socialy retarded

Don’t judge my low brow beer.

Posted on 19. Nov, 2009 by Derrick.

One of the reasons why I have great adulation for the friends I chose, they are all primarily accomplished alcoholics. All of us have expensive taste, and we all love the good stuff. My friend Pet for example is a wine and single malt scotch connoisseur. Nick loves the craft beers from Germany to the local brew. Floyd loves the vodka, going back to the days when we were just young pups. John’s into anything, so long as we are at a pub. Brandon is an Irish whiskey Jameson, beer drinker. And I’m very much into Craft beers and 18 year old Macallan. To have spent thousands of dollars with these men has been a privilege.

I’ve been inebriated with, and have had many fond memories with these men. But to every man, there is one common theme; my friends are pragmatic if not downright practical alcoholics. I’ve never seen any of them turn down a free drink. No matter the flavor.

I’ve recently found another resource for contributing to my delinquency. Twitter. And in true fashion I’ve located a few kindred souls on twitter, people that share my love for craft beer.  Spending time cyberstocking these people has consumed me in the recent weeks. Reading their blogs, tweets, thoughts, loves, and endeavors. Social media gives such a raw view of humanity, individuals thoughts without editors in chief is inspirational.

During this new discovery of craft beer enthusiasts, I’ve run across an inspired woman that truly loves the beer. Ashley, or better known as The Beer Wench, has done a grand job to further craft awareness.  With her blog but also keeping the good folks of tweepland in the know.  However, she is not only a beer aficionado, but a bit of a beer snob.

In one of her articles “Please put down the Budweiser” I felt a twang. This twang often leads to going on a tangent, but to understand you have to read. Her article goes on to say:

And even though I am on a tight budget, I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to spend my money on cheap, mass-produced, super low quality beer. I work hard for my money. And I will not waste it on worthless products.

Why not?

• I try not to support corporations that contribute to globalization and and world poverty.
• To me, quality is more important than quantity.
• I value my palate. And respect  my body. I will not subject my taste buds to bad beer.
• I believe in supporting the “small guy.” I want my dollar to matter. Corporate breweries brew beer strictly for profit. Craft breweries brew beer in the name of love.

BOTTOM LINE: I am a beer brat. A beer geek. A beer connoisseur. And I hate corporate beer. I think it tastes like shit. It is uncreative, uninspiring … and flavorless. Period. End of story.

Yes, I am strongly opinated on this issue. I refuse to drink corporate, regardless of how inexpensive it is. The value is NOT there. It is not worth it.

I also realize that this post may rub some people the wrong way, which is fine. My target audience is not the everyday Bud drinker.

Why did this blog post bother me? Most people don’t offend me but in this instance I happened to be drinking one of those “corporate beers”. Keystone Light. A corporate branded Coors beer. A 30 pack was left at my house and who was it for me to turn down free beer.

I think highly of Miss Wench (Though, I don’t understand her love of bacon), she is an articulate educated beer lover. But she is dead wrong.

• I value my palate too. But corporate beer is not bad beer. Several of my favorites are corporate beers including Guinness, Coors, and Sam Adams.
• Golden Colorado exists because of corporate beer. Coors brewery in Golden is the largest single-site brewery in the world. It employs over a thousand Coloradans and is active within the Colorado economy and funds multiple local charities.
• I love quality over quantity. I’d rather hit a stunning pow day with 12 inches of snow and only make two runs than spend a day bombing 15 groomed runs, but sometimes you don’t have that option. Rocky Mountain Piss-water, or otherwise known as Coors Light is not a bad beer. They put as much effort into quality as anyone. I should know I used to sail with one of their brew masters. He loved, still loves every batch of beer.

This brings me to my point. I object to critics that think they know better than Joe Sixpack. Weather you be a music, movie, or food critic. Sometimes the reviewers aren’t the end-all-be-all. To use my favorite tag line, the champions of beer need to use some cognitive dissonance. Step away from the glass and understand why someone drinks their choice of alcoholic drink .This is no indictment of Wenchy, she seems to have a good grasp on reality, but in this instance she had grown too far from her roots

We all started drinking beer for the same reason. To get smashed. No one started being a craft beer fanatic at the age of 16.  My humble beginnings began drinking Mikeys wide-mouths and St Ides malt beer in high school. I broadened my horizons in college and didn’t refine my taste buds till recently, and I’m a few short months from being 30.

