Adam Thomas, RPH

Well, I haven’t had a vocabulary lesson since my -ism post late December 2015.  So, I guess I’m due.  Trust me, this one is really stupid, but kinda’ fun and hip.  Besides, it IS that time of year.

According to the Urban Dictionary, a promposal is –

• A word referring to a proposal by either a male/female to a prospective date for prom. “Promposals” can be as simplistic as passing a note or as elaborate as proposing with a flash mob with 10 friends in nothing but their underwear in front of the whole school.
• The act of contriving an elaborate plan to increase your chances of getting at prom, that may

1 – end in utter, humilating failure, because high school relationships totally matter.

2 – result in a pseudomarriage that comes with an order of epicburger with fries on the side.

• Combination of the words prom and proposal

First, let me say one thing -damn teenagers.  Leave it to them to complicate the simple question –  “Would you like to go to prom?” Not only that, but everyone involved – the boy, the date, AND the parent’s wallet – are poised for disappointment. And, to go broke. After such a ‘spectacular’ invitation,  the expectations of the actual event  are ridiculously high. The anticipated pressure sucks the fun from the entire dance.

Damn teenagers – always trying to outdo one another.  Wonder where they get that from, eh?

I was going to include ‘Worst Promposal Ideas’ from Seventeen  but just couldn’t.  The website was so cluttered with annoying annotations and special offers.  To do that to innocent followers of this blog would be wrong.  Instead, I decided to highlight varied Google opinions on the Best Prom Songs.  Here is a short list in NO order of appearance –

1. Heaven         Bryan Adams
2. Faithfully     Journey
3. Take My Breath Away    Berlin
4. Wonderful Tonight     Eric Clapton
5. Crazy for You     Madonna
6. You and Me     Lighthouse
7. Truly, Madly, Deeply     Savage Garden

and

The ultimate prom song?

( had to include this for my blog bro Mr. Robert C. Bradshaw – download his book, too)

I attended prom both my Junior and Senior year of High School.  Junior year a friend of a friend just broke up with her boyfriend.  She had the dress, the tickets, and hell, I think she even had the flowers. No promposal needed –  Unexpected blast.

Senior year was different.  I actually asked the girl in a non-eventful way. She accepted.  We had fun.  Except for the bloody nose, of course.  No drama – just a bloody nose.  A condition that ‘runs’ in my family.  Get it? Bloody nose – run. Oh, did I say I wore a white tuxedo? Yeah, … .

Brooklyn 99 way to propse

Granted this is a marriage proposal, but it sets the standard for all future proposals.

One last time, damn teenagers!

After a certain age, your perspective changes on just about everything – especially compliments.  Or what exactly is considered a compliment.  At fifty,  … . Hell, you pretty much take anything you can get.

Let me explain.

For the past fifteen years, I’ve had an annual physical.  Actually, I just get my labs done on a yearly basis.  My doctor and I have an understanding – unless something ‘rogue’ shows up – I’m good.  Every now and then the office recommends a complete exam. And, every now and then, I concede, of course.  The words ‘turn your head and cough’ are never music to any male patient’s ear.  When you hit the mid-forties,  the prostate exam gets added.  Let’s NOT go there, eh? (bad pun intended)

Thankfully I have a wonderful rapport with the office staff. They love me.  Funny tidbit about my doctor’s office – apparently the receptionists are quite the busy bodies.  Every caller for the nursing staff is asked their name.  This is a pet peev of mine.  Why wouldn’t it be? I rise above it, though.  Instead of saying,  ‘it’s none of your damn business’, I provide an alias.  Dan, Frank, and Raoul have all been given.  Raoul was only given once because the receptionist was really stupid and asked me to spell it.  Anyway, when they find out it’s me, the nurses think it’s hilarious and appreciate my humor.  At least someone does.

Doctor my … eyes – J Browne

Back to my story. When the lab results are available, the nurse, let’s name her Ann, calls.  She agrees to fax the report, but before she does she fields my few questions.  Here is how our recent conversation went down:

Ann: Everything unremarkable – doctor is pleased. Wants you to make an appointment for a complete physical.

