There was this Fig Newton I ate at breakfast...
1 million words later...
There is a soul!
because there were movies and TV to watch, and I think you could even play video games
You neglected to mention the open bar. I think that plays an important part in what happened later.
"Etiquette of Bodily Function" was Cibo Matto's original name.
Sleep deprivation is torture. You must report yourself to the authorities.
Five years ago you must have been, what, 25? Maybe not that old - I'm just guessing based on that fact that you teach college and vague memories of meeting you once - but definitely over 20 and well into college, right?
It reminds me of falling asleep in the car with my parents. Whenever I go to, say, a restaurant with them or a family gathering at a cousin's house or something, I don't mind at all falling asleep in the car, even though I used to be really self-conscious about it until I was no longer living with my parents full-time, probably even a while after that. Back then I think it was about wanting to prove that I could stay up, like an adult. Now I have nothing to prove in that area, and more importantly, it's a way to avoid annoying conversation.
I have a reccuring fear-based flashback after meeting a new group of people (especially in a drinking situation) that feels very third-grade-ish. They seemed to like me. They laughed when I was telling jokes. But were they laughing with me or at me? Were they having side conversation about how goony I am? What did I do? What kind of cruel mockery have I opened myself up for? &c.
This isn't helped by the fact after a few drinks, I become nigh-Falstaffian (an ex's description--when told of it by a mutual friend I just shrugged, but apparently she thought it was a negative) in bravado and willingness to push social norms of appropriate language and jokes. Anyway, sorry to everyone if I was goony at UnfoggedCon I or at the NYC meetup last summer.
Oh, goony's not that bad; if you were me, you'd be worried about appearing sourly antisocial.
Fleur is constitutionally incapable of sleeping on airplanes. One time a while back, we flew together to Germany for the wedding of an old friend of ours. After the overnight flight, upon arrival in Münster, I was enthusiastically telling her about the significance of the local sites ("And up there on the church tower, the Anabaptist rebels' mangled corpses were left to decay inside those iron cages until there was nothing left..."), but she was in no mood to hear about it. To this day, whenever I'm rambling on about something that bores her, she interrupts me by saying "Let me tell you about the peace of Westphalia..."
Further to 7: Not that you were goony, of course.
On the subject of the post, I was a fainter as a teenager -- don't know exactly what the problem was, but if I missed a meal, there was a good shot I'd faint. Eating something fixed me right up. Standing motionless in hot weather could also set me off.
It was humiliating in pretty much the same way: exhibiting lack of normal bodily control. And of course the Victorian wilting violet thing; slumping weakly against the lockers in high school murmuring "Someone... feed me a candy bar..." is not a strong position to be in.
I recall Chopper at udc1 as a merry fellow and I understand he told an amazing shaggy dog story.
I've fainted occasionally, mostly in sleep deprived situations. For some reason, mention of psychotropic drugs sets me off (I've never used any such drugs, so I don't have a good explanation as to why the mention of them has this effect). The last time I fainted was after someone was describing to me their experience on mushrooms. I was fully conscious of what was going on throughout, but simply could not pick myself up off the floor or move for a few minutes. This was in my late twenties, and very embarassing indeed.
Did someone have to fetch the salts?
Just wanted to emphasize that this is not a girls only issue.
12 -- I wish. It's so hard to find good smelling salt these days.
Once, when I lived in Russia, I was supposed to go to a fancy museum with my girlfriend (now wife) in Moscow. A family friend was driving us there, about two hours away, round trip. The night before I'd gone to a colleague's house for dinner. Since he was an alcoholic I ended up drinking half a bottle of vodka and about a liter and a half of strong beer. That was actually not too much to drink with him. But, the next day at the Museum I was completely hung over and had to let my girlfriend go through the museum herself while I sat on some benches down in the basement, near the bathrooms with my head between my knees to keep me from having to throw up. Thankfully I slept part of the time and drunk/hung over people are not that exception in Russia, even in museums, so no one bothered me, not like the time I was trying to sleep it off in the grass outside a " children's palace" and some old guy came and yelled at me for being a drunkard.
True. Airplanes apparently make some people faint; the low air pressure or something. My mother (a flight attendant, for those who haven't RTA) would fairly often have to give a passenger who'd passed out a whiff of oxygen from the canister kept for that purpose, and she said it was generally fit young men who fainted. Something about low body fat, maybe?
You neglected to mention the open bar all the bloody marys you had at the airport. I think that plays an important part in what happened later.
This was me on my way back from my recent California trip. I almost fainted on the airplane on my way back to my seat from the bathroom. I thought I'd be okay at my seat, but it was awful. I fought fainting long enough to make it to the back of the plane, where a ginger ale + sitting in the flight attendant's seat with my head between my knees brought me back from the brink.
12: The school nurse did that to me once -- broke a capsule of whatever smelling salts are (ammonia or something) under my nose. Wow, that's intense.
I understand he told an amazing shaggy dog story.
she said it was generally fit young men who fainted
The two flight attendants were joking about how well I had managed to make it to the back, and telling stories about the moment of dread when you realize that a giant dude is fainting and just about to fall on you.
Five years ago you must have been, what, 25? Maybe not that old - I'm just guessing based on that fact that you teach college and vague memories of meeting you once - but definitely over 20 and well into college, right?
Pretty much. I think I was 26.
Technically it was 4 1/2 years ago.
One of the times I flew to South Africa I sat next to a guy who was terrified of flying and medicated himself throughout the flight with scotch. 12 hours of pounding down whiskey virtually nonstop and he showed absolutely no sign of wear. Those Afrikaners can hold their liquor. Another time I sat next to a guy who was trying the same thing but went from nervous and sober to nervous and drunkenly garrulous to queasy to passed out cold, followed by waking up with a praying-for-death hangover.
23 -- You live in the US, a flight to South Africa is what -- 12 hours? I think I know of what I speak in re alcohol consumption, and even the most hardcore alcoholics I know couldn't drink whiskey constantly for 12 hours straight on a plane and show no wear. Or do you mean that he was nursing a scotch per hour for the entire flight? Otherwise I am confused.
she said it was generally fit young men who fainted. Something about low body fat, maybe?
The pernicious effects of the female gaze. Those men didn't have low body fat and weren't fit: what they had was tight corsets.
Thanks LB and Ben--I wasn't actually looking for reassurance, although the comment does kind of read that way. I was trying to expand on Heebie's notion that childhood emotional trauma is something that can strike out of seemingly nowhere--I swear to god, sometimes I can even smell the dog shit I was continually stepping in as a kid (back befopre the whole pick-up-your-dog's-poop movement), and realize that that's why all the other kids are laughing.
24 - pounding down is an exaggeration, but he way certainly going through drinks at a rate that would have floored me in a couple of hours.
26: And the same here -- the sourly antisocial bit was my childhood reaction to being a bit of a pariah. I'm always sort of vaguely surprised when people voluntarily socialize with me.
