Category: Uncategorized

11 Sep

King of Beards

Runners and cyclists along the W&OD Trail are either really into guys with beards, or somehow mesmerized by that amount of scruff flying by on a Saturday morning.

In a normal week, I would have shaved Wednesday before going in for my final shift of the week. But since I was sick and didn’t go to work, there was little reason to get out the razor. Add in a few off days since then, and I went out for a six mile run this morning having not shaved in a week.

It was a glorious September morning with cool temperatures and abundant sunshine, meaning everyone and their brother were out exercising. It may have just been in my head, but it seemed like more people than usual were breaking their straight ahead running looks to peek in my direction. I wasn’t wearing a funny hat or singing along to the songs in my head, so the only natural explanation is the beard.

Entering the last mile I had decided I would probably write this entry, and made a mental note to take a picture of the scruff. But somewhere between finishing the run and eating some yogurt I forgot. So as an example, here’s a picture from a few years ago:

If I had to guess, I would say that’s roughly three to four days of growth (for me, not the dog). It also appears that I may have been purposely rocking that look since the neck region is not taking part in the scruff party. Add a few days to that, with roughly 15 percent more of the lumberjack look, and you start to get an idea of what I had going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course.

When I was working in Jacksonville, shaving was quite low on my list of priorities for the overnight weekend shifts and I looked like that all the time. But then again, for a good chunk of those work days I was the only person in the building.

It’s not like the televisions, empty chairs or the police scanner cared that I was channeling my inner Paul Bunyan, and much of my interaction with the small group of coworkers was done either in a dark room or by talking to them through a headset.

People may be drawn to the facial hair, but I’m pretty sure they can’t hear it in my voice.

By cjhannas beard running Uncategorized
09 Sep

That’s Sick, Yo

Sick days were much cooler in elementary school.

Back then it was downright exciting to get to stay home and spend the day with your good friends the couch and cable television. It wasn’t every day that I got to catch up on my Gilligan’s Island, Andy Griffith Show or Wings.

Though judging by the list of shows I remember, it is clear that even in the era of the burgeoning cable universe there was not much for a 10-year-old to watch during the day. Fortunately, Mom must have understood that because multi-day sicknesses sometimes featured some sort of video rental to help us pass the time.

I remember being entertained on one sick day by the classic film “Hot Shots! Part Deux.” Thanks to the wonders of technology (mainly Netflix streaming) I was able to once again utilize such an amazing tale to get me through a less-than-healthy day.

It is odd what small details from your life you remember. I recall another sick day (maybe the same one, who knows) that involved drinking some Sprite. For some reason I had my “baseball books” on a table next to the couch as I recovered from some illness. The “books” were three-ring binders filled with my baseball card collection. Most were just plain-colored binders, but one had a snazzy baseball-specific design and a plastic cover on the outside.

There was some kind of stain or mark on the plastic, and being the genius I have always been, I decided to use some of the Sprite to get it off. Apparently getting up to get some sort of wet paper towel was out of the question for this operation. The result, of course, was a sticky film where the mark used to be and I had to get the paper towel anyway to get that off.

I had something else to add here, but can’t for the life of me remember. I blame/credit Nyquil, nectar of the cold-having gods. It also gets credit if none of the above made any sense.

By cjhannas home Netflix Uncategorized
07 Sep

Grilled, Gooey, Fantastic

As humans, sometimes we forget about things we really like.

There is that band you haven’t heard in a while that causes you to reach over and turn up the volume. A movie you haven’t seen in a few years comes on TV, and you throw out your afternoon plans to take it in.

And then there are those dishes you have neglected for far too long.

I recently rediscovered grilled cheese sandwiches, which given their ease of construction and low cost may be one of the greatest food items ever created. I mean, bread is good, butter is even better and cheese is amazing. How could the combination of all three not be incredible?

Look at this picture and tell me you don’t want one:

That’s what I thought. If you need to take a few minutes to indulge, feel free. I’ll still be here when you get back.

The rediscovery was sort of a chance happening. Before leaving a job last spring, I had to train my replacement. She brought her lunch the first few days, and because she was so new I didn’t want to leave her in the office alone for too long when I went to acquire food.

Fortunately, there was a small deli in the same office park. I had only eaten there once before because I thought it was massively overpriced for what it was, and there was a Taco Bell and a Wendy’s just down the street. But in the name of quickness I decided to give them another shot, and that’s when the grilled cheese caught me eye.

It only took one bite to bring back a flood of melty, gooey memories. In the final week of that job I think I had four grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

I posted on Facebook that the rediscovery was the highlight of 2010 for me, and got a surprising number of people extolling their deliciousness. The comments included one from my dad’s cousin, who like me and my brother (and I believe the rest of my family) enjoy pairing the grilled cheese with some ketchup. It adds the right sweetness and a bit of coolness to go with the hot sandwich.

College roommate Shawn L. (lover of dealies, foe of spiders) did not seem so enthusiastic about the combo. But then again he also likes Ohio State football, so clearly his tastes can’t be taken seriously.