I still love top 40’s music, I still love Pizza Hut and Taco  Bell, and I still love Coors light. I can respect Ash’s opinion, that corporate beer is shit, but I can’t respect her disdain for the people that love the corporate beer. Craft lovers, please don’t be obtuse as beer drinkers to understand that people like frosty suds of the 3.2 kind.

Even though I’m staring down the barrel of the big three-O, a party wouldn’t be the same without some good ol beer pong, flip cup (yes that is me filming), asshole or quarters. I’m not going to break out my Rogue Double Dead Guy Ale for beer pong, or my Stone Double Bastard Ale for some game of asshole. I’m going to drink Keystone light, Coors light,  Bud Light, or really anything with the word light at the end.

I can recognize people with greater knowledge and intelligence then myself . Of which I think The Beer Wench has both, but hopefully she reads this and doesn’t thumb her nose at me for drinking my corporate beer.

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Breaking up is hard to do

Posted on 25. Oct, 2009 by Derrick.

I’m sure by now you realize, muffintopbikers.com no longer exists. Summer chose to not be with me any more, or more to the point, she said “I don’t want to try at our relationship” and I ended it.

I figured I would just merge my personal blog and keep an archive of the posts from muffintopbikers(just my posts). Then I started to get emails from people asking what happened. So to eliminate the repetitive emails. I’ll give everyone a time-line what lead up to our ultimate demise.

The beginning of the End. In July of last year, I had been at my former company for more than 6 years. At the time I felt stale and that my life/career was going nowhere fast. I worked with a guy that I despised (he had an affair with my x-wife), and I couldn’t stand waking up in the morning every day just to see his face. So, I left my well paying job. For a job that I thought was going to be a better opportunity with more money and more advancement.

That was not the case. I chose to move into a marketing position for a remodeling company. Phoenix during the summer of 2008  had a 40% foreclosure rate. People aren’t remodeling their houses that are going into foreclosure. I made the right move at the wrong time. I took the failure poorly and subsequently emotionally withdrew. (Clif note to Derricks emotions: When things go wrong, I internalize everything)

Event number 1: The Move. Prior to my Failure as a Marketing Director. Summer and I had been discussing moving back to my home state Colorado. Since my divorce, I had wanted to get away from Arizona. I had only moved there for my x-wife and I had no ties to the state. I missed being able to do anything during the summer. Now that I had a dog, it was necessary to move somewhere less scorching.

We had discussed moving to Colorado after I established myself within my new company. That plan failing, I was devastated. I couldn’t go back to my old job, and I wanted to get employment immediately. We had just enough money to last us a couple of months then we would have been broke. So Summer suggested that I drive out to Colorado, live with a friend, and see if I can find employment.

Within 24 hours of coming to Colorado, I found employment. It wasn’t a spectacular job. I was going to make about 1/3 of what I was making just a few short months before, but it was enough to pay all my bills. Summers boss informed her that he would let her continue to do her outside sales job from home. We had enough money to get our apartment, move all of our stuff, and pay for some help to move all our crap 3 flights of stairs. The stars aligned just right. I was elated to be back to my roots.

She was not. She had sent me to Colorado in late September, and subsequently, I had to missed her 30th birthday at the beginning of October. Because I had very little money, I could only afford some flowers. Even though it was her idea to send me out, secretly I think she always held it against me that I wasn’t able to do more for her.

Event number 2: Let me unwind. Several months came and went and I couldn’t get Summer out of a depression she developed. She moped around the apartment and refused to go out. I encouraged her to join book clubs, find an armature woman’s cycling team, join yoga, but she wanted nothing to do with any of those. Constantly complaining about being alone was wearing on my nerves. To compound the issue, when I came home from working 8-10 hours and wanted nothing but to unwind. She wanted to tell me every detail about what the dog ate, shit, ate, shit, and what her clients told her on the phone. I just wanted some piece and quite for an hour or so and things began to fray.

