Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Entry 77: India Bound

I'm the type of guy who likes to get to the airport way before his flight leaves. I often get anxious before I fly anywhere, not because of the flight itself, once I'm on the plane I relax, but because of the getting on the plane part -- going to the airport, waiting in line, checking in luggage, going through security, finding space in the overhead bins. That whole process stresses me out, and I find that giving myself plenty of time to do everything helps alleviate the anxiety. Plus, if you have to sit in a TGIFridays at the airport for an hour, have a beer, and read a book, or goof around on your phone (or iPad or laptop or whatever), is that really that much less exciting than what you'd be doing at home? Probably not.


[A hilarious bit by Louis CK on flying.]

With that said, I took things a little too far, when I arrived at the Sydney airport before the check-in counter for my flight opened. But, it gave me a chance to buy my nephews some "authentic" Australian boomerangs. The international terminal of every airport is basically the same -- a few souvenir shops, a few cafes, an electronics shop, and some sort of weird white, brightly lit area with giant boxes of booze, perfume, and chocolate. Apparently, something about international travel makes people want to try a new flavor of vodka, smell like Scarlett Johannson, and mow down a brick of Tobleron.


You'll remember in my last entry, I was worried that I had too much stuff, and that my luggage would be over the weight limit. Turns out that worry was well-founded. I was 11 kgs (24 lbs) over the cap. I asked how much it costs to be over, and the woman behind the counter told me $57.

"$57 total, well, that's not bad. I'll just pay it."
"No sir, $57 per kilo."

That's a little different. Being that 57 x 11 = 627, I had to dump some stuff. For $627, it would almost be cheaper to just replace everything in my suitcase. I spent the next half-hour crouched over my luggage and a trash can, throwing away everything that looked relatively heavy and not absolutely vital -- a pair of sneakers, long sleeve t-shirts, a squash racket, all the liquids in my bathroom kit, so on and so on. (They really should have one of those giant donation bins at the airport.) It wasn't easy, but I got it under.

My first flight, and 8-hour jaunt to Kuala Lumpur, was long and boring. I watched three movies. The first one, Unstoppable, starring Denzel Washington and Chris Pine, was actually not terrible. I expected it to be crap, but it was a step up from crap. I might even be tempted to call it good, but it had a major casting flaw. Rosario Dawson plays a blue-collar train dispatcher, a role she's way too good looking for. That's just not what a train dispatcher would look like in really life. I couldn't get over this, and it kinda ruined the movie for me. I don't like Hollywood's insistence to put hot women in non-hot women roles. Maybe this made sense once, 40 years ago, when one of the only ways to see hot women was in the movies, but we have the Internet now. We can Google any hot woman anytime we want. Feel free now Hollywood, to cast homely women in homely women roles.

[Find me the train dispatcher who looks like this. I dare you.]

Another movie I watched, Soul Surfer, was a real-life story about Bethany Hamilton, a pro surfer who had her arm bitten off by a shark. It was terrible, so sappy and trite. It reminded me of The Brady Bunch episode where they go to Hawaii. Dennis Quaid and Helen Hunt play Bethany's parents, which makes sense. Neither of those two is a stranger to crap movies.


My lay over in Malaysia was pretty brief, thankfully. I spent most of it trying to read, but being distracted by a giant TV spewing out a bunch of Muslim prayer. I don't like listening to prayer, of any religion, it weirds me out. Have you ever been driving through the boondocks in the US and listened to the Bible station? Creepy.

I arrived in India without incident and S was waiting for me at the airport. I quickly discovered that India is a madhouse of place, but I'll save that for the next entry.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Entry 76: Decisions, Decisions


I have to make a big decision in the next week or so. I have to decide between two job offers. Cosmically, it's not that big a deal which one I pick, but it's a big deal in my little world, and being that I live in my little world (in fact, I'm the only full-time inhabitant), it's a big deal to me. My dilemma is that I really like both companies, the work sounds great, and the people are great (I knew a few people at each company when I applied, and I met a few others during interviews). The locations and pay are comparable as well. They're both in the DC area and both are offering low six figures.

