Fascist state

The death of habeas corpus

Get your geek on

Excellent scene-by-scene breakdown of 1977 and 2004 versions of Episode IV

Ergo (tm)

Well, my WoW done broke again. My venerable iMac tends to get angry when Bliz patches the software, because it doesn't even meet the game's minimum requirements but somehow manages to play it anyway. Well, most of the time.

So I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you about a little tradition called Ergo (tm).

Summers are slow at my Old Office, where the workflow is at the mercy of the sports seasons. During the fall and spring, the workload is like the Colorado, and I and my coworkers metaphorically cling to a battered log, hoping not to get sucked under by the whitewater. But summers keep us sane by providing a respite: There's generally not much going on except for baseball, so the endless torrent of box scores, game stories and phone calls from coaches and disgruntled parents scales back to a few drips from a leaky faucet.

So each night for two hot months, the staff of the Old Office heads to the building's roof -- where there are two basketball hoops with marked half-courts -- for a tradition called Ergo, short for "Federally Mandated Ergonomic Break Brought to You by OSHA and the Department of Labor."

It all began several years ago at the tail-end of the interminable NBA season, when one of the Office's supervisors one night was disgusted with Shaquille O'Neal's free throw shooting performance. The supervisor challenged a deskmate to "beat Shaq"; that is, shoot better than Shaq at the line. As everyone knows, Shaq is notorious for being a horrible free-throw shooter, and on that particular night, Shaq shot about 40 percent of his free throws.

The two men took a 15-minute break from their desks to go upstairs to shoot 10 free throws each and take on the challenge, and Ergo was born. Each night thereafter, they would go up to the roof to see if they could beat Shaq. Soon, the entire desk staff was in on it.

Nowadays, sometimes upwards of 18 people show up on the roof. Several coworkers from neighboring departments often join in the contest. There's even an award for the free-throw high-scorer called The Brick -- literally, a broken brick fragment -- which is passed on each night from the previous night's high scorer. One coworker even maintains stats on each player (I'm shooting .356, by the way, so I am not beating Shaq. There are two staffers shooting .700, but one has only Ergoed twice (yes, it's a verb), so her (her!) stats are a bit skewed.

Ergo has evolved to include more than the best of 10 free throws. After we all shoot and determine a brick-winner, we shoot Ergo Trey, or three 3-pointers. Finally, there's Ergo Insanity (I don't make up these names!): A half-court shot. Believe it or not, someone almost always makes the "Insanity" shot.

We all look forward to it each night. Not only is it a great way to force us to stretch, let off some -- OK, a lot of -- steam, forget about work and step away from our computer terminals for 15 minutes or so, it's a tip of the hat to the supervisor -- whom we've dubbed The Commissioner -- who is probably one of the hardest working and most well-respected bosses in the Old Office. And, it's a great reminder not to take life too seriously.

So, as another season of Ergo at my Old Office winds down to its final days, I present you with images from the summer of 2006.

Freedom of 'choice'

This story from The Guardian interests me, because I'm always intrigued -- and often outraged -- by the way companies manipulate public perception. The latest propaganda from companies that shill disproportionately large or pretentious products is that they are merely providing the consumer with a choice. Because that's what America's all about, right? It would be un-American for the public not to have the choice of whether to commit suicide by ingesting their daily intake of fat in each and every meal, or to contribute to the melting of the planet's ice caps by driving a gigantic SUV that gets 8 miles per gallon. Personally, I find that attitude to be very selfish: Wouldn't one want to do what he or she could to be around to play with his or her grandkids? Or leave said grandkids with some natural wonders to marvel at?

The fact of the matter is that people are gullible and impressionable. They will, in general, consider whatever is presented to them to be appropriate, as the story points out. Or, in the case of the "Stack it high, tough guy" campaign, even the appropriate way to think: "Don't let those self-righteous critics rain on your parade again and tell you what's good for you. You can show them where to go by buying this." Companies are acutely aware of the portion-size bias. They have a well-compensated army of psychologists and sociologists at their disposal to tell them how the public thinks. They know what you want to buy before you buy it. Just don't buy into the "size it your way" mantra.

