Adam Thomas, RPH

Okay, this is something I’ve never understood.  How on earth do singers with accents sing without accents? I should’ve made this into one of my ‘random, burning  questions’, but I’m starting to think that category might be stupid and I recently posted one.  So, I didn’t.  Besides, I really like this title.  The reason will be obvious soon enough.

Iggy Azalea, the pop/rap sensation from Australia, The Beatles,  Adele and countless other British talents talk in their native tongue but sing in perfect English.  I realize that sounds stupid, especially since their native tongue IS English.  But  it isn’t.  If you take my approach on life in general,  don’t think that hard about it – you’ll be fine.

So, I researched the topic like all good writers do.  Really, I just typed in the words ‘why do people with accents … .’ Not only did Google finish my sentence, it answered my question.  Since the answer was so complete and would lose a bit in translation, I just cut and pasted.*  The author of the below definition was not identified.

It’s a complex issue, not easily explained in print, rather than with vocal examples, but here’s a start. Accents show up largely in (1) the rhythms and tempo of speech; (2) voice quality; (3) the “melody” of speech, the musical pitches, a feature known as “intonation.” First the matter of intonation. If you speak English, then you know that your voice goes up in pitch for a question and down for a statement. Such patterns of intonation occur not only at the end of a sentence but all the way through our speech, and they differ from language to language and dialect to dialect. Because singing forces the melody pattern to comply with the music, the nuances of intonation disappear. Next, voice quality, a second marker of accent. Singers tend to use a voice that accommodates musical skills rather than the voice qualities characteristic of a language or a dialect. Therefore, the vocal marker of a language or a dialect is masked, or even lost. Finally rhythms. As with voice quality and intonation, the rhythms and tempo are dictated by the music, and in singing, those markers are entirely lost. Note that some cultures have music that matches and reflects their spoken rhythms, their intonation patterns, and their voice qualities. But a Brit singing “Western” music will lose the identifying markers of accent.

That being said, let’s get on with the title AND reason for this post.  Daniel Radcliffe recently appeared on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.  A segment of that appearance is just a click away.  And believe me, you will want to watch this.  Harry Potter can rap, dog.

Get er’ done, HPot.

Peace Out!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKdV5FvXLuI

*I feel compelled to clarify something.  I did ALL the research for My Life  As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir.  For the pharmacy scenes, I live that shit every fucking day of my unfictionalized life.  For the legal stuff, I did my homework.  I wanted that trial to be as plausible as possible.  And, I succeeded – on both counts.

But it ain’t pretty OR what I wanted.

I’m referring to my I ain’t got nothin’ post from June 03, 2014.  Furthermore in  You should write a testimonial , posted August 13, 2014,  I trash talked testimonials and stated:

I want people to review my work, hopefully favorably.  My 100th post was supposed to be celebrated with another five star review to commemorate my … blah, blah, blah.  But that never happened.  However, if I had received a marginal review  I would not have posted it.  Why would I?  But that marginal review would be there on Amazon or Good Reads for all to see.

And, it is – unfortunately.  Even worse, it’s not just a marginal review -IT’S A REALLY, REALY BAD ONE.  I’m talkin’ ONE STAR review bad!

 One Star,October 23, 2014

•  I’m not sad that my cutting and pasting abilities, or lack there of, were unable to c/p that fucking ONE STAR.  But I decided to highlight it in orange.  It’s almost Halloween AND it’s way scary!
• I think TashN has too high of expectations – probably on everything.  Maybe she should read the Underachiever’s Manifesto?!  Then we’ll talk, eh?
• Her review wasn’t even a complete sentence.  It was a fucking fragment – try writing an entire novel, bitch. With my luck, she probably has and it’s a New York Times Best Seller.

Childish reactions to review are now complete, on with my post.

