My new found infatuation with sweaters is in no way responsible for the gap in my productivity here. I blame that on time constraints, helping a friend with his computer and complete laziness.
Growing up as a fat kid all the way to becoming a fat man, the thought of sweaters confused me. They were always so tight, made me sweat and were normally itchy on my skin. I only recently found out that this was mainly because as a growing rotund youth my parents couldn't keep clothes in my size for long. I didn't know that when you get a sweater in your size or a little larger you can wear a shirt underneath (or buy yourself a higher quality sweater that's not made out of burlap). I can't really blame my parents I think the sweaters I had growing up were all presents from relatives that didn't really see me enough to understand my size.
The sweating? Well I have a theory as this has not been a problem in my most recent sweater wearing adventures. The cost of fossil fuels and energy in general has risen to the point that most people under heat their homes and businesses to save money. I also have only worn them when it's been really cold outside.
I've gotten them from goodwill(50% off day), JCPenny(on sale) and who knows where else. It isn't like I have an uncommon amount of sweaters. I maybe have three or four. It's just how much I enjoy wearing them. I feel better about myself. What I didn't know as a child was that those tight non-concealing sweat bags I was forced into years ago, could have been very concealing comfortable suits of armor had they been properly sized. Which is odd because also growing up I held the belief that women who wore baggy sweaters constantly, were overly conscious about being large breasted*. A thought I still hold today (which includes my library of thoughts on Velma Dinkley). Somehow I never made the connection.
I have a grey one that when I got it felt very much like chain mail. It was so heavy and I wasn't sure if I really liked it, but when I got this mental image of wearing it to battle I became fond of wearing it to work. Work has been a challenge for me. Armor would not be a bad idea. However with wearing and washing it (not that I am following any kind of recommended methods for cleaning my clothing as suggested by the manufacturer) I fear the dryer has taken several pounds of lint from it. It no longer feels like that heavy chain mail. I still like it though.
Wearing to sweaters to work isn't always a good idea. While I need to look professional, sometimes I need to step in a do the labor. The kind of labor that wants to destroy clothing. The chain mail sweater has some tiny holes in it. I'm not really sure how they got there and hope that they are not real noticeable.
*Human anatomy and size - I would say that it doesn't matter because somewhere there is someone who wants what you've got in the size that you have. Sadly on the way to finding that person, you're probably going to run into a lot of people who don't. They are going to be the ones that have everything you want exactly the way you think it should be. A painful life lesson our Funny Funny God has subjected us to.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
We now have snow
Snow seems to break down society in the same manner that Y2K was supposed to and 9-11 nearly did. If it's severe enough they shut everything down. At one point this past week that is exactly what they did.
For more than half of a week they had shut down schools, county's and most of the RV industry. My work did not however shut down at all. Just like when I was in High School and no matter how bad the weather was it would never be closed.
I was able to drive my cavalier to work on some of those days (other days I was able to take the 4wd GMC Jimmy my wife normally drives to work) so I was hard to convince that we needed to shut down whole cities. It was so easy to traverse the mounds of snow I had neglectfully failed to remove from my driveway, with the Jimmy. Four wheel drive Hi and Lo gear are like heaven.
When we bought the vehicle and found out how lousy in comparison to the Cavalier the gas mileage was going to be on my much longer commute, we determined Keely should have to drive it on her ten minutes to work instead. At the same moment I decided I would never shovel the driveway again. There simply wasn't any need. I was driving the car that would have a problem getting out, and as a man I was sure I could handle it at anytime of day or night with little problems. She was driving the car that had the power and ability to climb mountains of Eco-freaks. No more shoveling.
I know this winter, the late starter that it was, has become the worst we've had since we lived in this house. I noticed more clearly this fact when my cavalier, the front wheel drive winter warrior, became stuck at the front edge of my driveway where the city plows had sealed it off. Luckily I was on my way home from work and this wasn't going to be a real problem. I didn't have any evening plans. I could just dig myself out all afternoon. For the next forty five minutes Keely drove (read: held steering wheel and pushed the accelerator to the floor until it violently sputtered fluids from both ends) while I pushed the little car. It became stuck about seven times down the driveway. Maybe it was a storm worthy of shutting the city down.