My sculling single

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Originally uploaded by audreahuff.

Yaaay! New pix of my refurbished sculling single, which is practically a new boat. Everyone who's seen it comments on how beautiful it is and the excellent job that the factory did on it. I've had it back from Canada for a couple of months now, but I'm just now getting around to updating with the "after" pictures. I know it's not thrilling to anyone but me, but as a competitive rower, this boat is one of my most prized possessions.

10 creepiest ad icons

http://www.yesbutnobutyes.com/archives/2006/08/ten_creepiest_i_1.html (If you can look past the horrible spelling)

Does that make me crazy?

Get out of my head, Gnarls Barkley! Awesome, awesome vid. (Scoops, this version's for you.)

Playing catchup

I know I've been out of pocket for a while, and I apologize for that. It's tough to admit it, but when I'm busy or wiped out, updating the blog is one of the low items on the priority list. And it shouldn't be. I started it mostly as a diary for myself, since I have a terrible, terrible memory for dates and times. I remember events; I just don't remember when they happened or when they happened in relation to one another. So the blog was supposed to help me keep track of what happened and what I was thinking when. Anyway, not to make excuses -- a definite refocus on this forum is in order.

So what have I been doing that's keeping me from pounding away at the keyboard?

• Well somehow, my busy schedule isn't keeping me from the computer, as I still find time to play World of Warcraft. I haven't been playing it as much as I had been -- I'm down to about one night a week now -- but amusingly, my inner nerd sometimes would rather level my orc hunter than bitch here about this and that. One of the things I like about playing WoW is that it's challenging, but at the same time, relatively mindless. It's an outlet for me to unwind, a night's escape from grown-up things like jobs, responsibilities and obligations. I certainly don't live my life by it like many, many others do, and I don't take it seriously in the slightest. I just occasionally enjoy the one night's escape from real life, grouping and questing with friends (yes, I've met them face-to-face) online, and don't consider my weekly game night any different that someone who spends every Sunday of the fall glued to NFL Ticket or who likes to live vicariously through reality TV.


• I'm still working at the orthopedic surgeons' office, and yes, I still like it. The pessimist in me -- and it's a very big part of me -- says that I'll get bored of it at some point, just as I've eventually gotten bored of every job I've worked before it. But I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts, and hopefully that lasts for some time, because I really do consider myself very lucky to have found this job. I'm still learning a lot -- and still often feeling inadequate in my schooling. The physical therapists there have four-year degrees and higher in their field, and I often am embarrassed to ask them what they mean by this or that. I don't necessarily blame the school to which I attended, because it did more than prepare me for a life in massage therapy. But I've found that the environment in which I work requires a bit higher level of medical knowledge than school prepared me for, so I've developed a bit of an inferiority complex about working there. To reassure myself, I've been doing a bit of studying via my school textbooks. I'll feel more comfortable at some point, I'm sure -- I just hope that's well before my attention span drops off.


• I'm still working out and am on target to enter a mini-triathlon in October. Every Friday, I've been biking on a stationary bike for 8 miles, then immediately hopping on a treadmill for a 2-mile "run." It's challenging, but I've been getting progressively faster. So I don't anticipate problems with those legs of the tri. I'm still apprehensive about the swim, at which I'm very weak. But after talking with a coworker who used to do regular-length tris, she assured me that since I'm not going for time during the race, I should just find whatever stroke works for me -- doggie, sidestroke, whatever -- and plod away at it on the outside of the pack of swimmers, just to get through that leg without getting kicked in the head by real triathletes.