But, the main reason this is so hard is that they both seem to really want me. I feel like they've both offered me good opportunities, so I actually feel guilty saying no to somebody. But, so it goes. And, I know, I know, this is a "good" problem to have. With the US economy in its current state, two offers are definitely better than zero, so I should probably quit my bitching. OK, fair enough, I will.

Well, at least I'll stop bitching about that particular topic.

So, I've spent the last few days cleaning and packing. It's not particularly fun. Not only do I have to go through all my stuff, but I have to go through all the stuff that S left behind as well. It's like she's the roommate who moved out a few months early. I love being that roommate -- they always have it easier -- but this time, I'm the sucker roommate who stayed behind and now has to do way more than his fair share of cleaning. (Although S is doing way more than her fair share of planning the wedding, so it all evens out.)

Worse than the cleaning is the stuff disposal. Even in just a year we've accumulated a bunch of crap, plus the stuff we brought with us, it's like, "what am I going to do with all this shit?" Some of it I can give away, but a lot of it sadly, will just go into the garbage. It's not like the Salvation Army wants a bunch of half-used jars of spices or two bags of freshly ground decaf coffee. (We didn't realize it was decaf, it was called "Morning Special" for Pete's sake. You can't put "Morning" in the title of decaf!)

[This is basically how I got rid of some of my stuff when I moved out of my apartment in DC. I put it on the sidewalk with a sign that said free. It was gone within two hours.]

I only have two suitcases, so I have to make some drastic cuts in the clothing department. I'm like a republican drawing up a budget (except for the part about giving my friends these cuts, instead of actually cutting them). I've already eliminated all the holey socks, old boxers, and shirts that have been relegated to "gym" status. But, the big ticket items -- the Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security of my wardrobe -- are three pairs of shoes that I don't know what to do with. I can definitely take one pair, they'll be on my feet, but I'm not sure about the other two. They just take up too much damn room. I might have to issue vouchers to myself to buy new pairs when I get to the States. The vouchers will be grossly inadequate of course, but I simply can't sustain this current habilimental house of cards.

[These are probably a bitch to pack.]

OK, I just wrote a paragraph comparing luggage to the US budget. I think it's time to go.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Entry 75: Sideshow Mel-bourne

I think the title to this entry is particularly clever. It's an obvious play on The Simpsons character Sideshow Mel, but "sideshow" is a particularly apt term, as this trip was incidental to the main acts of my life at the moment, namely leaving Australia, going to India, and getting a job in the US. And, I will have much to say on these topics in my next entry. This entry is all about my trip to Melbourne.



I definitely wanted to see Melbourne during my stay in Australia, so when the opportunity arose to get a trip mostly paid for, I took it, even though it meant attending a conference for a week right in the midst of having to do a bunch of stuff before I leave Oz.

[A bridge over the Yarra River, Melbourne.]

The conference was good. Nothing spectacular, but the talks weren't bad. The thing about me is that I'm not great at learning through presentation. Give me a book, a desk, and a few hours in a quiet room, and I'm golden. Put me in the audience of a presentation and my mind starts to wander to strange and disturbing places, even if the speaker is engaging. I never feel like I get the same value out of listening to a lecture, even a good lecture, as other people do.

Another thing is that I don't love my work the way many people at the conference seemingly do. I like my work. It's fine. It's a decent way to make a living, but I rarely do it for fun. All things being equal, I'd usually rather do something else. As an indicator, I get more excited when I get a crossword puzzle accepted in the NY Times, than I do when I get an academic paper accepted in a journal.

[A street performer in Federation Square, Melbourne. I wanted to give him some money, but didn't have any small bills or coins.]