I know my novel is NOT a one star review.  Yes, there are a lot of people who probably disagree with what I’ve written, the way it was presented or the language I chose to include.  The anger/tone of my words could make someone having a bad day discard the underlining humor, viewing it as abrasive.  The next person could read the entire book in one setting and love every word.  So, be it. However, if there are any of you out there – the love every word type –  and you haven’t written a review yet – PLEASE DO IT NOW. I need it to up my star average and my self-esteem, for that matter.

Why, you might ask, I am blogging about something I would rather hide?  Ugh! I don’t know.  I’m really not that big of a person.  But, I couldn’t NOT mention this.  I think it’s funny and … blog worthy.

That’s all I’s got.  Though I do recall a famous author experienced something similar.  On the day he/she received major accolades – Pulitzer Prize nomination accolades – for a particular body of work, the author also received a rejection letter from a publisher.  Go figure!

By the way – I haven’t and probably won’t include this review on the review page of this blog.  Take that TashaN!

I’ve decided to take an underachiever’s perspective on this post.  My intention was to create something amazing – beautiful words flowing, lovely sentences that  move the reader  and … blah, blah, blah.   Well, it ain’t gonna happen. I’ve started and restarted a number of times to achieve my goal, only to be disappointed. My ramblings about how wonderful the weekend really was turned out to be just that – ramblings – that were borderline readable.  Then I realized the brevity and poignancy of the MasterCard moment post regarding the reunion was probably more perfect than anything else I could create at this moment.  So I will leave well enough alone.  However, I do want to touch on something that’s related to ‘reunions’ and kinda’ funny.

 “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Since I have never attended a class reunion in my life  – Yep – never. I hated High School and the majority of the people that attended.  So, why on earth would I want to socialize with them at timely increments?  I correspond with the select few that I want to maintain contact.  The others – who really cares?  With college, this was never an issue.  But  the distance was – over 500 miles.  It always complicated my potential attendance.

However, a good friend of mine has attended numerous reunions over the last few decades and was troubled by the ‘catch phrase’ she often heard – you haven’t changed a bit .  Actually, she was quite insulted, quipping that she most certainly had changed over the years.   And, more importantly, embraced the change. Going into the reunion weekend, I too knew I would probably hear those words.   So, when I did, my reaction wasn’t nearly as severe.

Is that bad?

I really don’t think so – for me at least.   I like me.  Yes, I have annoying traits, everyone does.  But as far as annoying traits go, mine are usually rooted with good intentions.  I still fuck up quite a lot, but oh well … .  Also, I’m relatively updated.  I’m no fashion magnet by any means, but I clean up quite well.  Oh, I did catch a lot of shit for being ‘multi-media’ challenged.  If that’s the worse thing someone can condemn me for, so be it.

I could continue, but the one thing I have learned – and changed – over the years is to know when to stop.

That’s a good thing.

Though I do have one last ‘addition’ to the MasterCard Moment that truly is  priceless – doing 21 push ups in the end zone after The Iowa Hawkeyes scored their third touchdown. 

I traveled to the University of Iowa in Iowa City, IA this past weekend for my twenty-fifth College of Pharmacy Reunion.  Yes, I said twenty-fifth AND, yes, I am that old.  I wanted to create the perfect post possible to commemorate the occasion.  However, it’s been a crazy week and I simply need more time.  But I never want to neglect ‘the blog’.  When I first started, I was told that ‘the blog’ should be attended to at least once a week.  Since time is clearly NOT on my side right now, I will attend to my blogging duties the MasterCard way –

cheapest gas:                                            $2.95/gal in Grand Rapids, MI – that’s cheap

most expensive toll:                                  $3.60 in Aurora, DeKalb AND Dixon, IL – that’s a lot of money

bottled water at Kinnick Stadium:           $6.00 – that’s a Holy Shit!

reconnecting with college friends:           priceless

Ahh, the government finally did right and gave us retail pharmacists something to smile about.  Though it will probably be more of a headache at first, but just knowing we get to deny people their hydrocodone refills will be satisfying enough.  No more excuses about why said prescription went missing, was stolen, fell in the toilet, was washed down the drain … .  The list goes on and on.  You get the idea.

