch. I was lying there with a blanket covering my feet, probably while watching some show that I'm too embarrassed to admit I was watching. The boy came over and started pulling on the blanket. As I was gathering the energy to scold him, I realized that he wasn't trying to take the blanket away, he was trying to cover more of me up. As he pulled it up to my shoulders, he said, "I'm taking care of you, daddy."

And just when I was looking at boarding schools... "Thanks, buddy. That is very nice of you to help take care of daddy." Just after I thanked him, he grabbed a pillow and rested it on my face.

Since that moment, I've wondered if I misinterpreted his desire to "take care of me." And I've been sleeping with one eye open.

Posted by omar at 6:38 AM | Read entire post | Comments (29)

This is not exactly what I had in mind for my 500th post.

Sick. Very sick. The only time I remember feeling sicker was when I had mono back in jr. high. Or, as the kids call it today, "middle school." My temp measured under 100º F today for the first time since Tuesday night. I couldn't eat. I haven't slept. I was physically unable to remove myself from the couch for three days. On the surface, that last part sounds good. But it wasn't. I watched enough programming on HGTV during that time for my manhood to be questioned. And I couldn't even put up a fight when it was.

So I'll be back to posting, commenting, working, talking, eating, smiling, standing, walking, and watching manly television shows as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience.

Posted by omar at 7:40 PM | Read entire post | Comments (28)

I had this awesome "love song" music quiz planned. Then life was all like, "fool, you've gotz to be crazy if you think I'm letting you have enough time to pull that together!"

So sorry, I've got nothing except me writing "happy valentine's day." If you haven't seen it before, I posted the two-part story of how I proposed to my wife a couple of years ago. That's all the love talk I've got. But luckily, my readership has changed enough so that many of you have probably never seen it. Check out the story:

Part 1
Part 2

Any comments about me living at home with my parents at age 24 will result in immediate banishment. Enjoy!

Posted by omar at 6:59 AM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

busy! Contrary to what the rumor sites are saying, I have not joined the Writers Guild and gone on strike, nor have I started touring with Steve Harvey. Instead, I was knee deep in a week that was...

rewarding. I got promoted at work!

scary. There was an unplanned hospital visit for a family member. No worries, everything is fine.

great. The boy pooped on the potty! He's been fighting this with all his might for all of his 3 years. Then one day, without saying a word, he went to the toilet, sat down, and pooped as though he'd been doing it all his life. We didn't even know where he went, then he came back and told us that he pooped on the potty. Between you and me, I didn't believe him. Then I got up, went to the toilet, and saw those two glorious pieces of poop. Much celebration ensued.

sad. My Fisher Space Pen ran out of ink.

Posted by omar at 7:58 PM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

2007 was a good year, plenty of good things happened in my life. But personally, it was a year in which I felt I lost some of my creativity. In '05, when I started this blog, creativity was flowing through my veins in dangerously high quantities. In fact, there was a day when I actually saw creativity coming out of the pores of my skin. Crazy stuff. There was a slight decline in creativity for '06. But last year, the decline was drastic.

Let's all take a moment to weep for me...

(pause)

And... pity party over.

For Christmas, the boy received the Pixar Animated Shorts DVD. The boy and I are huge Pixar fans, and the DVD has been a big hit in our house. We've watched the shorts a million times (with a couple of exceptions, because they're not really 3-year old appropriate). One night, I sat down and watched each short film with the director's commentary turned on, as well as the 20-ish minute documentary on Pixar itself.

Since that night, for the first time in a long time, I've felt creatively inspired. I've been back to doing things like photography (for fun), beatboxing, doodling, and making up songs in my head (though I only sing them at home, so don't expect any on-blog performances).

I've decided that this will be my theme for 2008. Creativity. Though I know I can't make myself be creative (I tried it last year, doesn't work), I can do things to help foster creativity, and I can certainly stop stifling it.

In going with that theme, I was thinking about some things I plan to do on this blog, like make the final "The Chase" movie (Volume 3 was in December 06! I can't believe it's been that long!), or working on the next blog redesign. While doing that, I started thinking about whether I finally wanted to give the ol' blog a better name. So I found an anagram finder online, and I put in "omarphillipsnet" to see what it would come up with. Though I didn't find any really fitting candidates for this site, there were several amusing ones (including a few that don't use PG-rated language), and it led to me spending way too long coming up with pretend themes for blogs with names like "Lineal Shrimp Pot." It was late, I was a little loopy. But it's exciting for me, because that sort of tom foolery often leads to some pretty fun creations.

So here are a few of the highlights from that evening, unnecessarily placed in the form of a looping animation. (There were many more that included the word "pimp," but I only included the two that were my favorites.)

I'm not sure I'm ready to rename this blog, but should I ever create a new one, it will be named either "Lethal Pimp Irons" or "Thin Plop Realism."

Posted by omar at 9:14 PM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

Early 90's Omar and his brother say, "Have a happy new year - or else."

I don't remember that moment specifically, but I can only imagine we were actively pitying fools while this photo was taken.

Or maybe we finished doing that in '89. Like I said, I don't remember.

Posted by omar at 9:44 PM | Read entire post | Comments (19)

While at my parents' house on Christmas eve, I got my hands on a bunch of old photographs that I haven't seen in a while. One of those was that picture of me with Santa in the last post. Here are all but one of the rest of them, for your viewing pleasure. The one I'm withholding is so good that it deserves its own post. Perhaps I'll steal Ree's "Give that photo a name" contest idea. Except my prizes will be less tangible, and will require some imagination to appreciate.

Here I am, circa 1979 or 80, thinking about how Christian Doppler's theories could be applied to weather forecasting.

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A class photo in March of 1982. I don't remember it specifically, but I bet I'm not smiling because of those pants.

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I visually estimate this to be 1984 or 85. I'd score that fake smile a 7 out of 10. The v-neck, 4/10.

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Fast forward 10-ish years to early 1995. My family was going for a portrait, and my mom was not wild about the hair. So though you can't tell it in the photo, my hair was soaking wet in this photo, because it helped the dreadlocks to "lie down" instead of sticking up all over the place (except for that one straggler). This, sadly, is probably the best photo of me with dreadlocks.

---

And here I am as a high school senior. This was taken only a week or so after I chopped off the locks, which I was (ahem) encouraged to do because of a bunch of award ceremonies leading up to graduation. By "encouraged," I mean "told." And by "told," I mean "forced."

Posted by omar at 10:32 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

The boy put out some cookies for Santa before going to bed. I ate them. I ate them and replaced them with an orange. Because let's face it, Santa needs chocolate chip cookies like he needs a punch in his round belly. I was just talking to Comet and Blitzen the other day, and in exhausted voices they said, "For the love of God, give the man some fruits and vegetables or something."

To those who celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas from the Phillips family! Go enjoy some egg nog. Those who don't celebrate Christmas can also go enjoy egg nog, and I hope you have a wonderful day as well.

In closing, here's a photo from 1994 that's significant for a few reasons. 1) It's the last time I sat on Santa's lap. 2) It's probably one of the last times I wore jeans. 3) It's one of just 3 or 4 photos in existence of me with dreadlocks (they were pretty small at the time, they got longer before I chopped them off).

Posted by omar at 8:41 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

Continuing on, here are some more questions and answers. By the end, you all will be qualified enough to write a biography about me. If you do, make sure to call it something cool, like "From Laser Beams to Mountain Lions: The Unauthorized Biography of Omar Phillips." That title isn't really applicable to me specifically, but it's along the lines of what I'd think sounds cool. Generally, just make sure it has the word "laser" in it.

How much did you weigh at birth?
I tipped the scales at a solid 9 pounds 7 ounces. NFL scouts maintained interest until I dropped down to the 75th percentile at age 3.

How tall are you?
6-feet. Give or take two and a half inches. Mostly take.

Where have you lived?
I'm a life-long New Yorker, except for four years of college in Pennsylvania.

Do you know anyone famous?
Negative. I did chat it up with LaVar Arrington a few times at Penn State (we lived in the same dorm his freshman year), but I'm pretty sure I remember it better than he does.

How many lightbulbs are currently in your house?
Lots? I lost track at 32. And I'm fairly certain I forgot some. Sadly, only two of those are fluorescent. Many of those are single fixtures with multiple bulbs though, so it's a pretty misleading number.

What are your feelings on the Michael Vick situation?
Gag. He did something horrible and illegal. Is it more horrible and more illegal than what all the athletes who beat their wives/girlfriends do? Not in my opinion. Yet people are calling for the NFL to ban Vick for life, and Brett Myers (a baseball pitcher who, in 2006, punched his wife in the face while they were out on a public street) flies under the radar. Give me a break. I hope Vick returns to the NFL. Not because I like him or condone what he did, but because I think it says something really bad about our society when a dude who does bad stuff to dogs gets punished worse than a dude who does bad stuff to people.

what was your first live concert? where was it and why was it cool?
The first one I remember well was getting to see Van Halen in 1986. I wanted to be Eddie Van Halen. It was their "5150 Tour," their first with Sammy Hagar as the lead singer. It was cool because my parents let me and my brother go by ourselves! For the most part though, I don't like going to concerts. My general feeling is that it's always too much standing, too crowded, too filled with smoke, and too loud. And then I usually leave feeling that I preferred the way the music sounds on record/tape/cd.

what are your thoughts on Black Friday (shopping on the day after thanksgiving)?
Personally, I'd rather not wake up that early for what are often not-that-great deals. I've done it once, but that was just to experience it, not to actually buy anything. I won't likely do it again. My mom goes out by 5 am every year, and she tells me it's great. I'll take her word for it.

I figure you do something with computers, but what is it that you actually do for a living?
"Something with computers" is a good description. I'm a help desk guy. In the words of Vanilla Ice, "If you got a problem, yo, I'll solve it." Word to your mother.

Posted by omar at 6:47 AM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

Back in the first week of NaBloPoMo, I put it out there that people could ask me whatever questions they wanted. A couple of people did respond, but I never actually got around to writing that post, because I kept holding out in case one more person had one more question.

At this point, I'm pretty confident that no more people have any more questions. So now I can get around to writing that post. Or rather, these posts, because I'm going to split it up between blog related and non-blog related questions so it doesn't get too wordy. So here goes:

Why did you use your name for your blog's address?
Initially, when I registered the omarphillips.net domain name, I was intending to use it for my photography portfolio. Two months or so after I got it, I was basically only using it to store pictures of my (then 5-month old) kid. Then one day, I went to a seminar on blogging in higher-ed. After that, I went to Blogger, and I set up a blog on the omarphillips.net domain. I didn't intend to keep it, and I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to read it. But then I started reading and commenting on other blogs, and people started coming to my blog. It's at this point that I wish I had thought to change the name, but I didn't. From the moment I got linked at someone else's blog, I always worried that people wouldn't "follow me" if I moved. So here I am, two and a half years later, still using the same domain name.

Why did you start blogging?
I was introduced to blogging by that seminar I just mentioned. I started my own blog because I wanted to learn more about building websites (at the time, I really wanted to learn CSS). But my biggest blogging influence was Former Intern Andy's I'm An Intern In New York. I found it hilarious. It's the first blog that compelled me to leave a comment. And I quickly noticed that leaving a comment on his site meant more traffic to my site. When people started visiting, I figured I'd better start trying to be funny. So I started blogging more regularly. Then when I got up to TEN comments on my first vole post, I was hooked.

Is my blog your favorite?
Yes! But don't tell everyone else.

Have you ever met any bloggers in person?
Well, yes. I have met several people who have blogs, though I'm guessing that's not what you meant (because I knew them already, I didn't meet them as a result of blogging). I have met ONE blogger in person who I first met online: Glo. The wife and I had a charming dinner with Glo and her sister back in the summer of '06. I hadn't blogged about it because I went through all this trouble of telling people that I don't talk, and then people would just be like, "Glo, does he talk?" and she'd say, "Yes, he said a few words," and then BAM - credibility ruined. But I feel comfortable mentioning it now, because enough time has passed for me to claim that she's just remembering it wrong.

Posted by omar at 6:32 AM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

Almost! Let me get you up to speed:

- I didn't win any prizes for NaBloPoMo. I was saddened by this.

- I got scolded by a lady who I visually estimated to be 143 years old because I stopped in front of the scratch-off lotto vending machine at the grocery store.

- It started snowing early Monday morning, and with a few brief exceptions, it didn't stop until late Wednesday. I cleared snow off my driveway more times this week than I did for the entire month of December last year. Not that I keep detailed records of how frequently I clear snow from my driveway, I just happen to remember that it didn't really snow at all last December.

And that's about it. Now I'm off to start my whirlwind comment tour, coming soon to a blog near you.

Posted by omar at 9:54 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

One day a few weeks ago when I went to work, I got to my desk to find a small bag of M&Ms sitting there. They weren't mine. It's not uncommon for someone else to sit at my desk when I'm not there, though it IS uncommon for college students to leave behind candy. The FIRST thing that went through my mind was that I shouldn't touch it, because there's probably some hidden camera watching me from a show called, "How Fat is This Guy?" Then I imagined how the show puts candy and other fatty foods where a person will find it, then there's a little clock in the corner of the screen that's counting how long it takes the person to eat the food, in spite of the fact that they have no idea why the food is there. So instead of enjoying some free M&Ms, I put them over in the usual "free food" spot. Someone else snatched them up and ate them. And you know what? There was no camera.

Tonight, I went out to the bookstore to look for a Christmas gift. As I was browsing, a lady who worked there came up and stood right next to me, counting something on the shelf out loud. I casually moved over, and she moved right along with me, as though she was just waiting for me to get out of the way. She never acknowledged me. I stood my ground for a few seconds, then I moved to another area of the same section. Not a minute later, there she was again, right next to me. All I could think about was that MTV show, "Boiling Points." I don't even know if it's still on the air, I haven't seen it in years. So this time I stood there, because I thought I was going to win $100. And you know what? I didn't win $100, even though I said NOTHING. AND they didn't have the book I was looking for, so it was like I lost TWICE.

This happens to me constantly, where I get the feeling I'm on some sort of candid TV show. Does this happen to anyone else? Anyone?

Posted by omar at 9:14 PM | Read entire post | Comments (9)

Over the past few months, I've been knee-deep in a couple of non-blog website projects. Details are boring, but I will say that some additions to omarphillips.net over the past few months happened indirectly because of these projects (cool points and customized referrer messages are the only two visible changes).

One of the projects, which is for work, will be "going live" this week. Consequently, I've been a bit preoccupied with it over these past few days (this explains my good score on that quiz I mentioned yesterday). It's bad enough where I actually had a crazy dream a few nights ago where I got a call from someone who was from a government agency. He was calling me specifically for assistance with PHP code, and in much greater detail, he said it was a matter of national security. So of course I didn't hesitate to produce some code to do what he wanted. After I gave him the code, I was admittedly a little suspicious, because the thing he asked me to do involved pretty basic PHP. You'd think I'd be suspicious because he was calling ME for help, but no. That seemed perfectly natural to me at the time, I guess. Anyway, the FBI came to my door a few days later to put me under arrest because I had been in contact with known criminals who were using my code to steal millions of dollars. I woke up as they were preparing to cuff me.

This means two things: 1) I need to take a break from PHP; and 2) I need to take a break from watching that new NBC show, Chuck.

Posted by omar at 9:31 PM | Read entire post | Comments (6)

I came home from work on Friday to find the new neighbors (I had not yet met them) out in their front yard chatting with another neighbor on our street. I walk over, there are some brief introductions, then this:

Her: Omar, your lawn puts us to shame!
Other neighbor: Don't feel bad, he puts all of us to shame!
Me: (humbly) Well, I try.

(awkward pause)

Me: I mean, I try to keep the lawn looking nice, not to put people to shame.

Posted by omar at 7:11 AM | Read entire post | Comments (11)

One morning last week, I parked my car and started my 5-ish minute walk to my office. As soon as I stepped out of my car, I heard the first few notes from Curtis Mayfield's song, "Superfly." I really like that song (and the whole "Superfly" soundtrack, actually), so I got pretty excited! In fact, had there not been other people walking in the parking lot, I probably would have started dancing. And though I could clearly hear the music, it wasn't very loud, so I was having trouble telling where it came from. But frankly, I didn't care.

About thirty seconds of walking passed before I started wondering why the volume of the music wasn't changing. I took a quick look around, there were 4 people close enough to me for me to assume that one of them was wearing headphones and had their music turned up way too loud. They may blow out their eardrums, but at least they had good taste.

A couple of minutes later, two of the people close enough had veered off. Right around this time, "Superfly" finished, and "Use Me" by Bill Withers started. At this point, I'm about ready to go nuts. You know the feeling when you're listening to the radio, and two songs you really like come on in a row? Well this was way better than that, because I wasn't listening to the radio, I was walking to work! There was no expectation of any music, not to mention good music.

So anyway, I'm walking with the dude with the loud headphones and an older lady. At this point, I'm quietly singing along. Out of my peripheral vision, I see the guy glance up at me. I looked over, preparing to give him my nod of approval, when I realized that he didn't have headphones on. I got confused, because there was no way this lady was listening to music this loud in some headphones! I tried to glance quickly at her, but it was awkward, because she was a half step behind me. She caught me looking.

"You're too young to know songs like that," she joked.

I let out an embarrassed chuckle. She must have heard me singing, and was taking the opportunity to hit on me, Mrs. Robinson style. Sheesh, didn't she see the wedding ring?

"Isn't that from the American Beauty soundtrack?" asked the guy.

"It was on that soundtrack, but it's originally from the early 70's," I replied. I was dying to ask if they knew where the music was coming from, but I didn't want to look like an idiot.