[This is my story so I'll tell it the way I think it goes]
[even though Keely corrected me when I was retelling it to Joe the other day on the phone]
Shelly's brother's neighbor threw his snow blower across his garage in bitter anger at the machine's recent inability to do it's job. Something had fallen off and this neighbor walked the machine over to his trash pile, sat the machine down and turned his back on it forever. He went out to buy a new one and Shelly's brother went out and picked up the broken one. He took it to his father who fixed it. Just in time for me to borrow it.
When I first asked to borrow it I thought and kept thinking until I was done using it that it belonged to Shelly. I had no problem borrowing it from her, I would never have asked to borrow it from her dad. In the same way I would never criticize something her father owned but I have no problem revealing the downfalls of things that she may have bought. Normally I hold the value of FREE above the insane urge to insult the short comings of tools that do not work to my expectations. However we must proceed...
It was a 3hp Murray. From recent dealings with the Murry snow blower we have at work I knew that the company had been bought out and then shut down. I can only assume that there were issues of quality somewhere involved. This one was so small in comparison to the monster we have at work. This one you had to push, it didn't have a drive axle. It removed almost all the loose snow we had from the driveway. The packed down snow it couldn't touch though. My car still won't be able to come back into the driveway for a while. The weight of my car will undermine the stable layer of packed down snow and easily become stuck again.
Had I the money and it was earlier (or later for sales purposes) I would want to go out and buy a Snow blower that could handle the beast of a driveway I have. Even if I had to pay $300.00+ just to own a machine that would more than likely never be used.
I feel very strongly that when you have to buy something like that, it works more like a demonic charm. It would more likely keep the climate warmer and stop it from ever snowing again, for the simple fact that I would have put out that money for nothing. I'm one step ahead of this, because I have come to terms with it. I don't want to shovel, so if I buy a snow blower that stops it from snowing, in the end I have truly won! Until I find the deal or cash that I'm looking for it's gonna be a long winter.
For more than half of a week they had shut down schools, county's and most of the RV industry. My work did not however shut down at all. Just like when I was in High School and no matter how bad the weather was it would never be closed.
I was able to drive my cavalier to work on some of those days (other days I was able to take the 4wd GMC Jimmy my wife normally drives to work) so I was hard to convince that we needed to shut down whole cities. It was so easy to traverse the mounds of snow I had neglectfully failed to remove from my driveway, with the Jimmy. Four wheel drive Hi and Lo gear are like heaven.
When we bought the vehicle and found out how lousy in comparison to the Cavalier the gas mileage was going to be on my much longer commute, we determined Keely should have to drive it on her ten minutes to work instead. At the same moment I decided I would never shovel the driveway again. There simply wasn't any need. I was driving the car that would have a problem getting out, and as a man I was sure I could handle it at anytime of day or night with little problems. She was driving the car that had the power and ability to climb mountains of Eco-freaks. No more shoveling.
I know this winter, the late starter that it was, has become the worst we've had since we lived in this house. I noticed more clearly this fact when my cavalier, the front wheel drive winter warrior, became stuck at the front edge of my driveway where the city plows had sealed it off. Luckily I was on my way home from work and this wasn't going to be a real problem. I didn't have any evening plans. I could just dig myself out all afternoon. For the next forty five minutes Keely drove (read: held steering wheel and pushed the accelerator to the floor until it violently sputtered fluids from both ends) while I pushed the little car. It became stuck about seven times down the driveway. Maybe it was a storm worthy of shutting the city down.
[This is my story so I'll tell it the way I think it goes]
[even though Keely corrected me when I was retelling it to Joe the other day on the phone]
Shelly's brother's neighbor threw his snow blower across his garage in bitter anger at the machine's recent inability to do it's job. Something had fallen off and this neighbor walked the machine over to his trash pile, sat the machine down and turned his back on it forever. He went out to buy a new one and Shelly's brother went out and picked up the broken one. He took it to his father who fixed it. Just in time for me to borrow it.
