Just Off Center

So it’s only been a weeks since I took on my second job as a telemarketer and I can safely say that it is every bit the shit job I thought it would be. So many of the people I speak to are most unthrilled that I’ve called them during the dinner hours. I totally understand, too. I fucking hate telemarketers. Whenever they’d call I’d just hang up whether they had started talking or not. But in the past several days there are some things that I’ve learned about this industry that I think everyone should know.

These are not evil people – The person calling you up is an employee, nothing more. They don’t like bugging you and they aren’t trying to piss you off. Most of them are just broke ass nobodies trying to pay the bills. And as much as you’d like to think otherwise, as far as shit jobs go, telemarketers can make some pretty decent money. That auto-dialer was going to call your number no matter what. Does it really help anything to scream at the poor schmuck on whose screen your name popped? In fact, it’ll probably just piss me off and I’ll code your number for another call very soon.

What you are hearing is a script – Most of you already knew that. But stop and think about it. The voice on the other end of the line isn’t thinking at all. The only thing I have to do when that auto-dialer catches you is try and pronounce your name right when I say hello. After that I just start reading from a script that has been proven effective. If you don’t interrupt me, I am going to keep on reading until I say “OK?” Oh, and don’t try to explain why the answer is no. No matter what excuse you have, enough people have used it to motivate the company to script out a response to it.

We get paid by the hour or by the sale – I was once told that even if I didn’t want what was being sold to me that I should still just listen to the telemarketer until they were finished because they get paid for making it to the end. Wrong! I get paid because you bought what I’m selling. If I make enough sales, then the commissions start to earn more than my hourly rate, and that’s how I make really good money. If you wait for me to reach the end of my pitch before hanging up, you’ve just wasted both our time.

You might actually want what I’ve got – The truth is that I don’t make cold calls. Every name that pops up on my screen is a person who has in some way supported the company that is selling the crap I’m pushing onto you. Most of the time I sell nature videos for a popular nature magazine. And I’m not even actually selling the video. I’m actually just giving it to you to preview for two weeks and buy if you want it. And if you let me send it to you I’ll give you a free world map to keep regardless of your decision. Since you like the magazine anyway, you might actually like the video. So you see, if I call you and you just tell me to take you off the calling list, you might actually be cutting off something that you may have wanted. Just bear in mind that most of the time, telemarketers got your number because you gave it to them. You might want to listen.

Listen to the offer, but really listen when it’s on the record – Once I have you on the phone it’s my job to sell you on the offer. Once you’ve agreed I have to record a reading of a confirmation for legal reasons. If I don’t get it on the record, the sale will be killed. The only exception is if you say you don’t want to be recorded. Then I’ll stop the recording and I can legally continue the sale. In the recording I state your name, address, and age verification, restate the total offer, ask if you have questions, and finally ask if you accept the offer. Whatever I told you off the record may have been close, but what goes on the record is the true nature of the deal. Pay close attention to what I say when the recorder is on and you won’t get burned.

However, since telemarketing is still a nuisance, I thought I’d put up a few rules for you, the victim of my evil auto-dialer.

Hanging up = Calling you back in a few days

Saying you’re not home = Calling you back in a few days

Letting the answering machine pick up = Calling you back in a few days

Saying you’re moving = Calling you back in a few weeks

In fact there are only a very few ways to guarantee that I’m not going to call you back.

1. “Put me on your Do Not Call List” – It’s as simple as that folks. Once you say that I have to stop, read a response from a board, thank you for your time, hang up, and enter a code on your name that will have your number eliminated. But this just takes you off of my list for this company. Don’t get all shitty at me because you told the other guy from XYZ and here I am calling you from ABC. Also, don’t dance around it. I get so many women on the phone who say shit like “you call me too much and I don’t like it”. That means absolutely nothing to me. Say the words and it’s done.
2. No, no, no, no – There are few states (Oregon, Illinois, South Carolina, Washington, etc.) that have statutes forbidding me to continue a sale once you’ve said no once. For the rest of you suckers, no means try again. Remember, the person calling you may very well have a manager listening in. I have no choice but to try again until you’ve said no twice. Thankfully, I can stop then. There are companies that make their reps keep trying until the person has refused three or four times. But if you say no enough times I have to code you as “not interested” and I won’t call you back…for this offer.
3. Wrong number – You say I’ve got the wrong number and I’ll remove the number from the list.
4. Telephone problem – If I get a number that is not in service or for whatever reason can’t go through, I mark it as a telephone problem and the number will be removed.

I know that nobody wants solicitors calling their house. Hell that’s why I have a caller verification system. But you are going to be called, that’s just the truth of it. So remember these little rules that we have to live by and you won’t get suckered.

Last night Nina and I had a disagreement. I don’t think it was all that serious, but it was enough to make her cry and make me leave the room and sleep on the couch. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m not mad at Nina for anything. I’m frustrated that I don’t see how we can see eye to eye on a few things. I’m tired of feeling guilty of infractions I can’t recall. I’m tired of feeling angry and sad. I’m tired of feeling. I didn’t used to feel. I had no friends and I made many enemies, but I bore no pain. A general malaise toward my fellow man drove me through each day. He’s gone now, and this regular Joe of a man is all that remains, full of feelings and vulnerabilities. I’m told that makes me more attractive. Ugly is power.

I want to go around the building and let loose on every woman here who has ever done anything to irritate me. I want to smack the pastries out of the hands of the fat bitches who ride my freight elevator one floor. I want to show the back of my hand to the Mexican girl who tries to intimidate everyone around her while she changes our toner. I want the secretaries to feel ineffectual and stop seeking praise as the backbone of industry. I want to glare down every bitch in the halls who avoids eye contact with me because she’s afraid I might hit on her. I want to make them know that their skirts don’t hide the cellulite and I can see the bags and wrinkles anyway…and it’s all repulsive. Today you are weak and disgusting. Tomorrow will be different. But today you are my enemy. I want them intimidated and feeling guilty for their inadequacies. I want them to burn.

I’m so tired and I loathe self-pity. I’ll make up with Nina today. I’ll hug her and tell her I love her because I want her to feel better. I may or may not feel better. But her misery gives me no comfort. It’s not even a bad fight, just something we simply can’t agree on. I’ll be quelled by peace between us. But for now I want to roar and have every female in the world know they’re one passive aggressive comment or averted eye away from having their hideous selves made public.