By now, I reached my building and went in the door, while the other two kept walking. When I still heard the music, I finally realized that I AM an idiot, and that the music was coming from my pocket. I have one of those Sony Walkman phones, and I forgot to lock the keypad. I must have bumped the right button sequence when I was getting out of the car, and it started to play those songs, which I loaded on there 8+ months ago (I almost never use the walkman features of the phone).

I'm so glad I didn't ask those people where the music was coming from.

Posted by omar at 8:35 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

I haven't been able to get a sentence out without coughing violently over the past several days. I feel like crap. And if that wasn't enough, the car repair place decided to kick me when I was down. They got me for $600. And then my dad was like, "hey, didn't that part get replaced on your car already? If so, it's covered under the warranty and you shouldn't have had to pay." I had no idea, because I understand cars like I understand women. If you tell me I need a new B-Pipe, I'll tell you, "No thanks, I don't smoke." But I checked the receipts, and the old guy was right. The car repair place should have only gotten me for around $250. So they'll be getting an angry, cough-filled call from me tomorrow.

The only other thing I've got for you is a quick story about the boy. He has two Tigger shirts he likes to wear. One has short sleeves, the other is sleeveless. The other day, I pulled out the sleeveless shirt, and he said, "No daddy, I want to wear the Tigger shirt with yes sleeves." It took me a minute to realize that he was saying that as opposed to the shirt that we say has "no sleeves."

That's all I've got. I'm going to go cough myself to sleep.

Posted by omar at 10:30 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

(If you wanted to play this round of "Four Truths and a Lie," read my previous post before continuing this one.)

Sorry for the delay in getting back to you with the answers, but we abruptly entered the busy season at work, which usually means I spend less time with computers while outside of work. But never fear, I've got plans to keep this site updated throughout September. Big plans. With horns.

I figured that including two dance stories would help shake up the results a bit, and I was right. And sadly for Jon, NCS, Seventeen Syllables, Cate, X, Jasmine, and Cadiz12, both dance stories are true. Sadly for me, because X's comment was otherwise exactly right, this means I can no longer call myself a self-respecting man.

Everybody believed #4 (about the pregnant matron of honor), which is good, because that's true. Syar was the only strong doubter on #5 (the cuff link story), but she seems to have overestimated just how coll or how cool I am. That one's true also.

This leaves #2 as the false story. Jonathan, Lia, and Dem picked that much correctly. But we can't have three winners, can we? No! Jonathan was least correct, because I absolutely did practice it while mowing my lawn. Dem was closer, because I wouldn't say I was "tremendously" nervous. This means that Lia is the winner and newly crowned "omarphillips.net Four Truths and a Lie Champion of the week of August 13, 2007!" I can only imagine how much pride you must feel right now, Lia. No way was I forgetting to do the toast! Of course I practiced that part! And how dare the rest of you for believing that I make mistakes! Thanks for playing and all, but seriously, how dare you!

---
(I wrote this entire post before Becky left her guess in a comment on the previous post. She would have won, had she not talked herself out of it and guessed something silly instead. I mean, obviously I'm not saying that the notion of me staring at my gorgeous wife is silly, obviously. Seriously, that's obviously not what I meant. But you originally guessed the right story, and with accuracy that can only be described as "spooky," your explanation for why you picked #2 was exactly right. That lie came to me because I remember reading about it on cadiz12's site. And I was nervous, and I did decide to wing it. Everything you said was correct, right up until you decided to change your mind and say incorrect stuff.)

Posted by omar at 10:32 PM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

I've only been to a handful of concerts in my life. Here's the full list (off the top of my head, so I might be forgetting one):

1985 - Some Def Jam show featuring Run-DMC and Doug E. Fresh (I was WAY too young to go to this show - "Hey, that cigarette smoke smells funny...").

1986 - Van Halen on their 5150 tour (also known as their "Sammy Hagar is now our new lead singer" tour).

1996 - Wu Tang Clan (I really liked them at the time, but this was the worst show ever).

1997-ish - Jewel (I hadn't heard of her at the time, but it was free).

1998-ish - Phife Dawg (after A Tribe Called Quest - who I loved - broke up, so this was bitter-sweet, but also free).

2004 - Kanye West (best show I've ever been to).

Next month, I'll be able to add a 7th concert to this list, because -- brace yourselves -- I just bought tickets to go see the Wiggles. And for the record, I am inviting my wife and son.

Posted by omar at 7:14 AM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

****
There is an image with a curse word at the bottom of this post. If you don't want to see it, or if you don't want someone you're with to see it, don't scroll down. I don't do much of the cursing myself, but as this sign was posted on a public street, I'm posting it. Sorry, mom.
****

Sorry for not clarifying that previous post earlier, but yes, I've been in sunny California all week. I'm here in San Francisco for Apple's Worldwide Developers Conference (WWDC). It's not my first time in San Fran, but it is my first time attending WWDC.

For those not familiar, it's a conference where a bunch of Mac software developers and system administrators (roughly 5000) can get a chance to learn from and chat with a bunch of Apple engineers. As mentioned in the keynote address given by Steve Jobs (which, by the way, is the only part of the conference I'm legally allowed to talk about), there is a ratio of 1 Apple person for every 4 attendees, which has allowed fantastic access to the brains of Apple employees. Here are some other interesting ratios I've informally calculated:

1:2500 - Ratio of normal people to nerds.
1:1000 - Ratio of female attendees to male attendees.
1:833 - Ratio of non-Apple laptops to Apple laptops in use by attendees.
1000:1 - Ratio of people who wore their provided WWDC t-shirt at least one day during the conference to people who actually packed enough shirts they already owned and wore those instead (see first ratio on females to males).

It's admittedly difficult to not get caught up in the geeky excitement that is rampant here this week. In fact, here I am right now dorkin' out in the new "Hello, I'm a Mac" t-shirt I bought:

It has been a very fun week (I went to the Giants game where Bonds hit #747!), though I'm eager to go back home. Of course I miss my family and friends, but my main motivation for wanting to go back home is get as far as possible away from this guy, who seems to be everywhere that I want to be in San Francisco:

Posted by omar at 11:10 AM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

Yesterday, I went out to play some golf. It was the first time since September, but I played surprisingly well (shot 89 - 42 on the front, 47 on the back - I got tired).

I only bring this up because on Saturday, when I was preparing my stuff, I realized that I needed to cut my hair in order to wear my favorite golf hat. It's a fitted baseball cap, and it only fits properly when I have no hair (which was the case when I bought it). If I let my hair grow a bit, it starts to get uncomfortable. I hadn't cut my hair in several weeks, so I had to give myself a haircut before playing Sunday morning.

Typically when I cut my hair, I will also trim my facial hair to be either as long as or shorter than the hair on my head. Saturday night, I was in a bit of a hurry, as I wanted to be done and showered in time to watch the beginning of Saturday Night Live. So I skipped trimming the facial hair for the sake of time. My plan was to trim the facial hair Sunday night.

I can hear some of you now: "Isn't this his 400th post? Why is he using this milestone post to tell us about which of his hairs he trimmed?" Hang on, I'm getting to the point.

Apparently, the no-hair-with-beard look has made me look 10 times tougher. People are scared of me now! The group in front of us on the golf course let us play through, even though we hardly had to wait on them. The boy and I went to the library yesterday, and he started to run away from me when we got inside. I gave him a stern look and whispered, "Get over here" - and he listened! Neighborhood kids stayed off my lawn, and all I had to do was look at them! I was walking by a stranger on my way to my car in a parking lot. I didn't even really notice him until he threw a wad of cash at me as he said, "Take it, just please don't hurt me!" Then he ran away with a scared look on his face. That was the easiest $22 I've ever made!

So I've decided that this look may stick around for a while. I've been working on my "mean face" and trying to deepen my voice a bit to enhance the image. I'm going for a Suge Knight aura, except I want my look to be less "I'm going to kill you" and more "I could be dangerous, but you can't tell for sure, so to be on the safe side you'd better voluntarily give me all your money."

Posted by omar at 6:41 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

If anyone has any experience with humane removal/relocation of ducks and duck eggs, please let me know.

Oh and also, if anyone has any experience with inhumane removal/relocation of ducks and duck eggs (that does not involve the discharge of firearms), please let me know.

Posted by omar at 6:30 AM | Read entire post | Comments (6)

I'm a sucker for those "year in review" shows that pop up every December. So while I was in the shower last night, I spent a lot of time thinking about my decade in review. My twenties were every bit as transitional as my teens; a lot of major stuff happened in my life. I got married (24), became a dad (27), graduated from college (22) (ha, I'm just kidding about that college thing - nobody cares about that anymore), and got my first full-time job (22).

Other notable moments include buying a house (26), buying an iBook (25), and starting this blog (27). I got my first digital camera (21), met a guy worth $750 million (25), and went to my first PGA tour event, where I got to see Tiger Woods (26). He's so dreamy! While we're talking golf, I shot my career low score of 81 (24), I had my USGA handicap index down to 11.2 (25), and I played a course outside of Ocala, Florida that had amazing replica holes from several famous courses (20), and got Natalie Gulbis' autograph (23).

I ran my first 5k race and ate my first McGriddle (25). I was part of the second largest crowd to ever watch a game at Beaver Stadium - 109,313 (24). That was exactly two weeks before I got married, and exactly 10 days before I watched the twin towers fall (24). That was an action-packed few weeks. I said "please stop putting that pasta in your hair" for the first time (29), I held a live snake (23), I joined my first ice hockey league (22), and I got my first big promotion (28). I became an uncle for the first (23) and second (28) time. I shook hands with former President Clinton (28), got subpoenaed and testified in a criminal trial (26), and learned the tango (24). I bought an iPod (27) and got a tattoo (22). Gotcha! No tattoos. Just checking to see if you're still with me.

I got my first "press pass" for a major sporting event (24). My second press pass was for the first - and only - NFL game I've attended (25). I tried sushi (26), calamari (28), and Special K Protein Water (29) for the first time. I started sporting facial hair (28), got published (29), had someone ask me who I hire for lawn service (27), and made my first trip to Vegas (26). I chickened out of going to my 10 year high school reunion (28). I watched almost 10 straight hours of TV coverage on December 31, 1999 (22) and went on my first business trip (27). Seriously mom, I don't have any tattoos.

All that, and I made it the entire decade without getting a speeding ticket. (Though I guess I still have to drive to and from work today, so I should maybe keep that a little quieter.) I've decided - primarily because I don't want to die and that's the only other alternative - that I'm ready to be 30.

On a side note, I just found out that Sarah Michelle Gellar and I were born on the same day, in the same city. Sarah, if you're reading this, give me a call and say hi! I mean, sure, the first half of Cruel Intentions is the only thing I've ever seen with you in it, but who cares? We're birthday buddies!

Posted by omar at 6:03 AM | Read entire post | Comments (25)

I walk into Home Depot, making my annual trip to buy a season's worth of lawn care supplies. I walk past an employee by the entrance, she says, "Welcome home, Omar. Welcome home." At least, that's what I thought she said. To others, it may have sounded something more like "Hello." Same dif.

As I'm in the lawn care section trying to decide between the Scotts four-step program and the local brand's equivalent, a guy pushing a huge cart filled with bags of topsoil passed by.

"Excuse me, but do you know where the grass seed is? I'm not a lawn guy," he said.

"Sure, you're headed in the right direction. It's right up there on the left," I replied.

"Thanks. You seem like a lawn guy, I figured you'd know."

Your intuition serves you well, my new best friend.

Posted by omar at 9:15 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

If I'm not mistaken, this past few weeks has been my longest blog absence. At the very least, it has been the longest unplanned absence. And because blogs are all about oversharing, let me share with you what I've been up to (other than work - which has been unexpectedly busy, but blogging about work is off-limits):

Lots and lots of photography: I have been shooting a lot of high school basketball since mid-February. I have kept about 590 photos since 2/23, which means I've likely taken over 2000. While it hasn't yet been all that lucrative, a couple of my photos did get used in an article for the city newspaper! While it's all exciting and stuff, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon. Unless I win the lottery.

StatCounter: I'm in love with being able to label IP addresses in StatCounter now. And when I say "in love with it," I mean love. You have all been labeled. And I'm not even sorry about it.

Thinking about turning 30: More on this soon.

Exiting the 20th century: I don't own a DVR. My computer can function as a DVR, but I don't like to use up my hard drive space for TV. Also, with my current setup, I can only get over-the-air channels on my computer. So until very recently, I have been recording TV shows on a VCR (Wikipedia link provided in case anyone isn't sure what a VCR is). DVR enthusiasts will surely be able to tell me all the reasons why I'm wrong, but I just don't think a DVR meets my needs. I want to record shows, then watch them when I want - AND where I want. I should have the option to watch my recorded shows on the TV downstairs, or the TV upstairs, or on my laptop during my lunch breaks, or on my iPod while I'm on the toilet. It should be my choice. And most (not all) DVRs I've seen make it difficult to output a show to watch it on anything other than the drive it was recorded on.

So then I set out to buy what I thought would work best: a set-top DVD recorder with a built-in hard drive. The only catch with this plan is that I'm not rich, and they're not free. Instead, I settled on just a set-top DVD recorder. So far, it has been everything I hoped it would be. And, to the point, it has allowed me to get rid of my VCRs, which means that I've finally been able to remove all traces of the 1980's from my entertainment center -- except the Billy Ocean cassette tapes. But those don't count. They're timeless.

Posted by omar at 11:01 PM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

Struggling... barely... getting by....

Send cookies... and Sunchips... maybe some Pepsi... and the last few issues of Sports Illustrated... including the one with Beyonce on the cover...

Posted by omar at 6:19 AM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

Observe the following statistics:

omarphillips.net received 2215 comments on or before December 31, 2005. Up to 9pm tonight, there have been 2651 comments here since January 1, 2006. That's 2651 in one year, 2215 in the millions of years prior.

Similarly, omarphillips.net received 49,956 non-Omar hits since the start of 2006. Prior to that, only 26,691 hits.

Since January 1, 2006, Elasticwaistbandlady has created one blog. Before then, she created zero blogs.

Since 2006, George Clooney has won an Oscar. Prior to '06, he won no Oscars.

According to the Social Security Administration's website, Omar was the 135th most popular male name in the United States in 2005. It's too early for complete 2006 data, but my sources are telling me that in 2006, Omar cracked the top 125.

Before the start of '06, no female Speakers of the House in the 200+ year history of the US government. Since then, one female Speaker of the House.

I am not going to be so bold as to claim responsibility for all of these events, but I will offer this: one year ago this week, I decided not to shave my vacation beard. I've kept facial hair ever since.

That's all I'm saying. Draw your own conclusions.

Posted by omar at 7:58 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

If you're wondering where I've been for the past week, I've been busy writing things. I've been writing in water, writing through grease, and writing upside-down. I've also been busy trying to find someplace with no gravity, so I can write there as well. Those who have been around since the summer may remember this post, and may have consequently deduced that I got a Fisher Space Pen for Christmas! It's really quite exciting for me. For those who scoff at my excitement over a pen, well, we'll see who is laughing when, as a result of global warming, the outdoor air temperature is 250 degrees F (121 degrees C), and none of your pens work.

If you're wondering what else I got for Christmas, I got an iPod shuffle. I already have an iPod, but with the video, the pictures, the games, etc., the music kind of takes a backseat. The shuffle, it's all about the music. Plus, with no moving parts, I can feel free to shake my groove thang without concern. At least, without concern for the safety of the iPod. Double plus, I can clip it to the boy and let him rock out to the Wiggles without fear of him dropping it.

If you're wondering about some guy who meant to fly to Australia and ended up in Montana, read this.

If you're wondering what the boy got for Christmas, he got lots of dinosaurs, "diggers," clothes, and potty-training paraphernalia. Included in that last group is a book called, "No More Diapers for Ducky," which essentially teaches the lesson that you should want to sit on the potty because all your friends are doing it. (I think the next book in the series is "Two Packs a Day for Ducky.")

Posted by omar at 12:24 PM | Read entire post | Comments (11)

I can't recall if I've mentioned it here or not, but I'm taking an "Intro to Java Programming" course at the local university this quarter.

Before you get too worked up, let me tell you that it's not as exciting as it sounds. And, as I've found, it's not as easy as it sounds. Before the class started, I expected that because I work in the IT field (even though in an area that requires no programming), I'd breeze right through an introductory programming class. As it turns out, I've been having some trouble wrapping my head around some programming concepts.

For example, where I'm from, you'd get beaten up by a gang of algebraists for making the claim x = x + 5. You might think I'm joking about there being gangs of algebraists, but that's just because you've never thought to make such a ridiculous claim as x = x + 5 in public. (I dare you to try it and see what happens.) Mathematically, it doesn't make sense. Yet it makes perfect sense in Java, and probably in several other programming languages. So I've had to do some deprogramming in order to learn programming.

I'm doing fine in the class, but the amount of effort required is way more than I expected. So if I've been a bit absent on your blog lately, it's because I've been busy unlearning everything I know so that I can do well in this class. The good news is that the final exam is tomorrow (Tuesday), so I should be back in the swing of blogging soon.

Excuse me, while I get back to studying. Drink on the left, bread on the right... Yellow and blue makes red...

Posted by omar at 9:41 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

Before work yesterday, I went and voted. It's my civic duty, and as I may have mentioned before, I like to complain. Eligible non-voters don't have as much right to complain. Anyway, last night, when I got home from class, I turned on the TV. And, after watching for a short while, I did something I've never done before, and something I never thought I'd do: I voted again. Yes, twice in the same day.

I'm kind of ashamed about what I did, because it goes against some of my core values. And like I said, I've never done it before. I never intend to do it again. But as I was watching TV, I really was getting the feeling that the wrong guy was going to win. I've had that feeling before, and frankly, I don't know what was different about last night. I acted before I thought, and I let my emotions lead me down the wrong path. I'm left with a pit in my stomach and an unshakable feeling that people will never look at me the same way again. Or worse yet, that I may never look at myself the same way again.

