A long time ago I made a wild and crazy New Year's Resolution. This year, it was going to be all about me. What I wanted to do, and everybody else could kiss my ass. How this squares against me doing a 12 hour work day with no overtime ... I'm not sure. But I'd better start getting home. :: NYPD exam filing fee has been waived!

I don't know who the gods of fashion are, how they made the determination, and who got the word out, but this spring season's newest style is apparently spray on pants. I first noticed this last Friday, when this underage girl was a the Buger King with some paint-on pants and a white paint-on top to match. But then kids (and porn stars I suppose) these days like that crap, so it was no big deal. But on the train today, getting off at Wall Street, there was another women with the same style tighter-then-skin pants. While I was shopping at Century 21 during lunch, there were more then a few women in some tight ass jeans and pants. And coming home on the subway, I noticed that there was a lady wearing some spray-on capri pants. Not that I object to this newest fashion statement, mind you. I just find it worth further exploration

So I pretty much scrapped all my Boston plans at the last minute, as Jeff was coming into town. Now that he lives way out by Putnam County, this is a big deal, him coming into the city. And although I've since passed my enjoyment of CounterStrike, he wanted to come down and do a little gaming, so we did. In Queens for a change, at a place I've only seen and never used. It wasn't the best place to go. Dinner was fun, at this very populor restaurant in Flushing that specialized in Tofu. It was very good, if not a little soupy. The best was when they sat this couple at our table because they didn't have the room. I was impressed tho, they seemed to be a having a pretty good time despite the shared table. And just like that it was over, and I was seeing Jeff off at the train. How we ended up spending 5 hours doing all that nothing, I don't know. But this is typical of my quaterly visits with Jeff.

I can't emphasize how much I find the Burger King fish sandwich to be just blah. I seem to recall that the McDonald's McFish was very tasty, but I haven't had on in years. But the BK version is just not a pleasant experience. On the plus side, there was this girl with spray-on latex pants and matching highride top. She was, of course, too young to be dressed up like that, but for a quick glance, I didn't mind. :: Somehow, I learned this a week ago, and although it might seem needlessly arcane, it's important to remember. It turns out that by federal rule, you can't move money out of a money market account very often. 6 times in one month, as a matter of fact. Anything more, and you might be required to close the account, and face a fine per violation. So don't take money out very often. No big deal. But let's say you subscribe to the Automatic Millionaire school of thought. Let's further say you deposit part of your paycheck in a money market account, to get a better return. You also have an IRA. Because you are a responsible investor, you diversify and have 6 funds. One International fund, a Large Cap fund, an Index fund, a Corporate Bond fund, an Midcap Income fund, and a Smallcap Growth fund. To make things easier, and to smooth out the volatility, you dollar-cost average, automatically transferring money from the money market to the funds on a monthly basis. You want to buy a new TV, and so withdraw money from the money market account. Did you remember to tell the Fund House that you wanted them to take out the money in one single transfer, as opposed to 6 individual transfers, one for each fund account? Don't know what I'm talking about? Then probably the answer is no. Oops! You just violated federal rules. I'm sorry, your account will be closed now. Plus you've been fined and now owe us money. Remember, the federal rules don't care why you make the 6 transfers, they just care that you make 6 or less per month.

For some odd reason, I went to help out with the preparations for a charity event that I have nothing to do with. It's a fundraiser for a school I have no children at. I help out people I barely know. I get home later then normal and leave lots of unfinished work at the office. And I'm not really thanked for my contribution. Sounds just about right.

Embarrassment is a powerful thing. Which is one of the reasons it is commonly avoided. I embarrass easily, though I am not too bothered by it (ie: I'm not going to hold it as a major grudge if you embarrass me. I'll dislike you, but not hate you.). But I understand how it can push a person's buttons like nothing else. Which is why I try to treat potentially embarrassing situations gingerly. It doesn't always work. Today was one of those days where things that were said should not have been said, in the manner they were said. And now there's quite a mess to clean up. Ugh. :: Famous Amos cookies are my newest treat. And they'll soon be the death of me. If you'll excuse me, I have to go sit and enjoy my chocolate sugar coma.

