Don't Call It a Comeback

...but I've come across quite a few draft entries that might still have some life in them.

I miss the fun I used to have with this blog, and of course the time I used to have to work on it.  This was once a voice for all of the random thoughts that would cross my mind throughout the day, and those thoughts are now left to die under the weight of stress and bourbon.  I just saw a commercial where some hipster professed "I want to make wallpaper cool again".  That's how I feel about this blog.  I want to paste it up in your kitchen, watch it yellow over the years, and slowly observe it fold as it loses its grip and becomes outdated.  Soak me up and slap me on your wall!

Make 1 Reader Can't Be Wrong Great Again!

We've heard the phrase "Make America Great Again" quite often over the past year or so - a campaign slogan used in the upcoming 2016 presidential election.  The tag line implies that a vote for the other candidate gets the nation more of the same ungreat America (that's bad) so, vote to change things (that's good).  A couple of thoughts go through my mind whenever I hear this. 1. What is it that makes America not great right now? and 2. What is the great time/setting in America to which people would like to return?  I've answered these questions already.  The conversation was in my mind and the audience was not large or very critical, so I thought I would turn to the www.

Why is America not great? This of course will have completely different answers depending on who you ask.  For the individual living just above the poverty level who is forced to obtain health coverage and receive no assistance, the current administration is causing them financial ruin.  Devout Christians may look at the direction the country is heading in respect to what their religious leaders teach and feel that new laws or court rulings allow or even encourage sinful behavior.  Others just want to warm up their TVs on a Saturday night and still be able to see Buck Owens and the Hee Haw gang instead of that one crime show with the group of detectives who live in a City that have extremely rare cases every week that get solved in the most amazing way using methods that would never be economically or scientifically feasible.  If I were to answer "Why is America not great?", I would likely say America is great today, was great "back then" and will be great for years to come.  I also say cold Chef Boyardee ravioli straight from the can counts as an evening snack, and pairs well with Booker's Small Batch Bourbon while playing online slot machines.  So I guess it seems I have an opinion and a certain viewpoint that may only be relevant to me.  Huh, I wonder if others have individual thoughts?

What is the great time/setting in America to which people would like to return?  This is a difficult question, as I believe the perfect location of Great America is a mashup of several eras.  Progress, technology, and industry are very important to the welfare and longevity of a nation, so sprawling industrial complexes would have to be a part of this utopia.  Preservation of natural resources and the desire for a healthy environment point to having large untouched forests, clean streams and rivers, and a diverse, protected biome. Information should be made available to all, quickly and conveniently, to promote learning and scientific advancement, bettering the human race.  We should also shield the youth and the vulnerable from images, stories, and propaganda that could corrupt and cause anguish.  Cars should be large enough to carry the entire family, yet small enough to preserve fuel.  Food should be plentiful, but not altered to produce higher yields.  We should abort every baby while also never aborting babies.  So when was this great America?  Always and everywhere.

320 million people have an opinion of what a great America is.  Roughly 73% of those people are able to vote for leaders and issues to help shape their vision. And approximately 55% of those eligible actually cast a ballot in hopes of getting the right people elected for their cause.  Every person voting is attempting to make America great, whether it's again, still, or finally, and yet we will never have a universally great America.  So maybe the important issue is not so much making America great, as it is making Americans great.  This is a cause I can wholeheartedly support.  Americans have a choice to pursue greatness, and it starts with agreeing with the unmistaken 0.0000003125%, me.  Today I pledge, that I am and will continue to be great.  Won't you join me, for America?

Is This Still a Thing?

It's that time of year again when my inbox is flooded with reminders to renew my domain name.  Every year I tell myself that I'm going to renew for multiple years in order to save a little money, and every year I barely have enough to do a 1 year renewal.  This year was no exception.  So for the next 12 months, I will be your primary destination for all things chrisquick related - not that anyone else is beating down my door with offers for the domain name.  It's not exactly a money making venture.

So with the recent renewal, you, my fan, will be treated to a new post!  Yes, I know I've sort of neglected this in much the same way I've neglected my hair for the past 7 months.  Maybe it's time to give 1RCBW a trim.  Make it a little more presentable.  Or maybe I'll just run a brush over it and get through another day.

So what have I been up to in the last 7 months?  Well, my attempt at starting a weight-loss blog turned out to have the opposite effect.  I am once again trying to improve my health, but this time I'm keeping it on the DL.  I've signed up for 3 mud runs this summer, so that should keep me somewhat motivated for a while.