She was constantly complaining about being alone, of which I took her as asking me for advice on how NOT to be alone. I would make suggestions and she would promptly dismiss my suggestions. My aggravation level increased and I became shorter and shorter with her complaints. Almost dismissing them completely because she refused to do anything about it. She just wanted to vent her frustration, and I wanted her to fix her frustration.

Event number 3: You lied In early January we had the first of many subsequent  “state of the union” addresses when I found out a huge fact that I had not been previously aware of. When she sent me up to Colorado, she was thinking of leaving me. I was blown away. I have always said to keep open lines of communication and I felt lied to. She mentioned that it was because I had such a hard time dealing with the failure of my previous employment. I should have taken this as a hint that when shit hits the fan, Summer doesn’t react well.

Additional factors: Money! While things were deteriorating. One factor became evident. Summer was used to me making and spending money on her frequently. Before moving to Colorado, It was not uncommon for me to spend $400 on a weekend. We would go to a bar and I would happily pay the tab, buy dinner, and then pay for whatever shirt or pair of pants she fancied at the mall that weekend. I had paid for a trip to Belize, Several trips to Colorado for skiing/snowboarding, and a biking trip to California. All of which cost $2000-$5000.

With my new job. We had to be conservative. Clipping coupons, and  not going out on some weekends. Buying alcohol and having nights in, instead of going out. She exclaimed when we were breaking up that she thought I was becoming a homebody. When in fact I was simply being responsible.

The stress of little money along with her loneliness made for some dark winter months.

Event Number 4: Dad passes On March 13th my father passed away. He was my best friend, confidant, adviser, rock, and the one person that through my life was always there for me. It shook me down to my core. I’ve yet to recover from this, and I imagine its going to take me years if not decades to feel like a piece of me wasn’t ripped away. Even while typing this, I’m having a hard time not tearing up and swallow the baseball size knot in my throat.

My father was everything that I was. Loud, obnoxious, and socially retarded like me. He was highly intelligent, and successful. He loved to be in competition with everything. If I got a new gadget, he would go out and buy one better. If I went fast on my skis, he would try and go just that much faster. When drinking, I would put my glass down and he was there to fill it. I loved it. My morals (or sometimes lack of) mirrored his. I to this day remember every knot he taught , saying he said, and life lesson told from my childhood with great fondness.

He loved and adored me, I loved and cherished him.

Because I never got to tell him that that I cherished him (I suspect he knew) I felt cheated and my emotions were simply numb. I couldn’t feel anything. I tried to be happy, but I couldn’t. I tried to be sad, but I couldn’t. I simply existed. Summers depression and loneliness and mine mingled to make one cesspool of dreariness.

I needed Summer, she was what was keeping me from melting down. She simply wasn’t there for me. She was to pre-occupied with how I was going to internalize this event. She became more worried about how she was feeling. She constantly made conversations up and over exaggerated the ones that did happen. During those months , she forgot that I needed her. I needed her to be the stronger person in the relationship.

The muddy waters We sometimes had days without talking. Arguments that would have never previously been arguments were. The Summer that I knew and loved started to drift away. She wasn’t the happy person that I wanted and I couldn’t be the happy person that she needed.

Event number 5: Don’t take this the wrong way. State of the union address number 2. Summer sent me a text message saying “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I feel more lonely now than I was before I met you”

I was furious. How can you say that to someone you claim to love? I couldn’t understand why you would say that intentionally. This was the first time I should have waken up. I should have known that she had, in the 4 months since my fathers death, decided that I was not worth the effort to hold our relationship together.

She said as much in that argument that she wanted a relationship that wasn’t going to be work. She argued that the beginning of our relationship was so easy and that it was difficult now. I argued that relationships, at least the good ones, are work. I was willing to put effort into our relationship.

She wanted me to do more things around the house, help her with chores, and more importantly be more attentive to her feminine needs. I asked her to try as well, I needed her to be there for me emotionally. I explained to her that I felt like she was just a roommate, not a confidant and lover.

The Sex… The sex was good. At times it was great. When we first got together, we had sex 7 times a week in only the 3 days we saw each other. Towards the end. It was sometimes once a week, sometimes once every two weeks. She took this poorly.