Today will not be pleasant.

Well, it’s only because Grace tagged me that I’m doing this. Not that anyone would notice. It was about three days ago, and she’s posted about seventeen times since then. Anyway, since this was a combo tagging, I’ll just put them both here.

Total volume of music files on my computer:
8.0 GB

The last CD I bought was:
Depesche Mode – Violator: I bought it over Amazon for Nina because she’s wanted it for a long time and says that nobody ever gets her anything from her wishlist. But it was scratched and one of the tracks skips so I’m pissed and sending it back. Here’s the email I wrote to the fucknuts that sold this one to me.

To Whom It May Concern,

The audio CD purchased through amazon.com in the above order number is faulty. I would like your assistance in remedying this problem. The CD was purchased as a birthday present and that date has since passed. I want to have the CD replaced at no expense to myself at the minimum. For the inconvenience, a line of credit or refund equal to the amount spent on the CD ($6.29) would be appropriate and would aid the feedback I will leave.

Please contact me to confirm that you have received this notification. If you wish to speak with me in person, I can be reached at 480-223-****. Thank you for your time.

Michael J. K******

Song playing right now:
Michael Jackson – Beat It (specifically, guitar solo by Dweezil Zappa)

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

1. What a Wonderful World – Louis B. Armstrong: My favorite song. No, this is not my softer side. It’s beautiful , well built, and perfectly done. Despite (and partially because of) the world’s atrocities, I believe that this world is precious and full of beauty.
2. ‘Til I Collapse – Eminem: This one always gets me ready to fuck up anything that comes in my way. I grind my teeth, start breathing heavy, focus my eyes, and roar as the lion upon it’s bluff.
3. I’m Just a Bill – Schoolhouse Rock: I have this on my Ipod. Anytime I get a shitty song stuck in my head that can’t stand living with, I can always replace it with this. C’mon everyone! I’m just a Bill. Yes, I’m only a Bill. And I’m sitting here on Capitol Hill.
4. The Planet Is Fine – George Carlin: Ok, it’s not a song, but it is an audio track. It’s about ten minutes of material about entropy and the futility of conservation, and it never fails to make me swerve from my lane.
5. Bye Bye Bye – N’ Sync: It’s a guilty pleasure, truly. But I can jam out to this shit. And no, you can’t watch.
   
   

And now, the next tagging.

Total number of films I own on DVD/Video:

I’m at work so I can’t count right now. Off the top of my head I’d say I personally can claim about ¾ of our movie collection, though at least half of the VHS are Nina’s. I’d say the count is about forty or so. But then there are really only about fifteen that I must have.

The last film I bought: I think the last movie I bought for myself was Kenneth Branaugh’s Henry V. I first saw it in English Lit class my Junior year in high school. Brother John was big into Shakespeare. I then read the story and to this day it’s my favorite. It makes me want to take up a great cause of some kind.

The last film I watched:

Revenge of the Sith, motherfuckers! The Emperor is the MAN! I’ll probably go see it again. But that was in the theater. At home the last movie I watched was The Passion of the Christ. Satan was the MAN!

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me:

1. Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb– My favorite film of all time. If you haven’t seen it, watch it. If you didn’t get it, watch it again. If you didn’t like it, kill yourself. “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here. This is the War Room!”
2. Pi: Faith in Chaos – Yes it will give you a headache, but then headaches are a part of the movie, so it’s like 3D in a way. “Mathematics is the language of nature”
3. Raising Arizona – I love most Coen flicks, but most people would agree that this was one of the very best. “Son, you’ve got a panty on your head.”
4. Legends of the Fall – Man meets girl. Girl belongs to man’s brother. Man, brother and other brother go to war. Girl’s man dies. Other brother loves girl. Man steals girl from dead brother’s brother. Man goes crazy, scalps Germans, does opium, hunts lions, bootlegs whiskey. Man’s brother marries girl. Man marries other girl. Man’s brother’s girl kills herself. Man… brother…oh fuck it. What a flick. “Because you love her I will forgive you once. You say that again and we are not brothers.”
5. Predator – One of the only horror films to stand the test of time. This movie really set the bar for action and carnage. Plus you get to see a man’s head ripped from his body with the spinal cord still attached. How can you resist? “You are one ugly motherfucker.”

Tag five people and have them put this in their journal:

No, instead of keeping this in our cute little clique, I’ve had an idea. Check the comments at the end of this post. If there are five or fewer then I’m tagging you. You click Next Blog and leave a comment on whoever comes up, regardless of their blog type, language, age, etc. Then copy the blog’s url and comment on this post to tell me who you tagged. GO!

In college we learned that good communication occurs when the transmitter encodes the message for optimal reception, transmits the message through the background noise and the receiver… receives the message, and then decodes the message for its true meaning. This is all just college jargon for getting your point across effectively. In any relationship, problems occur because one person intends to say one thing and ends up saying it in such a way that the other person thinks something else. This happens a lot between Nina and me. A lot of our arguments could be averted if we had a couple of those UN translators to take what I say and translate it into Nina-speak, and vice-versa.

Over the years I’ve learned what Nina means when she says one thing or another. I’ve had to learn that if there are two phrases that sound similar, she’ll invariably combine the two into some nonsensical jumble. One time, she was trying to act like John Bender from The Breakfast Club when she was trying to give me a hard time. She made her hand into a “bird” and pointed her middle finger down instead of up. She then proceeded to say to me “Can you see this?” Ummm…yeah I see that, why? Or were you trying to ask me if I can hear that? Are you about to ask me if I want to you adjust the focus? This happens a lot and usually precedes Nina repeating the word “fuck” in rapid succession. Another one of her famous moves is to start a sentence perfectly, but then right before she finishes she just stops talking. Some examples are:

“If you’re going to Fry’s (grocery) could you pick me up a…”

“Oh I talked to my sister today. They’re going to be in town for the…”

“I forgot my pill last night so let me know before…”

OK, I might be taking a liberty or two with actual statements she’s made. But this happens all the time. And her mom does it too. But they understand each other perfectly. Listening to the two of them have a conversation is like watching an episode of $25,000 Pyramid where nobody ever gives an answer. However, she has learned to apply a quick fix. Often times, she’ll now start a sentence, stop dead before the end for several seconds and then say “thing”. You see, “thing” tells me that it’s my job to complete her sentence in my own head. It’s a fun little game, except that there are never any commercial breaks and the prize is me repeatedly punching myself in the head out of frustration.