But, the beauty of these conferences is that when I start to lose interest in the talks I can always take interest in the people, and the people are usually very interesting. Operations research (which is basically what I do now) is a hodgepodge of many fields like math, computer science, engineering, and business. As a result, you get a veritable plethora of different types of people at international OR conferences. For example, at this conference I saw business suits, math nerds, yuppies, hippies, Africans, Latinos, a woman in a burqa, a bloke in high heels, and the Asian Quentin Tarantino. (This guy, an Asian man, with a strange resemblance to the famous (non-Asian) director, stood in the back of a talk with his head down and shook the change in his pocket. He started doing it so vigorously that everybody started to stare at him. He didn't notice. The second the speaker stopped he left the room, not sticking around for the short Q & A that follows.)

I also saw that guy who looks like he could climb a mountain at the drop of a hat. You know who I'm talking about. He's always wearing some sort of long sleeve Gortex shirt-jacket, pants that zip into shorts, and those hybrid hiking boot / tennis shoes things. He carries a backpack covered with all sorts of lanyards and carabiners, even though it just has papers in it. That guy was there.

[Some art somewhere in Melbourne.]

Another great thing about the conference is that I got to see Melbourne, and see Melbourne I did. I can report that Melbourne is wonderful and wonderfully expensive. Pints of beer were around $8 for the cheap shit and $10 for the good stuff (amazingly that didn't stop me from drinking quite a few). The museum was $35 for the main attraction (a cool looking traveling exhibit on King Tut) and $8.50 for a 3D movie on Egypt... that was 15 minutes long! (In a stroke of good luck, some random guy gave me a free ticket to see it.) The art gallery was $30. Everywhere I went it seemed like things were about 20% more expensive than Sydney, which is already about 20% more than I think they should be. But, I managed to have a great time nonetheless.

[The Eiffel Tower]

[Big Ben]

I got to attend an AFL game which was cool. The Collingwood Magpies beat North Melbourne Kangaroos 147-30. It was the biggest ass whupping I've ever seen in professional sports, and it rained a lot. The game was still fun though. I had a pie and few Carlton draughts -- standard footy fare.

[Footy at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds]

I spent most nights at the pubs and bars. Aussies like to drink and when visitors are in town, even better. Tuesday H, T, and I sampled all six beers from a local brewery, and by "sampled", I mean "drank a pint of". The next night we ate dinner at a local brew house. But, I took it easy that night. I had a chance to order a Kangaroo steak, but didn't. I'm not exactly sure why.

As we were walking back to the hotel after dinner, we were talking about how it's sometimes difficult to understand the non-native English speakers at the conference, and one of the guys there, who's Korean, went on a mini-rant, "You rucky Austrarians and New Zearanders. You rucky Amelicans. You only have to know goddamn Engrish. You don't have to know any other ranguage." It was funny to see a 5' 5" Korean dude, whose face was completely red from drinking ("Asian Glow"), getting worked up.

[This picture epitomizes Melbourne during the winter: beautiful, gloomy, and wet.]

Thursday night was particularly fun (and brutal the next morning). The conference sponsored a (very nice) dinner, and el vino did flow. Eventually, we were kicked out of the banquet hall, so we moved on to the hotel bar. Eventually, we were kicked out of there (asshole workers, how dare they just want to go home for the night), so we moved on to the casino bar down the river. By this time our group of about 15 had dwindled to seven: myself, two well-known and well-respected professors, a woman I occasionally work with, some middle-aged guy with a hoop earring from South Africa, a pudgy quiet guy who was apparently an industry bigwig, and a man who dressed like a woman and went by "she" at night (she disappeared once we got to the casino).

We drank and talked and laughed and it was a great time. At some point, we stumbled back to the hotel and went our separate ways. Actually, I know what point that was. It was 4:45 in the morning. I remember looking at the clock in my room. I didn't make the morning sessions, but nothing on the program looked that exciting anyway.

And that was Melbourne.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Entry 74: Amazed By Antacid (Classic Crocodile)

I'm coming down the home stretch. Only two weeks left in Australia, one of which will be spent in Melbourne. I'm flying there tomorrow to attend a conference. As you can image, I have too much going on right now. I don't have time to write much. I thought about putting this blog on hold for a while, but I don't want to lose my three readers (yeah, yeah, I know, I have 12 followers, but I'm guessing six of them were just being nice, and three quit reading after my fourth entry on professional wrestling).