I apologize to any of my friends and family who feel as though my doing this has let them down.

It's still not clear whether what I've done made any difference, though I expect that will be announced today. All I know is that I felt that I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if Mario Lopez finished one vote shy of making it to the Dancing With the Stars finals, and I had not done my part to help him. He's clearly better than Joey and Emmitt. But when I saw all the pre-teen girls get all dreamy eyed over Joey last night, I got concerned, and I did what I thought was right at the time.

In hindsight, a couple of sleepless nights might have been preferable to the shame I'm feeling now.

Posted by omar at 5:55 AM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

When I was a wee lad, I always hated that there was nothing in stores that I could buy with my name on it. It's no wonder, with friends with names like "Mike" and "Dave" that I'd feel a little envy.

Now that I'm all grown and stuff, I thought I had outgrown the desire to find things with my name on it. Well, I'm not. I still get all giddy when I see my name on stuff. And while I still can't find it on stickers, fake license plates, or keychains, I have found it on some other items. All these years, I have just been looking in the wrong places. I never would have thought to look at a bag of dried apples, yet my name was printed right on the back, plain as day.

Then this weekend, my wife came home with a new pair of boots for the boy:

Here's a closer look at the tag:

In case you can't read it, the style on the tag says "omar". And before anyone accuses me of some sort of photo manipulation, the same boots are being sold on Amazon here.

Keep your keychain. I've got my own style.

Posted by omar at 9:44 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

Yesterday, I got a piece of (what I consider to be) junk mail. This is actual postal mail, not email. It was a slow mail day though, so decided to open it. It was from the DISH network. Not sure why DISH is capitalized, but that's how they write it.

Anyway, I cracked it open. The first line on the paper says, "Order Arabic and American programming today!" So of course, now I have to continue reading. Let me provide you some snippets:

"Now is the time to switch to DISH Network and watch the best of Arabic and American television."

"We are happy to provide you with the best variety of Arabic-language television in 100% digital-quality picture and sound."

I'm sure I'd be likely to take them up on their offer if: 1) I spoke Arabic; 2) I lived in an Arabic nation/region; or 3) I was of Arabic descent. However, given that none of these items are true, I was a bit confused. So I kept reading.

"This 'prescreened' offer of credit is based on information in your credit report indicating that you meet certain criteria."

Uh-huh. Curious about which criteria I met, I called the provided DISH Network number, 1-888-258-9199. I was greeted by a message that I assume was in Arabic, and eventually heard that I should press 1 to continue in English. I did, and I got connected to a sales rep. I explained that I got this mail offer, and I was wondering what criteria I met to receive it. His response was that he didn't know, but that the offers listed were still applicable to me, and oh hey, who provides your cable TV now, and are you happy with them? Because the DISH Network has some good deals going. I assured him that I wasn't interested, and thanked him for his assistance.

A few minutes later, I called back. I got a different guy, Tony. He said that he was going to connect me to Customer Service. I heard two tones, then was promptly disconnected. How appropriate.

I tried back again. Instead of explaining anything, I just asked to be transferred to Customer Service. I was transferred correctly this time, and was connected to a young lady named Rachel. She asked for my name, I explained the situation to her, about how I was just seeking information about why I received the promotional ad. It took a while, because she thought I saw the ad on TV, and was confused as to why I was complaining. We got that sorted out, and so she asked my nationality. I said, "I'm American... and I'm not of Arabic descent, which is why I'm wondering which criteria I did fit."

Her response, which is exactly what I thought, but not at all what I was expecting to hear, was, "It's probably because of your name."

Awesome. It's like a variation on Scenario 2 from that post about my name from last year. I can't really pinpoint the emotion this brings out in me. All I know is that it leaves me disappointed in the marketing process. I wonder how often profiling based on first name actually works...

Posted by omar at 6:31 AM | Read entire post | Comments (19)

On Saturday, a message with the following headers made it to my inbox:

------
From: suspension@ebay.com
To: Omar Phillips
Subject: TKO NOTICE: eBay Registration Suspension - Possible Unauthorized Account Use.
------

"How did this get through my junk mail filters?" I thought aloud.

I highlighted the message and clicked the "Junk" button on the toolbar. Just to be sure, I opened up my junk mail folder:

All together, I counted about 75 ebay notification emails. About 40 were for new items listed by my account (mostly Louis Vuitton bags and accessories), 15 or so for items I'd won, and the remainder were "this auction is about to end" notifications. The weird (but good) part is that though I won 15 auctions, the total cost was something like 16 cents.

I spent two hours cleaning things up with eBay on Saturday night -- while I was watching Penn State lose to Michigan. Hopefully your weekend involved some more fun than mine did.

Posted by omar at 6:17 AM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

Each of the last few years, we have competed with our next door neighbors to see who gets more trick or treaters on Halloween. It's really quite detailed, as each household tallies the number of visitors in 15 minute increments. At the end of the night, the results are entered into an Excel spreadsheet. The final result is a printed out graph, complete with clip art ghosts and pumpkins, put in the opponent's mailbox by the next morning. We take our competition very seriously.

In the two years that we've been neighbors, they've beaten us both times. This even counts the year I was dressed up as Don King. Though, most of the kids thought I was a "mad scientist," because they had no idea who Don King was. What kind of mad scientist wears a tuxedo and a huge fake diamond ring in the shape of a dollar sign? Morons.

Anyway, longtime omarphillips.net visitors might remember this, from last year. At the time, I promised that I'd do better next year. I'd like to confirm that I'm still committed to this, and I will do better this year. We're done messing around. No more jack-o-lanterns that would rather go shopping. We're getting serious. Orange lights. Multiple jack-o-lanterns with frightening faces. Top quality candy (I'll test it myself). No "keep off the grass" signs. No calling the kids morons for not knowing who Don King is. Actual corpses on the front porch.

Even the ninjas are with me. I'm not usually big on offering up bulletin board material for the opponents, but I'm feeling pretty confident about this one: we will probably win.

Posted by omar at 9:28 PM | Read entire post | Comments (9)

So yeah, this past week was kind of rough in the Phillips' household. I'll spare you most of the details, the short of it is that the boy was pretty sick and had a really high fever that lasted most of the week. Needless to say, there has been some crying, a lot of worrying and not a lot of sleeping going on around here.

The good news is that everything seems to be improving. Fever's been down for a couple of days, the sleep schedule is starting to get back to normal. As soon as everything gets back to normal, I'm going to be back to posting and commenting so frequently that you guys will be like, "wow, Omar's commenting and posting a lot lately!" Normally, you'd say something way wittier than that, but you'll be so shocked by it, that's all that will come out.

In the mean time, here's a scary picture of me for no reason at all:

Posted by omar at 9:27 AM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

This past weekend, I went camping. I had never gone camping before. You see, I love the outdoors like Hillary Clinton loves Monica Lewinski. I hate bugs. I fear wild animals. So the thought of staying outdoors for 2 days didn't seem so appealing. But, being the family man I claim to be, I had to go.

I thought I was going to have tales of Bigfoot sightings, or horror stories involving fire ants, wild monkeys, bears, and raccoons. I was certain I'd have several days of blogging material as a result of this trip. I expected to be able to share with you photos of me cowering in the front seat of our car by hour 3 of the trip.

Instead, much to my surprise, I ended up having an OK time. Sure, it wasn't "real" camping, as we slept in cabins with toilets and showers (though we did have to share the cabin with Brutus and dozens of his tiny 8-legged friends). But having not done it before, this is the only way I'd agree to it.

The most pleasant surprise was that for most of the weekend, I didn't know what time it was. As I sit here typing this blog post, only moving my eyes, I can see the time on the computer, cable box, VCR, and wall clock. It took me spending a couple of days without clocks to realize how much of a slave to the clock I have become. It was very liberating, in a cold, rainy, and insect-infested kind of way.

So, sorry to disappoint. No Bigfoot, no Omar cowering in the car. I do have a handful of photos, but not the blogging material I had hoped for. Maybe, in 29 years when I go camping again, I'll come back with some better stories.

Posted by omar at 9:02 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

Today, anything is possible.

I can touch the stars. I can knock out Mike Tyson. I can leap two-story homes in a single bound. I can walk on water, but since I don't like water, I'll just fly through the air above it, because I can do that too. I can do a double-back handspring, flip, then go right into a herkie, followed by a russian. I can dance with the stars. I can make a fruit-based pie. I can outrun Justin Gatlin in the 100 meter dash, then continue on and run a marathon - in world record time. I can find Waldo. I can foil terrorist plots. I can solve America's obesity problem. I can catch the gingerbread man. I can do the moonwalk. I can touch this, MC Hammer. I can beat Jordan one-on-one. I can teach the world to sing in perfect harmony (immediately after I teach myself). I can make a dollar out of fifteen cents.

Why, you ask? Because I've finally gotten conclusive proof that I can tolerate lactose. For the first time in my life, I ate a piece of cheesecake without violently expelling the contents of my intestines. That dietitian blogger told me that it was possible. I didn't believe.

Now I believe. The world of dairy foods has opened its doors to me. I intend to burst through them, like the Kool-Aid man through walls. I can beat lactose intolerance.

Today, anything is possible.

Posted by omar at 9:22 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

Omar: I got to meet Romário this weekend. I got his autograph!

Student: Sounds familiar, but ...Who's that?

Omar: What? I thought you were a soccer fan? How old were you in 1994?

Student: Seven.

Omar: Ah. That explains it. I need to brag to soccer fans my own age.

Student #2: Who'd you meet?

Student: Rosario or something?

Omar: NO! Romário! He's --

Student: Wait! (to student #2) Do you know who that is?

Student #2: (hesitantly) Isn't he a musician?

Romário is only one of the greatest goal scorers in soccer history! He led Brazil to the 1994 World Cup title, while winning the award for best player of the tournament AND going on to win FIFA player of the year that year. At 40 years old, he's playing in the USA now. And though he runs like a 60 year old these days, he still managed to score a goal in the game I saw.

My dad's cousin's grandson (I think that makes him my second cousin, once removed?) plays on the same team as Romário, so we got to hang out after a game they played in the area. Of course, they wouldn't let me bring my camera to the stadium, so all we had was a little disposable (gasp) film (GASP) camera. So the only photographic evidence I have is a picture my dad took, and it doesn't even show my face. (The one of him with Romário is well framed with them both smiling at the camera. Bah.) It features my head at an unflattering angle that makes it appear big enough to rival Ben Affleck's head in a head-size contest, and Romário speaking what I assume to be Portuguese on the phone.

I can tell this was a special moment for him, too. I'd bet he was on the phone in this picture talking to his friends back home about how he was going to meet me. "Omar Phillips... you know, the blogger?"

Posted by omar at 12:12 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

Back in late 2000, I was pretty lost. At least, professionally speaking. I had recently quit my job working at a financial planning firm, and I was in the midst of a brief period of unemployment. One thing I did enjoy doing during this time of "finding myself" was taking pictures. So for the heck of it, one afternoon, I went to the local ice rink with my camera to take some shots at a high school hockey game. I didn't know anyone playing, I was shooting for practice and portfolio-building.

Anyway, while I was snapping away, I noticed another guy also taking pictures. The reason why he stuck out was because he was using a Kodak DCS 620 with $1000 of lens attached (at the time, at least $6000 worth of equipment). I didn't talk much more then than I do now, so I passively went closer to catch a glimpse. He noticed my peeking, so he came over and started talking to me. His name was Charlie.

We talked for only about 5 minutes. About a week later, he was my boss at my new job. I worked at that photo lab primarily doing Photoshop work, as well as some photography (using that same equipment I was ogling at the rink). I worked there for about a year, with Charlie as my boss for 6 or 7 months. He had his quirks, but he was a good boss. And a better teacher.

I have MAD skills with Photoshop right now because Charlie saw enough in me to give me, an unemployed kid with a degree in Finance who had no related professional experience, an opportunity to prove myself. I'm good at action photography now for the same reason.

Wednesday night, we got a call letting us know that Charlie died the day before. I went to calling hours tonight, and was not at all surprised to see that the parking lot was full, or that the line of people waiting to pay respect was out the door. He was a tremendously nice man. And he gave me a great opportunity at (what I now know was) the perfect time.

I'm not sure I ever specifically said thanks, but I hope I showed him I was grateful.

Posted by omar at 11:51 PM | Read entire post

Just in case anyone thought I was infallible, here's exhibit A:

I was sitting in the lunchroom, pounding away at the keys on my laptop. In order to drown out some of the noise in the room, I was also listening to whatever iTunes threw at me through my headphones.

One of my buddies stopped by my table to say hi. I wasn't feeling terribly sociable, so I was rude and didn't take my headphones off. He came up and said, "Hey, why do you have headphones on?"

Confused, I replied, "So that I can listen to music?"

"Take them off for a second." I do. "Notice anything?"

Yeah. So it turns out that I had my headphones plugged into the microphone jack on my laptop. The music I was hearing was in spite of the headphones, rather than because of them. The music was coming out of the laptop speakers, and I had them turned up enough so I could still hear it. I had thought it was kind of quiet, but I didn't really care, because I wasn't actually paying attention to the music.

"Dude, just so you know, I plan on telling everyone about this."

I'll do you one better. I'll tell the internet.

Posted by omar at 7:11 AM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

Contrary to recent rumors, I am alive, and my short blog absence has had nothing to do with the movie "Nacho Libre."

And while I'm not 100% back to blogging just yet, I did want to note two things:

1) StatCounter shows that my hit and visitor counts have been HIGHER than normal over the past 5 days. I'm no statistician, but I think that means you guys like it better when I'm not around.

2) StatCounter also shows that omarphillips.net is approaching 50,000 non-Omar hits! So keep an eye on the counter on the sidebar. My legal team hasn't ironed out the details yet, but there may be something in it for you* (there have to be conditions, as I don't want the guy searching for "gelatinous baby poop" to win something).

Carry on.

---
* Note that the "Cate Clause"** is in effect for any contest related to the 50,000th hit.

** The "Cate Clause" states that if, when within 100 hits of the milestone number, you register more than 5 consecutive hits, you are disqualified.

Posted by omar at 6:43 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

My name is Omar.

I have been diagnosed with popped-collar syndrome (PCS).

For those who are not familiar, let me explain. Let's say I'm wearing a collared shirt. If I sit and focus on any one thing for more than a few minutes at a time, it is not uncommon for me to later discover that during that time, my collar has somehow been raised. I have no recollection of ever popping my collar. Ever. Yet this happens, almost daily.

Most often, I don't discover it until someone says to me something like, "hey, you bringing the popped collar look back?" or "are you one of those metrosexuals?" The answer to both of those questions is no. No I am not.

Early on, I was actually worried that I was suffering from some sort of narcolepsy, and friends/co-workers were adjusting my collar as I slept. However, after being observed by several doctors, experts have conclusive video evidence that I am the one doing the collar-popping.

This is a condition that seldom goes unnoticed, yet often goes undiagnosed. The cause is not known, and there is currently no cure. It frequently invites attention and ridicule. I have spent years being afraid of PCS and when it would present itself. When I go to the doctor's office and they ask me if I have any pre-existing conditions, I've always said no. I always find myself worrying, thinking "what will they think?"

I'm writing this post because I can't continue to be afraid. I refuse to let PCS rule my life any longer. I may have PCS, but I do not suffer from it. I will not suffer from it. If I should find my collar popped, I will wear it with pride. It is part of who I am.

Posted by omar at 6:46 AM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

You know how some people say they don't want something when they really do? Like when people say, "oh, don't you dare buy me a Valentine's day gift this year!" But then if you don't buy them a gift, they're disappointed?

More and more regularly, I have people saying "I had better not read about this on omarphillips.net!" Then when I don't post about whatever the crazy caper was, they're disappointed.

Generally, I only blog about people who can't retaliate. I can only think of two people who fit that description: my grandmother and my son. Since the editorial team keeps cutting out all my posts about Granny, the boy is the only one who gets consistently mentioned online. The thing is, I thought I was doing people a favor by not writing about them. I don't want people to feel like they can't have real interactions with me, for fear that they will end up on the internet. Instead I am left to feel as though I'm cheating people out of their moment in the spotlight. Yes, I called this site "the spotlight." omarphillips.net is enjoyed daily by literally dozens of people around the globe. Do people really understand the level of exposure they're inviting?

Anyway, to avoid future confusion on my part, I've created a brief two-question questionnaire/disclaimer that will be handed out prior to all of my future interactions with anyone:

On the back is a disclaimer saying that you not minding is not a guarantee that your story will make it on the internet. I'm pretty excited about this, I really think it will make things clearer. Either that, or it will entirely dissuade people from talking to me.

Posted by omar at 12:29 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

"Wanna head out for lunch? I'll drive," I offered.

"Yeah, let's go."

We arrived at my car and I started it up. As I did, the Wiggles "Central Park, New York" poured from the speakers. (For those who are not familiar, here's an audio clip. Don't blame me when it gets stuck in your head.)

"Man, you're like that guy from the commercial, who is singing 'Wheels on the bus' in the car by himself!! What is this you're listening to?"

"It's the Wiggles, but my kid was in the car with me the last time I was driving, so that's why it's still playing," I replied.

(several minutes later)

"DUDE, you're a liar!! Your last trip in the car was your trip to work, and you didn't bring your kid to work! You WERE listening to that crap!"

Cars should come standard with a "passenger eject" feature.