Here are a few samples from the Nina Lexicon. The better you acquaint yourself with then, the more capable you’ll be of carrying on a conversation with her.

• Shitfuck – A frustrating person doing a frustrating thing. This was born of Nina’s mind while driving behind someone moving well below the posted speed limits. This has since been adapted to apply toward anyone who does anything that Nina feels is not right.
• Tripped out – Tricked out. She’ll never get this one right. Don’t bother correcting her. When she says it, she sounds whiter than me.
• Choad puffer – See Shitfuck. The term “choad” was adopted from me when she heard me calling people choads for doing something stupid. The “choad” from my understanding is the area between a person’s genitals and anus. And it’s just plain fun to say. Thinking that “choad” was another term for penis, Nina then added the “puffer” to indicate that the person called a choad puffer was someone who puffed (sucked on) penises. However, since she was incorrect in this, it now only draws images in my mind of a person blowing air on the area below my balls. Apparently this is a bad thing.
• The raw end of the stick – The short end of the stick or a raw deal. Nina fuses these together with great regularity and a long since expired hilarity.
• Drownded – Past tense of “drown”.
• Hiecallit – Anything that Nina can’t think of the name for at the time. It seems to be a permutation of “how do you call it?” It is usually uttered when she can’t think of the word for something and is usually accompanied by finger snapping. She swears that her father says it all the time. I wonder what justification that is. My father says “nigger” a lot. Will that excuse help me when I’m being bludgeoned to death?
• Exhaling loudly for 3+ seconds – Take a deep breath. Now open your mouth and exhale loudly until all the breath is gone. This is what Nina does whenever something is frustrating her, usually associated with me. It’s her way of expressing exasperation. Her mother does it all the time too, so whenever Nina does it I usually think about choking her.
• Hang-ger – Hanger. Another weirdo thing she got from her dad is the tendency to express every “g” sound as a hard G. Ask her to try it the other way. She can’t do it. Not only that, she can’t hear a difference. The difference is subtle. One is right, the other retarded.

I’ll be sleeping in the hot water house tonight for what I’ve said about my better chain.

A few weeks ago Nina and I were taking a hike around a mountain and just chatting. It was the kind of talking that didn’t have much to do with anything. The kind of simple banter that is mostly lost as a couple’s lives intertwine and the business at hand takes precedence. One of the things she brought up was an interest in knowing what would be on my life list. You know the life list. It’s that list of things that you’d like to do before you die. I honestly hadn’t put much thought into developing a list of things I’d wished I had accomplished prior to departing this flesh. I started wondering if doing this would give me some kind of subconscious motivation to work toward these goals. So after spending a bit of time thinking about it, I’ve come up with this list of things I’d like to do before I die.

• Write a novel and have it published nationally - I need only study and practice my English Lit skills so that I can write a story worth publishing.
• Gain financial independence - Money will always be difficult to come by. But with proper fiscal planning and budgeting, Nina and I can earn and save enough to live on without a need for additional income.
• Feel the rush that comes with a flood of applause - The next one can be achieved by some great accomplishment, be it earning an award or putting on a great performance.
• Learn to hang glide – I’ve always wanted to try this. I just can’t imagine a better way to feel free than to slip the surly bonds of gravity powered solely by my legs and a pair of wings, or in this case more of a sail.
• Save a person’s life - Saving a person’s life is more a matter of chance I guess. However, if I can turn a person around who is currently on a course of eminent destruction, I’m satisfied to check that one off.
• Visit a land no road can reach - There are still plenty of places in this world I can go where no vehicle can reach me. I just need to take the time to plan it out. Maybe I could establish my own little Fortress of Solitude.
• Grow a long beard - And as far as this is concerned, well…that’s more up to Nina than me.

That’s not too terrible is it? I’m sure I could add more if I thought about it, but I wouldn’t want to just throw in the stock filler for a list so personal. Here are some typical things that won’t be on my list.

• Fly an airplane
• Visit Europe/Asia/Africa/etc.
• Grow a crop
• Volunteer my time to the starving and sickly people of …
• Run for office
• Involve my wife in a threesome with Lindsay Lohan.

So now that I’ve looked over this first list, it’s occurring to me that it seems a little bit contrived. I mean, sure I’d like to accomplish all of these things, but is this the whole of what I’d want to do with my life? Aren’t there other things that are a bit more risqué or morally objectionable that might have been cut from the list? I think that any good list of life accomplishments should include those things that are not only difficult or even unlikely, but also that reflect our deeper, more secret desires. Perhaps I can think of a few more.

• Create an enormous explosion
• Host an orgy (I don’t even have to participate)
• Engage in mortal combat
• Steal a vast amount of wealth
• Be able to break concrete blocks with my fists
• Do ecstasy with Nina (not part of the orgy)
• Blackmail a boss of mine or government official
• Talk a person into committing suicide

There. That’s more like it. The explosion wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. I’m not a terrorist people. I just want to blow some shit up…big time. I have to amend my second one to provide that it’s more like the kinds of orgy you see on sexy pornos with attractive people and a swimming pool. The mortal combat can be with either man or beast, but it has to be a fight to the death. No sparing him or me at the moment of victory. The theft would pretty much satisfy the financial independence goal, so that’s two checkmarks in the same day. I’ll need some spare time and practice to get my arms and fists to possess that kind of power. Plus if I can do that, I’d be far more likely to get volunteers for the orgy I bet. Doing X with the wifey can happen anytime, so long as we’re both still virile. The blackmail could just be something simple, and I’d agree to hand over the evidence once my demands were met. Now as far as the last one goes, I’ve just always thought that that scene from Silence of the Lambs where Lecter talks Miggs into swallowing his own tongue was just the coolest. I’m not sure if I’d ever really go through with it. But I just feel like there would be some part of me that would be more whole if I knew I could talk a man to death, literally.

I can’t believe how horrible some of these are. I must serve the dark side I guess. So be it. Still, I believe that most people have these lists in their heads of those things they’d like to do, if only they wouldn’t be punished or maybe sent to Hell. And why not admit these things? I may never actually get to blackmail my boss. But by acknowledging how desperately I’d love to do that, perhaps I’m subconsciously guiding myself through some of the professional pitfalls that might trip me up. I may not engage in mortal combat ever in my life. But by preparing for it as something I’d love to try, I must be keeping myself sharp and prepared for whatever arrives. I guess, in some ways, having these goals allows me to have more of an effect on my life’s path than the others. I mean, what real planning can I do to gaining financial independence that would be as exciting and fulfilling as learning advanced electronics so that I can intercept the video feed from the security system of the local Fifth Third bank?