Me: Of course, he does.  Ann, it took me six months just to get my labs… .

Ann: (politely interrupting) So, I’ll just chart that we spoke and you will  call to schedule at a later time.

Me: (slight chuckle) Sounds good – thanks. By the way, what was my sugar and cholesterol.

Ann: Glucose – 86 ; Total Cholesterol – 184.  And your Triglycerides,  she pauses, dramatic sigh … are just beautiful.

Me: Ann, you’ve always loved my Triglycerides.

Ann: (slightly embarrassed, soft spoken) I know.

(background chatter)

 Ann: Hey, I have to take this.

Me: No problem, Ann. Thanks.

I hung up the phone smiling, appreciating the sweet ‘everythings’ Ann had just whispered in my ear. Pause -insert dramatic sigh. Remember, I’m fifty. I take whatever I can get.  Besides complimenting a 50 year old on their lipid profile is like telling a 25 year old he has a nice ass. Lucky for me, I have both.

How you doin?

Recently, I posted about conversation.  More importantly, my awkwardness with the subject … from time to time.  I’m not sure why, but communication AND personal interactions have become so much more strained than in years past.  To complicate the matter, sensitivity to the spoken word has increased.  Social media is often blamed for this trend, especially in the younger generations.  For me, that’s not the issue – remember no cell phone for this technology challenged dude.  I blame my profession, of course.  Countless books have been written on this subject.  So attempting to tackle this topic in a single post may be too ambitious.  Instead, I will focus on those ‘communication lines’  that root the Random Nonsensical Foundation of this blog- pharmacy and writing.

As previously stated, my goal in every customer interaction is to be effective and efficient.  Translation – I want the other person to go away as quickly as possible.  And, I’ve become very good at it, I might add.  Customers actually prefer my brevity. Knowing when NOT to ask questions is almost as important as the reverse.  Rarely, do I address anyone by name.  I know that may sound impersonal, but it’s best for all involved, especially me.  Once you call a person by their first name , things change.  That line has been crossed and there ain’t no going back.  Moreover, it adds expectations to every interaction going forward.  In retail, those expectations are hard to maintain. When they are not, indignation often results.  Indignation is such an ugly word, but very appropriate in this context.

With writing, it can be equally strained; sometimes even awkward.   After some twenty years in the authoring business, I’ve become very guarded with whom I share my writing passion. Don’t get me wrong,  I love to talk book and do so whenever appropriate.  However, I’ve also learned when to stop, walking that ‘line’ very carefully.   Please realize, this isn’t the case with established relationships. I’m talking about those casual conversations with acquaintances or friends of friends.  The topic of writing comes up, the words “I’d love to read what you written” are spoken – BAM – things change.  Reading a 400 page novel is a huge commitment – I get it.  But the other party won’t admit that fact.  A few pages get read, life happens  and … the reading stops and the book is forgotten.  Until they see you in pubic … .  Two words – awkward excuses.

At this point in my life, I expect little from anyone.   Still, I’m  baffled at what ramifications crossing ‘lines’ can actually cause.  I guess that’s why people write under pen names.  Anonymity has it’s advantages.  So I’ve heard.

I’ve reread, then rewritten this post numerous times, hoping to best convey my thoughts.  I think it worked – if not I apologize.

Yes, I’ve crossed the line more than I should’ve in all aspects of my interpersonal communication.  However, I’ve become quite resourceful at damage control.  Right now, things are … good.  Tomorrow.  Well, that’s another … line.

I Walk the Line – Clip/song

On March 11, my barber, let’s name him Fred for post purposes, whom I have been going to for some 14 years, had knee surgery.  Unfortunately, I did not plan accordingly from my last visit.  Now, I really needed a haircut.  Please understand, I am not that neurotic by only allowing one person to cut my hair.  I have so many other things to be concerned with – that is not one of them.  Besides, it’s hair.  It will grow.  And, there’s always gel.  Furthermore, I have ‘strayed’ before. However, this blog was not available then to highlight such… styling indiscretions.

Until now.