Posted by omar at 12:50 PM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

It has been brought to my attention that some people in the blogosphere think that Omar is "country." I don't know if it's because I like to mow my lawn or what, but I want to address that. Omar is hardcore. (I'm so serious about this, I'm going to refer to myself in the third person.) Omar is from the mean streets of Brooklyn. In fact, if you ever find yourself in trouble while in the Coney Island area, feel free to drop Omar's name, then ask for a guy known as "West Indian Willard," he'll take care of you. Don't say Omar never did anything for you. Anyway, Omar is so street, he's got two people watching you right now as you read this post just to make sure that you react properly. Turn around, you see that guy? He's one of them. Don't even bother trying to find the other one, he's that well trained. And, should you ever anger Omar, you're basically asking for him to beat you down right then and there.

Are we clear on this? Omar is hardcore.

Now that my street cred has been (re)established, I wanted to announce that I've signed up for a beginner's woodworking class! I had mentioned a while ago that I wanted to try to build something out of wood, and here's my chance. And while I still do intend to take Jym's suggestion and build a catapult, I figured I'd start with something a little simpler: a stepstool.

Though I'm a little nervous about building a weight-bearing structure, I just keep reminding myself that I'm tall enough to reach everything in this house, so I'll never have to step foot on it.

Of course, I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Posted by omar at 8:14 PM | Read entire post | Comments (9)

I had just come home, after finishing a pretty good run. I'll spare you the details, let's just say that I was a big sweaty mess. So I went right upstairs and went in the shower.

I took off all my messy sweaty clothes and hopped in the shower. The second I was too wet to get out, I realized that there was only one towel on the towel bar, and it wasn't mine. I hate that. Not that anybody likes showering without having a towel, but I was just making sure it was known that in addition to everyone else, I also hate it. Our towels are kept in the hall closet, which of course, is not that near to the bathroom.

Anyway, it's too late for me to get out, and the boy's asleep, so I can't yell for the wife. Out of ideas, I try my hand at telepathy. While showering, I think to the wife, saying in my mind, "hey, if you can hear me, could you please be a doll and grab me a towel before the water starts getting cold?" Then I continue on with my shower.

About two verses of "Heartbeat (It's a Love Beat)" later, in walks the wife.

"Oh, hon, I was hoping you'd come upstairs. Could you get me a towel?"

"Yeah, I've got one right here," as she hangs it on the towel bar.

"Wha-- Holy crap! I think we just talked telepathically! I asked you in my mind if you could get me a towel, and here you are!"

"... OK. Well, to repay me, could you pick up your clothes that you left on the bedroom floor?"

"Didn't you just see what just happened here?! Telepathy!!! This is huge!"

"If I tell you about my secret telepathic powers, promise you'll pick up your clothes?"

"Secret powers? Ok, I promise."

"That towel on the bar? That's yours. You getting in the shower reminded me that I needed a fresh towel, which is what I'm bringing in now."

"...mine? So... no telepathy then?"

"Make sure to put away the clothes from the laundry basket, too."

Posted by omar at 9:28 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

Things have been busy, I've been stressed, blah blah. Enter the wife. She knows me like Bill Gates knows money. She knew exactly what would be the cure. She got me one of these:

I am a believer in television, especially commercials. Anyone who has seen the Staples commercials knows that these Easy Buttonsâ„¢ make things, well, easy. Apparently, you can just go to a Staples store and buy one of these. Proceeds go to the Boys & Girls Clubs of America. Easy AND charitable. If you're feeling overwhelmed, if there's anything that'll help make you feel better, this is it.

The rewards were instant. I had a bunch of email in my account that I was having some trouble keeping up with. One push of the Easy Buttonâ„¢ and they were all gone. I assume they just got sorted into appropriate sub-folders, but frankly, I didn't have time to verify that. The important thing is that they were gone.

I got caught in some mild traffic on the way to work. One simple press, and the road was clear. What do I care what happened to those other cars or people? I got to work on time. It's about me. Me and my Easy Buttonâ„¢. I didn't think that anything would be able to take the place of the BlackBerry in my heart. Sure, the Easy Buttonâ„¢ won't help me read my email from the toilet. But find me something else it can't do.

Yeah, I didn't think so.

I can't wait until spring. Bring it on, vole. Bring it on.

Posted by omar at 6:05 AM | Read entire post | Comments (11)

I love my job. It's been keeping me busy lately. And since I work with computers, I don't end up wanting to spend much time with computers outside of work. I actually went out to dinner the other night, and punched some guy at the next table in the face just for mentioning the word "computer." He wasn't even talking to me. It didn't matter. He should have known better.

Lucky for you all, I'm over that whole anti-computer thing. I sat down at my laptop and opened up NetNewsWire, which I use to read site feeds from lots of blogs and news sites. 112 unread items. That's a lot of reading. And those who have been around for a while know that I'm not too keen on the reading in large quantities. I got the unread count down to 89 before I got distracted by some porn other internet sites. Then I started filling out my brackets for the NCAA tournament. Then I checked my TV schedule for the week to see if there were any reruns.

Basically I'm admitting that I did everything on the internet except for catching up with all of your sites, which is all I intended to do in the first place. My bad. But I'm working on it. In fact, here's proof. Here's an actual picture of me looking at your site right now:

(This is right before I got to the funny part, where I laughed hysterically.)

The unread count is down to 64.

Posted by omar at 10:41 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

Sorry for my notable absence of late. The past few days have been quite a whirlwind of activity. It all started last week at curling. There was a press photographer there during my league night, and he was snapping pictures of my game (which we won 11-2, btw). At the end of our game, he collected our names, then he was off.

This week when I went to the curling club, copies of the newspaper* were posted everywhere. And guess who graced the front page? No, not her. Not him either. It was me. I made the front page, above the fold. Needless to say, I was a bit distracted as we played, thinking of all the fame and fortune that would soon be coming my way (we still did manage to squeak out a 5-4 win).

So in an obvious next step, I went home and hired an agent. We discussed everything from me doing some local car dealership ads to a potential book deal. Though I don't read books and don't really like to write that much, I agreed to leave the window of possibility open only if the focus remains squarely on me.

True to his word, my agent was able to capitalize on the popularity of the photo. He got me some autograph sessions at a local mall, I took some photos with orphaned animals at the local... orphaned animal place (?), and even got interviewed by some local TV stations. In no time at all, businesses were giving me free stuff, rich people were inviting me to events, and so on.

Anyway, things have finally started to calm down, and I'm back to my regular routine. Thanks for bearing with me during my two-day absence.

---
* When I say "newspaper," I don't mean the city's major paper**

** When I say "I don't mean the city's major paper," I don't even mean it was one of the smaller suburban papers***

*** Seriously, this paper is small. My celebrity status is very, very localized.

Posted by omar at 6:01 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

What's better, "good" or "pretty good"?

The wife and I were going through our filing cabinet, which was starting to reach capacity. In doing so, we came across some of my old school report cards. I knew I had a handful of high school grade reports, along with a couple from elementary/grammar/grade school. The wife had taken them straight from my parents' house, so I didn't really know what was in there. Much to my surprise, the folder contained report cards and status reports dating back to PRESCHOOL. I guess my mommy was proud of her baby and kept all that stuff. Who knew?

I'll save you the details of my 3rd grade attitude problem, or my 4th - 12th grade "if only Omar fully applied himself to his studies..." reports. Blah blah blah.

Those preschool and kindergarden reports, however, I don't think I had ever read those. There was some fantastic stuff in there. I was one charming little SOB. There was one thing that I was unsure about, though. Click the following thumbnail to see the full image:

My ability to dress myself is "pretty good"? Is she making fun of me? I like to think that "pretty good" means it's between "good" and "great." But if she's making fun of me, I'll go slash her tires right now. Don't doubt me. I'm also not sure where "fine" fits in on the scale, which was my rating for Begins work/play independently.

See the full report here.

The highlight from my kindergarden report is here.

This one is dead on, because I can repeat 6-digit numbers, and I'm still not sure about the color purple. I just don't trust it.

Posted by omar at 6:23 AM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

I had mentioned in my list of 100 things that I was once a member at a local curling club. In fact, I have my own curling shoes, which is a notch or two higher on the "snooty" scale than having your own bowling shoes. In my defense, they are very stylish and comfortable (note that I'm wearing pleated pants as I type this, so I should reinforce that "stylish" is very subjective).

The wife and I had joined the local curling club following the 2002 Olympics, and we played until the spring of 2003. That was the last time I went curling - until this past Sunday. The same club was having an open house, hoping to ride the wave of Olympic exposure to curling (that's how they got me in 2002). So I went. I didn't get to do too much curling that day, but I did sign up for a league that runs through the end of the season.

Last night was the first night for my league. The three other people on my team have all been members of the curling club for more than a year. The team we were playing against was made up of two members and two people who had a mere two days of curling experience combined.

Sportsmanship is very important in the sport of curling, so I won't editorialize about the degree of our victory. I'll just state the fact that we won 14-1 through 6 ends (an "end" can best be compared to an inning in baseball, there are typically 8 ends per game in this league). It would not be in the spirit of curling for me to say that we kicked their butts up and down the ice, for example. Likewise, it would not be in the spirit to comment on how our four opponents, who were the nicest people ever, are a combined 350 years old; and how that made me feel a little bit mean for so badly beating up on the elderly.

Let me interrupt here by saying that I will be very disappointed should I ever see a Google search hit for something about "beating up the elderly." omarphillips.net does not condone beating up the elderly.

I did kind of make myself look like a jerk for a little while, though. People assume that because I have my own curling shoes, that I will be good. I spent the half hour prior to our start time attempting to dispel this crazy notion, citing that "it has been 3 years since I've done this..." Then, once I got the expectations set nice and low, I went out and curled probably better than I ever have before. While it was fun for me to play well, others didn't enjoy my re-beginner's luck so much. You know that guy who you initially think is being humble, but you later decide is actually being cocky and is indirectly fishing for compliments on his abilities? Yeah. I looked like him. I wasn't him, but I looked like him.

Next week, I'll keep my mouth shut before our 64-0 victory. Or I'll suck. Either case should be good for my image.

Posted by omar at 12:01 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

A couple of weeks ago, sometime during a work day, we noticed some tire tracks across my front yard. My house is on kind of a curve, and it happened on a really crappy day in terms of snow, so we're hoping that someone accidentally slid straight through the curve and into my yard. And I'm not talking about some little tire tracks by the road, these go pretty far up the yard (narrowly missing the mailbox), then curl around to my neighbor's yard, and down his driveway. They didn't spin their tires or do anything that made it look intentional, so I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt.

I haven't mentioned it in a while, but longime readers of this site know that I like my lawn to look nice. It's like a status symbol to me. Needless to say, I panicked a bit when I saw these tire tracks. It's definitely going to take a little bit of work this spring to make sure those tracks don't remain noticeable. I'm up for the challenge, but I'm just not thrilled about it.

Anyway, last night, my father in law stopped by to drop something off for us. It was heavy, so I went out to his SUV to help him lift it out of the back and into our garage.

As we're standing in the driveway, he says in the most serious of voices, "You know, I know who did that to your lawn."

Surprised, I responded, "What? Who?"

"I saw the vehicle driving away, it was one of those small SUVs, and there was a little brown furry guy driving it. I think it was a vole."

While my struggles with the vole have been pretty well detailed on this site, I don't really spend that much time talking about him in real life (in fact, as I may have mentioned before, I don't really talk at all in real life). So the fact that he not only knows about the vole, but knows to make a joke about the vole tells me one thing:

He must have had someone print out posts from my site so he could read them. (Just kidding! He does in fact know how to use the interweb.) He must have read my site.

Posted by omar at 6:40 AM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

Today, I had to get a "root canal." (That's in quotes because I've learned that the actual procedure is called "root canal treatment." The root canal itself is actually part of your tooth.)

Root canal treatment has a pretty bad reputation. It's generally used in a context of comparative pain. But when I found out that I might need to go in for treatment, I had asked around a bit, and only one person I asked has ever had root canal treatment. Yet when I said that I might need one, or when I said that I just had one, most people's reactions were generally the same: "Oh, ouch. Sorry," or "Ew."

To try and help the reputation of root canal treatment, I'm going to briefly describe to you what happens. To start, you need to understand the insides of a tooth.

When you have tooth pain, the part of the tooth that hurts is generally the pulp. Either a cavity or a fracture allows bacteria to get to the pulp, and then to the root canals.

When the pulp gets infected, it begins to die. And it hurts like hell, I'll have you know. So you go to a dentist, or in my case, an endodontist (I checked, that's not a made up word) to have the root canal treatment done. To start, they will numb up the area. Then they insert a "rubber dam" in your mouth, to prevent pieces of tooth from going down your throat. The "rubber dam" sounds more to me like some form of contraception, but maybe my head's in the wrong place. Anyway, they use some sort of horribly vibrating drill type jackhammer thing to get down into the middle of the tooth, as seen in the following image:

Once there is a sufficiently large hole in the tooth, the dentist or endodontist will go in and extract the pulp, removing any living matter from the tooth. Essentially, they go in with a sharp object and kill the tooth, as shown below:

Once it is determined that the tooth is sufficiently dead, they need to go into the tooth with a series of files to make sure all living matter is removed and to widen the root canals:

When they're done with that, they fill your root canals with some weird rubbery substance, then they fill the hole, similar to how a cavity is filled. The root canal treatment is complete! The part of the tooth capable of causing you pain no longer exists!!

The only part of the procedure that hurt was the part where I had to leave my mouth open for AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES (and the part where they said the procedure costs $1,095, but that's a different kind of pain). But honestly, the jaw pain felt better than the tooth pain I was feeling when I arrived. I felt so good, I gave the endodontist a hug on the way out. And half a day later, I'm still feeling good.

The lesson here is that root canal treatment is not bad. And the secondary lesson is that if it hurts, the answer is to have it killed.

Posted by omar at 1:29 PM | Read entire post | Comments (25)

Even though some of you don't deserve it, I promised I'd bring you part II of the omarphillips.net love story. So here it is.

I carefully drove home, kicking myself for having said something to the Applebee's guy. When I got to the house, the girlfriend was already there waiting. We said our hellos, then sat at the table to eat. In an effort to romancify the dinner, I casually lit a couple of candles that were on the table. (It should be noted that it was still fairly light outside, and these candles served very little purpose.)

Dinner was tasty, as expected. Conversation was great. While I was carrying on perfectly normal conversation on the outside, I was crapping my pants on the inside. (I should stress that the pant-crapping part stayed on the inside.) My primary goal was to act as normal as possible as to not tip her off as to what was coming next. And, if I may take a moment to pat myself on the back, I think I did a pretty good job.

We had finished dinner. The time had come. I went into my room to secure the ring bling. The room felt like it got 10 degrees colder. I think it was from all the ice on that ring. Or because blood stopped flowing to my extremities. One or the other.

"Oh hey, come in here for a minute. I've gotta show you something," I said.

The girlfriend came in the room and took a seat on the bed. I turned to face her. Out from behind my back, I pulled out...the PDA.

"I made some updates. Here, find your entry in the address book." She took the device and began searching. As she was looking, I casually knelt in front of her, as if to get a closer look at the PDA screen (I'm so sly). She found her entry and scanned it over.

"Note the category," I prodded. She noticed that her entry had moved from friends to family. She looked up at me.

"Of course, that's assuming that you say yes..."

I pulled the ring box out of my pocket. She gasped. "...when I ask you - will you marry me?"

She managed to get the word "yes" out, at which point I attempted to put the ring on her right hand, instead of her left. Did I mention I was a little bit nervous? She straightened me out, and I slid the ring bling on her ring finger. Perfect fit.

That, my dear readers, concludes this omarphillips.net love story. Enjoy your Valentine's Day.

Posted by omar at 10:24 PM | Read entire post | Comments (23)

It was the summer of 2000. I had a full-time job and was living with my parents, so I had a fair amount of disposable income to spend on gadgets. So I picked up one of these:

A Handspring Visor Deluxe (Palm OS based PDA). I was a busy young man, and this was just the thing to keep my schedule and all of my phone numbers straight. I was excited to show it to the girlfriend, who was just back in town after finishing up grad school. As you might expect any loving girlfriend to do, she immediately went to the address book section to scan the names (love ya honey!). She found her own entry, listed in the category of "friends."

"We've been dating for 4 years, and I still get classified as a 'friend'?" she joked.

"Well, I'd imagine it would be more concerning for me to have a section for 'girlfriends'."

"True."
_____________

Fast forward to February 2001. It was a fairly non-descript Saturday evening. After talking with the girlfriend, we decided to get some takeout and have a quiet night at home. And by "at home," I mean "at my parents' house." I went over to Applebee's to pick up our food. A cowboy burger (very well done) and potato skins. Tasty. A buddy of mine was working at Applebee's at the time, he brought my order out.

"Omar, you OK? You look... nervous."

"I'm going home and then I'm gonna ask the girlfriend to marry me!"

It was apparently obvious that I was ready to burst. I blurted the words out before I had a chance to think about what I was saying. He was the first person I had told of my plans. I had not intended to tell anyone, on the off chance that she declined. And if I was intending to tell someone, it probably wouldn't have been him. No offense.

"Hey, that's great! Congrats!"

"Don't congratulate me yet," I nervously replied. "Hopefully, you can congratulate me tomorrow."

[stay tuned for Part II]

Posted by omar at 6:23 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

This week, I had to get some dental work done. I had a tooth that had been fractured for the better part of 2 years, and I finally decided to do something about it. I went and got a crown.

In no way was getting a crown as fun as it sounded like it would be. For those who don't know, getting a crown involves them numbing you, taking an impression of your teeth, grinding the bad tooth down to a stub, adhering a temporary fake tooth to the stub, then eventually putting a permanent fake tooth on the stub. At no point were there any ceremonies, diamonds, or gold. And most dissapointing was that Nelly did not make an appearance singing his smash hit song, "Grillz."