This post may not be as coherent as other entries. I got only 2.5 hours of sleep last night, so I’m pretty messed up. Granted, it’s almost entirely my fault that I’m going on so little rest. But it’s not necessarily a bad thing. I happen to believe that a certain degree of weariness is good for the soul, so long as it’s earned through hard work and hard play.

So anyway. Back to why I’m so tired. Yesterday work was nuts. Some days I would rather take on a couple large problems that require all day sessions writing documents, having conversations, etc. Yesterday was just a juggling act. Nothing bad happened, but I just had someone asking me for something every time I turned around. But that’s just work for you. The real fun began after my scheduled quittin’ time. Hehehe…nuts.

At about 3:30 I left work to go to my new second job. What am I doing with a second job you ask? No, you didn’t ask? Well blow me. Ask that question aloud then reread this paragraph. But skip the blow me part. The answer is I need the cash, plain and simple. I’ve been looking for a part time second job for quite a while now. I’ve put in applications at all sorts of places (except restaurants. Never again!). But it wasn’t until I checked the local classifieds and just gave in to the words “flexible p/t hours” associated with an outbound call center that I found my new employer. Yes that’s right, folks. I’m a goddamned telemarketer. And you wanna know something? It’s only been two days and I fucking rock the house at it! I got five fucking sales in 75 minutes, yo!

Seriously, I don’t like calling people during their dinner hour and hassling them with my bullshit sales pitch about some fucking nature videos. But if I just read the script and act all nice, people seem to listen to me. Maybe I can just sound really friendly. Or maybe it’s that every other person in the place is a knuckle-dragging troglodyte with the IQ of a beach ball and the voice that makes you wish it was a computer calling you. Plus, it’s not cold calling. All the people I call are previous customers. I got one request for the Do Not Call list. One guys said he was leaving the country. One woman wouldn’t let me talk to her boyfriend and hung up. I got a lot of hang-ups and answering machines. But damn near everyone I actually spoke with agreed to my pitch. Plus it’s a good outlet for my dark desire to upset people. Except there was this one dude I called that almost made me feel bad. Almost. It also made me kind of proud in a sick sort of way. Here’s a rough paraphrasing of the conversation:

ME – Hello, Mrs. Vasquez! This is Mike K_____ calling from _________. Can you hear me okay?

POOR SCHLUB – Uh…(sigh) yeah. Well, no, but that’s fine.

ME – Oh, well I can speak with you if you like Mr. Vasquez if you like.

POOR SCHLUB – Well you don’t have much of a choice. My wife passed away not too long ago.

ME – (startled) Oh, sir I’m so sorry to hear that.

POOR SCHLUB – Yeah, the magazine was hers. I still get it though. I…well I just haven’t cancelled it yet.

ME – Well Mr. Vasquez I have her name down as the previous subscriber to _________. Would you like me to change that name over to yours?

POOR SCHLUB – Oh…sure, why not. I still get them but I don’t really ever read it. I just give it to my granddaughter… whenever I get the chance to see her.

ME – Oh that’s great! You know ________ is such a great educational tool for young children! Well I wanted to call you to thank you for your past support and let you know we’re sending you a gift…blah blah blah… Now in addition to the gift we would also send you the Best of 30 Years video to preview for 14 days. But since you’ve thought to give these magazines to your granddaughter, perhaps you’d like it if we sent you the Safari Adventure animated video to preview and you could let her have that too. It comes with free fun stickers and…blah blah blah.

POOR SCHLUB – Well… I suppose, I mean…maybe, I don’t know.

ME – Great and if you decide to keep the video… blah blah blah…and (totally off script now) I’m sure your granddaughter will take an even greater interest in these magazines you’ve been receiving once she sees the video. And compliments to you, Mr. Vasquez, for taking steps to pass on such an educational hobby from your and your wife’s generation to hers.

POOR SCHLUB – Huh. Well thanks. Yeah, okay, go ahead.

ME – Great, now I just need to…blah blah blah…thank you and goodbye.

How much do I rock? I have to admit that I was shaken up by the fact that I just made a sale to a widower and kind of used it to my advantage. But damn it, didn’t he just go right for it? I got all kinds of compliments from my trainer and the shift supervisor on that one. Apparently they had tuned in at the perfect time to monitor my progress. And at the end of the shift, she handed all of us trainees a sheet grading our performance on several aspects. In the notes section of mine she wrote

“Great job making a sale to that man whose wife just passed. You didn’t even make it sound like it was wrong!”

You see how this works? I take a man who probably took a sting from hearing me ask about his late wife’s magazine subscription, hear about his granddaughter, play off that, make the sale, and then totally get rewarded for it. I get a commission on every acceptance I get, so that’s money in my pocket. See how she wrote that note on my review? It almost looks like we both know that it was totally wrong to do it, but that I overcame that one little moral snag and emerged victorious. Maybe it’s a dick thing to do, but I was just doing my job. Hell, I didn’t even think about it while I was doing it. I mean would it really have made him feel less badly if I’d just said “Oh, sorry sir, well thanks anyway *click*”?

So after work I went to the Harkins Theater closest to my house where I met Nina for the midnight viewing of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. It wasn’t as much of a madhouse as I was expecting, but there were plenty of people there. We waited in line, gabbed about bullshit, got in, sat down, drank some cola, and waited for the movie. Man the movie was good. But goddamn it was so fucking tragic. I mean, I knew what had to happen, but still. Yeesh. It made The Empire Strikes Back look like the fucking Sound of Music. Anyway, Nina cried a few times and got all depressed. But there were a couple times during action sequences when she’d gasp and cover her face. It just feels good to see your girl have a cute, girly reaction to a dorky ass movie that you like. It’s hard to explain.

So we didn’t leave the theater until about 2:40 AM. By the time I got to bed it was 3:30. I overslept my alarm by half an hour. But that’s ok because nobody notices if I’m late really. I have a lot of work to do today, so I’d better get to it. Then after work, it’s off to the call center where maybe I can convince a man with terminal cancer that he can make a great contribution to his family and secure his legacy by buying my lame ninety-minute DVD. Oh the possibilities are just endless.