In doing some research for my new obsession, I came across some pretty interesting things when talking with my father. First of all, the fourth symbol means nothing. Technically, it means "seal", as in this red thing I use to stamp my name on things is my seal. It's not required as part of the seal. It's just there to provide a fourth character for balance and to make it look pretty. More importantly, dad informed me that there is a cycle. My generation is currently in the water cycle. The Chinese character that detonates the generational name must include the water symbol. There are several options to choose from, each with a different meaning. Some of the meanings are usually associated with girls. Others with boys. And, to make things easier (or harder, depending on your point of view), the phonetic sound that forms a syllable usually has a wide variety of different characters to choose from. For instance, the sounds "Soo" (or, alternatively, "Sue") has (unlike English) only one written form in the Korean alphabet. However, that name (ie: that sound) has at least 30 different Chinese characters associated to it. Each one sounds the same, but the meanings are different. Of the 30, roughly 10 have the Tree symbol as part of the character. Of the 10, each has a different meaning. One also includes the Water symbol, and is usually associated with Water, so if you're looking for the Tree, you only really have 9 choices. So, you really have 9 choices, which will have to vetted for meaning to convey the proper image/hopes for the child, as well as to make sure the name is of proper gender (some meanings are traditionally associated with gender. For instance, in English, Mercedes is usually a girl's name, even though it happens to also mean expensive car. In fact, car names are usually associated with girls. Does this mean we would rather own luxury cars then have a girl?). However, "Soo/Sue" is not strictly decided. The Tree symbol is what is sought. So there might be an alternative phonetic that includes the Tree symbol. The rules on when you can use this exception from the common superfamilial convention are not clear. And you also try not to use characters used before. It's bad luck to use the same name as the ancestors. But more to the point, our family has a 5 generation cycle to the generational name. Earth gives forth Metal. Metal melts like Water. Water gives forth Tree. Tree produces Fire. Fire reduces all to ash which is Earth. Lather, rinse, repeat. :: Today was stop 2 on the Gene Tour of Doctors. Tonight's featured ride was the dentist chair, which I haven't seen for a long long time. Surprisingly, it went very well. No cavities. A little more blood and saliva then I would have preferred during my cleaning, but not nearly as much as I thought there was going to be. And it didn't hurt that I got to chat it up some with my cute (classic blond Italian-American, but cute nonetheless) hygenist, Lori.

So, despite my repeated insistence that my next little project is an about page and other good stuff like that, my real next project has been getting a Cafepress store up and running. Not so much for people to buy stuff, but rather to make some microruns off stuff for myself to wear. I think a cap with a variant of my name would be pretty cool. So the idea I've had for the graphic has been to use a variant of my signature chop seal (dojong). I own several, my favorite being in Arizona (of course). A really nice one is my name in the symbolic Chinese characters that signify what my name means, on several levels. I use it for all my cards or correspondence. I thought it would make a really nice logo. But, of course, I don't want to just scan and use it, for then anybody could use it. So I've been looking for two things: a) What these symbols are, so I can write them. b) Software or a font pack that could print them up as a nice graphic. After discussing with my cousin last night, and after many hours searching on the internet, I get an idea. Why not see if the Microsoft language packs include something? Lo an behold, they DO! So, I fire up notepad, type out my name in Korean, run the handy conversion subprogram built in to the language pack. Copy and paste, and viola! I have my graphic! Except for this mysterious symbol that I don't know what is. I think it's a seal symbol, which doesn't correspond to any Korean character. Anyway, look out for my new golf shirt, coming to an online store near you soon. :: Bowling Update: Final Week Game 1: 130 Game 2: 102

Today I'm supposed to have a blood test taken. So, in order to prepare, I'm supposed to fast for 12 hours beforehand. This, at first, sounds pretty easy, as I'll be asleep for most of those hours. But now, staring at hour 4, and with my stomach growling like crazy, this no longer seems like the easy situation I had first imagined.

I spoke to Churl for the first time in a bit. It was a lot of fun. We haven't done the brotherly bonding thing in quite a while. Funny how our conversation quickly turned from his recent match to a medical residency program to the finer points of America's Army. I'm such a bad influence.

When I was a young boy, reluctant to eat my cauliflower, my mother scolded me in the classic manner: through a war story. You see, when she was a young child not nearly my age, the communists were bombing them. So the family was taking refuge at a refugee camp. And there was not a whit to eat except pumpkins. The orange jack-o-lantern things called pumpkins. Raw. Because the communists would shoot at you if you gave away your position with a cooking fire. And my mother, who was a bit spoiled, cried and cried and cried that she could not get rice. So she did what all little kids do in such trying times: she refused to eat the pumpkins. So Grandmother went from place to place, begging, offering cash, anything to get some rice for her self starving child. But there was no rice to be found. And so, a few days later, my mother finally broke down, and through her tears, ate the pumpkins. And they were awful. And every day since, she always thanks the good Lord that she has food to eat, because food is precious and to waste it is nothing short of a sin. Needless to say, I've been traumatized. I have to clean my plate, no matter how awful or possibly spoiled, thanks to those damn pumpkins. Even when I eat with Mom, and she throws out her excess or spoiled food, I soldier on, because of those stupid stupid pumpkins. The pumpkins were screaming at me tonight. I ordered all this food for dinner, and maybe picked at half of it. I even came home and had dinner again, so little did I eat. I'm going to have nightmares of pumpkins. Stupid pumpkins.