Event number 6: Brutal honesty State of the union address number 3. We had just come back from Backpacking Jasper lake, when one of our “normal” conversations turned south. It turned into a finger-pointing session where I became so fed up with her attitude that I became brutally honest in some of my observations over the last year.

She had asked me about our sex life and why it was lacking. I explained to her that I still found her attractive, but it was different in the beginning. She asked how, and I explained that I found her more attractive when we first met. Keep in mind that we started muffintopbikers.com as a way to lose weight. We both gained 20lbs and needed to lose it. I happened to lose 40lbs over the time and she didn’t. THAT DIDN”T BOTHER ME. What bothered me was her negativity towards her own body. Always saying “I look fat today” “I feel so bloated today” “I wish I could wear those pants again”. Throughout our 3 and a half years she did this. Just like me, I always explained to her “how” to lose the weight and didn’t simply listen to her complaints. I was tired of it.

So I told her I was tired of it. I told her I was tired of her starting projects and never finishing them. Weather that was her respiratory therapy degree, or the recent workout regiment. She never finished any of them. I said “I’m tired of seeing you fail”. After some yelling and crying. We came to the same conclusion, we will both try harder.

Myself, I tried to mend things. Summer didn’t. All she got from that conversation was that I called her fat and lazy.

The birthday week. I had in the three weeks since the previous fight tried to do everything I could. I took out the trash, turned off the lights, took the dog out without complaint. I made my own lunches, and even offered to go out more.

Then came her birthday. I wanted to make up for missing her 30th, and because her birthday is always a big deal to her. I decided to make it a big deal to me too. I went out and planned a birthday week. Getting her 7 different presents with 7 different cards, for all 7 of her birthday week days. I saved her best present for last, giving her a heart shaped ring, exactly what she wanted.

I planned a birthday party at a local roll-a-rink. Happily dressed up in my best magnum PI outfit to give the night a theme. Got our closest friends together, and put together what I thought was a birthday to remember.

The next day was her real birthday. I had planned a romantic picnic, flowers, wine, the works. Instead she said she wanted a “me” day and went to the mall by herself. I didn’t think to much of it because, well, it was her birthday. Who was it for me to tell her what she could or could not do on her birthday.

The following day, I was genuinely pissed. I had spent weeks planning this. I had spent weeks being kind, gentle, and attentive to her every whim. I had spent weeks giving while I got nothing back. She didn’t thank me when everything was said and done. It was just another day to her. I told her I was pissed about how she didn’t thank me, and she responded with “it was nice, thanks”.

The plan. Through out my time trying to find Summer her birthday ring, I started to look for engagement rings. I also had picked out a location for my proposal.

There is a location on loveland pass where you can see the mountainside from the road. Because of how close it is to the road, and how clear the mountainside is from trees, rocks, and foliage, it looks like the perfect canvas. Summer has always loved my drawing, and so I wanted to make a huge picture and marriage proposal in the snow. A 100 yard marriage proposal. I wanted it to be grand, remember-able, and it would have been totally “us”. I envisioned Guinness and Summer climbing out of the car with friends standing around, me on one knee in the middle of the snowfield waiting for her to sprint to me and jump in my arms screaming “YES” all the while our dog making a huge mockery of the event by peeing on the marriage proposal.

I was planning on doing this on December 6th. I even had the ring picked out. I just needed to figure out how to pay for it.

This was my plan, she kept her plan to herself.

Final event: The end. 6 days after her birthday and 6 days of silence from her. She had a “girls” night out and I offered to pick her up from the bar. The next morning, before I had to go to work, I drove her to pick up her car.

Here was the setting. I went to bed at 1am with a drunk girlfriend. I woke up at 6 to get my irritable girlfriend up so I can driver her to get her car. 5 hours of sleep and it was snowing the first big snow of the year. Summer, in the year she lived in Colorado, never drove in the snow, not ever in her life.