Well, the queries are in and I have to say that I’m fairly relieved that some of my darker secrets will remain hidden. So with no further delay…

“What is the absolute best thing about being married?”

Great question. Of course I could just blurt out “live-in pussy”, but that would just be dumb. Then again, that is a pretty sweet plus to the whole institution. But you don’t have to marry a girl to get your daily “medicine”. So what is the absolute best part about being married?

Well we all live our lives in a cyclical manner, some more subtle, others more extreme. I tend to take big swings in my approach to life, though the cycles are slowing. In my life there have been times when the whole world has been up my ass and I’ve failed at every task I set out to achieve. I’m not a man who handles failure very well. But it’s those horrible, dark moments in my life that I am most grateful for my marriage. Nina provides me with comfort and encouragement when I fail, sympathy and empathy when I’m sad, and relaxation and jocularity when I’m stressed.

I know that it seems sad that I say the best part of marriage is that I can always count on Nina for support. But I guess it’s just during those times when my need is greatest that my marriage is most noticeably a great blessing. So I suppose that while I appreciate all the great times we share, the institute of marriage is most beloved to me because my wife is my safety net in life. During my worst times, she’ll be there to lift me up. And so shall I be there for her. If not for my marriage, I’d be a very different man.

“How are you losing your weight?”

I like to imagine myself a purist of sorts. Because of this I simply can’t allow my workout and diet regimen to be complicated. If I do, I’ll fail. I’ve failed too many times before because I took a path that gave me options. So here’s how I’m doing it:

· I keep an accurate food journal. I keep it in excel format on my USB storage device on my key chain. In it I write down every calorie containing thing I eat. I note the portion size, number of portions consumed, calories per portion, saturated and unsaturated fat per portion, and charts that track this data. I can email it to anyone who wants it. It’s just a simple little thing. The most important thing is to update it often and keep it honest. It’s not a judgment, just a log. But it’s probably the most important aspect of my efforts here.

· I diet. Using my food journal I’ve identified some good ways to cut calories. I switched from whole eggs to egg substitutes. I stopped taking cream with my coffee (yes, Cece, my life is a little bit less full). I eat the healthier subs from subway for lunch almost every day. I’ll have a baked or seared cut of lean meat with some boiled and sautéed fresh veggies for dinner. I might indulge in a cup of light ice cream or two thin mint cookies later on. Then I write it all down. I try to eat fewer than 1,500 calories per day, and have been successful about 75% of the time.

· I exercise. Nina and I live out in the sticks. Scratch that. We practically live by the fucking river Styx. So I don’t have a gym to go to anymore. Instead I’ve taken up with mountain biking and hiking with the occasional trip to the public pool for some laps. I tend to engage in exercise that will allow me to push myself to the point of physical exhaustion. Last night after work I climbed Pass Mountain (a 1,200 foot climb). It feels great to summit and see that you are at the highest point of anything in all directions. Usually, the morning after a hard push like this I find I’ve dropped one to three pounds.

“What makes you the illest?”

The strange thing about illness is that it is a relative assignation. A person is only as ill as the illness given him by those around him. We all know someone who tries to force some measure of illness at his friends, and it usually only demurs what illness he naturally possesses. But since I have promised to answer this question, I’ll ask for some latitude with the following arrogant profession of illness augmenting qualities. So what makes me so ill? I’d have to say that my personal illness stems from a series of things:

· WIT – I’ve always found the dry, wry humor to be the most appealing. Wes Anderson films absolutely kill me. The funniest jokes to me are the ones without an obvious punch line. Normally, the ill would be more adept at the bitchslap type wit. And while I can go toe to toe with many at fat momma and broke ass slams, it’s the joy of insulting someone without them even knowing they’ve just been served that people find most impressive. Just for good measure, I’ll occasionally add a throaty “BURN!” at the end just to give my illness that added little kick. It’s like the statistics that claim if a waitress writes a smiley face or a “thanks!” on your check that you’ll bump up your tip by two to five percent. “BURN!” gives my illness rating a two to five percent boost.

· FASHION – A person has to be pretty damned ill indeed to walk around wearing a sleeveless shirt with “ILLEST” stitched on the front. But when you add the number 13 to the shirt, you truly gain props among the illness raters in your area. When you add some boot cut jeans and a 40 oz, you’ve got a recipe for red hot Chilly McIlly.

· NINA – Ill by association. I have no problems being part of the entourage. In college, it was Nina’s dorm that everyone came to party. When we moved in together, it was Nina who brought the crowds. When we were stoners, it was Nina who was always able to make the score. Now, Nina is still everybody’s favorite, and justifiably so. Yes sir, my tootie only serves to add to my illness.

· I’M WHITE – And what’s iller than a honkey, really?

So only three questions asked. Oh well, I got off light. Thanks for reading everyone. To be honest, I do occasionally have a problem with feeling like I should censor my shit because my readers may not like it. But then I post it anyway and let the chips fall where they may. I’m glad that some of you get a kick out of me. Happy weekend, y’all!

Anniversaries and birthdays, apart from being times of great celebration, are also appropriate times for reflection. Last month Nina and I celebrated our seven-year anniversary. Truth told, we’d gone through a pretty rough patch for a couple months there. No, sir, nothing pleasant about it. However, we’ve worked through all the crap and are doing very well. Those bad times suck, but they remind you to enjoy the good times you have.

This Saturday is my 29th birthday. The funny thing about birthdays that I have to remind myself of is that whenever you have a birthday, the age that you turn is already complete. This Saturday I will have already completed 29 years, and will begin the first day of my thirtieth year. So when I turn thirty, I’ll actually be beginning my 31st year. My point is that as of this Saturday, my twenties are actually over. I don’t have a problem with the aging process. However, it is a good reminder that I need to stop for a moment and reflect on progress and path. Unfortunately, writing a “how’m I doing” post would bore even me to tears so I’ll go with another landmark that’s a bit more interesting.

As of today Just Off Center is officially one year old. It’s been a fun and interesting time since I first decided to join the blogging community. This time last year I was driving back from lunch with one of those crazy and meaningless little revelations bouncing around in my head. I remember that I was thinking that when a woman asks her man to come into a public dressing room to see her clothing selections, she’s unwittingly tempting her man to think adulterous thoughts about all the other undressed women around him. I thought it was a quirky little concept, and I wanted to remember it long enough to tell Nina about it.