When I first asked to borrow it I thought and kept thinking until I was done using it that it belonged to Shelly. I had no problem borrowing it from her, I would never have asked to borrow it from her dad. In the same way I would never criticize something her father owned but I have no problem revealing the downfalls of things that she may have bought. Normally I hold the value of FREE above the insane urge to insult the short comings of tools that do not work to my expectations. However we must proceed...
It was a 3hp Murray. From recent dealings with the Murry snow blower we have at work I knew that the company had been bought out and then shut down. I can only assume that there were issues of quality somewhere involved. This one was so small in comparison to the monster we have at work. This one you had to push, it didn't have a drive axle. It removed almost all the loose snow we had from the driveway. The packed down snow it couldn't touch though. My car still won't be able to come back into the driveway for a while. The weight of my car will undermine the stable layer of packed down snow and easily become stuck again.
Had I the money and it was earlier (or later for sales purposes) I would want to go out and buy a Snow blower that could handle the beast of a driveway I have. Even if I had to pay $300.00+ just to own a machine that would more than likely never be used.
I feel very strongly that when you have to buy something like that, it works more like a demonic charm. It would more likely keep the climate warmer and stop it from ever snowing again, for the simple fact that I would have put out that money for nothing. I'm one step ahead of this, because I have come to terms with it. I don't want to shovel, so if I buy a snow blower that stops it from snowing, in the end I have truly won! Until I find the deal or cash that I'm looking for it's gonna be a long winter.
Friday, February 2, 2007
The Competition in it's entirety
I have become an emotional eater. I think this happens more so when you've restricted yourself from the foods that you love. I hardly ever see Pasta, Chocolate, desserts or sweets. We are striving towards a goal. I have been encountering a lot of stress at work. This is how it goes, when I'm confused or feeling swamped, as if I dug myself into a hole I can't climb out of, what I'd really like to do is crawl into bed with my wife. She won't drive all the way to Elkhart to comfort me when I'm like this (for a number of great reasons, or a great number of okay reasons) so I go to do the next thing that makes me feel as good as holding Keely tight and crying quietly.
Little Debbie Nutty Buddy. I am nervous that in my blind love for this product I have completely messed up the name. I'm not terribly interested in the packaging when it comes to these treats. I've tried alot of different suppliers but the one with the most consistent quality is Little Debbie. If you've never had one, they come two to a package. Right their they are asking you to deny any sort of dietary rules you've tried to implant into your life. The way the package is made there is no way for you to save the other bar for later and yet the nutritional information panel brazenly declares that within there are two servings. As you can imagine being a large white male manager; I have no one at work with whom I'd feel comfortable about sharing a Little Debbie with.
*stops drooling*
[Normally I don't emote in my blog, but that was necessary.]
I'm in a competition, I may have mentioned it before. It's called Diet Club. I think everyone should know the first rule of diet club by now. For those of you who don't it is simply this.
1. We do not talk about Diet Club.
This rule is being overlooked because the competition is over.
Sadly my parents who initiated the competition and cheated their way through. Luckily they did not win. Shelly didn't win either. I most certainly of all did not win. In fact the largest contributor to the pot was myself. Money was added in to the pot when you lose a pound and half as much when you gain a pound. My fluctuations equalled about fifty dollars. The pot was only about $140.00.
Keely won. She was so happy.
I'm not really into this entry anymore, I'm sorry you've all suffered through this...
My only real complaint to the Nutty Buddy Bars are that the thin layer of chocolate that hugs the peanut butter hiding wafers is just that; too thin.
Little Debbie Nutty Buddy. I am nervous that in my blind love for this product I have completely messed up the name. I'm not terribly interested in the packaging when it comes to these treats. I've tried alot of different suppliers but the one with the most consistent quality is Little Debbie. If you've never had one, they come two to a package. Right their they are asking you to deny any sort of dietary rules you've tried to implant into your life. The way the package is made there is no way for you to save the other bar for later and yet the nutritional information panel brazenly declares that within there are two servings. As you can imagine being a large white male manager; I have no one at work with whom I'd feel comfortable about sharing a Little Debbie with.
