"We're the middle children of history.... no purpose or place. We have no Great War, no Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives" Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

I find it funny, as I scroll back at some of the older entries in this blog, the things that I wrote. I actually thought that talking about my kidney stones and rectal exams would be interesting? Wow. Well, I’ve reached another crossroad in life. I had a physical recently and the accompanying blood test indicated that I had abnormally low testosterone. They would need another blood test in a week to verify those findings. A week passes and this blood test says that I DON’T have low testosterone. Huh? According to the Dr., it’s cyclical, and we tested when the hormones were at their lowest. So, let’s grab some more blood in two weeks. The two weeks were up yesterday and I had blood taken again. While talking with the Dr., as I had the last 5 or 6 previous visits, I told him about my feelings of malaise. I have no motivation to do anything. Bills are late and I don’t care. Not eating right, and can’t sleep a full night to save my life. He told me, that regardless of the results of this last blood test, he’s come to the conclusion that I’m clinically depressed. DEPRESSED. Who’d thunk it? There is such a stigma with that word. Even I have always thought people that were depressed just need to “put their big boy panties on and get in the game”. Look at me now, 40 years old and suffering from what the Dr calls, mild depression. Lexapro. Six Weeks. Then we’ll “see how you feel”. Not being satisfied with his diagnoses I did some research on Teh Intertubes, and Ill be, I surely fit the diagnoses. I guess I’m an example of what happens when you narrow mindedly assume that some people just can’t deal with life so they need to hide behind a pill. At least in my case, it’s a chemical imbalance. If you were curious, that was sarcasm.

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You are connected to Castle Rock BBS (9600bps) Local Telix User

Having always been a technology fan, especially into computers, you learn something early on. The Early Adopter Tax. If it’s new, hot, and you want it now, you will pay double for it compared to the price that it will surely sink to within six months. It’s always fun (and somewhat painful) to go back and see what you paid for early gadgets. I have blogged about this before, having obtained my first computer from my dad who “traded” a complete central air and heat system for our Atari Setup. At the time, we came out REAL good on that deal. The early Atari’s were EXPENSIVE. Looking back, it was insane. In the late 80’s early 90’s, before the proliferation of Teh Interwebs, BBS’ were all the rage. I ran a fairly successful single line BBS called Castle Rock for almost 3 years. The early days of online computing, speeds were not gauged on your CPU , but your modem was the bottle neck. For a long time, we were stuck at 300 baud, which was insanely slow. Then the jump to 1200 baud.

Football Isn't a Contact Sport, It's a Collision Sport... Duffy Daugherty In my book, the start of the NFL season should be a national holiday. The previous Friday and the following Monday should be free of work, all focus should be allowed on the game. I'm serious. Even the wife, who, bless her heart, knows how much football season means to me, had the Chili going before kickoff. The chips and dip set out and the beverages were extra chilled. During the NFL season, my Sunday consists of the following: Get up at 10:00am and start watching the ESPN Gameday. Fire up the wireless laptop and get connected to DirecTV's Game Tracker. This in conjunction with DirecTV's NFL Sunday ticket package is the ultimate way to watch the games. 11:30 fire up the lunch for the game (Frito Pie, Chili, Brats, etc., etc). 12:00, settle in for the next NINE hours of gridiron action. Am I sick? Probably. Do I care. Not a bit, ya only get 17 weeks of it, so I savor it all.

Ralphing Kisses After reading my buddy Escapes post about his faithful dog Maynard, it seems a good time for a dog story. The day before Christmas Eve, we had decided to go out to eat. I had started gathering the candy that I was going to put in the stockings and had left it on the corner of the end table out of site. Or so I thought. When we returned from dinner, I notice little bits of what looked like aluminum foil around the house. I followed the trail until it ended directly under the Christmas tree. There sat an empty bag ( a ONE pound bag mind you) of Hershey Kisses. Shaye the Weenie dog, well into her 10th year had eaten a pound of chocolate in our absence. She was also nowhere to be seen. Anytime we return to the house and she didn’t greet you at the door wagging her tail is a bad sign. It usually meant she did something she knew she would get in trouble for and was firmly entrenched under the back corner of the bed, her favorite hiding spot. She was there,

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