28 -- Me too! Why do I suspect that this is likely to be a common theme among the pseudonymous commenters on Unfogged . . . .
24: You could drink a bottle of scotch or more in 12 hours without getting too noticeably wobbly. If `you' were in training, I mean.
28: Why were you a pariah, LB? Was it your breath?
I was once on a flight from Albuquerque to Baltimore, the daily nonstop flight on Southwest which was at the time the only nonstop flight from Albuquerque to anywhere on the east coast. As a result it was always packed, and on this occasion I ended up in the very back row. After the drinks were served and I got my ginger ale, the middle-aged Hispanic guy sitting next to me pulled out a little bottle of Patrón and put some in his drink, then offered me the rest. I put in a little bit before thinking "wait, wtf am I doing?" and giving it back to him. He put the rest in his drink, and it did seem to help him relax for the duration of the flight. I'm really just not much of a tequila-on-airplanes person, myself.
30 presumes sitting around on an airplane, of course. Some activities would make it more obvious than others, but a steady heavy drinker can be superficially fine with that sort of regime.
33 -- Sure. I thought that he was describing a guy who was going shot for shot for 12 hours straight ("pounding") which is truly Herculean, even for an Afrikaaner. Sitting around sipping from a bottle for 12 hours is just standard grade alcoholism.
32: I once found myself unexpectedly on a late train Aberdeen -> London, the whole purpose of which (it rapidly became apparent) was to take men back south immediately after they'd finished weeks-to-months long shifts on the North Sea oil platforms. About 30 minutes after we started, there wasn't a guy left who didn't have at least a 6 pack of tall cans in front of him, and it all went downhill from there.
34 fair enough -- terminology problem.
35 sounds like it could have been a lot of fun. Or perhaps quite violent and bloody. Interesting either way.
The first time I flew east across the Atlantic, when I was 11, I didn't faint upon arrival, but I do remember being weirdly woozy, and having great difficulty with balance and depth perception. The streets of London kind of stretched out and wobbled in front of me. Very strange, and it didn't seem like ordinary sleep deprivation, but it was totally cured once I got a night's sleep.
35: Oh, it was a lot of fun. I was only about 15 at the time, travelling on my own. I was basically `adopted' for the trip by a car full of riggers and we got absolutely smashed. This had the downside of depositing me in London in the early AM wobbly drunk and having to find my way around train connections etc. I hadn't made before. Fun!
I think I've told this story before, but it's relevant this time so I'll tell it again. When my mother was a teenager, she fainted every time her period started, and her period was crazy regular. So she would faint every third Friday in French class, everyone knew exactly why, and according to school regulations she had to go to the nurse's office each time. She was so relieved when her period shifted to starting on the weekends that she didn't mind so much the occasional passing out on the church pipe organ pedals.
I've never fainted, mercifully, although I regularly get up too quickly, get woozy, and have to sit back down, but my sister fainted once in HS and was carried out of class strapped onto a backboard and carted off to the hospital in an ambulance. Oh boy was she mad.
I actually think that story's new -- I don't recall it.
although I regularly get up too quickly, get woozy, and have to sit back down
When this happens to me, what happens is normally a falling down or collapsing rather than a back-down-sitting, though no out and out fainting of mine has ever come about in this way.
Falling down and sitting down are on a continuum, young w-lfs-n. Sometimes I get fancy and do the Martha Graham fall, but it's a collapse nonetheless.
They are, ol' Jack, and I was placing myself on the continuum.
As indeed I assumed you were as well. I see, however, that you are choosing to be difficult.
It's so hard to find good smelling salt these days.
I know this guy who handcrafts his smelling salts in small batches - the artisanal way.
Several years ago I was in an out-door hot tube w/ a young woman I was pretty fond of. It was January in Idaho and even colder than usual, and night. We were drinking some. That's not a wonderful idea- the drinking, I mean. Hot tub w/ young woman you're fond of is a pretty okay idea most of the time. After quite a while we got out. Between the heat difference, having been in the hot water for quite a while, and the drinking, I slowly fainted. I didn't hit my head or anything, but just sort of slowly and involuntarily sat on my ass on the cold, cold, back porch. My bare ass. Of course I was asked if I was okay and I just said, "yes, yes, I just want to sit here for a minute- it feels cool and nice." Mostly, though, I was thinking about the fact that I couldn't see- everything was gray- and having the sort of thought I always have on such occasions- "strange- I can't see at all. Everything is gray. It seems to me that I used to be able to see things, but maybe that's wrong. I guess I've never been able to see." Thankfully that was wrong and I could see again soon enough, and sitting on the cold porch helped bring me to my senses.
My sister has fainted in front of me enough times for me to distinguish what I do---a delicate collapse, maybe a woozy drifting downward---with what she does: a terrifying head-first thwack to the ground.
Ooh -- flying out of Singapore once I tried a Singapore Sling. Now, the last thing I'd had to drink was copious amounts of gin a week before, resulting in a fucker of a hangover.
And I hadn't had anything to eat for 24 hours -- nor had I slept. And I'd walked around Singapore for four or five hours in the middle of the day.
And would you believe it is kind if difficult for the server to get the proportion of premixed drink and fruit juice right on a somewhat turbulent plane?
I got halfway through, then stopped, and just sat as still as possible until New Delhi, all the time thinking dear god, why did I have to try the local delicacy?
That's not a wonderful idea- the drinking, I mean.
pshaw. I've got fond memories of jumping out of a back yard hot tub into knee-to-waist deep snow and running for the house. Or for more wood for the hot tub. We'd always drink a bit, and it was great. Don't over do it and drink lots of water, is all.
a delicate collapse, maybe a woozy drifting downward
With your right wrist reached languidly towards your forehead, tilted slightly back, and you falling into your honey's arms?
And would you believe it is kind if difficult for the server to get the proportion of premixed drink and fruit juice right on a somewhat turbulent plane?
That's why you should stick to straight scotch, perhaps an ice cube or two.
Holy shit, 47 reminds me of the closest I've ever come to fainting - similar situation (wine, hot tub, young woman I was fond of*), but inside the B&B room where we were staying. I didn't think I was especially drunk, but holy cow. And, as I said, I've never fainted (only been world-distortingly-drunk a handful of times, either), so the whole thing was incredibly freaky and, well, disorienting
* AB
reminds me of the closest I've ever come to fainting ...
didn't think I was especially drunk, but holy cow.
It's not called "fainting" if it's just regular old passing out, JRoth.
and you falling into your honey's arms?
That would not seem to me to be a good tactic. A) He does not recognize these silly American romantic mores. B) I might crush him.
The combination of heat an alcohol can really do a number on you though. One summer friends and I parked ourselves on lawn chairs out in the yard in 120 degrees, and an much-to-accommodating young lady brought out a 5 gallon restaurant bucket of daquiri or some such with ice. I have no idea how many bottles she'd put in it. Did that ever taste nice and and cold going down though. And they just went down one after another.