I’m referring to the legislation that changed hydrocodone – better known as ‘Norcos’ – from a class III narcotic to a class II.  By doing so the medication can no longer be called or faxed into pharmacies, refills are no longer available, AND the street value has probably just increased – substantially!

Unfortunately, there are those patients that use hydrocodone for its intended purpose – pain management.  For those patients, it’s inconvenient and unfortunate.  For the remaining 99% that not only refer to their medication as ‘norcos’ – which is so fucking annoying – but gobble the hydrocodone up like M&M’s,  sucks to be you, eh? Not! No sympathy will be felt by any pharmacy employee – anywhere!

I could rant on, but won’t. Instead I will sign off with this article  sent from a ‘brother in arms’ who is probably enjoying the new legislation  more than myself.

“In America, a pill bottle full of prescription benzos or narcotics is 700,000 times more likely to fall into an indoor plumbing receptacle than all other medications combined. Meds to treat high blood pressure, diabetes, and cholesterol are prescribed with ALMOST as much frequency as narcotics and benzos, yet are almost never lost down sinks or toilets. Our aim is to find out if these chemical compounds have some magnetic properties or another explanation for their affinity to porcelain and metal pipes. Our numbers don’t lie — there has to be scientific reasons for this incredible disparity.”

The entire article is a click away – what’s even more comical are the comments.  Readers actually thought this was a valid study.  Maybe those that did had just ‘accidently’ flushed their ‘norcos’ down the toilet.

http://www.gomerblog.com/2014/10/nih/

P.S. – there’s a great picture of a toilet included in the article.  Unfortunately my limited cutting and pasting skills prevented me from posting it here.  Sorry!

Yes, I read The  Underachiever’s  Manifesto – The Guide to Accomplishing Little and Feeling Great  by  Ray Bennett, M.D. .  It wasn’t hard, even for an underachiever.  But, I do not, by any means, consider myself an underachiever.  The book is only 85 pages and there is a lot of white space.  A third grader could read it quite easily.

Why did I read this?  First of all, the concept intrigued me.  Secondly, I constantly expose myself to books that are just the opposite, so I wanted to see how the other half lived.

And, … no thanks.  The underachiever’s grass may not be cut on a regular basis, which is fine, but it may not necessarily be greener either.

I really wanted to like this book, especially considering how much my ego ( and sales ) have taken a beating lately.  I thought that maybe there would be some consolation in ‘releasing the reins’.  You know, encouraging words from someone outside your situation can be quite comforting.   Instead this ‘manifesto’ almost condoned the why even try perspective.  I am very goal driven – even if that goal sometimes is to make it through the day.  So for me, this lazy-ass approach really hit a sour note.

I feel the urge to ramble without direction here, so I will switch gears and highlight a few ‘tips’ from the book then comment.  Hell, maybe I’ll comment as I go along.  Regardless, there will be commentary.

The Ten Principles of Underachievement

1.  Life’s too short
2. Control is an illusion
3. Expectations lead to misery
4. Great expectation leads to great misery                                            wow, that’s original
5.  Achievement creates expectation                                                      personally, I think this is a good thing?
6. The law of diminishing returns applies everywhere
7. Perfect is the enemy of good                                          don’t get this one – maybe the quest for perfection???
8. The tallest blade of grass is the surest to be cut
9. Accomplishment is in the eye of the beholder                                 why is this bad? 
10. The 4% value-added principle

Other random phrases:

• Underachievers aren’t threatening to others
• Ugly (average) people have good sex, too                                I’m thinking Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have pretty good sex.
• The difference between a happy and an unhappy childhood is the difference between encouragement and pressure

This last tidbit I had a problem.

• Remember underachievement isn’t about doing absolutely nothing.  It’s about the right effort at the right time in the right place.  And not one bit more.