As if I wasn't already down enough, the dentist then had to kick me a few more times by telling me that I can't eat sticky or excessively chewy foods while I have the temporary crown in (three weeks). That includes beef jerky. I am a man who was told not to eat beef jerky. She might not have thought that telling me about this crown was emasculating, but from my perspective, she may as well have taped 'em back and dressed me in drag.

Needless to say, I'm a little upset. And in pain.

Posted by omar at 7:14 PM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

There's a gym where I work, it has an indoor track that is 1/8 of a mile long. Starting late in the winter last year, I had been going there during my lunch breaks to try to do some running. When the weather got warm outside, I stopped exercising indoors. OK, ok. I stopped exercising all together. Get off my back.

Side note about that track. It's elevated up around a room that has 5 basketball courts in it. The track is three stories higher than the basketball floor below, and the only thing preventing people from plummeting to certain death is a tiny metal rail. That, in my opinion, is very poor design.

Anyway, after I finished running a few days ago, I scoured the list for my name. I hadn't run there for several months, so I had forgotten where I was on the list. I finally found my name, with the number 25.125 next to it (keep in mind that during lunch breaks, I generally only run 1 to 1.5 miles). I wrote down that day's total of 1.125 on a slip of paper and put it in the box.

When I did the quick math, I couldn't help but chuckle. 26.25 miles, .05 miles more than the distance of a modern marathon.

It took me approximately 10 months to run a marathon.

Posted by omar at 6:05 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

You know those people who can't pass by any reflective surface without looking at themselves? I'm one of them. Mirrors, windows, silverware, puddles, TVs that aren't on, it doesn't matter. If there is the chance I'll be able to catch a glimpse of myself, I'll look.

A little while back, we got a small fog-free mirror for the shower. My average shower time increased threefold (fourfold, since I started growing the beard).

One might think that with all this looking at myself, that I'd care about how I look. Generally, I don't. As long as I don't have something in my nose, in my teeth, or on my face; or as long as my shirt isn't coming untucked, or my collar isn't lying flat, my pant cuffs aren't dragging, my hat's on straight, my walk looks OK, my posture's good, my laptop bag strap isn't causing my shirt/jacket to bunch, my shoes are tied, my beard looks neat, and there are no unexpected stains, I don't care what I look like.

Keep in mind that I'm the same guy who will try to set personal bests for how many consecutive days I can wear the same pair of pants before even I get disgusted. I'm not sure on what side of the vanity fence I'm on, sometimes.

Posted by omar at 12:18 PM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

Shave - The vacation beard, which has become quite an honored tradition, is in full effect. Though there is one problem. I'm going to let you, the internet, in on a little secret. You see, in spite of the testosterone that flows through my veins with such speed and force, I do not grow facial hair very well. Or rather, not very quickly. What I grow in 10 days, my buddy grows in 18, maybe 19 hours. It's my curse. Anyway, every time I'm off of work for more than a few days, I give the facial hair a little chance to grow out. As I write about it now, it actually sounds kind of sad. It's not sad, it's fun! Fun fun.

Blog much - I spent a surprisingly little amount of time on the computer over my vacation. That totally explains the twitch in my arm, frequent headaches, and my increased desire to use curse words. Classic withdrawal symptoms. Things should get a little more back to normal in the coming days.

Finish the movie and/or movie trailer - RaJ noted that when I said I expect to have the trailer done "before the end of the calendar year," I did not specify which year. So really, I have until whenever we stop using calendars and years. Get off my back. Besides, like I said, I didn't spend much time on the computer.

Stay Healthy - I got sick right around Christmas day. I started feeling better yesterday, the day before I had to go back to work. It's no coincidence that the boy was sick just before Christmas. Those kids, man, they're great at sharing germs.

Relax - Being a grown-up is hard work. Oh and also, I had trouble relaxing because -- FOOTBALL DISCUSSION WARNING -- I've been all amped up waiting for the Penn State football game tonight! My prediction: Penn State 117, Florida State 3. Bowl game records will fall like Bush's popularity rating, like Paris Hilton's undies, like Enron stock, etc. Then, in a shocking move, both USC and Texas will forfeit tomorrow's championship game, and Penn State will be declared the national champion. JoePa will ride the success straight to the White House, where he will assume the role of President (make no mistake, he will continue to coach the Nittany Lions), and will eliminate taxes for all PSU alums. And he'll double triple taxes due from Ohio State alums and fans. Oh what a wonderful world it will be.

Posted by omar at 5:50 AM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

• Eat healthier - This has been a resolution of mine for 4 or 5 years now. I'm just including it for old time's sake. Oh, and also because I have a kid who stalks me like a ravenous wolf every time I have food in my hands. I need to set a good example.
• Exercise - Also a regular on Omar's list of resolutions, as well as the lists of millions of other soft-around-the-middle people. I can't wait for "soft-around-the-middle" to be cool so that I can finally end this charade. Wait, that's not the right attitude. Let me try again.
• Exercise - I want to feel better and be in better shape. (That was better, right?)
• Answer email more promptly - I think I have described this here before. I have a problem where I receive email and read it immediately, but I file it away and say "I'll reply later because I don't want to set a dangerous precedent of answering email too quickly." Then I never reply, and people get mad. So I'm going to work on that. Go ahead, send me an email after January 1. Prepare yourself for the blazing speed with which I will reply. (Note that this does not have anything to do with the quality of my replies, just the promptness of them.)
• Join an organized sports team - I'm not sure if I'll go back to soccer or hockey, but I need to do something. I guess this sort of falls under "Excersise," but not entirely. It's more than getting in shape, the competition is good for me also.
• Talk more - Ha ha, no, I'm just kidding. There will be no additional talking.
• Read more - That's pretty self-explanatory, really.
• Take more pictures - I've taken approximately 4600 photos so far in 2005, kept about 3000. I'm aiming to double that next year.
• Get better at making pies - See previous post.

Posted by omar at 9:00 AM | Read entire post | Comments (7)

If you remember my list of 100 things, which I'm sure you all do, #45 on that list mentions my fascination with the position of President of the United States.

In related news, I got to shake hands with Bill Clinton! I had previously never even seen a US President. I didn't even find out he was coming through my town until about 18 hours prior to his arrival. And frankly, I still don't even know why he was here.

There isn't really a great story around it, I just grabbed my camera, went to the building where he was giving his short speech, and walked in the lobby. The only noteworthy part is that when I left, a co-worker said, "Don't get yourself shot by Secret Service." Always good advice, thanks. I did initially get stopped by Secret Service agents when he was in the lobby of the building before his speech, but once the speech started, they let me walk right into the lobby (the speech itself was invite-only). Then I waited 45 minutes in the lobby for him to come out. Because I was there early, I got a spot along the perimeter of where they roped everyone off.

When he came out from his speech, he very graciously walked around, shook hands, and signed autographs. Had I realized he would sign stuff, I would have brought something. I had a pen, but no paper. Live and learn.

Anyway, it was a tremendously exciting afternoon. Regardless of political affiliation, this guy is one of only 43 people who has ever been President of the US. And it was fun to go, see him, and get a handshake.

I went home and told a buddy of mine. He quickly deflated my excitement by saying, "Congratulations! Now you're in that exclusive club with the 100 million others who have also shaken his hand." Jerk.

Click here for a few photos from the event.

Posted by omar at 6:49 AM | Read entire post | Comments (23)

I have this sweater. It's pretty nice, I'm wearing it right now. It's black with some earthy-toned stripes across the chest. I think it looks pretty good on me. Besides, it's one of only a handful of wear-to-work quality sweaters I have. One of the things that I'm most proud of, is that I got the sweater on clearance for $3.95. That's right. I said I'm proud of that.

The problem with my $3.95 black sweater is that there's what feels like a piece of broken glass on the inside of it, just under my ribcage. It stabs me as I walk. It scratches me as I turn. It's not a tag, not a sticker. It's not anything visible. It IS annoying as hell. I can't touch it with my fingers, apparently only the skin on my torso is affected by it. I've washed it. I've dried it. I've run it through a metal detector. The only thing preventing me from buying a microscope and inspecting its every last fiber, is that the cost of the microscope would more than offset the cost savings of having purchased a cheap an inexpensive sweater.

But with the $3.95 price tag and its slimming qualities, I can't bring myself to get rid of it.

Posted by omar at 9:56 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

At the grocery store, we bought some of these for the boy:

It's just dried pieces of apple. After we got home, the package was sitting on our counter. I was doing something completely unrelated when I noticed this on the back (this photo is Photoshop-free):

I guess they're not for the boy after all. Just as well, they're pretty tasty.

Posted by omar at 10:24 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

I have, once again, strained my rhomboid on the right side of my back. Anyone who has had back pain knows that it is not easy to get comfortable. If you hurt your finger, you stop using that finger. How do you stop using your back while still carrying on with your normal life? That's right. You don't.

The first time I strained it, I was playing hockey. I quickly stretched my arm across my body trying to get my stick in the way of an opponent's pass, and it felt like I had gotten stabbed towards the inside part of my shoulder blade. It hurt like hell, I was prescribed muscle relaxants, and I didn't do much for the next couple of weeks.

The second time, it happened while I was playing basketball, reaching up for a rebound. It was much less severe this time. It hurt initially, but remained only in the "uncomfortable" category for a week or so.

Yesterday, it happened while I was on the toilet reaching across my body for some toilet paper.

I think I need to start going back to the gym.

Posted by omar at 12:29 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

Though I'm late for the Black Friday shoppers, here is the short version of the official omarphillips.net Holiday Buying Guide for People Named Omar Phillips. Enjoy, and happy shopping!

Nikon 300mm f/2.8D ED-IF II AF-S lens
estimated retail price: $4200

Sony HDR-HC1 High-Definition Video Camera
estimated retail price: $2000

Quad 2.5GHz Powermac G5
estimated retail price: $3299

60GB iPod
estimated retail price: $399

"I'm Blogging This" t-shirt
estimated retail price: $20

Posted by omar at 12:23 PM | Read entire post | Comments (23)

I know it's been a few days, but I've been busy playing with all the new toys the boy got for his birthday. Seriously, I can't believe some of this stuff exists. Like this. The "Busy Ball Popper" from Playskool. Where the hell was that 27 years ago? Not in my house, that's where.

The quick summary is that balls go down in this tube, then a fan blows them up so that they "pop" out of the top. Brilliant. Ages 9 monts and up? Yeah, up to infinity! I'm 28 and I've played with it more than he has. Did I mention that the balls just shoot up in the air? Seriously, go get one of these things.

My other favorite, also from Playskool, is the Cushy Cruisin' Police Car. The description on the site says:

Soft, realistic-looking car makes different vehicle and crash sounds when its license plate is pressed or bumped!

So anyway, I'm going back to making crash sounds with cop cars and popping balls using the busy ball popper. Coming up next, info on the omarphillips.net 2000th comment contest.

Posted by omar at 6:29 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

I was a superstar athlete. I could leg press more than twice my bodyweight. I've fathered a child. I have hair in my armpits, and even some on my chest. I like mowing lawns. I like gadgets and remote controls. When I cry, which only ever happens when I sense that somebody has spilled beer* or thrown away a piece of pizza, I don't cry normal salt water tears. Pure testosterone drips from my eyes.

In spite of all this, my manliness was questioned this morning, when I revealed that I had never eaten beef jerky.

No wait, let me clarify. I thought I had eaten beef jerky, but apparently, Slim-Jims don't count. That's like "saying you can dance because you can do the Electric Slide."

Well I'll be damned if I was going let this reputation hang over my head. So after work, I picked up the boy, and went to the store. I went to the beef jerky section, and I looked long and hard at the choices. I finally decided on Pemmican, mainly because of the manly looking Native American fellow on the bag. And because it was the farthest in the section away from the Slim-Jims. I grabbed a big bag for me, and then grabbed a little bag for the boy. I'm trying to raise him to be a man, after all. On my way to the registers, I laughed at a guy buying a Slim-Jim. "They don't sell bras here, pal," I said. Then I high-fived my boy and moved on.

I didn't want to waste any time, so I started eating some as soon as I got in the car. By the time I got home, I finished chewing that first piece. I can't lie, it wasn't bad. Beef jerky flavor was overwhelming my mouth. But the best part wasn't the taste. The best part was that I could feel my facial hair growing with each chew. I had already given the boy some of his too, and I could already see the difference in him. His voice was a little deeper when he said "daddy," and he scratched his crotch. Atta boy.

So while those guys might have been right about the effects of jerky, my new extra manliness won't allow me to admit it to their faces. In fact, I dare them to question my manliness again, particularly now that I have a goatee. Now pardon me, I'm off to the strip club.

Posted by omar at 8:54 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

1998:

8:00 pm, phone rings:
Me: Hello?
Friend: Hey man, what are you up to tonight?
Me: I was thinking about going to so & so's party, but I wasn't going to leave until 10:30 or 11, nobody will be there before then.
Friend: Cool. Madden until then?
Me: No doubt, I'll be there in a few.

later on that night
Friend: Dude, it's 1:30. I don't feel like going to so & so's party anymore.
Me: Me neither. Wanna go grab some pizza or something?
Friend: After this game, yeah.
Me: Loser buys.
Friend: Unless I lose this one, then we're playing best of three.

2005:

8:00 pm, phone rings
Me: Who the hell is calling here so late?

Posted by omar at 8:51 PM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

Every once in a while, when the jackpot is high enough for my standards, I'll spend a couple of bucks on the lottery.

One sentence in, and I'm already going to go off on a tangent. I get very tired of hearing people say that you shouldn't play the lotto because the odds are bad. Of course the odds are bad! I'm betting $1 for the chance to win $10 million or more! Find me a scenario where I can spend so little money to get the chance to win so much that has good odds. Throughout my lotto-playing life, I've probably spent about $50 on the lottery, and I've probably won back about $20. I've done worse than that in 20 minutes at a casino.

OK, back to my story. Last week, I thought I'd give MegaMillions a try. The jackpot was high, and I was feeling lucky. I went into a lucky 7-Eleven, walked up to the counter, and began filling out my ticket. After waiting for the guy in front of me to pay for his 10 lotto tickets and handful of scratch-off lotto games, I gave the cashier the ticket and my two dollars. She gave me back my official ticket, reached under the counter, handed me a small pouch and then said, "Here, you can have one of these pouches to keep your tickets so that you can always keep everything together."

I've seen these pouches before, but never in the possession of someone under the age of 60. Still, I'm a practical person, and it seemed like a good idea. Where are my lotto tickets? Oh of course, they're in the lotto ticket pouch!

Then on the back of the pouch, I saw the large text reading "Gambling problem? We can help."

Does this lady think I have a gambling problem? Mr. 10 lotto ticket guy in front of me didn't have a pouch, didn't she think he would benefit from one?

"I... um... I don't play the lotto all that often, but who could resist with the size of that jackpot, you know?" I joked with an uncomfortable smile.

"Oh, I understand," she replied. Her eyes though, they were saying, "Call the hotline, you degenerate."

I didn't like her tone. Hopefully she's not working tomorrow or Friday, because I want to buy a MegaMillions ticket. The jackpot is $77 million!

Posted by omar at 6:08 AM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

Generally speaking, I'm a coffee hater. There are a handful of Starbucks locations nearby, I've never stepped foot in any of them. I don't hate coffee drinkers, you all are great. Love ya, don't ever change. But as one who thinks coffee tastes disgusting and avoids socialization like the plague*, coffee shops do nothing for me. Besides, while caffeine doesn't bother me, I had always taken the stance that if I was that tired that I needed assistance to be kept awake, then I should be sleeping.

Then last year (coincidentally, around the time my kid was born), I really found out what it meant to be tired. Suddenly, a little boost of caffeine didn't sound like such a bad idea. So I went to the coffee shop at my workplace. I tried to find something that didn't taste like coffee, but would still give me the needed boost. The problem was, everything in the coffee shop tasted and smelled like coffee. So I found my drug of choice in the nearby vending machine: almond amaretto cappuccino. (I'm sensing the collective cringe of real coffee drinkers everywhere when they read "vending machine.")

Not too long ago, the vending machine inexplicably decided to stop vending properly, so I got out of the habit of drinking them. It forced me to find a new favorite, french vanilla cappuccino from the cafeteria. It wasn't as good, but it still didn't taste like coffee, so it was A-OK with me.

On Monday, I noticed that the "French Vanilla" label was replaced with a label that said "Pumpkin." I wasn't actually there for cappuccino at the time, so I didn't give it much thought. I just thought it was a mistake. Well, this morning, I went back. And it still said "Pumpkin." So for giggles, I ordered pumpkin cappuccino. It was fantastic.

While "pumpkin cappucino" may not be a big deal to coffee shop regulars, make no mistake that the mere existence of such a beverage boggles my mind. And the fact that it both exists AND tastes good just about rocked my world. If pumpkins and cappuccino can get together and make such a tasty tasty beverage, it makes me think there's hope for this crazy world.

---
* I've never actually had instance to avoid the plague, so this is just speculation. I avoid socialization just like I would imagine that I would avoid the plague.

Posted by omar at 12:02 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

A few years back, I went out to play some golf with three buddies. One of them owed me a round, so he went in the clubhouse to pay for me while I was getting my stuff together. I walked past the clubhouse and went straight to the practice green. My buddy came out of the clubhouse chuckling.

"The guy inside thinks you're Tiger Woods," he said. "I'm not sure if it's because you didn't come in the clubhouse or because you're a black guy with a hat on at a golf course."

"Probably both. Or maybe it's because of my skills." Immediately after I said that, I hit a chip shot to a hole probably 30 or 40 feet away. The ball trickled up to the hole and dropped in the cup. Seconds later, this crazy man with a heavy Australian accent came bursting out of the clubhouse.

As he ran over to the practice green, he screamed, "YOU ARE TIGER WOODS, AREN'T YOU?!?!"