• My sculling single is back from Canada! After much consternation, it's safe at the ORC boathouse. I've been meaning to take and upload some pictures. It's beautiful. It no longer can be dubbed the Red Racer, because it's Volkswagen Gecko Green. (So it needs a name. Suggestions, anyone?) I've rowed it a few times, and it's fabulous. I'll save my comments on it for a separate post about it when I get the pictures online.


• I'm competing in a regatta this weekend in Daytona Beach. I'm not racing the single just yet as I don't think I'm an experienced enough singles sculler. But I'll be in an eights race (women's master/open 8+) and a double (women's master 2x). My aforementioned sculling partner, J.D., oddly backed out on me in that event, so it'll be me and another woman from my eight who has less 2x experience than me. But The Other Woman was one of the best rowers in an eight on her college team, so perhaps we still have a fighting chance.

Well, my laptop is near dead. Will catch up with you later.

Welcome to the world

Congratulations to good friends D. and S., today the parents of a beautiful baby girl!!! Lots of love to the both of you, and baby makes three.

Conquered

meandovrbyte
Originally uploaded by audreahuff.

I finally made it out to Disney to ride Expedition Everest, the new coaster at Animal Kingdom, with good buddies Jumbles (Mr. Brain Ooze) and Ovrbyte. Ovrbyte was suffering from a bad back, so he had to sit out and watch Jumbles and I ride it twice. :(

We got there before noon that day. The park was packed to the gills. Ugh. I hate bumping into people. We were pretty sure we'd have to Fast Pass it (which, if you don't know, is a system by which you get a ticket that sort of holds a spot for you, like taking a number, and spits out a time when you can come back and hop somewhere near the front of the line). So we headed to the Fast Pass line, and holy cow! The Fast Pass line says if you take a ticket now, don't come back until 5:30 p.m.! WTF?! I hadn't planned on being at the parks that long!

So one of us had the smarts to see whether there was a single-rider line, and sure enough, there was. If you don't care too much about sitting right next to your partner or friends, then this is absolutely the way to go. We bypassed the throngs of families of 5 and scooted right up to the front of the line.

We ended up riding twice. So so fun (and so so short). I sat near the back of the train the second time -- and got a little bit ill. Not too bad, not like I get when I ride Hulk at Islands of Adventure and have to sit down for 10 minutes 'cause my eyeballs feel like they're going to pop out of my skull. (But not that that ever stops me from riding it.)

And, as an added bonus, we brushed right up against pseudo-celebrity as we left the ride. Jumbles saw him first, and Ovrbyte and I didn't believe him. But upon closer examination of the person in question -- and notwithstanding the two or three escorts and a park guest who came up to him to ask him for his autograph -- it was in fact Michael Eisner. I think I may have brushed him as he walked by. What was he doing at the park? I thought he was unemployed?

Then we death marched it over to Epcot Center to ride Soarin', which I also had not yet ridden, and which Ovrbyte could enjoy since it wasn't jarring to his bad back. Unfortunately, no Fast Pass here. We waited in line for 90 minutes for the 3-minute thrill. Another excellent ride. And it didn't hurt that the entire ride is indoors, so you don't have to sweat to death while standing in the queue.

Anyway, fun, fun day. I got home in the late afternoon and was so wiped, I was in bed by 7 and pretty much slept until the next morning. XXOO, Jumbles and Ovrbyte! Love ya and see ya soon.

The life aquatic

I need to learn how to swim.

Properly, anyway. I've never had a formal lesson, so I'm not a strong swimmer. I can fake my way across a swimming pool, switching between a doggie paddle and a flailing-while-kicking motion to get to the other side. I'm not afraid of water, either, and have no problem diving to the bottom of the pool and launching myself back to the surface with a push off the bottom from my legs.

So in my quest to get as many lessons/classes/activities done as I can before I become a grown-up again with a full-time job, I hope to do a triathlon later this year, maybe October. A few rowing friends have been trying to entice me to join them lately in their favorite extracurricular activity. And it wouldn't be a full Olympic-length triathlon but a "sprint," which are supposedly short distances.