Really?! If it were that easy would I still be working retail pharmacy? Ugh, of course not.  The right effort, the right place at the right time.  Anyone can be successful if even two of those three align.  Then there is no ‘extra effort’ required.

Initially, I wanted to share this book with friends, mailing it out to someone then that person forwarding it off to someone else; the Travelling Pants/Flat Stanley concept.  The idea fizzled almost as fast as it was conceived.  Shit, sharing this book ain’t worth the time or the postage.

Where the hell are all of these fruit flies coming from?

I realize the answer is obvious, but we haven’t had fruit in the house for some time now.  It’s a long story, so don’t ask.

That being said, where the hell are all of these fruit flies coming from?

First some background knowledge.  Not that anyone really wants knowledge about the damn things.  It’s like asking the most annoying customer to talk about him or her self.  But any way, … .

Facts About Fruit Flies

Fruit flies have notoriously fast life cycles; they can go from egg to adult in just 8 days. That means one overly ripe tomato left unused on your counter can give rise to a small fruit fly swarm within a week. Gross. Fruit flies are also known for their persistence once indoors. They don’t even need fruit to keep reproducing. Fruit flies can breed in the slime layer inside slow-draining plumbing, or on an old, sour mop or sponge.  Really gross.

• Mother fruit flies lay about 200-300 eggs at a time
•  From the time the mother fruit fly lays her eggs until you see the fruit flies buzzing around is about 7-13 days
• As soon as the babies hatch, they start reproducing about 24 hours later

Although this sounds a lot like some pharmacy patients, at least a fruit fly doesn’t wonder how it actually happened or complain about the true definition of entitlement.  That’s a whole post itself.  And it will be ‘infested’ with anger – entitlement my ass!

I also searched ways to get rid of theses creatures; the fruit flies, that is.

• Smackin’ the buggers with your hands.  Unfortunately, I swat at them so hard I hit other things.  This is bad.  So, I let my kids do that and I concentrate on the traps.
• The first trap is to pile a bunch of fruit in some cone shaped thing and cover it with cellophane.  Then poke holes in the cellophane.  If you ask me, this is way too much work.  Cellophane is a pain in the ass to use, especially on something cone shaped.  And the fruit… . Well, that’s just nast after just a short time.
• The last, and most successful, method is another trap. For this one all you do is pour Apple Cider Vinegar, dishwashing soap, and a tiny bit of fruit juice or wine in a small saucer and leave it on the counter top. They all die in a drunkin’ stupor.

Well, that it for the randomness that is ‘where the hell are all of these fruit flies coming from?’. The next few posts will be a complete 180.  I swear that I’m really not as OCD as the topics that circulate this blog might suggest.  Really.

If I could, I would probably get a massage once a week.  But, I can’t.  So I often splurge on birthdays and what not to curb the fix.

I’ve had my share of humorous, yet surprisingly NOT awkward moments getting massages, too.  I’ve been pounded, walked on AND sat on by all sorts of women to achieve the desired affect – my relaxation.  If that doesn’t sound ‘sketch’, I don’t what would .  Be that as it may, my most memorable massage experience happened within the last year.  Rarely do I size up the masseuse, making preliminary judgments as I do in other situations.  With retail pharmacy I can tell you exactly what a certain customer is going to complain even before he/she opens  their fuckin’ mouth.  With the masseuse, I’m usually quite impartial.  It’s their job.  Besides I usually only go to a masseuse that has been recommended; not by a testimonial, I might add.  However as the therapist in question approached me, I was skeptical.  She was this short, frail, gray-haired woman. After introductions, I was informed that she was IN The Red Hats WITH my Mother-in-Law AND her grandson went to school with my youngest.  Yes, the Red Hat Society and GRANDSON.  But she was nice and it was a Gift Certificate.  Instantly expectations were lowered.  Really, how bad could it be?