*stops drooling*
[Normally I don't emote in my blog, but that was necessary.]
I'm in a competition, I may have mentioned it before. It's called Diet Club. I think everyone should know the first rule of diet club by now. For those of you who don't it is simply this.
1. We do not talk about Diet Club.
This rule is being overlooked because the competition is over.
Sadly my parents who initiated the competition and cheated their way through. Luckily they did not win. Shelly didn't win either. I most certainly of all did not win. In fact the largest contributor to the pot was myself. Money was added in to the pot when you lose a pound and half as much when you gain a pound. My fluctuations equalled about fifty dollars. The pot was only about $140.00.
Keely won. She was so happy.
I'm not really into this entry anymore, I'm sorry you've all suffered through this...
My only real complaint to the Nutty Buddy Bars are that the thin layer of chocolate that hugs the peanut butter hiding wafers is just that; too thin.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
A call from Toine*
Tony called me last night and told be about a story "Bomb Scare in Boston." He saw it on the main page of Yahoo. I had to search for it. The moral of the story is that viral advertising in the form of magnetic led lit graffiti was mistaken for dangerous "devices." The ads were for ATHF**. I found the news story with a nice picture of one of the devices. It was a moonanite flipping off anyone who looked at it.
TMBO.org is where I see news first. I went there immediately with a screen capture to post there of the image I had seen. It was too late people already had posted on this topic. They had not yet posted exactly the image that I had found so I put it up anyway. These guys must just sit around all day watching the computer. I would so love that. Damn work all to hell!!!
Tmbo also offered this link for more pictures.
*Toine Schafel is Tony, for some reason all of my friends have interesting aliases at nonspecific times.
**Aqua teen Hunger Force - a cartoon in the line up on Cartoon networks Adult Swim. I love it.
The alarm goes off and it takes a moment for me to become cognitive and realize what is happening. It's always harder after a night when I actually found myself dreaming. It's been hard some times to get dreams. I love dreams. Even when I have to settle for dreams like I had last night.** In the movie Stranger than Fiction (which apparently I'm hung up on) the main character uses his watch (the same watch I own) as an alarm clock. That wouldn't work for me. I don't think. I'm surprised that the alarm clock I use is working for me.
As a child working his way towards manhood I was able to take a few side steps off that path. I became oblivious to any form of alarm or alert that was to bring me to consciousness. It was to the point that I bought an alarm clock that could play CD. It was made by Sony and you could set it to a specific track if you like. At first it wasn't too successfull. I like music, I would go to sleep listening to music, when I heard it in the morning it was peaceful and I did not rouse. I ended up getting a sound fx CD. Track 69, believe it or not, was an air raid siren. This seemed effective for a while. Then I had to move it away from my bed to actually make me stand up to turn it off*.
I later became dependant upon my mother to wake me up. My bedroom was on one side of the house in the basement and the light switch to my bedroom was at the other end of the house. This was because originally the basement was just a place to store things, we converted it into a bedroom so my parents could hide the mess of my bedroom from any guests. My room was lit by four sets of four foot long fluorescent light fixtures. It was like waking up to the sun, six feet away from your head. This all lead to my wife keeping the alarm clock on her side of the bed and telling me when to get up. I was getting a little tired of Keely being in control of the alarm clock and sounding more than agitated when she had to scream at me to get me up in the morning. It was emasculating me to a level I could no longer tolerate. I think over the duration of her having to wake me up in that fashion she actually started her day with disdain for me.
One Christmas my parents bought me a Spongebob Squarepants alarm clock. Now this very simply alarm clock with a Spongebob toy melted to the top of it, sits on my side of the bed. It's surprisingly has done more than that. It also tells the time and wakes me up in the morning. Who would have thought. Having my own alarm clock and taking care of it I think has bettered the relationship I have with my wife. She still asks me every night if it's set and if it's armed but that is only because she cares.
I think this entry was going to be about my daily routine. I don't have one. I add and remove processes on a whim. It's hardly ever the same and I normally forget to complete one vital task. It's not the same task everyday but most of them are equally important. If I forget to shave, shower, exercise, comb hair, brush teeth, eat breakfast, watch TV, get on the computer, feed the dog, let the dog out or once a week take the trash out it's not always the end of the world. I normally don't forget any of the important hygiene ones.