I'll be fine with the 2-mile run, and the 7-mile bike is supposedly the easiest part. But the swim portion will be a whole new challenge. I'm dense as a stone -- the proverbial "big-boned" -- have short legs and sink like an anchor.

One too many cheap margaritas

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Originally uploaded by audreahuff.

My best girlfriend and I went out for free chips, salsa, sangria and margaritas earlier this month at a free local street festival called Alive After Five (Doesn't that sound like some sort of AA event?). Anyway, we had fun catching up, ac-TING! (said like Jon Lovitz's SNL character/Subway's "Eat FRESH!" campaign) like goofballs and going back and forth on who is the bigger hypochondriac. We swear we were being stalked by a mariachi band...

Sign of the apocalypse: One in a series

I didn't know until now that not only are there no self-serve gas stations in New Jersey and Oregon, you can't pump your own gas. (I've even driven in Oregon and don't remember that; perhaps I didn't stop for gas there on that trip.) And now a proposal by New Jersey's governor to allow some self-service stations along the state's turnpike as an experiment to see whether gas prices would fall has met with so much resistance, he's backed off. The reactions from some citizens:

It's a rainy morning at the Thomas A. Edison Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike. Lines of idling cars and trucks stretch through a Sunoco station. But for Ardis De Los Santos, there's at least one thing to smile about - she doesn't have to pump her own gas.

She used to live in New York, where she had no choice. But a move across the Hudson River to Englewood, N.J., freed her from the hassle. She likes it that way. "It's not my cup of tea," she says of filling her tank. "It's the smell."

. . .

Critics of a shift to self-service say pumping their own gas would be especially hard on the elderly, could create a safety hazard as inexperienced motorists try to fill their tanks and cost many station attendants their jobs while doing nothing to lower prices.

. . .

One morning this week, the price for regular at the Sunoco Station at the Thomas A. Edison Service Area, was $2.87 a gallon. Even so, Amanda Darian, 18, didn't think it would be worth pumping her own gas, even if it saved her 5 cents a gallon.

"A nickel? Nah," says Darian, a student at Monmouth University in West Long Branch.

Even though she's going to have to work more this summer to pay her gas tab, she says, "I just don't want to get out" of the car. She has been to other states, and when it came time to fill up, "I didn't even know how."

Louis Rivera, 29, an attendant who has worked at the Sunoco station for three years, says self-service could put "a lot of people ... out of jobs."

"Even some men don't want to get that smell on their clothes," says Angela Fields.

I can understand the concern that many people would be out of work. But first of all, the proposal was a test, at just a few stations along one road. Certainly the economic impact of a few stations losing a part of their staffs would have been negligible. (One angle the story did not address was what station owners think about the possible cost savings in labor.)

Others said the experiment might pose a safety hazard for inexperienced motorists. But if teenage novice drivers in the other 48 states can read a "flammable" sign and operate a pump, "inexperienced motorists" certainly can. And how many of those inexperienced motorists have never operated a gas pump outside of New Jersey? Likely very, very few.

But "it's the smell," and "just don't want to get out of the car"? I suspect this was the actual reason most people opposed the proposal. They may as well have said, "I just got my nails done." Those excuses certainly say a lot about this country. The story above also pointed out that a proposal to raise the state's sales tax by a penny received just a fraction of the response this proposal received. Heck, the student in the above story said she'd prefer to pay 5 cents more per gallon to have someone else hold the pump handle for her. Woe is us.

Wiki this

I'd never thought to look up Orlando, Florida's entry in Wikipedia, but I just happened to stumble upon it tonight while searching for something else. Wow. It's quite comprehensive. And kind of like Googling yourself and finding a page about you. It also got me to thinking whether someone I know had contributed to it. I know at least a couple of history buffs who have contributed to or built Web pages on Central Florida Americana. The Wiki entry, which is very current, has links to one of my current employers, two past employers (OK, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who grew up here who didn't work for The Mouse House at some point in their lives), the college I went to and my high school. Fascinating.