We had had several conversations about driving in the snow previously, but it had been 4-5 months since we spoke about it last. So, while I was driving, I was trying to give her a refresher, but she had been texting her mother while I was talking to her. I looked at her and stated “Summer, this is important, you have never once driven in the snow” She looked at me with deadpan eyes , “You know Derrick, this is why I HATE our relationship”. I had warned her to never say this to me. I simply replied “Then its over”. I asked her what was going on with her and why she had been so detached. I asked why she hadn’t been trying to mend our relationship. Her respnonse was short and she offered no additional explanation. She said “because I didn’t want to”

2 weeks have passed since that conversation and I’m still confused why. I cant fathom living with someone and lying to them all the while. She had said during her birthday week how much she “loved her family”. I was stunned when she told me that she didn’t want to try to mend our relationship.

I offered everything to at least take a shot at mending our relationship. Counseling (I loathe counselors), books, classes, anything. She just said the same thing over and over “I don’t want to” “I don’t want to try” “A relationship shouldn’t have to be work”. We needed to learn how to communicate. Even in the end, I couldn’t understand what she wanted from me.

Aftermath: Roommates: Since my last long term relationship ended poorly with hate and bitterness, I wanted to try to make this as smooth and painless as possible. I had said that we could ease out of our living situation. That I would take the office and convert it to a separate bedroom. I needed time to find suitable living for myself and our dog. I wanted to meticulously go through our stuff so that we both ended up with what we wanted/needed. Truth be told, I thought that taking a month apart(kinda) would give me time to convince her that she was making a mistake. I thought I had an agreement with her on  living there till we could both make arrangements.

Our communication was off again.

4 days after our break up and I was eating lunch at home. She brought someone over that I’ve never met. A friend of hers that just moved to Colorado from Phoenix. It so happens that this person moved the day AFTER our breakup. The purpose of this visit was so she can show her friend the apartment. I should stop calling this person Summers friend. This person is now Summers roommate. Kim and her boyfriend were going to be moving into the computer room in 2 days. The room that I had planned on using FOR MY ROOM, and Summer was moving TWO new people into it. I asked Summer where I was going to stay? She said that I could stay in the bedroom while she slept on the couch.

Talk about awkward. Can you imagine meeting two new people, who will be moving into your apartment, while you are trying to emotionally handle ending a relationship you had planned on continuing till death did us part. What was I going to say to them? “Hi, how are you doing today, mine sucked because your new roommate broke up with me”????

Aftermath: The hate. That night Summer went out and got drunk. When she got home she had vengeance on the mind.

I stayed quite and wanted to just pack my things in piece while I listed to my iPod. Instead of letting me be she came out to the living room and started verbally berating me.

I couldn’t wrap my brain around how fast she went from “I love this family” to “I’m moving Kim in on Friday”. Within 4 days from breaking up she had a new roommate, and within 6, that roommate was moving in. I asked her if she cheated on me or she had someone else that she was thinking of starting a relationship with. I thought this was a valid question. My last marriage ended in infidelity. She answered “I didn’t cheat on you, but now I wish I had”. I mentioned before that my last relationship ended poorly, this one was heading down the same path. Speechless isn’t a word you would normally use in the same sentence as my name, but I was dumb struck. Summer has known how much the failure of my last relationship negatively effected me. To simply state that she wish she had cheated on me blew me away.

I asked her why she was doing this. Informed her of how many people her actions were effecting. My deceased Father, Step Mother and Mother had accepted her as part of the family. My sister not only accepted her as family, but became close friends with her. I asked her why she wasn’t considering all of our mutual friends. More importantly, our dog Guinness. Her response shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Her words “I don’t care what those people think”. These people who she didn’t care about just spent money, time, and effort to come out to her birthday party.

I couldn’t believe how callous she was being. I asked her to stop. Let me pack in peace.

She couldn’t leave it at that. Shortly after, she told me that I was emotionally devoid, and that if she told me why she was doing this, that I wouldn’t get it anyways. I argued again that she needed to at least give us a chance. Work on our relationship. Once again she brought the conversation all back to what I could do for her. I explained to her that I needed to have support to, that with the loss of my father, I needed some time to come back out of my shell. She told me “Stop using your Fathers death as an excuse Derrick”. If what she said about cheating on me hurt, this was like a hammer blow to my forehead. My father hasn’t been dead for more than 7 months. Not just a figure in my life but THE figure in my life, and she wanted me to forget about it. Like I was going to just snap out of it and become the happy Derrick she met.