It was a very miserable day to be outside today. After 10 am, that is. Which is funny, because our fire drill was scheduled for 10 am. As soon as we step out, the thick heavy snow began, with flakes the size of quarters. We cancelled the planned march to our emergency gathering point. This was the theme of the day. My date rescheduled on me as well. Which I was not too surprised about, as I wanted to call her and reschedule myself. But that meeting I was trapped in from 2pm until 15 minutes before our date was a bit of an impediment. Now, all I have to do is figure out what to wear, where to go, and what to say tomorrow. Great. At least I got some nice pics out of all this.

Somehow, someway, I got tricked into a blind date tomorrow. Great. Now I've got to figure out all that crap I hate about dating like a place to go, what to say, how to act like somebody a girl would like to see again. Where's Therapist Joe when you really need him?

Today was a very busy day. This being the date of my grandmother's memorial, we got up early and headed off for the 3 hour car ride up to Middletown, which is where my grandfather is buried. Besides the part where we discovered that the Dominican food trucks do not open early on Sunday mornings, it was a pretty straightforward ride. Afterwards we went to Walmart, where we pretty much did a Walmart commercial. We purchased food, staples, clothes, and on the way out found something we didn't know we needed but at that price how could we say no? So anyhow, I'm $40 poorer, and the ride home was spent mostly talking about how the McDonalds Supersize is going away, and how that's just unAmerican :: Bowling Update: Week 24 Game 1: 141 Game 2: 156 Next week will be the last week.

Saturdays are not good to reach me. I'm constantly on the run. Errands in the morning, then travelling to Jersey around noon. I suppose I could call people from Jersey, but these are not my houses, so I'm not too comfortable using their phones. By the time I leave it's 8pm, add another 2 hour commute back home, and it's too late to call people again. This cell phone thing is beginning to look attractive. Beginning.

Either it was a shooting star or an engine off of a passing plane, but either way something burning and falling from the sky came a falling just as I was looking up for no reason on the walk home. So I made a wish. Fast. And, Lord help me, I can't remember what that wish was. I hope it was good. :: If you've ever paid more for pizza then it was worth, you've heard of Sbarro. I hate Sbarro. Not only because of their terrible pizza and outragously high prices. Actually, that's about it. So anyway, despite spending ridiculous sums of money on their piss poor pizza, I hate Sbarro. Along my walk home everyday, I pass by this classic italian delicatessan/pizzaria, where the meat hangs in the window and the cheese is proudly on display. And then one day, it closed. The old lady owner had finally had enough. The Italians are moving out. It was time to move on. One day I pass on the other side of the street, and I notice the awning. Sbarro. And I shake my head. Another fine traditional neighborhood store crushed under the corporate fist, and the world gets a little more bland. That is, until i reread the sign and talk to my neighbors. Turns out, this was the original Sbarro. The place where it all started. And the old lady that started it all? A cranky old meanie. That's about right.

True to my adventure last month, I got lost again trying to find the doctor's office. I got the right building, just not the right floor. They were in the basement, as the giant 3 x 3ft sign clearly marked. But that was OK, I wasn't late ... because I apparently didn't have an appointment. They were cool about it, I saw the doctor and all (no doubt having a generous health insurance package didn't hurt), but I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. I made the appointment! I had a nice long conversation about the hour they closed at. I even requested a physical (which, btw, I really didn't get). How could they not have my appointment? Or maybe this will be one hell of a dentist's appointment next week. :: I'm not a big fan of Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries. Her work is pretty cool, very imaginative, yet crisply simple, all about Korea apparently, and features some nice jazz. If a tiny bit overwrought. And waaaaay too long. And bit too pretentious. Which is something I suspected when I saw her other work, but then I caught (ie: wasted my night) Metablast, it pretty much confirmed my suspicions. There are a hundred comment pages like this on Metafilter, and yet she picks the one about her. Besides which, this sort of social commentary, while avant garde pre 1995, is pretty much the background noise of post bubble Internet. In this case, I recommend you skip the art and read the source material instead. Same humerous/sickenning/introspective feeling, 1/4 the time. Of course, delmoi has the only important question worth asking