So, I decided to run a Classic Crocodile entry. It's like when a radio host goes on vacation, so the producers run a best-of show. This particular entry came from my old MySpace blog, back when people actually used MySpace, before Facebook became popular and MySpace became uncool (for reasons that are largely unknown to me).

Enjoy...



Amazed By Antacid

I had a hysterical conversation with my friend Q last night at the gym. I'll try to recapture its hilarity. It might be a "had-to-be-there" conversation. But if you were there I assure you it would be as funny to you as it is to me. It started with me eating a couple of Tums in the locker room.

Q: [Slight Chinese accent] What are you eating?

D: Tums, you know, antacid. I ate dinner not that long ago and last time I did that and then exercised I got indigestion.

Q: You got what?

D: Indigestion. It's when you're not digesting your food properly.

Q: [Concerned, somewhat shocked] You have to take medicine for that!

D: [Somewhat defensively] It's just a Tums, dude. It's not really medicine. Haven't you ever heard of Tums before? Rolaids? I'm just taking it because it was kind of uncomfortable last time I ate and then exercised right afterward. This will help.

Q: What is in those pill?

D: Uh... calcium, I think

Q: Wait. This make no sense. If it is calcium then it will neutralize the stomach acid, but you need the acid if you cannot digest the food.

D: Probably your body is overcompensating and making too much acid.

Q: Oh... I have never heard of this.

D: [Quite surprised] You've never heard of Tums or Rolaids or Pepto Bismal or anything like that. Hmm... maybe heartburn isn't a problem in China.

Q: Heartburn?! It affects your heart?

D: No, I don't think it literally affects your heart. You just feel it in your chest. It's, just, like excess acid coming up from your stomach. I think it's just called heartburn.

Q: Ah! I think my dad take some pill like that. Some Peps A.

D: Yeah, Pepcid AC. That's for chronic heartburn, I think. That's the serious stuff. Tums are much milder. It's just for when you eat too much or drink too much and get some indigestion. If I go out to a bar and drink beer and eat a bunch of greasy food then sometimes I'll eat a few Tums before I go to sleep.

Q: Oh, okay.

[We leave. Exercise for a few hours. The topic of antacid is forgotten by me. Return to the locker room.]

Q: What do you call those pill you take?

D: Tums

Q: Maybe I will try

D: You don't just try it. You have to have indigestion.

Q: But sometimes I go out and I drink one or two beer and then I have some bad feeling. Like some gas in my stomach. But I never know what it is. And I never know that you can take some pill for it.

D: Yeah... you can. Pretty cool, huh?

Q: Can I ask you one more question?

D: Yes

Q: When did you find out about this pill?

D: When did I find out about antacid? I don't know. I've never really though about it. It seems like I've always known.

Q: Today is the first day I learn of this. Maybe I will try. This is a very good thing to know.

[End of conversation.]

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Entry 73: Greatest Americans of All Time #1

The time has come. Drum roll please...

The Greatest American of All Time: Hulk Hogan



For years he stepped into the ring to protected us from all the anti-American stereotypes of the world: evil sheiks, Soviet loyalists, French people, and uh... fat bald dudes in singlets. For this, I say Hulk Hogan is the greatest American of all time.


Plus, by choosing the Hulkster, I have a reason to show you the video below, which is pure American gold. Seriously, watch it. You won't be disappointed.

Happy 4th of July!

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Entry 72: Greatest Americans of All Time #2

Greatest Americans of All Time #2: Adam Carolla



Sure he has some controversial ideas like bombing Germany again just because (see clip below). Sure his humor often comes off as racially insensitive and misogynistic, but Adam Carolla brought the Most Downloaded Podcast Title to the US. He wrested it from the clutches of that pudgy Brit, Ricky Gervais (whose show is also hilarious, by the way), and for this, the Aceman is the second greatest American of all time.