I screamed at her to stop. I couldn’t stand hearing her voice anymore. Like a grating noise, you just want it to stop. I couldn’t understand the hate spewing from her mouth. I wanted to call her every name in the book, but the only thing that came to my lips was “You are such a hateful person”. I asked her to leave me a lone for the time I was there. I just wanted to melt into my room. This is when she asked me “why cant you just move now”

She continued with more, most of which I tried to ignore. But one comment stuck with me “Derrick, I didn’t want to be your friend after this breakup, I just don’t want it to be weird if we see each other in public”. Like being seen in public matters after the hate she just verbally vomited on my lap.

Aftermath: Shoulda Coulda Woulda. If I couldn’t get Summer to change her mind. I wanted to leave her financially solvent. I wanted to make sure she had a bed to sleep on at night. I wanted to make sure she had a computer so she can continue her outside sales position. I wanted to make sure she had some pots, pans, dishes, to eat with. I wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay. I wasn’t given a chance to do that.

Aftermath: Packing. I asked her to be at the apartment at about 5:30pm Friday night. I needed  help to  pack and divide up our belongings. I had secured some housing for Guinness and I (thanks to my BFF Floyd). As I’m on my way to the apartment she sent me a text saying “I’m going out to get some drinks”. I couldn’t believe it. She wanted to get drunk AGAIN and wasn’t going to help me do a damn thing. Mind you, she just moved her NEW roommates in that day.

Again she was drunk, again we fought. The only thing she said to me this time was “I don’t care what you take Derrick, it’s just stuff”. I couldn’t remember if I had either bought the dishes, or if I had bought the silverware. I took both. I wanted to know if she needed sheets, I took them all because they were all mine. I wanted to give her a computer but I didn’t have time to make one from the parts I had.

I packed everything that I knew was mine, and packed everything I thought was mine.

Aftermath: The move. I showed up with BFF Floyd Saturday morning to move everything. I had little time to Pack, Rent a truck, Secure housing, and grasp the reality of my situation. When I told her that I would be taking my couches. Couches that friends of our gave to us. But couches that I had paid to move to our house. She asked me “Where do you expect me to sleep” I didn’t care. She didn’t care where her “love” and “Bubba” were sleeping and I sure as fuck didn’t give two shits if she was going to sleep on a cardboard box.

Since she had no stop light on her mouth in recent days, Saturday was no different. Her exact words were “Derrick, you are such a dooshbag, I never want to see you again” I calmly told her that since her remark about my fathers death, nothing that she said would ever effect me again.

Two things we share, Cell phone lines, and car insurance. She immediately went to work promptly shutting both off when I made my intentions to take the couch clear. Thankfully enough she chose to not shut them off, more so, I think because it was Saturday she couldn’t reach anyone to shut them off. I’d imagine that if it were a week day, my cell phone would have been off and I’d have had to look for car insurance in the middle of moving. So I compromised. I took both of her bikes in exchange for the couches. She kept my cell phone on.

Dust settling. The fucked up part about this last 2 weeks. If she came to me right now and begged me to come back. I’d probably say yes. I’d be willing to do more things that made her feel like a woman. I’d be willing to trust her again to “try”.

I’m not even sure I completely blame her for how she reacted to this situation. Her biological father has never been part of her life and her mother being 19 at the time of her birth was less of a mother. A mother that while Summer was growing up had 4 different husbands. Is this how Summers mother reacted to her relationships? Is her behavior a learned one? Or is it reactionary from when her mother pawned her off to a family in phoenix. Is she getting rid of our relationship because of the word; Commitment? These are all things I was willing to explore.

Where to from here. After my divorce I wanted to do nothing but go out and get laid. Over and Over. This time I want nothing to do with women. I’m tired of putting my life and emotions out there. I’d rather have my nuts stomped then have to go through this again.

Girls just screw shit up. Plans get twisted. I never get what I want or need. It always ends up being about them. So for the next couple of years I plan on doing all the dumb shit I want. Ride across America? Sure why not. Take 3 months off and go to europe? Absolutely. Go backpacking just the dog and I for 3 weeks? You betchya.