No one felt so much as buzzed until we tried to get up off the deck chairs. I'm pretty sure we ended up mostly crawling to the house.
It often feels like more of a slow and delicate collapse than it really is, but I am also more on that end of the fainting behavior spectrum.
That would not seem to me to be a good tactic. A) He does not recognize these silly American romantic mores. B) I might crush him.
Hm, I see. There's nothing for it, then. You'll just have to fall into my arms.
I'm here for you.
The combination of heat an alcohol can really do a number on you though.
Oh, boy can it. I remember a vastly entertaining party in the Peace Corps fueled by a five gallon bucket of 'punch' -- a whole lot of coconut water a bottle of Sprite, and a reasonably large number of bottles of rum. And cut up fruit -- lots of fruit.
I wasn't playing volleyball, but most of the other attendees were, and they'd stagger off the court where they'd been sweating in the tropical sun, down a couple of big glasses of a refreshing, fruity drink, and instantly lose the capacity for articulate speech.
I was reminded of this story recently
Why would HG have been recently reminded of an incident in which she "violated some etiquette of a basic bodily function"? Like, for example...having a baby?
How subtle, congratulations!
"...I remember a vastly entertaining party in the Peace Corps..."
Hmm, my first story, about being sick in the museum in Moscow, was also Peace Corps related. When and where were you in the PC, LB? I certainly did more heavy drinking while in the PC than ever before or since, but for me it was part of showing proper cultural sensitivity. It's bad luck not to finish off the bottle, I was told.
For the record, in the Jane's Addiction song "Three Days", at one point a soft voice says "One day I met a pony." That's what was in my head when I titled this post "One time I went to Poland".
In theory, the body processes one serving's worth of alcohol per hour. So, in theory, you could drink one shot an hour and stay completely sober.... so, 12 shots in 12 hours should be fine.
I once tested out this theory on a cross country train trip. This experiment involved all the fun of alcohol poisoning, without the burden of being drunk.
not to gross people out, but i recalled i collapsed once while holding stainless kidney shaped tray for the patient's facial abscess opening, never saw again that much pus
i was 17 and a student-nurse then
otherwise i'm pretty tough concerning faintings i guess, though collapsed once also at home, the first yr after graduation, b/c skipped too many evening meals and happened to get up too quickly
Like, for example...having a baby?
Almost exactly right!!! Except instead of a baby, I had a conversation about jet lag, and it came out my mouth instead of my birth canal.
would fairly often have to give a passenger who'd passed out a whiff of oxygen
So, I have this obsession with watching UCLA psychiatry grand rounds, and there was one by a neurobiologist who studied sleep apnea and heart failure who talked about breathing and mood and teh cognitive memory effects of sleep disruption.
Anyway, he said that it was thought that the damage of apnea or hypopnea, was caused not by the drop in oxygen saturation itself but by the swift and rapid re-oxygenation which resulted in hyperoxia, and that this did damage to the insula of teh cerebellum (may have gotten the brain region wrong)
So, then at teh end an ECT specialist asked him about this, because he said that it was the standard of care to put patients on 100% oxygen for a portion of their treatment.
The neurobiologist's response was that that made him very afraid, just as being under anesthesia with 100% 02 made him nervous as did the thought of being given 100% oxygen in an ambulance. The ECT guy was fascinated by this insight and thought that perhaps they were hurting their patients by giving them pure oxygen adn perhaps it should be 95% oxygen and 5% carbon dioxide. (That could explain some of the memory problems that peoplewho undergo ECT experience.)
So, it seems that nobody knows about this, and now I'm terrified of places with 100% oxygen.
it came out my mouth instead of my birth canal.
You'll want to get that fixed before the main event.
I faint whenever the eye doctor does the bit where they examine the back of your eyes and you get the bright light and veins everywhere in your field of vision. Thankfully, it's happened so regularly that I can now grit my teeth and hold on through the exam, and then lie down on the floor before I lose consciousness.
It's always fun to explain this procedure to a new eye doctor.
It's not called "fainting" if it's just regular old passing out, JRoth.
Not sure if this is a joke, but my point is that a hot tub when sober wouldn't, I think, have any effect, so the alcohol must have had something to do with it. It was a long time ago, but I thought all I had that night were a few glasses of wine over several hours.
I had always heard vague imprecations against hot tubbing while drunk, but apparently the threshold is low. Or at least mine is.
You'll want to get that fixed before the main event.
Don't worry, my uterus is hooked up differently than my conversations.
it came out my mouth instead of my birth canal.
Maybe she will give birth to Athena!
(Forehead, mouth, close enough)
Why would HG have been recently reminded of an incident in which she "violated some etiquette of a basic bodily function"? Like, for example...having a baby?
Don't believe 65. H-G ate 25 cupcakes on her birthday and then threw them all up during her class, resulting in a Complete and Total Barf-A-Rama.
it came out my mouth instead of my birth canal.
The most ectopic pregnancy of all.
66: I think I read something about this recently in the use of cold treatments to save people who suffer cardiac arrest, that the real damage isn't caused by the heart stopping (beyond the fact that if it doesn't restart you're toast), but by the processes that occur when the heart is restarted.
Don't worry, my uterus is hooked up differently than my conversations.
Such a woman.
61 - I believe she may have mentioned it in the archives once or twice.
soup, men aren't actually allowed on long-distance trains here without at least 4 cans of beer. It is the law. (8 if you're going to the football.)
I was enthusiastically telling her about the significance of the local sites ("And up there on the church tower, the Anabaptist rebels' mangled corpses were left to decay inside those iron cages until there was nothing left..."), but she was in no mood to hear about it. To this day, whenever I'm rambling on about something that bores her, she interrupts me by saying "Let me tell you about the peace of Westphalia..."
Fleur would HATE me.
soup, men aren't actually allowed on long-distance trains here without at least 4 cans of beer. It is the law. (8 if you're going to the football.)
Yeah, but that was just the first half hour of 8 or so.
When and where were you in the PC, LB?
Resisting the temptation to say RTFA, and rather foolishly pleased that I apparently drone on about it less than I thing, Samoa, 1993 and 1994.
53: The memory didn't emerge until fifteen minutes after reading this thread, but I had a similar experience - after drawing a hot (probably too-hot) bath in a hotel in Okinawa, and spending just a short time in it, I felt extremely faint and had to stagger to my bed. No alcohol, and I don't faint otherwise.
Think, dammit, think. I blame all the 'you have another thing coming' people.
If the shoe fits, Halford. If the shoe fits.
I dislike hot tubs (which is a horrible thing, I really want to like them, I do) precisely because large amounts of very hot water make me want to pass out. And I get so hot so fast that I spend most of the time with just my ankles in it when I do manage to convince myself that I should get in the hot tub. I like natural hot springs better as a result; generally there are lots of pockets of lukewarm water to hang out in.