There are several notable things here. First, you don't scream at a golf course. Particularly if you work there, and particularly if you are near where people are playing. We were right near the first tee and 18th green, and there were groups playing on both. Second, I do not like to have all eyes on me. I am not comfortable being the focus of people's visual attention. I would make a lousy stage actor. Third, and most importantly, I am not Tiger Woods. I don't look like Tiger Woods. I'm not rich like Tiger Woods. I certainly don't golf like Tiger Woods.

After he got close enough and was assured that I am not Tiger Woods (and after my friends stopped rolling in laughter), we went on our way.

Fast forward one year.

My dad and I were in Florida (in the Ocala area, Tiger lives somewhere near Orlando) visiting some relatives. And playing some golf. My dad and I are playing along, and there is an older couple behind us. They were following uncomfortably closely for a golf course, but we didn't say anything. As we were waiting to hit on one tee, the old couple drove right up to us (without finishing the previous hole). The lady got right up in my face, and stared at me for a few seconds.

"Are you Tiger Woods?"

"No, no I'm not."

"Are you sure? You look like him."

"Quite sure, yes."

"...OK then..." And she slowly went back to her cart.

Fast forward to this past weekend. I finally got out to play some golf for the first time since the week of July 4th. I was on the 10th tee about to tee off. I hear a guy on the practice green say to someone else, "Hey, that guy kind of looks like Tiger."

I proceeded to hit a low, screaming 3-wood shot out of bounds left, by at least 60 yards.

"Nope, it's not him," the other guy replied.

Hearing that was strangely refreshing.

Posted by omar at 12:03 PM | Read entire post | Comments (25)

Way back on August 5th, I told the thrilling story of how I went running after finally deciding to try to lose some weight (NOT for my 10 year reunion).

Since that day, I've quietly gone out running all but two nights. Before, it was dramatic in the "I'm about to die" kind of way. Now though, it's a different kind of drama. I'll be running, and people will suddenly start joining along (just like in Forrest Gump), I make up slogans, whatever. We even broke into song the other night, with a dead-on version of "We Are the World". It's been good, and generally pain free. The pounds are melting off like the way the scoop of ice cream melts off the top of Applebee's Sizzling Apple Pie --

No, that's a bad example. It's more like the way the butter melts off that stack of fresh pancakes at IHOP. Yeah, it's like that.

Needless to say, I've had to make some dietary changes as well. While I'm still lacking when it comes to my daily servings of fruits and veggies, the sugary and fatty snacks have been axed from my diet. In fact, most snacking in general has been cut. Cut just like a big piece of cherry pie, with light, flaky crust and a scoop of Cool Whip on top.

So keep an eye out for me, I may just not stop running one night and pass through your town (I was so tempted to say "pass through like lactose through my intestines," but I thought it would be in poor taste). I'll wear an omarphillips.net shirt to be recognizable.

And if you're going to join along, just make sure you know the words to "I'd Like To Teach the World To Sing," because I'm a little tired of "We Are the World." Or bring pastries. We can symbolically "cut" them out of our diets. Then eat them.

Posted by omar at 10:22 PM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

It has been very dry and very warm this summer. As a result, I haven't done a lot of mowing of the lawn, because it hasn't needed it. Particularly the back yard, which already plays second fiddle to the front.

Recently though, the back yard has been in bad shape. It needed to be cut. Even the vole, who has been quiet for several weeks (and hasn't left me a note since May 11th), left me a note on my car that said "Say man, that backyard? You need to cut that sh%#."

So I went out after work to take care of it. I was doing pretty poorly with the step count today anyway, so I figured mowing would help. I wheel the mower out to the front, and I give the starting cord pull thing a tug to start the mower. As usual, my trusty Toro started on the first try. The unusual part, however, was that the cord remained in my hand. Yes, the pull cord broke. So there I was, hand on the dead man's switch, with the mower running. I knew that if it stopped, I wouldn't be able to start it again.

I stood there, terrified that my hand would slip, or that the mower would run out of gas. I had horrible thoughts of being stuck with a half-mowed lawn and a mower I can't start. So I did the only thing I could. I mowed. I mowed the back yard. Then the front. Scared of stopping, I mowed my way up by the open front door.

As I mowed past the door, I yelled, "Wife! I need your help!"

She came running to the door. "What's the matter?!"

Still mowing, "I can't stop the mower!"

"WHAT?"

"I CAN'T STOP THE MOWER, THE PULL CORD TO START IT BROKE. IF I STOP IT, I WON'T BE ABLE TO START IT AGAIN!"

"STOP WALKING FOR A MINUTE! STANDING STILL WON'T MAKE THE MOWER TURN OFF."

Oh yeah. She's right. I stop walking. "I NEED THE GAS CAN FROM THE GARAGE, BUT I DON'T WANT TO BRING THE RUNNING MOWER IN THERE."

"YOU'VE MOWED THE ENTIRE LAWN. WHY DO YOU NEED MORE GAS?"

"I TOLD YOU, THE MOWER CAN'T STOP, BECAUSE THEN WE CAN'T START IT. I'M GOING TO KEEP MOWING UNTIL I HAVE A PLAN TO GET IT FIXED. I WAS THINKING THAT--"

"I'M GOING BACK INSIDE NOW," she said.

Carefully, I kept one hand on the switch while adjusting each of the wheel heights, lowering the mower (kids, do not try this at home). I went back to the backyard, and started over. It was like the movie Speed, except take away the flying bus, lame ass plot, and Keanu Reeves, and add a hot, married, tech support guy who loves his lawn. I knew that the moment I stopped, the mower would be officially broken.

I got about five minutes in when the mosquitoes came out. There was one SOB that kept buzzing around my head. I carefully watched him, then CLAP. Got him, the little bastard. As quickly as I reacted to get the bug, I realized that I let go of the dead man's switch. The mower stopped, seemingly in slow motion. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

As I sit writing this now, my mower is sitting in the garage, unable to be started. It's like a car with no engine. A computer with no electricity. A TV with no picture tube. It's a sad day in the life of me.

Posted by omar at 8:31 PM | Read entire post | Comments (31)

I'm sitting playing Madden, still wearing the stepometer on my hip that I mentioned a few posts ago. Then, I had an itch on one side of my butt. So I leaned to the side and scratched in between plays. In doing so, I happened to shake the stepometer enough to add about 5 "steps" to yesterday's count.

Suddenly, 10,000 per day seems much more reachable.

Posted by omar at 9:45 AM | Read entire post | Comments (6)

I'm sorry, what's that last thing you said? You didn't have all my attention, because I was playing:

I made the purchase yesterday, and I intend to play gobs and gobs of it over the next several days. The effects of this annual purchase typically do not wear off for several months. Some of you understand (high five, Jon!). Others, just know that playing Madden is like injecting a shot of happiness directly in my veins. And the cost of decreased hygiene and damaged social skills is totally worth it to me.

In an effort to head off any potential questions or concerns from the blog community, please refer to the list of questions and answers below:

Does this mean you won't be blogging or commenting at all over the next few days?
There's not enough computer time per day for me to blog AND play Madden. And don't ask me to choose unless you're prepared to hear the answer. I'll blog when my thumb needs a break, and on lunch breaks at work.

Your Blogger profile says you're 28. Shouldn't you have kicked the video game habit like 10 years ago?
Shouldn't your mom have told you not to go outside with your face looking like that? (Hopefully that taught you a lesson about why you shouldn't equate maturity to age. Besides, Madden is really the only game I play. And play it I shall, in spite of your misguided notion that video games are for kids.)

How are you going to continue to be a "Father of the Year" award candidate and great husband if you're intending to play so much Madden?
Life is all about making sacrifices. Of course I will not be sacrificing time with my child or with my wife. But sleep? Showering? Shaving? Eating? All expendable.

Of course I don't want any of you to forget about me or stop coming by, so I'll leave you with part 1 of this quick story. One time, I was out skinny-dipping, and... (to be continued).

Posted by omar at 6:26 AM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

...omarphillips.net hits
One would think that being the techno stat-conscious geek that I often claim to be, that I would have an accurate count as to the amount of hits received at omarphillips.net. One would be mistaken. I have the hit counter on the sidebar of the main page. That has been counting page loads since day one, and it was 100% accurate up until the day I switched to Movable Type. By my own oversight, I only included the hit counter on the main page, not each actual page on the site.

I also have StatCounter tracking hits to the site. I didn't start using that until a month or so after the site was up, but it has accurately counted every hit since then, even after the switch to MT.

So I have one that was accurate until last month, and one that has been accurate since the second month. While the one on the main page still shows less than 8900 hits, StatCounter shows that I now have just over 10,300. I feel a little embarrassed that I let this slip-up happen, almost like I cheated my readers out of reading yet another post where I pat myself on the back while celebrating a meaningless milestone. So sorry about that. And since I don't know who the 10,000th visitor was, I spent the money I had set away for a prize at the race track. I really felt good about that 20-1 longshot, and I don't know what went wrong. But at least we have our health, right? Here's to the next 10,000.

...steps
Last year, McDonald's was making those "adult happy meals" that came with one of those little doohickies that you clip to your belt and they tell you how many steps you've taken. It's not a pedometer, because it doesn't calculate distance. Stepometer or something? Whatever. In any case, I found one. So I started wearing it and aiming for 10,000 steps daily. For the first three days, my efforts were downright poor. I don't think I topped 5,000 on any day. Saturday was a different story. I was helping a friend move, so I thought with all the trips to and from the moving truck, I'd have 10,000 by lunch. I didn't. But I did have about 7,700 by 3pm, and I figured I was a lock for 10k.

Long story short, I realized how tired I was after I got out of the shower. By 10pm when I was ready to crash, the counter read 9,879. I mustered up enough energy to make an unnecessary trip to the bathroom and downstairs for a glass of water. By the time I could walk no more, it read 9,923. 77 steps short. So I'm telling myself that I must have taken at least that many steps in the morning before I was dressed and during the shower time. And to celebrate the 10,000 steps that I'm quite sure I must have taken, I went back to the race track. I don't want to talk about the results though.

But seriously, they say to aim for 10,000 every day? How bout every week? I think I could handle that.

Posted by omar at 6:09 AM | Read entire post | Comments (8)

Prepare yourselves, readers. Omar's back. The germ killing monkeys (not related to the infamous "little yellow monkey" from over at RaJ's) have done their jobs. In fact, I'm feeling so good, I'm thinking I have another one of those waves of blog creativity coming on, like that week when the world was introduced to AV-wear and the original omarphillips.net MadLibs. I'm not going to say too much, I'm just going to subtly recommend that you keep extra underwear nearby.

For those readers who incurred any medical expenses as a direct result of my absence, please accept my most sincere apologies, along with these free gifts:

----
I also wanted to catch up on a few items; most notably, the "poop poll" from last week. I was told during conversation that most people poop in the morning. I had never heard such a thing! I, for one, poop when I have to poop. Time of day be damned. I figured it was one of those nonsense notions that are passed down through the generations. "Grandma says if you poop in the evenings, god's not going to let you into heaven!" But the statistically innacurate poll results showed that I was wrong. People really do go #2 in the mornings. Say it ain't so, grandma! All the good things I've tried to do in my life, and that's why I'm going to hell?

The facial hair poll was self-serving. I often like facial hair, but I lack the ability to grow enough of it to look good. So I tell myself that most people don't like it, as if that's the reason why I don't do it. Thanks for helping me feel good about myself.

Posted by omar at 12:25 PM | Read entire post | Comments (8)

Growing up, I was like Bruce Willis in Unbreakable. Germs would come at me, but then they'd hit my concrete/steel/barbed wire fortress of an immune system, which was guarded by the most intelligent of monkeys that were armed with germ-killing rifles. I didn't get sick.

These days? Not so. As expected, I woke up with a scratchy throat and the sniffles. And when I'm sick, I am very easily annoyed. For example, the weather here this summer has been consistently hot. Always between 85 and 95, always humid. We're on day 40 of this heat wave. Yet every morning, the weatherman says "temps will be above normal tomorrow, highs of 87-90." I know what he means, last summer we didn't have a single 90 degree day. But dammit, if the past 40 days have been 90 degrees, I don't want to hear that 90 degrees on day 41 is "above normal." It doesn't get any more damn normal, it's the same every day! I hate you, weatherman!

There are several other examples of things annoying me right now, but most are unbloggable*. And on top of being annoyed, I'm bummed out about Peter Jennings. When I was young, my parents had local news on at 6, and ABC's World News Tonight on at 6:30. I didn't even know there were other anchors on other channels. Peter was THE source of news to my house. Though I haven't watched in a little while (I find it too depressing and sensationalistic lately), it's sad that he died.

So rather than infect you all with my bummed-outedness* and annoyedness*, I'm going to stop here. The entire point of posting today was to generate some buzz about a couple of new quizzes I have in the works.

Prepare for low scores and a metaphorical kick to the crotch of your self esteem! Yeah!

---
* - I also occasionally make up words to fit my needs when I'm sick.

Posted by omar at 12:18 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

Every once in a while, I get the urge to go for a run. More often than not, I'll talk myself out of it first. Today though, I have been feeling particularly bad about myself, and I've been doing some more thinking about how I want to present myself if we choose to go to the 10 year reunion in November. Plus, to the chagrin of my dietitian, I ate very poorly today.

So I get on appropriate running clothes, my new headband (from the 80's party), and I take off. I decided on a 2.2 mile route, a round trip the local elementary/grade/grammar school.

Mile 0.25 - I realize I'm going a little faster than I can sustain, so I bring it down a notch.

Mile 0.5 - I'm still feeling pretty good! I say hello to someone who is passing by walking their dog.

Mile 0.75 - It was dark, so I didn't notice it starting to get cloudy. A slight drizzle began to fall. I was starting to tire, and my breathing was no longer in a nice rhythm.

Mile 1.0 - The school is in sight. The rain is picking up (of course, as I am at the furthest point from home in my run). I'm seriously considering stopping to walk at this point, but I also have incentive to get home faster, because of the rain. I get my second wind.

Important Note: I'm pretty sure it's a bad sign when you get your second wind before you're halfway done.

Mile 1.5 - Pass young couple walking. Consider asking them to call my wife to pick me up. After realizing that my wife can't leave while the boy's in bed, I consider asking them if I can crash at their place.

Mile 1.75 - I begin to bite my finger, in hopes of drawing enough blood to write out a makeshift will on my shirt. I get as far as "I, Omar Phillips, of sound mind and" before I realize I can see the streetlight at the corner of my street. For about 20 seconds, I run pretty hard with the end in sight.

Mile 2.0 - I could see the light almost a quarter mile ago, but it doesn't really seem any closer yet. Though I'm breathing pretty hard by this point, the run is being made easier by the fact that I can't really feel my legs anymore. The rain has stopped. Mother nature, why do you hate me? I see my in-shape running neighbor heading my way. I perk up and pretend like I have enough control of my body to say "hello" without sounding like I'm about to die. I decide against it and wave instead.

As I walk back in my house, I go straight to the kitchen for several glasses of water. Being a big sweaty mess, I know I can't sit on the couch, bed, or even floor to recover. So I head for the shower.

I pass my wife. She asks, "What's that on your shirt?"

"um... nothing."

Posted by omar at 5:59 AM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

Though LL and one of the guys from Run-DMC were on the top of my list of people to be for the 80's party, I found that I couldn't do either (or anything truly identifiable, really) within my current budget constraints. So instead of going for a specific person, I cheaped out and went as a generic 80's-looking b-boy. It involved a white headband, this sweatsuit (with one pant leg pulled up):

this shirt, these glasses, and (my favorite) this ring:

I don't know if the size of the glasses comes across well in this picture. Rest assured, they're big. I was worried initially that it was kind of a "cop out" costume, but once I had it on, I realized how fly I looked. I was Boogaloo Shrimp from Breakin', minus the hair. The costume was better than most. There was a group that came as the crew of the Love Boat (minus Isaac!), two separate pairs of blues brothers, Marty McFly, Jem!, a lot of big hair, and some pants that were just a bit too tight.

The big winner was a guy who said he was coming as David Lee Roth, but he looked more like Stephen Tyler. He had orange spandex pants, with zebra print fabric flaring out below the knees. Along with those, he was wearing an open leather vest (no shirt underneath), with a big 80's rocker wig. Best quote of the night (also best disturbingly appropriate pun): "That guy's got balls, wearing something like that out in public." He did indeed, and his spandex pants made sure we all knew it.

In all, it was a good time, though I did skip out kind of early. I'm old, you know. To prove how old and boring I am, you know what the highlight of my weekend was? I changed the air filter and spark plug on my lawn mower, and now the fuel efficiency is good enough to let me mow the front and back without refueling. I felt like I was stickin' it to the man. I'd shake my fist as I was mowing, and say to nobody in particular, "I don't need your gas!" Good times.

Posted by omar at 10:15 PM | Read entire post | Comments (24)

About 13 or 14 years ago, I got my braces removed. My teeth looked spectacular. I don't remember much about the day I got them removed, other than it was the first day I noticed that my jaw had an audible click when I opened my mouth wide. I'm convinced something done that day caused this click. It's not painful, but it is annoying. And it never went away.

Fast forward to last week, when I went to Panera Bread for lunch. I had a tasty Frontega Chicken sandwich and a french toast bagel. As I was chewing the bagel, my jaw started to get a little fatigued, and had a feeling that was just shy of something I would classify as pain. I opened wide to stretch out my mouth, then closed. Hm. I did it again. Immediately, I noticed that my jaw was not clicking. Understand that this is something that had been part of my everyday life for around 14 years, and suddenly it disappeared halfway through a french toast bagel.