I got up this morning put on my glasses. I used to go to the computer and put in my contacts but I am currently waiting for my new pair to come in. At the computer I would become distracted by the things I feel I need to look at daily.
It's starts with woot.com where I look to see what the one item for the day is that they are selling. [BTW for the past three days it has been some sort of optical mouse, each one has been a different color, they don't seem to be that popular] Then I look at techdeals.net to see what tech I've been drooling over may be cheap enough for me to afford (fun to look at almost never applies to me). I go to TMBO.org, which is now by invitation only (and sadly I don't know anyone who wants to be invited). I check out the torrents that have been added to my browsers "torrent bar" and if anything seems interesting I start the download and walk away as my computer slows down to the speed of a 386 and requests to be left alone while it does what it wants to.
This is the point when I walk to the little bedroom across the hall from my room. I take the second remote from our dish network DVR522 with me. It's our work out room and for at least twenty minutes I ride an exercise bike watching a 13" TV from far enough away it appears to be the size of a hand held television (that's why I need my vision correction application in full effect before the exercise begins).
[today is different because just like two days ago I am writing in my blog]
This isn't supposed to happen because with my glasses I am expected to stumble into that next room immediately. That is what Keely does. She's a trooper. I'm soft, and need something I don't know a warm up period for life. A mediation into full on willing myself to so something other than lie around and age. That's not always true. On some rare occasions I feel so energized from my sleep that I get up with a feeling of purpose and take care of things I may have been too tired to be bothered with the night before (such as dishes from dinner or picking up the shreds of something one my dogs destroyed).
I had heard from my sporadic listening to NPR, a recent study showed that the application of bright light to a sleepy person actually activates (and terminology escapes me) a reaction in the brain to become more alert. Not in a moment of shock, but in an evolved understanding that light comes from the sun and is the start of the day. It's a whole process that is based on the body wanting to sleep when it's dark and be active when it's light. I forget what it's called. The story was about the productivity in children at school based on the amount of rest they had the night before. Interesting stuff and very insightful considering my own educational past and the influence that sleep had in it.
*CD alarm clocks - need to bring the CD to top rotation before they can play the track you've selected. If you have it too close to your head you may involuntarily learn to listen for the noise of the disc spinning and turn it off before the sound kicks in. Then you fall back asleep and regret you spent that much on a useless alarm clock.
**The dream most prevalent in my mind is the one that ended when I woke up. I was with someone I could have sworn it was Tony but sometimes it seemed like this guy I work with named Carl. To be more correct Carl works under me but that really isn't important to the story. We had driven for some unknown reason to my friend Justin's house. I do not regularly speak to Justin nor have I spoken to him in about a year. This is a pattern that i rotate to all my friends. It doesn't mean anything. I do not intentionally not speak to him. It just doesn't happen. The house we go to is set back on a driveway behind two other houses and pole barn. This is not what I know to be Justin's house (the mind is a strange thing). We get to the house and get out of the car I was driving. I don't know why we're there. We knock on the door and go inside. We were invited inside by a large man with no teeth. He was holding a baby. It was another one (and I don't know if Justin has more than one child) of Justin's children. The man with no teeth was not Justin. Tony/Carl stayed quiet and out of my line of sight. Justin came from the back of the home with the normal long lost friend fan fare. The old man shared a short story about the baby's recent ordeal involving it trying to eat or drink something that was not intended for child. The story ended with the man making a face and moving his tongue in and out of his toothless mouth to demonstrate for me what the infant had tried to accomplish, because it too had no teeth and I was obviously beyond having an imagination for the inner mechanics of the efforts of babies. We left the house quickly. We did not get back in the vehicle we drove there. We also did not make any mention of how it was suddenly gone. We walked to the pole barn. Inside we were greeted by a woman who was playing Justin's wife. She was not Justin's wife as I know her at this time. She handed Tony/Carl and I yoga mats and had us take positions on the floor to exercise with her. I had to use the restroom. I walked to the end of the pole barn where there was a little room. I suddenly had a body guard with me. I'm not sure if he hated the menial task of protecting a person in the bathroom or he enjoyed the opportunity to interrupt progress and frustrate at will. The bathroom was horrible. It was the kind that had half residential, half industrial fixtures. The toilet paper dispenser was larger than the toilet itself and pretty much became a gigantic obstacle in all efforts of that type. Above the toilet paper was a paper towel dispenser. The toilet was the kind that used to be white but aged to a dingy yellow, the sink looked the same way. The toilet seat was black. Lighting was a mystery in this room because it was not dark but there wasn't any visible origin of light. At one point I was peeing in a paper cup and amazing myself at the capacity I was producing. I then went in the sink and some time later in the same urination attempted to angle it into the toilet. The time I was taking not only agitated the body guard who at one point was played by Robert De'niro but Carl/Tony was not too pleased that he was forced to complete a series of compromising stretches in front of a strange lady. This was roughly the end of the dream. I woke up needing to go to the bathroom pretty bad. In a dream drought I will settle for this variety.