Oddly, I love extremely hot showers and do not suffer the same effects. It's something about immersing myself. I always tied to it low blood pressure but I have no idea what the mechanics are, really.
LB, If you think I'll sit around while you chip away my brain, you'd better think again -- You've got another thing coming.
Oh, also. I've fainted only once before, from heat stroke (I was lifting flagstones into the bed of a truck in New Mexico at elevation in the summer. My dad kept trying to make me drink water but I was a stubborn child). I had no idea what was happening until my vision started to tunnel. But now, whenever I get overly hot and physically exerted (it does have to be really hot, over 100, and I have to be doing something pretty difficult, not just walking around), I get the first feelings of a faint. This is very embarrassing when it happens in front of people I'm playing sports with, all of whom are generally my colleagues as well. Being the woozy fainting woman is not something I deal with well; after all, we career women are supposed to be in perfect control of our bodies at all times. After all, if we're not, you never know what might happen - we might spontaneous give birth in the middle of a meeting or something.
There was a drunk couple who passed out in a hot tub and never woke up. They were found the next morning, but no one had the presence of mind to say "Stick a fork in them, they're done" like at football games.
I was lifting flagstones into the bed of a truck in New Mexico at elevation in the summer.
Where in NM was this?
I've fainted a few times. A couple times it was from a trivial cut, not especially painful or severe, but I saw it and woke a couple seconds later on the floor, with someone looking very concerned.
It was also a problem in tkd when I was being macho. If you exhale and shout on the kick, but also count out the exercise, it turns out there isn't much time to inhale between. There is etiquette, it turns out. You should take a knee, facing away, if you realize your vision is tunneling in time. Better that, though, than do less than any of the boys.
Same town where your parents and the fry-bread lady came from.
How does ned know that? Does ned know DL in real life? What's going on?
I just made that up. I don't even recognize the name "DL".
Six comments in half an hour is a bit much, ToS.
A couple times it was from a trivial cut, not especially painful or severe, but I saw it and woke a couple seconds later on the floor
Ooh, I have this. A few months ago I cut my finger on a cabinet in my kitchen and felt it happening in slow motion. I had enough time to take off my glasses and turn off the stove before I full-on blacked out.
Thanks, LB. While a decent distraction from boring work I can't say I care about anything here enough to read the archives! Noticing other RPCVs is sometimes interesting, though.
How does ned know that?
Ned's use of the word "town" makes it quite clear that he does not know that.
I remember passing out a few times: once as a passenger in a car accident (I was not strapped in and hit my head against the dashboard), and once at a party when a friend accidentally slammed my head into a concrete floor. (There was alcohol involved, it was not intentional.) Oh, and I also passed out at my wedding, from what I can only guess was some combination of not eating anything that day, extreme heat, and nervousness. Collapsed during my vows, and then again during hers.
It is pretty overwhelming to know that you're a few hours from losing your virginity.
I don't think I've ever fainted. I've been lightheaded, but then I threw up and was fine.
Where in NM was this?
Um. Well. My dad lived in a very small town (pop. 30) on the Pecos River sort of west of Santa Fe. It was somewhere within a half day's drive of that. Frankly, that whole day is pretty hazy. I suspect, knowing my dad, that we were on BLM land and busy stealing from our country's natural resource troves. We were just looking for relatively flat sandstone pieces to use as stepping stones to the kiva in the backyard.
And yes, I realize DL is possibly one of the worst pseudonyms ever. I simply can't come up with a good one. I'll consider any and all suggestions.
I guess the head injuries were "loss of consciousness" but not really "passing out".
"Dr. Love"
"Dismal Laughter"
"Di Lotimy"
Hey, I kinda like Dismal Laughter, given my tendency to laugh in dismal situations.
I'll consider any and all suggestions.
Dingleberry Vintner
Collapsed during my vows, and then again during hers.
Dare I ask how she took it?
As well as could be expected. We're still married.
That wasn't clear. She took it fine. She was worried about me, and I'm sure embarrassed for me and for herself, and later thought it funny.
109: Please tell us there's videotape!
Thanks read .. there are some interesting ones on that list. I'm going to have think about this, I think.
I'll consider any and all suggestions.
Dee Luxe.
I went to France the summer before I went to grad school and when I first arrived it was the early morning. I stayed in a hostel that turned out - despite my picking it because it was listed in guidebooks as not having a daytime lockout - not to let anyone in the rooms between 10 and 4. I was too tired to go to a museum and ended up, when I wasn't walking around at a deliberate pace, taking short unintentional naps in a couple of different churches.
I'll consider any and all suggestions.
"Matt Weiner"
DL's pseud needn't have the initials DL, you know. Speaking of which, I think "Wry Cooter" has become available again.
There was a drunk couple who passed out in a hot tub and never woke up.
My mom had a case like this, except the woman died and her date/boyfriend/whatever split. Leaving a situation like that is maybe understandable if you're royally drunk and lightheaded and the commercial hot tub establishment has suddenly become a heavier scene than you can really deal with right then, but it's not, ultimately, the wisest thing to do.
I knew I was going to regret that phrasing as soon as I hit post. Dee Luxe is pretty sweet, though I'm not particularly deluxe.
We don't all have to be what our pseudonyms would seem to claim. Apostropher, for instance, does not always address people or things in exclamatory passages.
We don't all have to be what our pseudonyms would seem to claim. Apostropher, for instance, does not always address people or things in exclamatory passages.
And I'm neither Hispanic nor beloved by God.
Same exact experience as Heebie's happened to me upon arriving in a country near Poland. Overnight flight, left the US in early evening, got in at 10 AM local time when most of the rest of my group had gotten there the previous night, Slept maybe 2 hours on the two planes, then had to go trudging around the parliament building and the remains of one of the 1989-revolutionary blast walls still with original graffiti. I was not the only one to fall asleep in the giant comfy chairs of the parliament building's lobby.
Same exact experience as Heebie's happened to me
You got pregnant?
And I'm neither Hispanic nor beloved by God.
Obviously you can't be both, but you must be either one or the other.
Yeah, I know. I used to have a lovely online handle that I adored and I felt fit me quite well (and you know you've been online too long when you occasionally think of yourself by your online nick rather than your own name), but for a variety of reasons I can't use it anymore (I've not used it here). And thus, I'm forced to wander the halls of the internet identity-less.
Actually, the comment about Apostropher and my tendency to overuse parentheses (see above) has just led to me wonder if Parenthetical might not be a good fit. Hm. I'll try it out.
I, on the other hand, have noticed an ebb in my comments over the years.
The omnibus pseud "rules" post.
"Inaccessible Island Rail" is the bar-none absolute best pseud here. You should pick the name of some obscure bird from a remote island as your new pseud.
My roommate is watching some news show and Obama is saying (or said, if it was taped), with frustration:
There are people who say this is not a stimulus bill but a spending bill. Well, what do you think a stimulus bill is? That's the whole point. [My overheard paraphrase based on short-term memory. This is probably]
that was supposed to end "this is probably old news."