The problem was that I knew I’d forget by the time I got home. I always forgot these things just a few hours after thinking them. Then it occurred to me that I could start an online journal. I remember having read a few web pages that people had built just to post their own writing. I hadn’t yet heard the word “blog”. So I got back to my desk and googled “online journal”. As you can expect, I was flooded with information about this growing phenomenon called blogging. Within an hour I had signed up with Blogger, assigned the moniker “Just Off Center”, and was writing my first post.

It was less than a week before Nina found out about the blog. Of course, it wasn’t much of a secret. I was writing a post on our home computer and she walked by. Soon enough I had convinced her to try it out as well, with great results in my opinion. It was just over six weeks before I got my first comments. Then I started surfing around and found other bloggers whose writing entertained me. I started leaving comments that were seen by other readers, who would in turn click on my link to check me out. And here we are today 365 days and 165 posts later. I have a wonderful creative outlet. I’ve shared things on this blog that I’ve not uttered to any friend. I’ve made great new friends in the process and I’ve learned things about myself that I either didn’t know or daren’t admit. I need a way to celebrate this.

When Mario Puzo wrote down that the Don could not refuse any request made of him on his daughter’s wedding day, everyone just assumed that this was standard practice for Mafia folks. Actually he just made it up. But it’s still a good idea. So I’ll follow suit, except I’ll call it my blogger anniversary since I don’t have a daughter. And since I can’t be there to fulfill your requests, I’ll have to limit the siege to answering your questions. Ask me anything you want and I promise I’ll answer truthfully in a future post.

email me

Be gentle.

I know that I may not seem to be much of a feminist, but I truly believe in gender equality. I believe that women have for far too long had their potentials suppressed and restricted to those tasks that men simply are unwilling to do for themselves. I believe this despite the female gender’s never ending obsession with proving me wrong in that regard. Over the course of the last eight weeks I have heard no fewer than three people say the title statement to me. All three were women. All three were out of shape. The conversation usually goes like this:

BITCH – Wow, you look great! How much weight have you lost?
ME – Just over twenty pounds, thanks for noticing.
BITCH – Really? Cool! What diet are you on?
ME – Ummm…I don’t really prescribe to any diets. I guess if I had to call it anything it’s closest to the Subway diet. I eat there nearly every day. But for the most part I just try to eat healthy and get plenty of exercise.
BITCH – Hmm…yeah, I tried that Atkins/South Beach/Bulimia diet once. It doesn’t work. But then you know boys always lose weight a lot easier than girls.

What the fuck is that? This shit pisses me off to no end. I thought that girls avoided conflict, especially with guys, and most especially with guys like me. Where the fuck do they get off making such a generalization about my results? I’m fucking killing myself out there on those trails hiking and biking. Is it supposed to be easier for me to turn my back to that burrito supreme just because I have a dick? Fuck that! The reason I’m losing weight is because I’m restricting my diet to healthy foods and moderate portions and busting my fucking ass with sweat, muscle aches and suckin’ wind. At this point I usually just try not to get upset, but as soon as that phrase comes out I’m done talking about this topic. And this isn’t the extent of the retarded and unbelievable things that I hear from women. Other top hits include:

“You shouldn’t hike/run/walk. It’s really bad for your knees”

Oh is it? Yeah, I guess that there’s going to be some natural wear and tear associated with using my joints for their intended fucking purpose. But so what? Are you gonna tell me next that I shouldn’t go hiking because of the fucking cancer? Besides, how healthy is it on your knees to be lugging around a 250-pound torso every day? Yeah, that’s what I thought!

“What are you eating every day? Ooooooh…you know you should really try to eat (insert asinine way to stay fat).”

Why is it that every woman I talk to feels like she’s obligated to try to advise me on my diet? Just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you know more about proper dieting than I do. In fact I can’t remember the last time I heard a woman put the words “food” and “pyramid” together in the same sentence. But then, what would the FDA or the Surgeon General know about health care and weight management anyway? And even if you do know about these things, why the fuck are you arguing with success? Is this some kind of sabotage? Do you want me to switch up and fail? Are you trying to use me as a guinea pig for that “eat pizza, lose weight” diet you saw a headline for in the Daily Star? Don’t misunderstand, I appreciate input from the knowledgeable. But most of this comes from women who haven’t even tried the eating habits they’re preaching about. And yes, it’s always women who have to chime in. The men around me? Well they don’t even notice, let alone offer me advice.

“Well don’t lose too much weight. I think chubby guys are sexy.”

This one causes me to literally bite my tongue. Yes, literally. I’m biting it, because it’s probably for the best if I don’t say “OF COURSE YOU LIKE THEM FAT! FAT MEN ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO’LL FUCK YOU, YOU ORK-LOOKING YETI!!!” ARGH! I mean this goes beyond ignorance. This is a woman actively encouraging me to withstand the urge to improve my health so that she doesn’t have to feel inadequate. And what the fuck does she even care for? I’m married! I wouldn’t be trying to score any ass off of her anyway. Does she think that her opinion that tubby equals hubby is the standard for all women? The rest of these are just based in ignorance. But this one just unscrews the top of my head and forces steam to shoot out my ears.

There are two things that should be noted at this point. First, Nina doesn’t say any of this shit. These gems come from acquaintances with whom I have casual conversations on occasion. Nina’s been nothing but supportive. Secondly, just because I’m having some measure of success on a diet doesn’t mean that I feel I am all of a sudden superior to those heavier than me. I say that because after rereading this post I can see how what I’ve written could be construed as newly found arrogance. I assure you, I have no qualms with anyone based on their size. Well that’s not entirely true either. I’d probably have some difficulty respecting the opinions of a shut-in. But, apart from that, we’re cool. I just don’t like the juggernaut of unsolicited advice I’ve been getting lately. Besides, if I were going to be prejudiced towards fat people I’d be a certified self-loather. I still have a good thirty pounds to drop before I’m done.

Can someone please explain this to me? I think it’s just a desperate attempt on the part of out of shape women to pass off laziness and gluttony as genetics and fate. Do girls get subjected to this same kind of crap when they’re dropping pounds? Am I overreacting when I get upset? It just seems that all my efforts are being so easily dismissed as biology rather than the result of effort and discipline. I don’t care about praise, and I get nervous when I receive compliments. However, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that if you’re going to recognize a change to not qualify it by insulting the work I’ve put in to get here. Bitches, man…bitches.