Really, I've just been going through the motions.  Work, kids' activities, TV, sleep.  The days pretty much just blend together, and life makes about as much sense as:

 

Talk at you again soon?

BRB

I've sort of neglected this blog since starting my diet/exercise blog.  Trust me, I'm excited to post more things on here, but have not had the time.

Okay, that's a lie, I have had time.  I just don't care to entertain you with my free time.

I'm sorry, that was sort of cruel.  I didn't mean to lash out at you like that.  Can you forgive me?

Fine!  Be that way, you ignorant fuck!  After all the posts I've written for you, this is how you treat me?  I've slaved over this blog to provide a FREE service and all you can do is complain?!  I outta just shut this down.  That would show you.  That would teach you a lesson!

C'mon, baby, can't we make up?  We both said some things we didn't mean.  Let's give it another try.  I'll blog you the way you like, and you provide me with some validation.  Just like old times.

See you soon :-)

New venture...

I've made mention of my weight on here before.  For those who don't know me, I tend to lean a bit on the "holy shit" side of the scale.  Sure, it's good for a laugh at times, but it really keeps me from getting out and making the most of life.  Like just this year, I found out that the zipline tour I wanted to do has a 250lb limit!  Sure, I could scream 'discrimination' and get all my chubby pals fired up for a nice lawsuit, but really, that's not me.  And really, maybe it's better that the tree canopies of southern Ohio are not filled with the wheezing, flabby bodies of the morbidly obese.  That's one nature show that could be scarier than Shark Week!

I've never felt that this is my body.  Sure, it houses all of my organs including the uniquely complicated brain of mine, but like an old farm house left unattended for years along a back country road, it has become overgrown.  So I've decided (once again) that it's time to clean up!  There is still a lot of character in this dilapidated dwelling, it just needs a few weeds cleared away and a fresh coat of paint.  Yep, time to smoke weed and huff paint.  Wait, that's probably not a good idea...

Join me in a journey to reclaim my former self.  I have started another blog in which I will document my progress toward a better me.  As I said, I feel like I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine, and it's time to Escape from the 270lb Coffin.

My Legacy

Many of my loyal readers (1) have asked me to update my blog.  My response: I have nothing funny to talk about.  Well, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it has never stopped me before!

I'm a klutz.  Not the kind that is accident prone or tends to break everything around him, but one who has a slight tendency to become a bit unbalanced at times.  Mentally and physically.  More than a few times I've been likened to Chris Farley in my mannerisms.  I genuinely take that as a compliment, as I found the man very comical.  I would like to point out that my activities in the cocaine and hooker departments are FAR less than those of my deceased idol.

My hefty upper body always provides that uncertainty when stepping across rocks or balancing along a board.  Combine that with the nervousness of me being shy and feeling as though my every move is being monitored, and it's a recipe for hilarity...at least in others' eyes.  And really, when I can make others laugh, it makes me happy.

I often ask myself where I can take this.  The witty comments.  The physical comedy.  The often obscure and random writings.  Do I try my hand at standup?  Do I write a screenplay?  Do I stand on a corner downtown and punch myself in the balls for money?

No, I think I just continue to do what I do:  Entertain my friends and family.  I sometimes wonder what my purpose in life is.  What will I be remembered for after I've fallen to my death from the roof after a swarm of wasps attack me while I've got a bucket of hot grease in one hand and a running chainsaw in the other?

"He was a good man.  Handy around the house.  Ambitious and creative when it came to projects. And always made us laugh."  That's all I ask for :-)

Random Thoughts

Why "eleven" and "twelve"?  Why not "oneteen" and "twoteen"?  Or even "firsteen" and "secondteen"?  Is it because they sound stupid?  If so, that's not a good argument at all.  And shouldn't the letter W be pronounced double-v?  The French got that one right.

It's been a long time since I've ridden a roller coaster.  I hope I remember how.

I'm still curious as to why acorns come from oak trees.  Shouldn't it be an acorn tree?  Or should the nuts be called oaks?  Some botanist was clearly not thinking that day.

There are no guarantees in life.  But I can't promise that.

Today is the birthday of both Michael Gross and Meredith Baxter-Birney.  Both born in 1947.  That brings me to an idea for a fun product.  Submit a family photo to be turned into a paint-by-number!

And once again, I see that I was late on an idea. (www.easy123art.com)  Fuck my horrible sense of timing...Sha-la-la-laaaa.

A Dissertation on Findings

A recent study published by the Midwest Journal of Science and Leisure stated that 84% of Americans feel paper clips are better than staples.  Now while some may debate the logic of such a study, others would be quick to note that there is no such publication.  Both of these are true.