130: to be fair, Obama, stimulus could also come in the form of tax cuts. (Although this bill has some.)
And anyway the complaint isn't really that it's too much spending, it's that it's too much spending on traditional Democratic spending priorities. Which is sort of a fair criticism for the other side to lob, even though that's exactly what they should have expected and exactly what a Democratic stimulus bill should be.
In some time divorced of the context of the last few months, a stimulus bill could be a not-spending bill. But this stimulus bill has been from the very beginning a spending focused bill and everyone involved in forming it knows and has known that. They can oppose it, but it's no bait and switch (unlike its opposition's compromises).
130: Yeah, I thought what Obama said about Mitch McConnell was pretty rough.
In re Inaccessible Island Rail, I'm obviously talking to/amusing only myself, but here are some awesome pseuds that all come from birds or animals found on Tristan da Cunha:
"Rockhopper"
"Tristan Bunting"
"Moorhen"
"Dusky Dolphin"
"White-Chinned Petrel"
"The Great Shearwater" (Shearer, are you listening?)
"Tristan da Cunha"
I was actually present and lurking for that post, Otto, and for whatever reason it actually made me MORE nervous about ever picking a pseud, even though it's sooo straightforward.
Naming myself after a bird would fit one of my hobbies, and as my favorite bird is a small brown bird with unusual habits I suppose Dipper wouldn't be such a bad choice either. But I'll stick with Parenthetical for now. Thanks for the ideas (and apologies for thread-jacking).
-Parenthetical, formerly known as DL.
134: Mouseover?
http://thephoenix.com/BLOGS/blogs/phlog/OBAMA_IGNORANT.mp3
The only thing I know about Tristan da Cunha is that Deathprod named one of his albums after it.
-Parenthetical, formerly known as DL.
I for one welcome the change, as "DL" just kept making me think: DS? DS? Oh. No.
Where have you gone, Doctor Slack?
141: Yeah, I know. Sorry! But now, no more confusion!
The dipper is also the water ouzel, right? "Ouzel" would be a most excellent e-name.
Crap..I forgot to click the remember personal info button. This is harder than I thought.
And yes, also known as the water ouzel. But I can't pronounce that, so.
137: Yeah, well, buy your own damn fries! http://thephoenix.com/BLOGS/blogs/phlog/OBAMA_FRIES.mp3
The water ouzo is one of the few birds whose name describes how to prepare a drink.
146: Indeed, and with good reason. They're one of the most entertaining birds to watch out there, constantly in and out of the water. And of course common to Muir's beloved Sierra.
I sometimes start to faint while watching videos of medical procedures or hearing detailed descriptions of them. The real thing with real scalpels, real blood, and other icky innards doesn't bother me at all.
I've walked/staggered out of several presentations because of this, and I've never been able to figure out the factors involved nor predict an occurrence.
Alllll the way back to #62 - "One night I met a pony"??!?! Really? Boy, all these years I've been so wrong about that.
I've watched an ouzel in Big Sur, and it's a real thrill when it first steps underwater.
153: Indeed. Other birds play around or in the water (the phoebe comes to mind) but none do it quite like the dipper. If you can watch then around a cascade or waterfall, it's even more impressive.
Has anyone read Don Worster's new biography of Muir?
I suppose by "anyone" I mostly mean eb or teo. But maybe I really mean anyone. I'm quite mysterious, you know.
1. There's a band called Tristan de Cunha that w-lfs-n would like.
2. People tell you not to hot tub when drunk? Really? Is that because it causes weird interactions with the ketamine?
3. I once accidentally took too much ambien or xanax or something (I swear, I dont remember which, and it really was an accident) on a trip to Italy. I don't think I passed out, but I wouldn't know, as I have no memory of getting off the plane, going through customs, finding the driver I was supposed to find, the one and a half hour drive to my destination, nor that evening's group dinner. Apparently my companions were quite concerned about me.
When I was fifteen, I took a couple of my grandmother's sleeping pills. But I didn't go to sleep. Instead, I zombied out for about six hours, scaring the crap out of my family, which took me to the emergency room. In addition to being mysterious, I'm apparently also quite dangerous. Laydeez.
155/6: I've read parts of it. (Small, small parts, in the bookstore). I didn't really enjoy what I read.
Crap. (Must remember to change information on all of my computers).
160: I've never enjoyed reading a Worster book -- other than Dust Bowl -- but I usually learn quite a lot. And what I know about Muir is almost all potted history, so I should probably read the new biography.
157: I once woke up in a different country than I'd started drinking in. Alone, on a beach.
They weren't far away --- but I don't think my companions were so much concerned about me as laughing their asses off.
I'm still not sure how they got me over the border.
163: ooh, that's pretty good. Maybe the border guards thought it would be funny, too.
162: Probably, but I have to say I wasn't impressed with his take on Muir (it seemed rather standard) or on the American relationship with nature. But I might be misjudging; it was a quick read-through in a bookstore while waiting for something or other.
As for enjoyment, I didn't mean to imply that it wasn't a good read; it flowed well and had a nice style.
Actually, the comment about Apostropher and my tendency to overuse parentheses (see above) has just led to me wonder if Parenthetical might not be a good fit.
How about "Damn Lisp"?
That's pretty good, M/tch.
even if lisp is too good to be damned.
164: Yeah, probably. Can't imagine it these days...
I don't know what they slipped me either, but I lost a good 30 hours.
`slipped' is too harsh. gave? I probably was complicit, knowing me.
170: oh wait, it was more than just you passing out drunk? Well that's a little less fun.
Still, hail, fellow member of the crossing-borders-while-insensate club!
Is that because it causes weird interactions with the ketamine?
No, it's because alcohol and hot tubs are both vasodilators, and in combination they can a) make you pass out and drown, or b) become hyperthermic and have a cardiac arrest or stroke.
oh wait, it was more than just you passing out drunk? Well that's a little less fun.
Well, it's hard to say. I don't think it was just alcohol, as the lights went off weirdly hard for that and a really long time. But I guess it could have been, if people kept me go much longer than I naturally would have.... anyway, I couldn't get a straight story out of the bastards. But all was forgiven when we decided to head to Mexico the next day (we didn't make it)
Still, hail, fellow member of the crossing-borders-while-insensate club!
The Foot High Club!
Yes! Maybe that latter one should only count foot crossings....
a) make you pass out and drown, or b) become hyperthermic and have a cardiac arrest or stroke.
But other than that, it's all good fun.
I keep trying to think of funny passed-out stories, but really, they just aren't funny enough. And I know lots of people who did GHB! You'd think I'd have no shortage. There was the one guy whose girlfriend passed out while she was atop him, mid-coitus. Gave him a black eye. That was pretty funny.
176: so that's why you load up on cocaine first? Or am I missing something, here?
I'm just kidding in 181, of course. Ecstasy is a much better way to go.