Seriously, I recommend his daily podcast. The thing about Adam Carolla is that he has a reputation of running off at the mouth, saying offensive (but funny) things, and just generally being a Neanderthal, which is all true, but that’s not what makes him great. In addition to all this, he’s really clever and nuanced, but that only comes out when listening to his full show.

For instance, when he talks about his family and kids – just normal, everyday mundane stuff – it’s really funny. On his last show, he was talking about how he accidentally set his son’s cereal bowl on his daughter’s Barbie placemat, and his son threw a tantrum and refused to eat until he used a Thomas the Train placemat – it was hysterical (his version, not my butchered shorthand rendition). But, that’s not the type of comedy the Aceman is known for.

The main reason I like listening to Adam Carolla is that often I’ll be thinking about a topic and then shortly thereafter, it will come up on his show, and he’ll riff on it for five minutes, like it was pulled out of my brain (if my brain was funnier). Two examples are thirst-quenching somehow becoming an extreme activity (see clip below) and the abundance of shirtless obese men on TV.






So, in conclusion, Adam Lakers Carolla is the second greatest American of all time, and you should all start listening to his (free) podcast.

(Full disclosure, I haven’t been able to bring S completely around on the show, but she’s gone from “no!” to “meh” which is a step in the right direction. And every so often when she overhears a bit of it, a little chuckle will escape, and she’ll say, “OK, that is kinda funny.”)

I’ll leave you with the following clip, which has nothing to do with Adam Carolla, but is a great performance of a great “American” song.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Entry 71: Greatest Americans of All Time #3

I have to admit, I’m a little homesick right now. It’s 4th of July weekend, and I’m halfway around the world from my beloved homeland. I can’t celebrate Independence Day the way I usually do, by drinking a sixer of Sam Adams and bellowing patriotic songs at the top of my lungs (“R-O-C-K IN THE U-S-A… R-O-C-K IN THE U-S-A…”). Well, I suppose I could do that, but out here it just doesn’t feel right.




[If this song doesn't get your patriotic rocks off, well, maybe you should move to Russia.]

In honor of the 4th, over the next three days, I’m going to present my list of the three greatest Americans of all time. So, without further ado…

Greatest Americans of All Time #3: Yankee Doodle

I’m not sure if Yankee Doodle was a real person or not, but he makes my list because he perfectly epitomizes the true essence of what it means to be an American – sticking a feather in your hat and calling it macaroni. Also, Yankee Doodle could ride a pony, he was a great dancer, and he was pretty handy with the girls, if you catch my drift.

Actually, I was thinking Yankee Doodle would be a great summer movie. It’s set during the American Revolutionary War, and it's about a minuteman named Jim Dandy, whose wife has passed away, and it’s up to him to raise his young children and fight the British. Basically, it’s just a rip off of The Patriot. In fact, that would be the tagline “Yankee Doodle – a rip off of The Patriot”. I think that’s how Hollywood works now. You don’t even have to pretend you’re coming up with something new.

You’d have to find two new Australians to play the American leads, of course, as Mel Gibson’s career is dead, and Heath Ledger is literally dead, but that shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe Guy Pearce could play Jim Dandy and Mia Wosikowska could play his oldest daughter Jane Dandy. (In a twist, we’d make his kids girls.)


Imagine this trailer. A bucolic landscape, New England, 1776. A patriotic drumbeat in the background rat-a-tat-tat rat-a-tat-tat. A man and his daughters standing on a grassy hill overlooking a pastoral valley. A flute rendition of Yankee Doodle, starts playing in the background quietly over the methodical drumbeat. The man is looking through a primitive telescope. The camera cuts to his point of view. It’s a redcoat general and his cavalry. The man picks up his musket. His oldest daughter hands him the powder and ammo. He loads his gun and fires. The camera follows the bullet (a la the arrow scene in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves). It’s heading straight for the redcoat general. It reaches his head and … the screen goes black and silent. A few seconds go by and then in giant letters: “YANKEE DOODLE, JULY 4TH, 2012”.

Tell me you wouldn’t go see that.