Made up or not, information such as this does bring up a good question.  What about binder clips?

To get the answer to this question, I asked several of my colleagues; at least I tried to.  As it turns out, there are not many people who I would consider a colleague.  I work with other engineers, but none of which have wasted a shitload of hours writing a blog for such a small audience.  I have a few friends outside of work who write blogs, but their writings are either informative or not done for self-gratification.  So I would go on record as saying I have no colleagues.

What I do have is mountains of useless brain activity and an attention span shorter than that one song.

After some deep thought, a few experiments, and some internet research, I have found that the binder clip was invented in 1910.  So I think it goes without saying that when you need to hold things together, sometimes a rubber band is the best option.  At least 16% of the time it is.

Warrior Dash (Part 4)

After a few muddy photos, it was time to rinse the mud off.  We walked through the giant puddles of water created by the rinse trucks and stood in line waiting for our turn at the hose.  The water from the fire hoses was cold!  After a few seconds and what seemed like several hundred gallons of water had washed over me, I started to head back.  That's when I looked down and realized that it was going to take more than a little fire hose to rid me of this filth!  I hopped back in line for a second rinsing, which helped a little, but still left me as brown and stinky as, well...

Now it was time to indulge in some food and drink!  I opted for the BBQ beef sandwich and was in no way disappointed.  In fact, if they hadn't been $5/each, I may have devoured a couple more.  The first beer (free for registering) went down oh so smooth.  I pretty much turned around and went right back to the beer tent for #2.  After hanging out for a while, slowly drying out in the setting sun, I decided to gear up for my next competition.  I purchased the commemorative stein (including 32 oz of beer), and made my way toward the stage.

The announcement came: Anyone wanting to enter the warrior beard contest come up on stage.  I had already been hanging around a few of the competitors.  One guy in particular made me nervous.  The bushiness of his beard along with the mohawk made me think "warrior".  He had a good look, but had changed since the race.  Could my muddy, wet costume and wildly untamed mess of hair pull off the win??

7 contestants stood on the stage.  #1 donned the swag warrior helmet and had a great thick dark beard.  I was jealous of the thickness, but knew he would not be a challenger.  #2 was jolly ol' Saint Nick himself.  Again, no worries, as the beard was clearly fake (and mud stained).  #3 was a challenger.  His thick beard had been dyed jet black with a yellow "W" painted on it.  He had spirit.  He had a mohawk.  #4's beard was also impressive: a few months of thick growth and some distinctive graying.  (Can you tell I'm not all too happy with the thickness of my facial hair?).  #5, as I had mention, was who I thought to be my rival.  I had seen him throughout the day and was almost to the point of not entering due to my intimidation.  I took the #6 spot, while a bald head and goatee finished out the lineup (clearly looking for an opportunity to be on stage).

My description of the judging would pale in comparison to the video taken by my wife.  For clarity, the chants from the crowd are "Hobbit", for which apparently I have my neighbor Scott to thank.

So there it is.  That is how you win a beard competition.  I asked for my friends' support, and I ended up with that and then some!  I would specifically like to thank: Terry, Bill, Tony, Brian, Bruin, the non-stop crowd-pumping enthusiasm of Scott, and of course the 10 months of patient tolerance as I grew that monstrosity from my wife, Stephanie.

Will I do the Warrior Dash again?  I'm pretty sure it will happen.  We had a great time and I'm already finding myself signing up for other mud races.  Will I grow the beard again?  I'm thinking 'no'.  However, after shaving the thing off (yes, it was completely gone the next day), I do sort of miss it.  Maybe some day it will return.  Thicker...longer...and so full of powerful manliness that the world will tremble before it and proclaim that it shall forever be recognized as THE beard of beards.  Muahahahahaha!!!

Warrior Dash (Part 3)

Ahhh, a nice drink of water, and I was ready for...another god-damned hill?! And another!?!?  I gave up jogging the hills at the very beginning, but was at least able to keep a pretty good pace walking up those bastards.  About 50 feet from the top of the last hill, I stopped.  It was a quick, hands-on-the-knees, deep-breaths, regain-my-strength sort of rest.  I started up again and within seconds had reached the top.

A wave of relief came across everyone as the volunteer at this point informed us, "it's all downhill from here!"  But first I had to make it through "Arachnophobia".  This was basically a twisted mess of bungee cords stretched across the path which you had to go over and under.  Easiest obstacle yet!