I spent the next couple of hours opening and closing my mouth, thinking that it was too good to be true. But it wasn't. Well, it was good, but not too good. No wait, it was too good, but not too good to be true. Right. Over the next several days, my mind was racing about possible medicinal uses for this newly dubbed "miracle bagel." I could storm into Panera and say, "Panera, I want as many french toast bagels as you can make!" I'd take them to my tank in the parking lot and individually wrap them in zip-lock bags to lock in the freshness. Then I'd travel around NY, visiting hospitals and nursing homes, donating the miracle healing bagels. In fact, why stop at NY? I could make it a crusade, travel all over the US, then to Canada and Mexico (I apologize to those overseas, but I'm traveling by tank and cannot possibly get to where you are). I had my route all mapped out and everything.

Then, this morning, I was flossing my teeth. As I opened wide to get between my teeth in the back of my mouth, I felt an all to familiar CLICK.

It's just as well, I don't really like to travel anyway.

Posted by omar at 6:48 AM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

5 months to go until my 10 year high school reunion.

Let me start off by saying that the official decision to go or not go has not yet been made. We've changed our minds a few times already, and we're bound to do so several more times before the event arrives.

Every time I ask someone about their 10 year reunion, the response is either that they didn't go, or that they won't go. Why is it such a dreaded event? Well, since nobody has been able to say anything to the contrary, I'm still working under the assumption that these reunions are fun-filled events with dancing leprechauns who give out beer* and gold. So I'm going to make this bold statement now: I am going to my reunion.

Unless, that is, I don't complete everything on my reunion to-do list (completed items striken)

• Find intelligent hot chick, make her my wife


• Impregnate said wife, produce beautiful child


• Own or legally gain access to an unreasonably large and/or expensive vehicle


• Earn/find in excess of $1,000,000 American dollars in any consecutive 12 month period


• Take the fashion world by storm


• Travel to all 50 states


• Turn down a job offer that I would be crazy for not taking, because I want to "explore my options."


• High five Tiger Woods


• Start a line of lingerie


• Create a video game


• Win an Oscar/Golden Globe/Emmy/Grammy/MTV Music or Movive award


• Lose all the weight I've gained since high school, plus about 10 pounds


• Buy nice house


• Buy another house, nicer and close to a beach


• Get one of my photos published in Sports Illustrated

----
* I don't even drink. But dancing leprechauns? Gold? Try and keep me away.

Posted by omar at 6:35 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

So, I finally decided that the repeated 90 degree high-humidity days were too much for me, and I cut off the 'fro. That's six months of hair in that sink.

Important Note: Yes, that big pile of hair in the sink is disgusting, and it adds nothing to this post. I took the picture because it's a lot of hair (for me), and I didn't want to regret not taking it at some later date. My motto is that it's always better to take a picture that you'll never look at than to wish you took a picture. When I got out the camera, my wife said, "Why are you taking a picture? I had better not see that on the internet tomorrow." I love you honey!

The reaction from those who saw me in person was a bit surprising. It's as if I didn't look like this (with no hair) for the previous 7 years! Nobody was shocked when I grew hair, which I contend was more out of character. Six months with some hair, then suddenly everyone's surprised when I cut it? Hopefully, that doesn't mean that I'm becoming too predictable.

HAIRY POOPY MONKEY BUTTS!!

Didn't see that coming? Good. I've still got my edge.

Even the boy didn't seem to recognize me at first when he saw me today. His eyes were fixated on the top of my head when I came home to greet him. In his defense, he probably doesn't remember 6 months ago when I last looked like this.

The one downside of this is with regards to an 80's themed party I'm going to later this month. I was secretly planning on waiting until then to cut my hair, because I was going to surprise everybody by cutting it into a mohawk and showing up to the party as Mr. T. It would have been classic. Ultimately though, one fun night doesn't outweigh the few weeks more of uncomfortable, high-maintenance afro.

Along those same lines, if anyone has any suggestions of easily identifiable people from the 80's that I could dress up as for this party, let me know. Athletes, TV stars, movie stars, etc. Anything. The only restriction is that it must be a man. I'm not looking to cross dress. It would be more believable if it is a brown skinned man, but I'll consider going outside of that restriction for comedic value.

Posted by omar at 8:22 PM | Read entire post | Comments (23)

Now that my vacation has ended, I'd like to take a moment to reflect on it. The following is a list, in no particular order, of things I did or learned on my summer vacation.

• A kick in the crotch is a kick in the crotch, even when the kick is from the foot of an infant.


• Metaphorically speaking, let's say there was a swimming pool, and the pool was named "Shape." In high school, I was in it. During college, I was sitting on the deck with just my feet hanging in. Now, I'm so far out of the pool, I'm like two houses down from it, indoors on the couch, watching TV with potato chip crumbs on my shirt.


• I apparently can't go a week without checking my work email.


• I apparently can't go 5 minutes without checking my personal email.


• My hatred for bugs increases with age.


• Topsoil "with organic compost" is a farce. They just add the occasional piece of wood and slap a higher price tag on it. Quite literally, I could poop in a bag of regular topsoil and it would be better AND cheaper.


• Which reminds me, can anyone help me out next weekend with some yard work? I've got to put a bunch of topsoil along the foundation of the house.


• Five days is not long enough for me to grow a good vacation beard.


• Don't make prank calls to people who have caller ID.
  John: "Help Desk, this is John. Can I help you?"
  Me: "Yeah, John, is your refrigerator running?"
  John: "Omar, we can read your name on the phone display here, so I know - "
  Me: "Better go catch it! WRK IS FOR SUCKERS!" (click)


• Being on vacation makes me feel like it's OK to spend money, even though it really isn't. I did a lot of shopping this week.


• Television shows named "Cleavage" are not as good as you might think.


• Golf related items
  

  Important Note: I understand that people may not care so much about golf, but it's a big deal to me that I finally got the opportunity to play this week. So while you may not care about some of these, keep an open mind. Besides, some of these, while they seem golf-specific, can be applied to everyone by making subtle changes. For example, say I said "My 7-iron is not the right club from 150 yards or closer." Substitute "body" for "7-iron," and take out "not the right club from 150 yards or closer" and put in "too bootylicious for you, baby." Those two little changes allow non-golfers to relate.

  
  
  • Regarding the beginning of the golf season, beginner's luck only lasts for 27 holes. I played the first 27 holes 23 shots over par. I played the last 9 holes 20 shots over par.
  
  
  • If you've been hooking the ball all day, don't aim at the pond on the right expecting to hook it back into the fairway. Never aim at trouble.
  
  
  • I drove the front fringe on a 324 yard par 4 (downhill and down wind). While I felt like He-Man, it didn't help my score. It took me three shots to go the remaining 25 feet, and I came away with a par.
  
  
  • My 1500cc titanium aluminum plutonium magnesium copper cadmium brass gold platinum gallium driver (with a graphite shaft), as sexy as it is, never got taken out of the bag. 3-woods are where it's at.
  
  
  • Black guys can't wear red shirts on the golf course anymore. Thanks a lot, Tiger.
  
  
  • But Tiger, if you're reading this, I love you!

Posted by omar at 6:29 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

Free omarphillips.net lawn care tip of the day:
If it hasn't rained in a while, you need to make sure your lawn is getting at least 1" of water per week. If your local water authority tells you that you should conserve as a result of drought conditions, cut back on showering so that you can make sure your lawn is getting at least 1" of water per week (or, for those resourceful people, you could combine the shower and the lawn-watering, just make sure the soap isn't concentrated in one area of the lawn. move around periodically while you're doing it).

I do free individual lawn care consultations, but I will charge you for any associated travel costs.

Posted by omar at 2:12 PM | Read entire post | Comments (16)

That's not a typo in the title, folks. This week, there is no O in work. That's because the O is on vacation. Dress codes and proper hygiene be damned. Out with the khakis and hair combing, in with the gym shorts and vacation beard.

I'm not going anywhere either. I'll be playing dad in the mornings, and playing sloth in the afternoons. I'll be watching The Young and the Restless daily. I'm not ashamed. I plan on doing some yardwork, coming inside, laying on the floor in my underwear while watching TV, with a can of Pepsi Lime and a bag of Sunchips strategically placed nearby, as to avoid unnecessary movement. I plan on playing at least 36 holes of golf. I'm going to do so much blog commenting this week, you all are going to get sick of me and the vole animations. I plan on making it through my entire iTunes playlist. Finally, I am going to prank call my job several times, ending each call with a loud:

"WRK IS FOR SUCKERS!" (click)

I love vacations.

Posted by omar at 9:02 AM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

WARNING: This post is rated NF - Not Funny.

So yeah, sorry about the past couple of days. I've gotta remember that before being a blogger, I'm a husband, father, and employee (and some other stuff). Though I'm not ashamed of anything I've posted on this site, I still have to be very conscious at all times about the content on it (not just referring to explicit content either). Mainly because the site is associated with my name. I have said a few times how I didn't intend for this site to be used as a blog, and if I had, that I would have picked a different site name. Maybe I don't really mean that anymore though. I like what I've got going here. People I know in real life who read this site now have a different perspective of me (behind that illiterate guy who doesn't talk, there's a sense of humor!). And those who don't really know me, I feel like you guys ONLY see the side of me that I wish would come out more in real life! And everyone else aside, doing this site is fun for me.

I just have to keep in mind that there are some things I can't say here, because it's not just about me.

So in short, I spent the last two days moving everything from this site over to a blogspot.com address, and then deciding that I don't really want to use it. omarphillips.net is where it's at (expect to see that on a t-shirt some day).

Enough of this crap. Back to the fun. I've got some post ideas I've been sitting on for 2 WHOLE DAYS.

Oh, and thanks to the 30 of you who voted. That's the fastest poll response we've ever gotten here. Now I know that next time I need to ask a pressing poll question, I should take the rest of the site down :)

Posted by omar at 5:43 AM | Read entire post | Comments (0)

New quiz on the sidebar. This one has a much more positive tone, and I hope it goes better for everyone than quiz 3 did (same topic). No curve this time, but I don't expect many will fail this one.

If you do... I don't even know what to say to you.

(Note - this quiz has been removed for the time being. Just feel good about yourself knowing that you probably would have passed)

Posted by omar at 7:36 PM | Read entire post | Comments (8)

This is (or at least, better be) the last post regarding my current television. I sincerely thank you all for your care and concern over the past four weeks.

--
* - #12 on the OFI quotes list
** - #22 on the OFI list, paraphrased

Posted by omar at 1:25 PM | Read entire post | Comments (9)

But Omar, haven't you said that you don't see a lot of movies? How are you qualified to --
Let me stop you right there. Do you think the AFI has seen every movie that was ever made? Me neither. I have made two myself, and I'm quite sure they've never seen either one. Who's to say who's qualified? I'll go so far as to call myself a subject matter expert. Are you saying I'm not? That's what I thought.

10) "You got to be a stupid mother (*edited*) to get fired on your day off." - Chris Tucker as Smokey in Friday

9) "I wanna shoot you so bad, my (*edited*)'s hard." - Ice-T as Scotty Appleton in New Jack City

8) "Billy, listen to me. White men can't jump." - Wesley Snipes as Sidney Deane in White Men Can't Jump

7) "Schwartz created a slight breach of etiquette by skipping the triple dare and going right for the throat." - Jean Shepherd as the narrator in A Christmas Story, after Schwartz issued the "triple-dog dare."

6) "I know." Harrison Ford as Han Solo in The Empire Strikes Back in response to Princess Leia's "I love you."

5) "The mother (*edited*) who said that never had to pick up itty bitty pieces of brain on account of your dumb ass." - Samuel L. Jackson as Jules in Pulp Fiction

4) "When I was your age, television was called books." - Peter Falk as Grandpa in The Princess Bride

3) "I'll tell you what I'd do, man: two chicks at the same time, man." - Diedrich Bader as Lawrence in Office Space, when asked what he would do if he had a million dollars.

2) "If we get caught, we're not going to white-collar resort prison. No, no, no. We're going to federal POUND ME IN THE ASS prison." - David Herman as Michael Bolton in Office Space

1) "I'm the only normal one left around here. I'm a black Jew, I'm half drunk and I cant read." Jamie Foxx as Drew "Bundini" Brown in Ali

Let the criticism commence.

Posted by omar at 6:17 AM | Read entire post | Comments (20)

At first, I must admit, I didn't really like you very much. You crapped on my car, porch and driveway all the time. And you always were trying to build a nest behind my porch light. The fire department says it's a hazard! In spite of that, you kept trying to build it back up after I would tear it down. We've had a pretty difficult relationship.

However, a recent event has led me to change my opinion of you. I suddenly have a new respect for you.

You have no idea how much I wish I had seen you do this, as the physics behind it amaze me. You pooped on the ceiling of my front porch.

Sincerely,
Omar Phillips

Posted by omar at 9:03 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

Then it was cleanup time, followed by diaper wrestling time, followed by story time, followed by bedtime snack time, followed by the boy going to sleep. A good time was had by all.

The lesson? A little butternut squash in someone else's eye can soften even the angriest Omar. Oh, and that stuff about your kid smiling at you making you forget being upset, that's true too. For now, at least.

---

Funny (unrelated) story. And since I feel like posting three times today might be overwhelming, I'll include it here.

The air conditioning where I work (in the job I love) has been broken all week. It's been OK yesterday and today, as the outside temps barely hit 70. But earlier in the week, outside temps were pushing 90 and it was HUMID (as I've mentioned, no windows). It was unbearable. I was sitting at my desk late in the afternoon, looking defeated with beads of sweat on my face.

Coworker: (just coming in from another building) Wow, look at you guys! Omar, I'm getting hot just looking at you!
Omar: (smile)
Coworker: I mean... (runs away embarrassed)

See the effect I have on people?

Posted by omar at 7:44 PM | Read entire post | Comments (8)

Scenario 1: Uncomfortable listing of every other well-known Omar
My dad and I are at the golf course. We get up to the 1st tee, and there is an older guy playing by himself. He asks us to join along.
Dad: I'm (name), this is my son Omar.
Old guy: OMAR.

Important Note: I forgot to mention, each of these scenarios involves people repeating my name at unnecessarily loud volumes after they first hear it. "Booming" is the term I would use to describe the voice infliction people feel they need to use when they initially say my name. Inexplicable, yet it happens 100% of the time.

Scenario 2: "Polite" Arabic Association
I work with college students. One day, a student comes by with their parents to introduce them to me.
Student: And this is Omar
Father: OMAR. Hello!
Me: Hello, Mr. (lastname). Nice to meet you!
Father: Or I'm sorry, I should have said a salaam alaikum.
Me: Um, no, 'hello' works just fine. Though the name has Arabic/Islamic roots, I happen to be American and Christian. My parents just liked the name.
Father: What is it that you're supposed to say in response to 'a salaam alaikum' again? Something like 'malaikum salaam'?
Me: I think it's 'walaikum salaam,' but again, I'm no authority.
Father: Ah, yes. So next time we meet, we'll have it right.

Scenario 3: "Impolite" Arabic Association
I'm going into a polling location preparing to vote. I walk up to the table, where I have to tell my name and address and sign the book thing.
Me: Name is Omar Phillips
Old lady: OMAR? Is that like Osama?
Me: Nooo... um, Omar. O-M-A-R. Last name Phillips.
Old lady: Because we wouldn't like it if it was Osama.
Me: (sigh. I proceed to start giving my address)
Old lady: (to the old lady next to her) His name is Omar, almost like Osama.
Old lady 2: OMAR? (looks at me) You're not like Osama, are you?

Posted by omar at 6:08 AM | Read entire post | Comments (35)

But the vole thing is your entire claim to (air quotes) fame, why would you be so dumb as to get rid of the logo from the page header?
I think calling me dumb is a little extreme... I mean, the MadLibs are what really got people coming to the site anyway, not the vole. And I think I've got more than that to offer to--

Really? You really think that?
Um, yes. I'd like to think the "Message to Future Parents" series is a good mix of humor and helpfulness, and I occasionally just write about random things too.

What do you think the vole will be getting into next? When can we expect the next installment of Omar vs. the vole?
Like I said, you know, there is more to this site than the vole. Can we maybe talk about some of the other things about the site?

(sigh) How come your site is pretty much all black and white now? Where's the color?
Good question! I --

I know it's a good question.
...okay... Anyway, I had worked with a couple of different designs, some with more color than others. I guess the main thing is that with the new site header, the more color involved, the bigger the file size. And I want to do what I can to make sure the page doesn't take too long to load, you know, for those still using dial-up access. Plus, I think the lack of color fits with the new site tagline, "nothing more, nothing less."

Yes, let's discuss that. What happened to the "cutting-edge entertainment"? Have you lost some of your edge?
Most certainly not! I'm still the same cutting edge guy, and I've got some good ideas for some upcoming posts that will definitely require band-aids! (pause for applause... silence)

Oh, were you done? OK. About these upcoming posts, are they all going to be about you and your TV, or will there finally be some variety?
That, um, that sounds a little bit like an insult.

Do you have a favorite reader of/commenter on your site?
First, I'd like to say that I appreciate all my readers/commenters, they are what keep me going. But to answer your question, I'm far too fickle. My favorite changes daily - if not more frequently. Currently though, my favorite is girlspit, because she said she digs the new design.

And the boy, will he be making any more appearances?
I expect that he will, yes. I'm even toying with the idea of putting a picture of him back up here, since on Cate's site, I made the claim that he is the cutest baby in the world. Funny story about that, I --

That's all the time we have, folks. Thank you all for reading, and thanks Omar, for... thanks.

Posted by omar at 9:10 AM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

I'm a man of my word, so here goes. (If you're new to this site or if you don't get the reference, read this.)

To keep it fun though, I've got free AV-wear gold chains* for anyone who correctly identifies all the heads. (I've had to resort to giving it away, since that Ashton look-alike gets such a large cut of all sales.)