The massage progressed smoothly.  Since there was so much tension in my back and she was smaller in physical stature, she needed a ‘better angle’ to work the desired area.  So, she mounted me.  Yes, you read that correctly.  There I was face down on a massage table and some sixty something grandmother climbs on top of me – and starts to work out those … kinks.  After a moment she paused and asked, “are you okay with this?”

Aside from snickering like a school boy, I calmly responded, “yes.”  The massage progressed smoothly.  End of story.

Recently, though, I’ve had better.  Not ‘the experience’, mind up, but the actual massage technique.

Cupping therapy is a form of alternative medicine in which cups are placed on the skin to create suction. The cups can be made of a variety of materials, including:

• Glass
• Bamboo
• Earthenware

Supporters of cupping therapy believe the suction of the cups mobilizes blood flow to promote the healing of a broad range of medical ailments.  Cupping therapy dates back to ancient Egyptian, Chinese, and Middle Eastern cultures.

What’s even cooler is that the cups leave these circular, bruise-like marks; gross, but really cool at the same time.  Great conversation starters.  That’s if you wanted to start conversations with people.  Usually I don’t.  But, I’m sure if you did, the topic would be interesting.

Well, that’s it on the whole mounted massage – cupping experiences I’ve had.  Though you should all be comforted to know that if anything else equally memorable occurs in the future, I will share the details.

Sucks to be you, eh?

Get it? cupping – suction.  Oh well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2mawaBrvFg

A better clue would’ve included the question – “You fell a-sleep?”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsvsRZhNVp4

I warned you and here it is – my commentary.  Originally I thought to compose one big post.  But that would be a lot of words and writing and reading.  Who has time for that shit?  Remember I only read captions in Vanity Fair articles.  So splitting into two posts seemed a good decision.  Besides, my commentary needed its own space.

I guess it all started with something that happened in the under developed village of  Karnaphuli in Pakistan .  A paper / pulp mill was built there using bamboo as raw material for its product.  Bamboo is quite plentiful in that part of the world.  What no one realized was the bamboo plant flowers once every 50 to 70 years, then THE ENTIRE PLANT DIES.  Also, it was unknown at the turnaround time for the new bamboo to mature.  So 85% of this mill’s raw material “flowered and then, poetically but quite uneconomically, died”.

Damn bamboo!

The time investment in the mill was already substantial so these people needed to get creative to figure out what options – if any – where available.  The mill imported bamboo from neighboring villages which created waterways, stimulating even more development, if you will, than expected.  Lemonade anyone?

I included the pdf for the principle in the previous post.  But it’s boring economic shit.  Thankfully I was able to get what I needed so I could be done.  I only read half.  In my defense it is eighteen pages – front and back.*

The more and more I thought about this ‘principle’ the less and less the initial ‘ahh, that’s really cool’ reaction was sustained.  If you think about it – there is no easy way to do anything.  There are always going to be obstacles and setbacks and frustration.  Reality really does bite.  The underlining theme of never giving up versus what’s the use on trying has inspired books, movies, music and countless Olympic worthy stories.

I feel a bit, I don’t know, lost as I write this.  Like I said I was totally geeked about this whole thing in the beginning, which was some weeks ago.  Then life slapped in the face and I had the worst sales month and the longest stretch without a sale in months.  Boo-fuckin’-hoo for me, right?

Ugh! I’ll get over it.

Last night someone gave me an idea about another way to stimulate sales.  So in a few days after the ‘ugh’ is done.  I’m on it.  Remember, I will be a New York Times Number One Best Selling Author soon.  Unfortunately that climb remains just that; a fuckin’ pain in my ass.

Speaking of that climbing shit, the link below is to a very sappy song that pretty much sums up everything I’ve just written.  I hesitated because it’s sooo sappy, but I love it anyway especially since it was in the artists pre-twerking days.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmKsCMgROCQ

*truthfully it was only one-sided, but if ANYONE can name the show from which the bold-faced line is from – you totally rock