As a child working his way towards manhood I was able to take a few side steps off that path. I became oblivious to any form of alarm or alert that was to bring me to consciousness. It was to the point that I bought an alarm clock that could play CD. It was made by Sony and you could set it to a specific track if you like. At first it wasn't too successfull. I like music, I would go to sleep listening to music, when I heard it in the morning it was peaceful and I did not rouse. I ended up getting a sound fx CD. Track 69, believe it or not, was an air raid siren. This seemed effective for a while. Then I had to move it away from my bed to actually make me stand up to turn it off*.
I later became dependant upon my mother to wake me up. My bedroom was on one side of the house in the basement and the light switch to my bedroom was at the other end of the house. This was because originally the basement was just a place to store things, we converted it into a bedroom so my parents could hide the mess of my bedroom from any guests. My room was lit by four sets of four foot long fluorescent light fixtures. It was like waking up to the sun, six feet away from your head. This all lead to my wife keeping the alarm clock on her side of the bed and telling me when to get up. I was getting a little tired of Keely being in control of the alarm clock and sounding more than agitated when she had to scream at me to get me up in the morning. It was emasculating me to a level I could no longer tolerate. I think over the duration of her having to wake me up in that fashion she actually started her day with disdain for me.
One Christmas my parents bought me a Spongebob Squarepants alarm clock. Now this very simply alarm clock with a Spongebob toy melted to the top of it, sits on my side of the bed. It's surprisingly has done more than that. It also tells the time and wakes me up in the morning. Who would have thought. Having my own alarm clock and taking care of it I think has bettered the relationship I have with my wife. She still asks me every night if it's set and if it's armed but that is only because she cares.
I think this entry was going to be about my daily routine. I don't have one. I add and remove processes on a whim. It's hardly ever the same and I normally forget to complete one vital task. It's not the same task everyday but most of them are equally important. If I forget to shave, shower, exercise, comb hair, brush teeth, eat breakfast, watch TV, get on the computer, feed the dog, let the dog out or once a week take the trash out it's not always the end of the world. I normally don't forget any of the important hygiene ones.
I got up this morning put on my glasses. I used to go to the computer and put in my contacts but I am currently waiting for my new pair to come in. At the computer I would become distracted by the things I feel I need to look at daily.
It's starts with woot.com where I look to see what the one item for the day is that they are selling. [BTW for the past three days it has been some sort of optical mouse, each one has been a different color, they don't seem to be that popular] Then I look at techdeals.net to see what tech I've been drooling over may be cheap enough for me to afford (fun to look at almost never applies to me). I go to TMBO.org, which is now by invitation only (and sadly I don't know anyone who wants to be invited). I check out the torrents that have been added to my browsers "torrent bar" and if anything seems interesting I start the download and walk away as my computer slows down to the speed of a 386 and requests to be left alone while it does what it wants to.
This is the point when I walk to the little bedroom across the hall from my room. I take the second remote from our dish network DVR522 with me. It's our work out room and for at least twenty minutes I ride an exercise bike watching a 13" TV from far enough away it appears to be the size of a hand held television (that's why I need my vision correction application in full effect before the exercise begins).