I want someone who is going to incurage me to be a better man. I need someone who is going to support me enthusiastically in everything I do. I have to have someone who is going to jump into a foxhole with me and stand back to back to the world and yell back “I GOT YOU”. I need someone to get me.

I’ll miss Summer, she was during the best of times a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. To steal from a famous man “I was no superman, but she was where I belonged”.

My only regret is that Guinness has to share in my pain. He sometimes waits by the front door waiting for Summer to walk through. My heart breaks every time I look into his eyes and know what he is thinking. My pain is enough. To see my faithful dog who did nothing but love Summer without regard go through this pains me beyond belief. I rub his head and tell him that “Everything will be okay, its now just the two of us”

Thanks to……

Floyd -  The dude has stuck with me for 15 years. Great friend but an even better person.

Annika – My little sister made my life hell as a child. She is making it up to me now. Thank you for being there for me.

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Think your job sucks….

Posted on 17. Aug, 2009 by Derrick.

Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 FM in Ft. Wayne , Indiana , who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.

Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.

Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you’ve been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it’s not so bad after all
Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.

As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It’s a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool.
So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea.. It heats it to a delightful temperature.
It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.

Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I’ve used it several times with no complaints.
What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It’s like working in a Jacuzzi.

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch.. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. With in a few seconds my butt started to burn.. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done.. In agony I realized what had happened.

The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don’t have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn’t stick to it.. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate.

When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt.

I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically.

Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.

When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber.

The cream put the fire out, but I couldn’t poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.
So, next time you’re having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt.

Now repeat to yourself, ‘I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.’

Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?

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Social retardation networking

Posted on 20. Jun, 2009 by Derrick.

Several years ago I was conned into joining Myspace, then blogging, followed by facebook.

Now I’ve made the leap to “that other” social networking site: Twitter. I’ve always had a bit of a prejudice against Twitter. I think it was the name. It just sounded like a forum for twits. And the rule restricting all messages to no more than 140 characters seemed like an artificial conceit. But more and more people seem to be doing it. Figure I’d join the social revelution and expand my social networking horizons.

http://twitter.com/muffintopbikers

carrier to noise ratio

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Just get it over with

Posted on 01. May, 2009 by Derrick.

I’m not old, I’m not young either. I’m not old enough to be truly considered a full member of decent society, but old enough that hangovers last longer than just a day.

I think that society still treats the under 30′s as something like when you see a child stand for the first time. We all know how to do it, but it’s cute to see someone else do it for the first time. Unfortunately, being young also predisposes you to being “unwise” in the eyes of the people with power.

I’ve spent most of my 20′s having fun and playing hard. Weather it was the lows of divorce, or the highs of finding new love, I’ve had a blessed 9 years. But I’m ready to move on. I’m done with my 20′s.

I don’t want to be an ‘old soul’. As most people know I’ve not acted my age since turning 18. That being said, most folks believe that people in their 20′s are just responsible enough to keep a job but for whatever reason we can’t have “carriers” yet. That’s fine for when you are 23 and looking at the better years coming, but when you are on the back end, you want to be taken seriously.

I may know much more than someone else but if they have some gray in their hair, they are automatically perceived as more knowledgeable. Many people ask my advice on several topics. Topics that I’ve excelled in life, but at times those topics haven’t led to any personal advancement.

I’m ready to put my 20′s behind me and get on to my 30′s…..

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1/4 mile at a time

Posted on 25. Apr, 2009 by Derrick.

Started the swimming faze of me and Floyd’s triathlon training. We decided to take it easy for our first official swim and do a 1/4 mile.

Swimming is tough! Phuck Phelps and his graceful pull threw the water, I look like a cross between a seahorse and a chimpanzee fucking a football.

After our inaugural plunge into the deep, we decided to have some of summers home cooking and completely ruin our workout. I figure that the more fat I carry the better I’ll float right? Well that’s the theory anyways.

Here is a glimpse into our workout schedule for the next couple of weeks.

- Derrick

ps. My back, neck, shoulders, and lats all hurt!

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