Yesterday Nina left on a four-day trip to Laughlin with her mother and her mother’s girlfriend, Janie. She’ll be home Friday sometime barring any great wins or losses. So now it’s just me and Sam hanging out at home. Without any wife to supervise us dumb ol’ boys things could turn disastrous. But so far things have been pretty normal around the house. After work I went to the grocery for fresh veggies and some shrimp, came home and made baked chicken and broccoli. I did a load of darks. I cleaned up dinner and sorted through the coupons from the mail and Sunday paper. Most of the rest of my night was spent on the computer. No, I wasn’t downloading porn. Ok, so maybe I was downloading a little porn. But most of the time was spent trying to add, remove, and correct the tags on all my mp3 files for my Ipod.

My main concern is Sam. He doesn’t exactly have a stellar track record for properly utilizing alone time. The first time Sam went unsupervised was for just a few hours. Nina and I went to a movie and dinner with a friend. We came home to find him passed out drunk. He admitted his mistake and said that it had nothing to do with us being gone. I believed him. The next time was when we went to go visit Grace and Steve in Irvine. We were gone for three days. We came home and Sam hadn’t done a single chore he’d promised to do and there were two half gallons of the cheapest rotgut whiskey available in plain view in his car. One of them was empty. I set the bottles out that night with a note telling him how pissed off I was and that I couldn’t trust him anymore.

I tore into him really good that evening. He had already been “talked to” by Nina. But it’s me he fears. I’m not sure why, but he just gets so terrified when he has to own up to fucking up to me. I’m not even mean to him. Anyway, I basically had to put him on restriction. Now I’m monitoring all his movements outside the house, tracking his spending so that I can develop a budget for him, and giving him weekly room inspections. So far he’s doing well with it. I know it’s embarrassing for him, but who the fuck cares? He brought it on himself. How fucked up is it that my friend has put me in a position where I have to be his fucking daddy? Anyway that next weekend we left for my mom’s wedding. We came home and found that he had indeed done some chores and had appeared to stay off the sauce.

So when Nina decided to go with her mother to Laughlin I became concerned about the example I would set. The last time Nina left for any extended period of time was about two years ago when she spent a few days in L.A. with some friends. Pretty much every night I got drunk on beer and passed out. “When the cat’s away…” I guess. Well I didn’t have all the responsibilities of a house then, nor an alcoholic friend who needs an example to follow. So when I went to the grocery store yesterday I was very tempted to stop by the liquor isle and pick up a pint or maybe a six-pack. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the ethical dilemma that led me to choosing sobriety. It was just that I didn’t want to have to write down in my food journal that I had consumed an extra 700 calories for the day.

Just the same, I want to make sure that Sam doesn’t see any hypocrisy between what I preach and what I practice. Nina being gone shouldn’t have any impact on my daily routine and behavior apart from loosening up to do some things that I normally wouldn’t feel right about doing around her like spending three hours on the computer or watching a movie she hates. Sam just sat there in the living room all night. He watched Revenge of the Nerds. God, why does he waste his life watching retarded fucking films he’s seen a hundred times before? He even watched about twenty minutes of The Terminator in Spanish.

Oh my God, I forgot. Nina left us with a few simple requests. One of them was to make sure that we saved this week’s Crossing Jordan and Gilmore Girls from being deleted. Gilmore Girls was on yesterday. When TiVo is recording a show you can’t change the channel. Well you can, I just haven’t bothered to explain how to Sam. Anyway it came on and was recording while I was on the computer. I figured Sam was just reading his book on electrical code or something. I came into the kitchen to find him completely engrossed with the show. Getting hooked on Lost is understandable. Watching every rerun of King of the Hill is annoying. But to see Sam absolutely wrapped up in the trite little cutesy plots of this show geared toward mother/daughter couples left me speechless. I can tell you everything that’s going on in the show, but that’s just because Nina wants me to watch it with her. She considers it payback for all the Star Trek: TNG I made her watch. I had no problems not watching it in Nina’s absence. But it seems Sam was deeply concerned as to how Rory’s new boyfriend would handle having dinner with her cold and manipulative grandparents.

So after Sam went to bed I started getting myself ready for the next day. I prepped my coffee maker and looked through my wardrobe for today’s apparel. Then I went to bed. This morning went down like any other. Later today I have an interview at Starbucks. Yes… Starbucks. I know I’m the guy who called it yuppie crack, but it looks like a fun part time job. So Sam will be all alone from the time he gets home until I get back around 7:00 tonight. Not to worry though. There’s not much that he can do that I can’t find out about. I’ve spent a lot more time than he has in the development of my skills in surreption. Who knows? Maybe I’ll come home to find him sitting, legs crossed, in front of the TV gorging himself on the WB’s Wednesday lineup.

Nina won’t have computer access while she’s gone, so if you have any messages you want me to pass on add them here. I’ll see to it she gets them.

The other weekend I was watching Ocean’s Twelve at Grace’s pad. One of the scenes involved a very rich thief training for a caper he was about to pull. The obstacle wasn’t just that he had to be able to scale a wall, shimmy across rafters and crawl past guards. He also had to cross this large room that was awash in laser motion detectors. The beams were constantly changing and sweeping across the room in a totally random pattern. In order to navigate the area he would have to be able to jump, twist, flip, and contort into all kinds of unnatural positions. It was most impressive to watch. The entire time I was thinking to myself “Damn, I wish I could do all that.”

Then it occurred to me that the feats I see on TV and film that most impress me aren’t fighting moves or displays of great strength. It’s the agility and the maneuverability that I find most incredible. I love Darth Maul, Dare Devil, Neo, Legolas, and Olympic gymnasts. The damnable irony is that I’m a 213-pound man who can’t yet do a single pull-up. But then, I’ve always been the type who works toward a goal. I’m not losing weight to lose weight. I want to get my wife wet at the sight of me. I don’t lift weights to get strong. I want to lift and shove my own body weight over great obstacles.

In order to conquer an obstacle, one must be inspired to do so. Such inspiration comes from external examples of greatness and internal desire to achieve. So, to be fair to those external inspirations that have motivated me over the years, I’ve decided to put together a list of those greats that have inspired me over the years, not necessarily physically, but also intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s taken me a while to piece this short list together, but I’m fairly content with it. I’ve decided to leave out ones from my early youth (aka dad, brother, grandpa, etc…) because that’s both obvious and really fucking boring.