[today is different because just like two days ago I am writing in my blog]
This isn't supposed to happen because with my glasses I am expected to stumble into that next room immediately. That is what Keely does. She's a trooper. I'm soft, and need something I don't know a warm up period for life. A mediation into full on willing myself to so something other than lie around and age. That's not always true. On some rare occasions I feel so energized from my sleep that I get up with a feeling of purpose and take care of things I may have been too tired to be bothered with the night before (such as dishes from dinner or picking up the shreds of something one my dogs destroyed).
I had heard from my sporadic listening to NPR, a recent study showed that the application of bright light to a sleepy person actually activates (and terminology escapes me) a reaction in the brain to become more alert. Not in a moment of shock, but in an evolved understanding that light comes from the sun and is the start of the day. It's a whole process that is based on the body wanting to sleep when it's dark and be active when it's light. I forget what it's called. The story was about the productivity in children at school based on the amount of rest they had the night before. Interesting stuff and very insightful considering my own educational past and the influence that sleep had in it.
*CD alarm clocks - need to bring the CD to top rotation before they can play the track you've selected. If you have it too close to your head you may involuntarily learn to listen for the noise of the disc spinning and turn it off before the sound kicks in. Then you fall back asleep and regret you spent that much on a useless alarm clock.
**The dream most prevalent in my mind is the one that ended when I woke up. I was with someone I could have sworn it was Tony but sometimes it seemed like this guy I work with named Carl. To be more correct Carl works under me but that really isn't important to the story. We had driven for some unknown reason to my friend Justin's house. I do not regularly speak to Justin nor have I spoken to him in about a year. This is a pattern that i rotate to all my friends. It doesn't mean anything. I do not intentionally not speak to him. It just doesn't happen. The house we go to is set back on a driveway behind two other houses and pole barn. This is not what I know to be Justin's house (the mind is a strange thing). We get to the house and get out of the car I was driving. I don't know why we're there. We knock on the door and go inside. We were invited inside by a large man with no teeth. He was holding a baby. It was another one (and I don't know if Justin has more than one child) of Justin's children. The man with no teeth was not Justin. Tony/Carl stayed quiet and out of my line of sight. Justin came from the back of the home with the normal long lost friend fan fare. The old man shared a short story about the baby's recent ordeal involving it trying to eat or drink something that was not intended for child. The story ended with the man making a face and moving his tongue in and out of his toothless mouth to demonstrate for me what the infant had tried to accomplish, because it too had no teeth and I was obviously beyond having an imagination for the inner mechanics of the efforts of babies. We left the house quickly. We did not get back in the vehicle we drove there. We also did not make any mention of how it was suddenly gone. We walked to the pole barn. Inside we were greeted by a woman who was playing Justin's wife. She was not Justin's wife as I know her at this time. She handed Tony/Carl and I yoga mats and had us take positions on the floor to exercise with her. I had to use the restroom. I walked to the end of the pole barn where there was a little room. I suddenly had a body guard with me. I'm not sure if he hated the menial task of protecting a person in the bathroom or he enjoyed the opportunity to interrupt progress and frustrate at will. The bathroom was horrible. It was the kind that had half residential, half industrial fixtures. The toilet paper dispenser was larger than the toilet itself and pretty much became a gigantic obstacle in all efforts of that type. Above the toilet paper was a paper towel dispenser. The toilet was the kind that used to be white but aged to a dingy yellow, the sink looked the same way. The toilet seat was black. Lighting was a mystery in this room because it was not dark but there wasn't any visible origin of light. At one point I was peeing in a paper cup and amazing myself at the capacity I was producing. I then went in the sink and some time later in the same urination attempted to angle it into the toilet. The time I was taking not only agitated the body guard who at one point was played by Robert De'niro but Carl/Tony was not too pleased that he was forced to complete a series of compromising stretches in front of a strange lady. This was roughly the end of the dream. I woke up needing to go to the bathroom pretty bad. In a dream drought I will settle for this variety.
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