You mean a much better way to die, right?
I haven't read Worster's Muir book either. I really enjoyed Dust Bowl (also, Cronon's essay on narratives); maybe it was the optimism. Embarrassingly, that's the only Worster I've read.
Yeah, I'm not coming up with many either.
When I was a teenager there was a guy who would come to pretty all the weekly (at least) parties. He was a little guy, and drank too fast, and would almost invariably a) pass out and b) piss himself.
So I can think of about a dozen times where 2am ish rolls around and you hear some one call "shit, [X] passed out!" and the nearest couple of guys would run through the house carrying him out to the yard.
Probably funnier at the time.
K-hole in a hottub: probably a bad idea.
K-hole in a hottub: probably a bad idea.
Mmm, depends what you mean by bad.
Li(th)p would be a swell pseud.
how about RECL ?
But other than that, it's all good fun.
According to this guy, pretty much.
Speaking of tools, I met a guy on the way from Istanbul who thought it would be pretty cool to pee across the Turkish/Bulgarian border. It wasn't, but I have to give him points for doing it right there while we were all waiting to get back on the bus.
Incidentally, what's up with western historians and biography? Worster's has a Powell bio too. And Hurtado on Sutter, right? (I remember thinking it sounded pretty interesting) I think there are others, too, but it's been a couple of years since I dropped out stopped reading reviews regularly.
Actually, what I hear is, there's an interesting property of ketamine (really, most drugs) where increasing body temperature makes it more intense. With most drugs, yeah, this is linear. But because ketamine has that steep discontinuity between feelin'-kinda-wacky and AAAAHHH BATSHIT CRAZY K-HOLE, one might theoretically find themselves right at the verge, such that doing something that rapidly increased body temperature (getting into a hot tub, say, or walking out of the shade into the hot desert sun) can essentially act as an elevator into and out of the k-hole. Again, this is what I hear. From people.
Speaking from hs experience, hot tubs and cocaine and hot tubs and e are splendid. Honestly.
maybe it was the optimism
Did we read the same book? (I was ground down by the Marxist approach).
192: Also what I hear. From people.
I've also heard from more physician-y people that messing about like this is a bad bad thing for mumble-mumble-mumble-wait-you're-still-talking-to-me reasons. Especially if you do it a lot.
But you know, whatevs. Same people told me all kinds of related empirical testing is crazy. I think they just hate science.
Speaking from hs experience, hot tubs and cocaine and hot tubs and e are splendid. Honestly.
Just don't spill an 8-ball in the hot tub 'cause you're too messed to bother getting out.
195: right. Somebody's got to find these sorts of things out.
Some people decided it would be funny to call the ketamine & heatstroke combination "solarflipping".
Cocaine is a vasoconstrictor. Go wild.
196 reaffirms the wisdom of keeping your powder dry.
"solarflipping" : one google response: at thepoorman.net
I had friends who had come up with what they felt was just the perfect mixture of Sprite, vodka, and GHB. I think they called it the "death cocktail" or something glib like that. Nobody ever died, though! All still breathing! Not to worry!
(really, most drugs) where increasing body temperature makes it more intense
I have several times had the experience of drinking and smoking my way to a pleasant buzz at a summer party, then finding after a vigorous bike ride home that omg I am so stoned and drunk.
Were our hs drugs much worse than everyone else's? I can't imagine cocaine or e rendering one unable to get out of a hot tub? But maybe that is just my moderate nature.
194: Aside from that being me joking, I read it at the same time I was reading Empire of Dust. The sense I got from Cronon was that with better farming/living practices, people could have done ok. Maybe not great, but ok. The since I got from the other book (which is about Canada and dusted out farms) was that they never had a chance to do ok.
As for
I wasn't impressed with his take...on the American relationship with nature.
I mostly agree, based on what I know of it. But I still liked Dust Bowl.
I meant Worster, not Cronon in 205. Must not get those two confused.
204: No, that sounds right. Cocaine would have the opposite effect of alcohol (as in so many ways).
Cocaine is a vasoconstrictor. Go wild.
That's why you also take some.
It's definitely important to keep your uppers and downers in balance. That way, nothing could possibly go wrong.
Were our hs drugs much worse than everyone else's? I can't imagine cocaine or e rendering one unable to get out of a hot tub?
Oh, it wasn't just cocaine. It was the cocaine that spilled though. He felt pretty stupid!
But you can take enough cocaine to become pretty much incapacitated, sure.
how about RECL ?
Pretty dorky. Plus you've got two unnecessary steps in there.
A sufficiently coked-up cokehead would have devised a plan to recover the coke. "Okay, everybody out! We're going to crank up the heat and boil this shit off! Get some scrapers!"
8- Of course I can't sleep on planes. I know if I stop visualizing the giant hands holding the plane up in the air, down it will go! I do enjoy the little screw top wine bottles, but the flight attendants always cast woeful looks at my children after the third or fourth one.
unfogged is mostly about unnecessary steps, ben.
but yeah, it was supposed to be dorky.
the flight attendants always cast woeful looks at my children after the third or fourth one
I know they're little bottles, but honestly four is probably enough for one kid.
205/6: Ahh, ok. I did like Dust Bowl, I just found it a little unrelenting (rather charmingly unrelenting, actually) in some aspects, particularly when he was discussing the relationship of capital to the land. I came away with a different take than you did, I think - that yes, it is possible to farm those areas, but that given American society it was inevitable that it ended in tragedy.
(And my apologies for missing the joke. I should have known).
A sufficiently coked-up cokehead would have devised a plan to recover the coke.
Probably true, but there was another eight of a pound or so in the house, so hardly crisis time.
I know they're little bottles, but honestly four is probably enough for one kid.
Fleur is the one enjoying the bottles, Sifu. The flight attendants are just expressing sympathy regarding her immoderate lubriciousness.
Look if my kids were passed out drunk I'd probably enjoy the peace and quiet too, but you have to take the long view.
take it to standpipes other blog, ben.
There is still something moderately implicit in 218, soup.
216: Dude, Worster's a Marxist. Like, for reals. And if you're a true believer like that, "unrelenting" and "inevitable" are your things.
Also, I once wandered around a Vegas casino with Worster.
222: I know. But I'm not. And thus, that's what bothered me about the book. Not that it is my place to disapprove of a scholar of such great stature.
Also, I once wandered around a Vegas casino with Worster.
Did he win?
The one time I fainted (fueled by accumulated stupidity and exhaustion rather than drugs*) was a bit interesting. I found myself with a massive headache when I got up quickly to answer a knock at the door of my semi-squalid apartment in the Montrose section of Houston. It was two older women, one of whom began to ask me where the manager's apartment was. Next thing I knew I found myself lying in the ashes of a turned over hibachi outside my door, the women nowhere in sight. (I assume they didn't just coldcock me and run.) I truly felt like I was dying and in order to not do so in public, I wisely rolled back into the apartment and reached up and closed the door. I don't really begrudge them their flight, but I do on occasion think about how it must have played out from their point of view. I am thinking that they did not take an apartment to close by, and I only hope that the incident didn't send them fleeing to the benighted massive apartment complexes outside of the I-610 loop.