WONDER MAN - After the obligatory few years spent kicking the asses of every orc, goblin, wraith, zombie, and evil wizard I could find I decided I needed something other than regular Dungeons & Dragons to occupy my imagination. That's when I discovered that Marvel Comics had its own RPG that allowed me to portray superheroes and even make new mutants of my own. I became obsessed with Marvel superheroes, particularly this guy. Super strong, able to fly, cool as shit, and an Avenger to boot, Wonder Man was just the most awesome guy I’d ever seen. He didn't waste his time trying to be a great hero nor did he take on any real arch nemesis. He just flew next to the Avengers’ jet and stomped the shit out of all comers. Then he’d smile pretty for the cameras, get the field reporter's phone number and fly off. He was the first man to take the place of my dad in the "when I grow up I wanna be just like you" position; the first of many.

NICHOLAS KNIGHT - He was brought across in 1228. He preyed on humans for their blood. Now he wants to be mortal again. To repay society for his sins. To emerge from his world of darkness. From his endless, forever night. RAHR! This was one of the dorkiest TV dramas I'd ever seen. But for some reason I found my sixteen-year-old self drawn to the plight of this 800-year-old vampire trying to regain his mortality and humanity. He too could fly and had super strength, plus fangs which he would bare like Bela in every episode. I was in a really dark place in my life at this time. Perhaps this tormented soul brought me some measure of peace. Invulnerability is also a plus.

TRENT REZNOR - For a period of about four years I was hopelessly in love with Nine Inch Nails. One might call it obsessed. One would be right. I was one of those guys who played it in my car, in my home, and in other peoples’ homes. I'd sing it at work, and write down the lyrics to his songs. I probably could have benefited from a strong battery of anti-depressants. But I have to say that the music allowed me to express at an early age a rage and frustration that was going to come out anyway at some point. After a while Trent's truths started to seem more and more formulaic and trite. I was growing out of this phase in my life. To this day it’s difficult for me to listen to NIN without feeling some measure of embarrassment over my former persona. All the same, I am eternally grateful to this geeky, angry, angst driven madman for providing me with the cheapest therapy ever.

NIMBUS - In May 1998 I joined the Air Force. By January 1999 I was pretty sure that I wasn't exactly the poster boy for military conformity and contentment. After tech school I was deployed to Tucson AZ to begin my career as a lab rat for the gub-ment. It wasn't long before I fell in with other guys like me and we found a local brewery that we could call home. This was the Nimbus Brewing Company and they served the most outstanding oatmeal stout I'd ever had. I'm pretty sure it was the first oatmeal stout I'd ever had, but that's neither here nor there. I began to visit several times per week and even bring home half gallons of the beer home. I also gained thirty pounds and got put on the weight management program. Regardless, Good old Nimbus was a true friend to a man who just couldn't handle the sight of camouflage on his skin. I doubt Nina feels the same, but who cares? She was just a military wife. I would link to its site here, but Nimbus himself got screwed out of his own brewery and now someone else runs it. Damn the man!

NEO - Just before I moved to the Phoenix metro area I fell in love with The Matrix. It wasn't just the cool effects. The very idea that I could just wake up from my life and begin again was such a fucking metaphor for my mental state at the time. And the main character, Neo, was the embodiment of every super power I'd ever wanted. I want to fly. I want super strength. I want super speed. I want to download entire textbooks into my head. And who wouldn’t love to wear that club version of a monk's cloak? When I'd be on the cross trainer at Gold's I'd find myself most driven by the thoughts of Neo-like acrobatics. And anyone who can get me through an hour on level eight deserves a spot on this list.

SMITH - Then one day, I remembered that though I always loved the good guys because they got the best powers and usually won the day, it was the bad guys to whom I best related. I always felt a kinship with the Darths, The Punisher, Hans Gruber, and the Borg. And then when Matrix Reloaded came out I saw the true power I wanted, the ability to assimilate all I see into myself. Sure it's the act of the ultimate narcissist. But perhaps I can just relate to Smith's raw drive to destroy his mechanical ex-masters by absorbing them piece-by-piece until he became the Oedipal nemesis of his creator. I learned to try silence as an option and to think before speaking. I learned to take all sides and make no enemies. This may not help in social situations, but it’s a series of tactics that I can break out for professional advancement whenever I choose.

Today I have no real heroes that I can think of. And I’m ok with that. I’m of the opinion that this age in my life is more transitional than productive, like when a baseball team goes through a “rebuilding” year. It’s strange. I used to think that by this age I’d be a fully developed person, at least a lot closer to whom I can see myself being for the rest of my life. But instead I feel like a pupa more now than ever. I know I’m a good person, a decent husband, a fair provider, etc… But when I imagine myself at 40, I see myself looking back at me age 29 and thinking “what a loser”. It’s a lame and cliché way to end a post, but only time will tell.

Here is a shot of the desert. You can see the world in the background. On the other side of the mountain, it seems a light year away. 

The single-wide track was usually a lot more craggy and rocky than this. But it was really easy to stay on course and navigate. 

The yellow sun rises on the peak of Pass Mountain. This shot was the first one I took. It looks to be far off in the distance, but that's the very mountain we took on...and conquered! 

Moss only grows on the north side. Did you know that? And check this stuff out. It's almost day-glo. Was this area being used for some radiation testing that I don't know about? 

Look closely. You see it? Nina stopped dead in her tracks to have me take a shot of this little lizard. There were hundreds of them scurrying around in the brush. Nina owns a little rubber lizard that she loves to death. I suspect the lizards were biding their time until they could strike us down and claim their rubbery brethren. Cute, huh? 

The cacti bloom only once every year, and usually for a matter of a few weeks. Here's a great shot of this normal saguaro showing off with its blooms. 

Nina liked how the rock face was vertical against the background of the pyramid-like mountain behind it. All I see is a drop off to certain death.  

The sun's glare took away some of the beauty in this shot, but I wanted to include it anyway.  

The lone saguaro sits among the stones. Note the view of the different mountian ranges as you look back. I wonder how far back that last peak is. 

I love the blue sky here. This is one of the first shot we took on the other side of Pass Mountain. No civilization as far as the eye can see. That felt good. 

Nina and I always take a snap of our pretty selves when we're out doing cool shit like this, We took another one, but it didn't look as cute, so Neener asked me to leave it out.