First, a few background barber ‘bits:

• I have a long face, therefore I need an appropriate cut.  If not, gel gets wasted and … .  It ain’t pretty.
• my hair grows faster on the left side of my head.  Truthfully, I’m just happy I have hair that does, in fact, still grow. Though the woman that told me this ‘bit inspired this post.  Hmm… .
• crew cuts are a very bad look for me
• never ask a bald man where to get a haircut*
• a few years ago, a styling indiscretion led to a ‘faux’ mullet.  Definitely, something I want to ‘faux’-get.  Luckily, Fred knows nothing about this … faux pas.
• Fred takes appointments, charges $17, and is quite the perfectionist.
• Lastly, I’s got me a new pair of Revo sunglasses. Cool.  The rims are a clear, charcoal tint.  Since my hair is darker brown the rims appear similarly hued. Very Cool.  I realize this has little to do hair, but it kinda does.  Regardless, sunglasses ARE important.

Now, I had a perfect opportunity to stray without guilt, I might add.  Unfortunately, life got in the way.  Fast-forward another week – I really, really needed a haircut.   Think Wolverine without the lamb chop sideburns.  And, those switchblade knuckle things, of course.  In desperation AND at the advice from a bald butcher named Jake*, I found a … solution.

A local barber shop downtown –

Walk in. Sit right down.  Clip here/clip there. Relief.  Her – attempts conversation. Me – Polite responses.  Cut here/cut there. sigh. Thank you, Jake. Her – more conversation.  Me – thwarted. Still polite, though. Fred never talks. Look in mirror – clean  and short on sides.  I’m good with it.  Snip here/snip … . Pause in mid-snip. Hmm… . Interaction with another stylist. Concerned . ‘New’ technique demonstrated ON MY HEAD.  Don’t panic.  Sneak look in mirror.  Still good with it.  Her – still attempting conversation. Really? Me – no longer polite. Thinning shears. DONE. Final mirror review.  Hair  damp.  But … good?

Arrive at gym.

Remove hat. Hair dry.  Fuck me! Forget ‘Wolverine’, I’m Carrottop.  Attempt workout.  No focus.  Ugly haircut. Shit. I am SO not good with this. Panic.  Options. Return to shop – could get ugly. No time. Work at 2pm. Options. Next week? Can’t wait.  I listened to a bald guy! Options. What about … ? Look in mirror.  I could do this.

Home.

Scissors. Bathroom. ONLY SOLUTION.  Garbage can in sink. Fuck the gel. Grab lock of hair. Cringe. CLIP. That was … cathartic. Cutting frenzy.  Looks good.  Another chunk. Better.  Last snip –

Best, worst haircut ever!

Barber Shop Quartet – Late Night Style

Our dishwasher broke.  Not one of those – change a belt / call it fixed broke.  We are talkin’ – more money to fix / than to buy a new one broke.  Even worse, this is our THIRD dishwasher in fourteen years.  Little did we know that appliances are now manufactured to be repaired or replaced.  Silly me for thinking otherwise, eh?  So, we purchased  a new dishwasher.  Until it arrives and installed, dishes need to washed.  And, I ain’t doing it.

background tidbits about me and dish washing –

• growing up,  our dishwasher was always broken. Consequently, I did my fair share of dishes.
•  I actually enjoy the chore – it’s an instant accomplishment/gratification task.   You have this big, fucking pile of dirty dishes – add a little soap and water.  Check that off the to do list.
• pots and pans are my favorite thing to wash.  Bar Keeper’s Friend totally rocks.
• I hate silverware – always have, always will.  Opposite end of that accomplishment/gratification scale – a lot of work; not very visually satisfying.
• salad fork tines are very sharp – there was an incident.  No stitches were needed, but it really hurt.  By the way, I’m a bleeder.
• Freud would have a field day with my background tidbits.  And, with me for that matter.