---
* This is not true. You'll get nothing but my admiration and respect, which is worth next to nothing at a pawn shop. I've checked.

Posted by omar at 6:15 AM | Read entire post | Comments (24)

(Note that viewing this list requires a browser that supports iframes. If your browser does not support iframes, please get out of 1995 and download a newer browser.)

Posted by omar at 6:35 AM | Read entire post | Comments (18)

Some comments from readers who know me in real life:

"Omar, I didn't know you were funny!"

"Wow, I didn't know you could write."

For those who don't know me, I will say one thing in these people's defense. I don't really talk much, so people don't get a feel for my sense of humor (that still doesn't explain the "I didn't know you could write" comment). That said, I didn't realize people viewed me as such a black hole for humor. Humor comes in, but it does not go out.

There is a good side to this. People who know me have seemed to find this site funnier because it came from me, Mr. Unfunny. (Kind of like when someone's grandfather tells a dirty joke.)

Posted by omar at 6:28 AM | Read entire post | Comments (7)

Starting day 4 without my TV. Day 3 didn't end so well, I think one of my neighbors got mad at me last night for mowing the lawn at an hour some might call too late for mowing. But I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't watch TV. I'm not sorry.

Important Note: Some might wonder why I don't watch TV on the other TV I mentioned in the previous post. One main reason is that I'm the type who can't spend many waking hours in bed. On the couch, no problem. But if I tried to watch TV in bed for too long, I'd fall asleep, no matter how into the show I was. The other main reason? 19" regular TV vs. 32" HDTV. Small and fuzzy vs. slightly bigger and sharp. If I need to say more than that, then you don't know how to watch TV correctly, and you obviously don't understand me.

One not-so-negative thing about this is that I have been able to listen to a lot more music. As a result of that Pepsi/iTunes promotion that ended recently, I had picked out about 40 new songs on iTunes last weekend (I got 52 new songs total. I don't drink that much Pepsi, but I work with people who do). In that bunch of songs, I picked out some kid-friendly songs at the wife's suggestion.

A little background on this - I like to sing, so I sing songs to the boy a lot. The thing is, I hate most kids' songs, like nursery rhymes. They annoy me to no end, and I won't sing 'em. I sing songs that I like. Many of those, however, do not have appropriate lyrics for children. Not like curse-word inappropriate... For example, I like 70's soul music. Marvin Gaye, Bill Withers, Kool & the Gang, Al Green, Jackson 5. These songs are fun to sing, but often are about guys trying to get girls, and it can get weird when singing that to the boy. I do also rap to the boy, and he enjoys that (I'm teaching him to beatbox). But that's where I tend to run into the most inappropriate content. I try to edit it out, but I miss a few here and there.

So I picked up some songs from The Wiggles. Their songs are original, they have fun Australian accents, and kids supposedly love them.

(Image from Amazon.com)

Regardless, the wife and I are trying to learn some of their songs to sing to the boy. Our first attempt was "Fruit Salad." We played it for the boy and sang along, and HE LOVED IT. The sad part is, I did too. I can't stop singing this song, even when the boy isn't around. Again, I feel my hipness declining by the minute.

Did I mention that I can't wait for the TV repair guy?

Posted by omar at 6:28 AM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

True story (I shouldn't have to clarify that, but some people seem to think that some stuff I write on this site not true).

I was sitting at my desk yesterday morning when I got to work. I get there before everyone else (except the maintenance crew), so it's typically pretty quiet.

As I read my email, I faintly heard in the background what sounded like a woman screaming. It was barely audible, but loud enough to be concerning. I heard it two or three times in succession. I stepped away from my computer and moved over towards the (locked) door. I held my breath and listened...

Nothing.

I convince myself I'm nuts, and I go back to my computer. Before long, I hear it again, slightly louder. Now I'm starting to freak out. I shut off my computer, certain that the sound must be a fan or drive on the computer going bad. Again, I held my breath and listened.

Nothing.

At this point, I'm going through my options. I could call security to have them check it out. I could in fact be going crazy. I could turn on some music to drown out the noise. Suddenly, I heard another scream. Quieter again, like the first time.

I decided that I needed to call security. If something was going on, I didn't want it on my conscience. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. As I did that, I heard the same sound, but much louder. It sounded less like a scream this time, more like a whistle.

As I took another breath, I came to the relieving and embarrassing realization that the noise I was hearing was coming from my own nostrils.

Posted by omar at 6:59 AM | Read entire post | Comments (5)

It has been a rough and busy weekend. Glad to be back home and blogging. Let me get you up to speed:

Following the overwhelming launch of AV-wear and of the omarphillips.net edition of MadLibs, I decided to hire a manager. I was having trouble keeping up with all the requests for appearances and AV-wear gear. He lined up quite a weekend for me. First stop, Washington DC, where I met with Gannett to do a story for the USA Today online version:

(Kind of ironic that it ran next to a story involving 50 Cent. He was in town the same day, luckily we didn't run into each other.)

Next up was a trip to New York City. I did a quick interview for the Times before heading to a couple of back-to-back fashion shows.

Now here is where the story gets weird.

My manager had me set to MC a MadLibs convention at the Javits Convention Center, 3pm. So I get there 2:45 ish. There is a big crowd, cameras, way more than I expected. So I'm nervous, but I start getting into it as the convention goes on. About an hour in, they surprise me by announcing that I have won the "Garrett L. Stevenson MadLib Lifetime Achievement Award." What? Sure, I did a lot of MadLibs in my youth, but I've only created one, and it was last week. It seemed a bit fishy, but I humbly went back on stage to accept the award.

Out from behind the curtain comes the president of MadLibs of America (MLA), Garrett Stevenson III. The thing is, this kid is a dead ringer for Ashton Kutcher. I thought I was getting Punk'd.

Me: OH MAN, YOU GOT ME!! You had me going!! Now that I'm an A-list celeb, I get punk'd. Ha ha, lifetime achievement. Very funny.
Garrett III: Excuse me?
Me: It's over, Ash, you got me.
Garrett III: I'm sorry sir, but --
Me: Hey, it's over. Let's just cut it out, OK?
Garrett III: Mr. Phillips, I'm not sure what you're talking about.

I don't really take humiliation well, so I started getting mad. He kept denying it, so I punched him. A couple of times. And kicked him.

Long story short, it turns out that this guy really is someone named Garrett Stevenson III, and he is the president of MLA. And he sued me. Just like that, the AV-wear fortune is gone. My manager dropped me as a client. My remaining appearances, canceled. All I had left was my plane ticket home.

So here I am, back home. Heading to work tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp. My boy still smiles at me, my wife still loves me, my Blogger login still works. But my 15 minutes of fame are done.

And so ends my best blog week ever.

Posted by omar at 8:02 PM | Read entire post | Comments (5)

My creative energy has been pretty low as of late. The reason? See the last post. The less I sleep, the less I am able to piece together coherent thoughts. So I won't bother trying. I do feel an obligation to post though, I owe it to my mind. I write to make sure the cobwebs don't get a chance to build up. So though I don't have much for you today, there are two topics I'd like to mention.

My lawn
I should be embarrassed about how happy a sharpened mower blade makes me. The grass waits in fear as the mower approaches, then the blade mulches it to a fine powder. It sends my testosterone levels through the roof, which then makes me want to go work out, hunt, and reproduce. Occasionally, it also makes me want to throw meat on the grill.

More on that some other time.

Poll of the Week
I've noticed that the number of results never gets higher than somewhere in the 15-20 range. So rather than be a "poll of the week," it'll be a "poll with a duration lasting until the number of results reaches 15-20." As this name isn't as concise, I will leave it listed as "poll of the week." I just want to keep it fresh. On the cutting edge, if you will. Additionally, if you have a burning question that you're seeking 15-20 answers to, let me know and I can post it. Send me a message at the address listed near the bottom of the sidebar.

Oh, and also, I'd like to take a moment to discuss results. I have generally been quite pleased. Most of you understand the dominance of Krispy Kreme donuts, which is good. What is even more pleasing is that 65% of you understand that "soda" is what you drink, "pop" is your father. I am stuck here in western NY where "pop" dominates, and it pains me every time I hear it. Pains.

Posted by omar at 11:20 AM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

I'm driving home with the boy this afternoon, and we're singing our regular songs on the way home from the sitter's house. There is some construction between houses though, so our normal songs only got us halfway home. Fearing uncomfortable silence, I say, "I can turn the radio on, what do you kids listen to these days?"

He says, "Turn on 104, see what's on."

104 is our local "#1 in hip-hop and R&B" station (we also have a top 40 station, then another, not as good top 40 station).

Important Note: There are plenty of other stations in this area, but I'm talking about what the kids are listening to. It's about the kids.

All a nig(*edited*) really need is a lil bit
Not a lot baby girl just a lil bit
We can head to the crib in a lil bit
I can show ya how I live in a lil bit
I wanna unbutton your pants just a lil bit
Take 'em off and pull 'em down a lil bit
Get to kissin' and touchin' a lil bit
Get to lickin' and fu(*edited*) a lil bit

1. Did I seriously just hear that on the radio? Seriously?


2. Have you ever heard 50 Cent rap? He's been shot a few times, including at least one to the face. He sounds like it. He drones, his voice is monotonous. It works for him in many cases, but in this case? Not so much. His voice says "I'm gonna kick your ass," not "why don't you come over to my place so we can get to kissin', touchin', lickin', and (*edited*)." I've gotta think that if I'm a girl, I've already dialed the 9 and a 1 before he gets to the kissin' and touchin' part.

The whole thing kind of makes me feel old. So I'm gonna go on iTunes and buy that song. "Not a lot baby girl, just a lil bit..."

Posted by omar at 6:08 PM | Read entire post | Comments (9)

Brought on by Conan O'Brien's "SECRETS" segment and Usher's smash hit album "Confessions," here are a list of a few things I feel I need to get off my chest.

Important Note: I'll acknowledge that the guy can dance. But if you were one of the millions who purchased Usher's album and enjoy his music (and you are not a girl between the ages of 9 and 14), then you are what is wrong with America. Non-American readers, you guys are fine.

• I find that there is no inappropriate time to beatbox. Others disagree.


• The vole didn't really smoke a cigarette in your bed. Even voles know cigarettes aren't good for you. I made that up just to try to make you hate the vole like I do. All the rest of the stuff the vole did is true though.


• I read email with unnecessary regularity. However, I try to play it cool and not respond too quickly. In many cases, this results in me forgetting to respond at all.

  Other Important Note: I am sickeningly attached to my email. It is often a better way to get a hold of me than by phone. If money were no object, I would have a device on me at all times that would allow me to check my email. One would think that with me being so attached to it, I must get lots of good email. I don't. I have three friends, a wife, and a dad who email me (though I do get email notification for blog comments). Frankly, the messages I tend to receive from that bunch do not warrant the kind of attention I give to them. Sorry guys.



• On the heels of that, I have a pretty bad memory. It has gotten worse since the birth of my son five months ago, which leads me to believe that it's not my fault. So if I promise you something and don't come through, blame the boy.


• One might think that as a black American who is (OK, was) athletic AND born in NYC, that I would have some skills on the basketball court. Fact is, I warmed the bench of my JV team. Contrary to popular belief, Spike Lee's "He Got Game" was not about me.


• While I did most of the work in creating the "Poll of the Week," a kid named Scott wrote the one line of code necessary to get it in my Blogger template properly. Prior to getting his assistance, I had just about given up. Thanks, Scott. That does not, however, change how much on the cutting edge I am.

Posted by omar at 11:15 AM | Read entire post | Comments (7)

I was taking a look at my Blogger profile this morning. There really isn't much in there now, so I was going to fill most of it out. I had no problem thinking of a couple of interests, some of my favorite movies, and my favorite music. Then I got to the "favorite books" section.

In many of the profies I've read, people apparently had no trouble thinking of a handful of books they consider to be "favorites." Likewise, I have seen several authors referenced in people's comments.

So I tried to think about the last book I've read, cover to cover... After mulling it over for a few hours, I'm pretty sure the last book I read was Ethan Frome, back in 9th grade English class. That would be either 1993 or 94. Before that, I can't think of anything other than the Encyclopedia Brown books I read as a kid.

Obligatory Important Note:This does not count Moo, Baa, La La La, The Hungry Caterpillar, or the "5 Minute Classics" I have been reading to my son recently.

I know exactly why I don't read books, yet I couldn't escape my thoughts about how others may view this. Are people going to think I'm un... un what? I can't even think of a word. Un-well read? I'd bet if I read more books, I'd know a word for that.

In my defense, it's not like I don't read anything. At one point recently, I was subscribed to a half-dozen magazines, and I read them all. I'll read the sports page, perhaps the business section of the local paper. The amount of blogs I read daily has grown to out of control proportions.

Why the aversion to books? It started when I was in 7th grade. I was doing a report on Langston Hughes. I took out a book of his work from the town library. After completing my report, I promptly lost the book.

Of course I couldn't fess up to it, so I did the next best thing - I ignored it. The occasional notification would get mailed to my house from the library letting me know that the book was overdue. Soon after, they started mentioning fines in their notifications. Then, for a little while, they stopped coming. Score one for me!

A month or two later though, it got serious. I received a notice in the mail that my case was being brought to a collection agency. From this point on, I have no idea how the issue got resolved, but that was the last I ever heard from them. All I know is after receiving that, I was terrified to step foot in any library. I had visions of WANTED posters with my face on them, guys named Bruno waiting just inside the door to snatch me up and bring me to "justice." My fear of libraries and books was born. I've read one book since (sadly, this includes my college years).

Not-as-Important Note: My fears were compounded in college, when I heard of an unsolved murder that happened in the stacks at Penn State's Pattee Library (see article here).

(ahem) My name is Omar. I am bibliophobic.

Posted by omar at 2:25 PM | Read entire post | Comments (12)

As my loyal readers may recall, yesterday's post was regarding a lady who told me how Jesus feels about me (kind of "sixth grade," don't you think, Jesus?). I was upset yesterday, but I'm over it now.

Something else weird happened this morning that seems too coincidental to not be related.

I work at an IT help desk.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I love my job. You will not see me using this site to badmouth my employer, coworkers, customers, etc. I've read too many stories about bloggers getting fired. This story is not about my job, but I have to provide the necessary background in order for the story to flow. I repeat, I love my job.

Now I'm paranoid. So here's my solution: If you work in IT with someone named Omar, click here to see if it is me before proceeding.

The obvious quips immediately ran through my head. How am I supposed to confirm his identity over the phone? Shouldn't he know his own password? Couldn't I just randomize it and have him read my mind? Couldn't he ask God?

Jesus: God - I mean, Dad - I need my password reset again.

God: Me damn it, Jesus! This is the third time this century! Write it down this time. Your password is: 21jumpStreet

Jesus: Oh yeah, I was forgetting the capital "S." I love that show. Isn't Johnny Depp awesome? Did you see I got him nominated for another Oscar this year?

God: Good bye, Jesus.

* The link above is just a joke meant to prey on IT people's paranoia about security. It probably did not install anything on your computer, and rebooting afterwards probably won't open your computer up to be used as part of a large illegal online drug trafficking ring.

Posted by omar at 12:20 PM | Read entire post | Comments (5)

I was coming back to work from my lunch break. It's quite a walk to get from the parking lot to my building, so I was just strolling along enjoying the nice weather.

On a side note, the weather in "upstate" NY has been fantastic lately. We're going on an unprecedented* 10 or 11 straight days of sun.

"Hello!" the woman called. I looked up. "Jesus loves you!"

That was the end of our interaction. I went from enjoying the great weather to being upset and baffled by this lady who felt she needed to tell me that. I was upset on many levels.

First, there were two or three people who were also walking from their cars to the building ahead of me. She didn't say peep to them, does that mean Jesus doesn't love them? Perhaps just not as much as me? I would imagine that this lady believes Jesus loves everyone... Did I look like I needed uplifting? Because really, this just creeped me out.

Second, let's assume she believes that Jesus really does love everyone (whether or not the recipient of this helpful tidbit believes it is irrelevant). If that's true, then why bother say anything? I don't go around making blanket statements to strangers, even if they are true.

"Hello there, giant pandas are endangered!"
"Hey you, oxygen is necessary to survive!"
"Only you can prevent forest fires!"

None of those are more silly or out of place than what this lady said. (OK, maybe the last one was a little more silly. Only because it's a quote from a cartoon bear.)

Third, she has no right to assume that I would be comforted by her, a complete stranger, telling me that Jesus loves me. Like I said, it just creeped me out.

Jesus, if you're reading this, PLEASE tell your followers to not do this. It does not get the point across that I'm assuming she was trying to make (or that you would want her to make on your behalf).

I had a fourth reason why this upset me, but I lost track. The first three pretty much sum it all up anyway. This lady ruined my walk in the sun.

* Absolutely no research went into making this claim that 10 or 11 consecutive days of sun is unprecedented in this area. I just feel like it is.

Posted by omar at 8:23 PM | Read entire post | Comments (3)

Along with 30 to 50 million other Americans, I am "lactose intolerant."

I don't know about the rest of them, but I have issues with being called "intolerant." Here's why:

Main Entry: inátoláeráant
Pronunciation: -r&nt
Function: adjective
1 : unable or unwilling to endure
2 a : unwilling to grant equal freedom of expression especially in religious matters b : unwilling to grant or share social, political, or professional rights : BIGOTED

courtesy of Merriam-Webster Online

Let this be known: if you are a disaccharide sugar, I tolerate you. I may not be able to properly digest you. You may cause me intense intestinal pain. You may ruin some of my favorite foods. Hell, I pretty much hate you. But I tolerate you.

-a proud Lactase Deficient citizen

Posted by omar at 11:44 AM | Read entire post | Comments (4)