As I picked up my pace just enough to not send myself slipping and sliding down the path, I came to the Tunnel of Terror.  The mud path, which at this point was about 12' wide had been draped with a 2x4 frame covered in a black tarp.  No question, I was going to get muddy.  I dropped to my hands and knees and started the 20-some foot crawl through almost total darkness.  I heard taller runners complaining as the clearance was just short enough to require them to be on their belly.  For once I was glad to be "average" height.  Although, I found that wearing a tie and crawling on your knees can present it's own problems (mental note for when I get fired for writing blogs at work).  This obstacle was the cause of many people's scraped up knees.  I guess my tie spared me of too much blood.

Finally there was a nice long stretch of downhill jogging!  Only a couple spots came where I had to slow down in fear of tumbling into the runner in front of me.  I could imagine the fear in her eyes as she would look back to see this large boulder of muddy sweaty fat rumbling toward her like an Indiana Jones movie.

We came to a clearing and were ready to face the Cargo Climb.  20 feet of almost vertical netted rope led up to a 6" wide wooden beam before immediately dropping back down to the ground.  I climbed as best as I could without thinking about the height (yes, among many other things, I am afraid of heights).  Once I reached the top, there was a brief moment of "Oh fuck, what do I do now??"  I hugged that top rail like a scared child and scooted my belly and legs to the other side.  A few probes with my feet and I eventually found a spot to begin my descent.  This was definitely the scariest and most difficult part of the run.

"Walk The Plank" was next.  Had I not just climbed the cargo net, my fear of heights may have come into play here.  Balancing on 12" wide boards 6-8' off the ground didn't seem so hard after all that, and I was off to the stream.

The "Rio Run" was basically a stroll up a shallow creek.  I had done this many times as a kid, and the only surprise was when I first jumped in.  The water was so full of mud and silt that it was impossible to judge the depth.  I thought 3 feet.  It was about 18".  A little rough on the landing, but I had no problems after that.

The next obstacle was another cargo net, except this time it was horizontal and about 5 feet off of the ground.  I had expected this one, and up until that day I was prepared to roll myself over it to save time.  I had already torn my runners bib from my shirt several times, and thought rolling might make me lose it for good.  I stuck to the side of the net, holding on to the wooden beam, and worked myself sideways.  A little slower than I had anticipated, but still made pretty decent time.

Rounding the corner, I was another wall.  This time it was completely vertical.  The 15 foot wooden wall had 3 or 4 rungs going up and a knotted rope hanging down.  As I approached, I had a moment of fear.  I've always thought of myself as having pretty decent upper body strength, but what will happen when I try to pull my 270lb frame straight up a wall??  "Arms, don't fail me know" I said to myself as I grabbed the rope.  Success!  I made it to the top in great time, only to find I was stuck with the same problem I had on the cargo net wall: getting to the other side.  The back side consisted only of rows of 2x4s which were about 4 feet apart.  So I reached down until I finally touched the top row and quickly made my way down.

This was it!  I could see the crowd at the finish line!  I knew what the last two obstacles were and I was ready!  Oh wait, I feel a bit nauseous...  Not now!  I'm almost done!  Luckily, another hand-on-the-knees moment, some deep breathing, and a little encouragement from fellow warriors Bill and Terry, and I had the strength to jog ahead.

I made it to the clearing where all the spectators were watching.  Two rows of fiery logs filled the path with smoke.  I approached the first pile and leaped in a grand fashion striking the best Baryshnikov pose an out of shape muddy bearded engineer could.  The crowd roared in approval!  Actually, they didn't really do much of anything.  I needed to step up my game a bit.  The second jump was a decently executed 360, which surprising didn't end in a broken ankle or face full of fire.  I felt good!  I felt like picking up the pace!  I felt my legs slipping in the mud.  I went back to the slow jog.


The last thing that stood between me and the finish line was a muddy pit over which barbed wire was strung.  Up to this point I was wet, sweaty, and a bit dirty on my hands and knees.  I was about to be completely covered in mud!  I wasted no time hopping into the trenches, submerging myself in the thick gooey filth.  Some parts were deep enough to half swim / half drag my body through, and other parts required a crawl (which led to more walking on my tie).  It was exhausting.  In fact at one point I completely stopped and contemplated a nice rest in the cool mud.  Then I heard the cheers from all my friends who had already finished.  Time to give it one last burst of energy...


I climbed out of the pit and did what was probably the weakest looking trot across the finish line.  It was all I could do to keep from passing out.  I was winded, filthy, and extremely thirsty.  I leaned over to receive my medal from the volunteers and grabbed two cups of water.  Now it was time to bask in my muddy glory until it was time for the real event...