Fortunately, the news of our dishwashers  demise had little, if any, impact on my children.  Being a parent, I found this to be … interesting and blog worthy, of course.  So, in the spirit of Freud, I offer my …

parental observations of dish drying habits of my children –

• the child that talks the most on a regular basis, talked the least while drying.  Conversely, the child that talks the least, talked the most.  And, I loved every second,  having the best conversation about nothing that meant everything.
• my youngest daughter was the only child that put the dishes away as she dried them.  The other two ( older children) stacked the dried dishes up before putting them away.  Hmmm… .
• the child that does the least amount of housework, stated that there was no need to buy a new dishwasher.  Her reason – she would do them.  Only when she wanted too, though.  Oddly enough, the child who does the most asked how soon the new dishwasher would be delivered.
• none of my children have inherited my hatred of eating utensils.  Though I have noticed, the silverware is usually left to ‘air dry’ and never put away.
• no one has complained once about the chore.  However, when we had the dishwasher, it was a constant, nagging battle to get the kids to load the damn thing without an exasperated sigh.

Originally, I was going to title this post – top rack only.  Then realized, that could be … misinterpreted.?

Freud would probably have something to say about that.  Or, he would just ‘throw in the towel’ and let me air dry.

I realize I recently highlighted a song from Jack Johnson.  I strive to keep it eclectic and fresh.   But when an artist can sing a song about Blueberry Pancakes AND Washing Dishes … .  What IS a blogger supposed to do?

Jack Johnson – Washing Dishes

In the spirit of that yearly Basketball frenzy, I offer my own ‘Madness’; without the brackets, of course.  There aren’t enough marquees in Traverse to present 64 pearls of ‘wisdom’.  Besides, no one wants to read my comments on that many.  I’ll be lucky if these ‘Final Four’  make the attention span cut.

HSM – basketball video

You could not care more or work harder

Oh, the irony.  This IS Northern Michigan.  Maybe some of these people do care a bit more.  Unfortunately, it’s not about hard work.  Serious motivational issues run rampant in these parts. I’m thinking that’s more of a generational trend.  I don’t know.  Remember, this IS the age of  entitlement.  I could rant about that for, like, ever.  But, I won’t.  At least right now.

When nothing goes right, turn left

I’ve turned left so many times, I burned out the fuse on my damn blinker.  Furthermore, once you turn left enough times, you come full circle.  Believe me, when that shit happens the only option is a straight on frontal attack.

All joking aside, I’m all about going left.  Though I would like a few things to go right every now and then, too.

Luck is what happens after you give 100%.

All I have to say  is – Bring it! I deserve a  lucky fuckin’ day.  I AM so overdue.

What disease did cured ham actually have?

This is … scandalous.  First, I think it’s really funny.  Especially with Easter having come and gone so recently – Ham is a staple for the brunch table.  Secondly, the debate over ‘curing’ is such a  heated controversy.

There are 2 methods of curing ham, one is to dry cure it where you rub a salt mixture into the pork and hang it up to dry, and the other is a wet cure where you place the pork in either a brine or a pickle and then hang it up to dry. The dry curing of ham is also called country style curing and is a slow method and your meat will keep longer this way than when cured using the wet cure method.

http://www.countryfarm-lifestyles.com/curing-ham.html#.VvkbKv-YbIV

Few ‘cure’ their own meat.  The other alternative is … processed curing.  And, according to the internet, that’s very bad.

Nitrites are the reason cured meat is pink or red. Nitrites turn into Nitric Oxide, which reacts with the oxygen-binding proteins in the meat, changing its color .  Without additives like nitrites, the meat would turn brown very quickly.

Since everything on the internet IS true, commercially cured ham can, in fact, cause a  an uncured consumer of said ham.

Well, I presented both sides of that argument.  I am done with the conversation of the ham.

Funny, I was reading on-the-Internet about how each of the Final Four contenders have had their own … controversies.

Once again – oh, the irony.

Parting thought – consider this the ‘Cinderella entry’ that disrupted the entire bracket system.

Free sailboat gas

number of posts in my que:     206 – 203 posted     3 drafts

most likes ever received for a single post:     4 – short stack showdown     02-17-2016

number of MasterCard moments:    4 – including this one

rambling weekly about Random Nonsense:     priceless

Well, I’ve hit the 200 post mark.  Actually, I achieved this feat a few weeks back, but … .  Like I said when I hit 100, more current ideas presented themselves.  Since those topics were time sensitive, I needed to take advantage of them in a similar fashion.  That being said, events such as celebrating my posting milestone fell to the blog wayside.