*Depending how you count, 3 or 4 days, 6 months or 20 years of stupidity. Details here for the perversely curious willing to wade through my prose.
It's anyone's place to disapprove, with good reasons, of anyone's work. And there haven't been any bad reasons on this thread.
223: He's actually very small, tiny even.
224: He didn't play. So yeah, he won.
at the door of my semi-squalid apartment in the Montrose section of Houston
are there any other kinds in Montrose? (teasing aside, one of the few decent* neighborhoods in Houston)
*meaning walkable, and some semblance of everything you usually need.
223: Also, what eb said in 226. Unless people are criticizing my work. In which case, that's some totally unacceptable nonsense.
Inevitably.
and unrelentingly.
Oh, I was just being silly. I don't have any problem expressing my opinion.
And somehow, I'm not surprised to learn that he's tiny. Like I said, I was rather charmed by the intensity of his beliefs; this coming from a tiny man is somehow even better.
The end of No Country for Old Men is quite annoying. I want my [whatever percentage of my monthly Netflix fee went toward the rental and shipping of this dvd] back. Fucking Jews shouldn't be allowed to make movies. And I blame you, Jetpack, for not warning me. (About the movie, I mean, not about the Jews. I'm closer to that problem than you are.)
233: He's also a shepherd. And he has a large flock. If you know what I mean.
Actually I rather liked the ending to No Country For Old Men
The only thing worse than being disapproved of is not being disapproved of.
(Actually, my advisor expressed something like this view: you know you're not going to get everything right because that's just how history writing goes, and if you do the best you can and people start criticizing you for non-you-just-plain-messed-up reasons, it's good, because they're reading your work and engaging with it. It's probably easier to say this when you've been successful.)
236: I knew it was your fault.
237: Your advisor, if he's who I think he is, is not exactly conflict-averse. As you say, a position that works especially well when one is wildly successful (and deservedly so, in his case).
What the hell's wrong with the ending of No Country For Old Men?
234, 236: Per my comment here a week or so ago here, I found the whole move increasingly distasteful as it went on. The ending was a stupid abomination for the making feel tough of little boy men.
That was me being a dismissive jerk in 240.
239: It sucked. Actually, the whole film kind of sucked. I mean, it was beautiful and well acted and all. But in the end, it was a bit like watching Blood Simple without any of the interesting parts or the suspense. Plus, I'm not really into movies that don't have CGI battle scenes.
238: Hmm, now I'm thinking about the old days of rigorous googleproofing. Anyway, it's the new internet age, so whatever. I should go to bed.
Also
He didn't play. So yeah, he won.
They do tic-tac-toe in Vegas?
239: Also, what JP said in his linked comment. Yo, Cleveland in the house! If that's a discretion error, I'm very sorry.
243: What? No animals were harmed in the crafting of our comments.
The ending was a stupid abomination for the making feel tough of little boy men.
the whole film kind of sucked. I mean, it was beautiful and well acted and all. But in the end, it was a bit like watching Blood Simple without any of the interesting parts or the suspense
Alright, you two. Put down the Bourbon and get out of the hot tub.
Put down the Bourbon and get out of the hot tub.
we've got to boil off all the water and scrape the bottom
it was a bit like watching Blood Simple without any of the interesting parts or the suspense
That was the brilliant part!
the making feel tough of little boy men
This is actually kind of awesome. It sounds as though cribbed from a Japanese t-shirt.
242 gets it right. Periodically in the last 3/4 of "No Country For Old Men" I would think "Why isn't there any suspense in this movie?" And kept remembering that it was supposed to be overwhelmingly pessimistic, thus devoid of suspense.
244: If that's a discretion error, I'm very sorry.
Nah, I've narrowed it to considerably closer than that if anyone actually gave a fuck. But this week I've had to be the former NE Ohioan in Pittsburgh who really no longer feels an attachment to any franchise, but can't quite get fully behind the Steelers (to my sons' great annoyance) due to early childhood conditioning.
overwhelmingly pessimistic, thus devoid of suspense.
That's when the helium character is supposed to come in.
I've been trying to comment on your blog, ari, to explain to you the error your ways, but my comments keep disappearing. Why hast thou forsaken me?
250: Exactly. The Bardem character was implacable. Implacable. There's no suspense in that; you just wait for him to come and kill you. Just like life, man.
254: Because I still have your book (part two) sitting in my office? And I feel shame. Also, I'll check the spam filter over there. And I'll send out the book again tomorrow; I really will.
That's when the helium character is supposed to come in.
Miiiiseryyyyyyyy!
The part when Llewellyn was walking around the abandoned cars was very suspenseful, that should be noted. That was the first 1/4 of the movie.
"Helium character?"
Basically I preferred "The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada" in just about every way.
The Bardem character was implacable. Implacable.
When at the end of the movie shortly before killing the wife character he remarks the he and the, what is it, coin? inanimate object of choice got there in the same way, I was like, fucking naturalists.
245: It's just the pseudonym, not anything said in this thread. Really I should just get rid of it. This is about the only place where it continues to exist and that's just for continuity of identity (which, of course, is also the problem).
No Country For Old Men was apparently filmed in my old neighborhood, so I keep thinking I should probably see it, but it really doesn't sound like my kind of thing.
ime, ones old neighborhoods don't look much like ones old neighborhoods once holywood gets through with them. ymmv.
otoh, everyones old (urban) neighborhoods eventually seem to look like toronto minus a few key buildings.
Yeah, that's what I suspect. But I hear there are some recognizable landmarks that show up in the film.
I was like, fucking naturalists.
Having multiple-partner sex while watching that movie? Pretty kinky.
264: Your old neighborhood had buckets of blood running in the streets? No wonder you moved. Also, even with all the blood, it's pretty boring there, huh?
This thread is also making me feel like I should read some environmental history one of these days.
Your old neighborhood had buckets of blood running in the streets? No wonder you moved.
I think the movie was actually filmed before I lived there. They must have cleaned it up by the time I showed up.
Also, even with all the blood, it's pretty boring there, huh?
Yup.
Maybe if that movie could be turned into a book by some sort of expert prose stylist, the themes of pessimism and so forth could be explored in creative and descriptive ways instead of just sort of happening.
252: I give a fuck, JP. I care, man.
254: Okay, fixed. The spam filter decided that you were a bad person. Probably because your comment suggests you didn't read my post, you ingrate.
Really I should just get rid of it.
There are plenty of suggestions for new ones in this thread!
270: There's some good stuff from back in the day. Now the field is mostly dead, if you ask me. Which you didn't, I know. But still, it's over for eh.
272: Precisely.