Catching up

OK.

So here's what's been going on.

I've gotten my first wage-earning job as a massage therapist. I was fortunate enough to know someone who knew someone at an orthopedic surgeon's office across town called Florida Center for Orthopaedics. (I'll refrain from linking to it and let you find it in another browser window, because I don't want the site administrator -- whom I'm guessing is the tall, skinny, young techie who I see walking around the clinic bored all the time -- to stumble upon this page by reading the referring URLs log.)

I'm in a little room near the physical therapy department, of which I'm a staff member. I've been there for slightly more than a month, and I love it so far. PIP insurance often covers prescription massage therapy, so most of the patients sent to me are "MVAs" (motor vehicle accident victims) who have whiplash, headaches, some sort of back pathology or a combo of those. A couple are "self-pays," people who are paying out-of-pocket for a regular massage.

The doctor's office doesn't have that many massage clients (yet, I'm told), so I'm only needed twice a week for now -- which is fine, because I'm still working about twice a week at my Old Job. And between those four days of work, we're doing just fine financially. As someone with a short-attention span and who's quickly bored and dissatisfied by repetitive tasks, I've really enjoyed the variety between the two jobs.

The plan is to gradually decrease my time at the Old Job as business at the doctor's office picks up. I've been assured by my boss, the manager of PT (physical therapy; there must be more medical acronyms tossed around than in a military barracks), that it would, but I'm satisfied with the pace for now. I've learned a lot in a short amount of time, I'm getting more confident with my hands, and sports medicine and ortho is the branch of PT/massage I think I'd like to get into.

The other bit of big news is that I bought a sculling single. It's used, and it's been around the block -- er, lake -- oh, about 10,000 times, but I bought it for dirt cheap from the rowing club of which I'm a member. (Ick -- I see I'm front and center in the big honkin' photo that pops up on the main page. The blond woman on my right with the sunglasses on her head is my aformentioned double sculls partner.)

The boat (I'll call it the Red Racer for now; hope the name doesn't stick) has been with the club for longer than I have and has been extensively used and abused, and after the club recently purchased four brand-new singles, I figured the Red Racer would never see water again. But more importantly, an old sculling coach once told me that despite its age and condition, he thought the Red Racer was the fastest scull the club owned.

So those two reasons were enough to convince me to sink my tax refund into buying the Red Racer, a set of sculling oars and repairs. The pictures of the boat are actually those I took for the boat's manufacturer, where I've had it sent for refurbishing and repairs. As a result, I only got to row it once after I bought it before it was shipped away to Canada (which, incidentally, was a sizeable chunk of the repair cost). Hopefully, I'll get it back before the summer, with a new paint job (what color should I have them paint it?), riggers, rudder and finish!

Speaking of short-attention spans, I think I've reached the end of mine. More to come soon.

World tour

One of my favorite sites to read on a lazy Sunday afternoon: BBC News' From Our Own Correspondent

Congratulations...

... are in order for my "little bro," MAP, who just recently got engaged. I love you and miss you, and I can't wait for the big day!

My life so far

I still owe you a long post detailing what's been going on for the past 6 weeks or so. I'm going to have to block off some time for that, so I can't do it right away. I hope to have something up by the end of this weekend.

Age/old

Someone told me today he thought I was 24 years old.

I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended. If I were between 26 and 30, that probably would have been flattering. But I'm 34, which makes me wonder whether I don't act or dress my age. I have no desire to be one of those 55-year-old leather-skinned women who still wears miniskirts and parties with her daughter and her daughter's friends.

Hey there

Huff Stuff's blog has a new home. Tune in here from now on. I'll keep the old blog around as an archive, but I'll be posting here from now on. This is just easier to manage, and hopefully I'll no longer get blog spam.