Until now.

Now, it is time to acknowledge my Random Nonsense 200 post accomplishment.  Hooray!

Of course, the number of ‘likes’ could be higher. (Hint, hint)  I realize that is really no indication of quality.  Or so I’m told.   Still, more likes would be nice – and appreciated. (Hint, hint)

Oddly enough, I’ve only had 4 MasterCard moments.  They are quite fun to create.  And, I don’t get a bill in 28 days.  How cool is that?

Lastly, this really is an achievement for me as a writer.  I’ve never been able to wrap my brain around a short story or essay.  When I started writing, I went directly pass Go to novels.  None of this short story, get your feet wet shit.  I went balls out.  After I had a three novels and a screenplay under my belt, it was a challenge to concentrate my thought process into a 500 word post.  And, … I like it.  Hopefully, my prose is entertaining as well.  Thanks for reading, following AND putting up with my Random Nonsense.

Well, that’s it.  The celebration for this milestone is over.  I’m only at 283 words, but knowing when to stop is also … priceless.

Rarely, are those words said to me.  Unless it’s my wife wanting to ‘talk’ about the finances, of course.  (heavy sigh)  You see,  socially, I’m an awkward conversationalist. It’s an occupational hazard – after twenty-five years in retail pharmacy, my goal is to streamline every conversation. “Let’s not talk until we need to” is my motto.  That may sound harsh but I don’t fucking care.  I get the job done. I am a very efficient professional communicator. With few negative responses, I might add.  And, yes, I said that to a customer once. Before passing judgment, consider some of the sample conversations I’ve shared via this blog.  Remember the sick chicken whose owner wanted to catheterize it.  Hell, the first 100 pages of  My  Fictionalized  Memoir are patient and employee anecdotes.

This whole ‘conversation’ topic came up when I read a recent Entertainment Weekly article.  Four female entertainers were interviewed. Eva Longoria mentioned that when she is on the  famed ‘red carpet’ she ‘pivots’ the conversation to her advantage .  As an Indie author, I long to have such opportunities to talk book.  Unfortunately, when I do, I lunge forcefully.

So, how do I pivot gracefully into being a better conversationalist?

First – there needs to be that desire.  Right now, I have none.  I want to talk to no one.  Soon, very soon, my change will come and I will need this skill set to navigate my writing career path.

Second – Google it.  Bing it.  Mozilla Firefox it.

Third – Well, … I haven’t gotten here yet.  I’m still on the second step.  But I did find some interesting things.

http://www.essentiallifeskills.net/the-art-of-conversation.html

Quick-Tips for The Art of Conversation

• Do not dominate a conversation or make it all about you. A monologue is not conversation.  This is my wife.  Lucky me, eh?
• Show interest and curiosity in others.  All I’m usually curious about is how some people actually function.  Then I realize the majority don’t – they’re medicated.
• Strive for a balance of give and take.  Retail pharmacy has taken way too much.  I need some give.
• Be an active listener by maintaining good eye contact and asking pertinent questions.  I totally rock this.
• Do not interrupt and cut in with your own ideas before the other person is finished speaking.  I totally DON’T rock this.
• Although this is cliché, try to avoid topics such as sex, religion and politics.  I never talk religion.  Too personal.  I know nothing about politics.  Though it’s a bit ironic none of the 2016 candidates know anything about actual politics either.  Hmm … .  Lastly, I always go to the gutter.  Oh well.
• Be prepared by staying on top of the latest news, developments and world events.  Yeah, that probs won’t happen.  And, my wife… .  Well, her brother sarcastically nicknamed her Current Events.  Thirty years ago.

Another section of the article focused on ways to ‘be interesting and have something to say’.  Usually, I have something to say, but it is never interesting.  And, rarely do my ramblings ‘make sense’.

However, with age I have learned a few things.  Knowing when to ‘stop‘ is one of them.

Talking Heads – Stop Making Sense