Ethan Coen: Bro, I really like Cormac McCarthy's work. And the themes contained therein are kind of our thing, right?
Joel Coen: Wow, that's really true. And I'm a huge fan of NCfOM. But that would be a bear of a book to adapt onto the screen.
EC: But we're geniuses.
JC: Good point. Let's do it. Nobody will notice that we're remaking our best film, minus all of the stuff that made it great.
Sorry one more:
EC: Except Beefo Meaty. But he'll like it anyway.
273.1 And you should, seeing as I haven't insultingly called you "history boy" for like 3 and a half months now.
Pfft. 275 gets it totally wrong.
Ethan Coen: man am I tired of everybody talking about Blood Simple all the time.
Joel Coen: I know, right? It was 25 years ago! It's like nobody even cares about what we've done since
EC: oh, I know how we get 'em. Let's make a movie with lots of the same themes, but instead of the simple payoff we went for last time, it ends with an abrupt, unsatisfyingly pastoral cutaway, leaving viewers with the uncomfortable sense that we just don't care what they think.
JC: haha! Wicked! I've got just the book to adapt.
272: But when they just sort of happen, it intensifies the pessimism! It's like a frisson of pessimism.
Christ, now we have to read the posts to comment? What is this world coming to?
277: That's because I'm all about the future now.
278: You forgot the part where they revel in their own genius. Other than that, though, I'm willing to accept your version as a friendly amendment.
ari, you hater, you're like three kinds of wrong.
There's some good stuff from back in the day. Now the field is mostly dead, if you ask me. Which you didn't, I know. But still, it's over for eh.
Excellent; that'll do nicely to reduce the amount of work I have to put into reading it.
281: but that's what's so great about it! It's an exceptionally well made, film length "You Kids Get Off My Lawn"! So fantastic.
The field is mostly dead now. But teo will revitalise it! He can be a technically unaffiliated scholar supported by UC Davis' history department or its chair's largesse. That way, he can get right into the stuff, but his work will still redound to ad maiorem gloriam universitatis.
285: Sounds like a plan. Make with the funding, Kelman.
286: You should your chance. Now get a job.
Hard to say how "had" became "should". The Internet is a mysterious place.
289: That's really great. Congratulations. And remember, you can always... Oh, forget it.
Background check... background check.... hey! Teo's joining DEA! Congrats! You don't know me!
Nobody will notice that we're remaking our best film, minus all of the stuff that made it great.
"The Big Lebowski" played straight? I can't even imagine that.
291: Hmmm, was part of the "background check" pretending to be a forty-something SF resident looking to start smoking pot? Timing.
Technically, ari, teo didn't have the chance I described. You wanted him in the graduate program. That's not what I suggested.
Teo's joining DEA! Congrats! You don't know me!
That's where you're wrong. About a third of the comments in this thread are going straight into evidence.
More seriously, the background check thing is so fucking ridiculous. It's the same form as for serious security clearance investigations, so you have to list every single place you've lived, job you've had, etc. in the past seven years, but because they're not actually giving you a security clearance or anything the actual "investigation" just consists of OPM mailing cards to everyone you listed on the form asking them to verify the information you provided. Once they return the cards and everything checks out, you're in.
They didn't find out about the back taxes and the free limo, did they?
No, I made sure my references knew what to say about that question.
But did you coach them on what to say about the hot tub and the cocaine and the fainting in the limo? Frankly, I wouldn't know if cocaine is a taxable benefit in kind; back in the day, some firms in the City used to pay bonuses in kind (for example, gold bars) to avoid tax, and paying out in bricks of coke would at least cut out the middleman.
Also, the fact about one-third of this thread can offer first hand experience of taking drugs in commercial hot tubs reminds me that Americans are weird. As if I needed reminding; but then, it's like that, no? There they all are, and most of the time you could almost mistake them for people!
certainly did more heavy drinking while in the PC than ever before or since
I've heard this from many ex-Peace Corps volunteers. Years ago, when I went to a Peace Corps recruiting conference, I even heard one of recruiters remark that knowing how to drink with the people in his village was the only way he ever got anything accomplished. Sadly, the Peace Corps was reluctant to accept me solely on the strength of my own talent for drinking.
About a third of the comments in this thread are going straight into evidence.
Good thing I've been spoofing your IP address then, teo.
300: Oh, man, yes. I have described the Peace Corps as an excellent way to find out if you have the potential for serious alcoholism -- if you get home and don't have a drinking problem, you probably never will.
(Pretty much the only reason I didn't come home a raging drunk is that I don't like drinking when I'm unhappy, I am, if anything, overly fond of getting hammered if there are other people around and I'm having fun, but sitting alone and sulking, the very last thing I want is a drink. If drinking cheered me up, I wouldn't have a liver by now.)
Link for 257. Now that's great art.
Wow, thanks for that.
Oh, and to join in teo's success (yay, teo!), I'm still maddenly waiting to hear about the career-changing, year-making job, but I have just secured a job that will earn me 2/3 of what I grossed in 2008* by the end of the month. So that's good.
If I show up in the next couple of weeks, you all should shoo me away.
* Which, to be clear, was a very small number.
302: is it just the unhappiness, or the aloneness, or is it unhappiness plus aloneness?
I don't like drinking when alone and unhappy either, but I'm okay drinking in either state individually.
303: Go away. Get. There's work to be done.
An acquaintance of mine used to have, as their job, reading novels on behalf of a production company to advise them on whether or not to pursue adapting said novels as films. The acquaintance read NCfOM as part of this job and told them to skip it because there was no way it would be a hit. I want to say that the disagreement arising from this person's opinion of NCfOM is what led to it becoming an ex-job.
304: Aloneness by itself, or being unhappy and alone. If I'm down, but I have people to go have fun with, I'll drink to be cheerful with them -- if it's not working, I'll go home.
Even if I'm happy, I don't want a drink unless I have someone to talk to. Buck goes on a business trip and I instantly forget there's beer in the fridge.
303: Go away. Get. There's work to be done.
Thanks. But actually, today is my last day of slack.
Buck goes on a business trip and I instantly forget there's beer in the fridge.
Can't you talk to your kids?
306 is an elaborate example of the blood libel, right? Cool.
Sure, but the time of day I'd normally sit around with a drink and talking is after they go to bed.
The one time I truly fainted was during a ductogram, which is a procedure where they snake a very thin wire into your nipple and then you stand there with a wire in your nipple and they squish your tit into different configurations and do a series of mammogram images.
I fainted. Can you blame me?
You could do some vlogs. That's kind of like talking to other people.
Brock's concern for LB's non-drinking problem is quite touching.
Oooh, have missed most of the thread and should have remembered this first time I commented on it, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
My dad was in a jacuzzi thing at some Hilton in Detroit (he went to Detroit a lot when I was little), completely alone, and he fainted, going under the water. Fortunately his friend independently decided to come down for a swim and found him in time to pull him out. That was a bit close.