This morning I saw this story about Fairfax County Public School eliminating chocolate milk in cafeterias. It’s a good thing I am no longer a student in one of their schools, or there would be some sort of massive sit-in protest. I can’t recall EVER voluntarily drinking any milk at school that was not of the chocolate variety. I mean, why would you settle for anything less than the best?

That would be like having a grilled cheese without ketchup.

By cjhannas food Taco Bell Uncategorized
27 Aug

Your Princess is in Another Castle

Most of the people who read the blog are people I know and actually intend to be here. But a fair number are Googling other things and their search terms just happen to bring up one of my posts.

The traffic counting service that I use shows me their exact Google searches, which I find extremely entertaining and like to share from time to time.

The most popular one this month has been “get two beers and jump,” which is a song done by Jimmy Fallon on his late night NBC show. I linked to his video in a post about the JetBlue flight attendant who, well, got two beers and jumped. About 20 people used that exact term, though even more interesting are the variants: “meaning of 2beers and a jump” and “3 beers and you jump song.” I think those people did more of a “get two beers and Google.”

Of course if you follow me on Twitter (@chwilbur), you know that I thanked the @JimmyFallon fans for their unintended page views. Most people don’t read more than the page in the Google search, but occasionally I see some people who will read many more posts than they should from someone they don’t know.

The most random one in a long, long time came in a few days ago: “bebop soda good.” Usually I can read the search string and know exactly which blog it linked to without having to look. In this case, I am happy to report that I am sane enough that this one made no sense. It turns out I shared a story I wrote in elementary school that included a character with “bebop” in his name. After some Googling myself, it looks like “bebop soda good” is a quote from the Cartoon Network Adult Swim show Sealab 2021. I bet a fan of that show would really enjoy my story.

The string “retail manager after college” is not quite as funny as the others, especially given the post it linked to. I have no idea what sort of information that person was looking for, but reading that post may have really bummed them out (though I think it’s a pretty good one).

I’ll end with the category of posts that are not only not helpful to people, but definitely waste their time. In the past few weeks people searched “marshmallow silly bandz” and “in what aisle in target are the silly bandz.” Clearly they were looking for constructive information to accomplish a task. Instead they got this post that has no value to them whatsoever. Sorry.

This blog was brought to you by grilled cheese sandwiches and Norah Jones.

By cjhannas blog stats Uncategorized
20 Aug

Shh, Doors Closing

I came to the conclusion this morning that I should not listen to potentially comical things on my iPod while riding the Metro.

If you have never been to Washington, D.C., let me try to characterize the atmosphere on a Metro train. Unless you are sitting next to someone you know, there’s a good chance you are sitting in silence. That may be while listening to an iPod or reading a book, or just staring at some nebulous space in the front of the car.

During rush hour, when the trains are full of commuters, the silence can seem magnified.

So imagine the scene as I step onto a packed morning train. White headphones are pressed into my ears. A podcast that began playing as I waited on the platform is the soundtrack to my ride home.

The faces around me are checked out — a semi-catatonic state brought on by the morning commute. The only sound they hear are the wheels grinding along the tracks and the occasional garbled station names being blasted out over the loudspeaker. I can hear a little of that too through the headphones, but mostly I am lost in some piece of radio magic. Fortunately, I get off at the end of the line, so I don’t have to pay the least bit of attention as the stops go by.

And then it happens. There’s a joke, a humorous comment, a funny aside. I am about to draw the attention of those around me who are even half awake. The joke moves through my ears and into my brain. It is processed. The humor reactors are put on notice. A pulse of instructions runs to my face. The brain wants to laugh.

But wait, there’s another emergency instruction. Another part of the brain is ordering an override of the laugh instruction.

“NO NO NO! Abort!”

It is too late. I do my best to hold my mouth shut — teeth clenched, trying in vain to suppress the overwhelming smile and the urge to chuckle.

The morning silence broken, there is only one thing I can do: Look out the window as if to say, “There’s nothing to see here.”

By cjhannas metro Uncategorized
18 Aug

Timber-Land

In journalism classes, we learned there are very rare occasions when you can start a story with a quote. I do not remember any guidance on starting with a picture, but in all fairness, that was long before the explosion of the blogosphere.

The picture is of one of the shoes I wore to work last night. That might not seem that consequential in itself, but they may be the oldest shoes in my vast footwear collection.

Back in roughly 2000, every male I knew had a pair of shoes like these — some sort of dull brown leather with black soles. They said, “Hey, I’m a little nicer than running shoes, but I’m also no dress shoe.” Apparently that was the message to send with your footwear at the time.

I got mine at Galyan’s, where I worked in the shoe department. With the Timberlands being on sale and an employee discount at my disposal, this has to be the best value in my collection as well. I don’t think I paid more than $30, and we are at 10 years and counting.

I remember at first being concerned about the little scuffs that developed on the front of the shoes. But then I realized I’m clumsy and accepted the scuffs as a fact of my footwear life.

By cjhannas fashion shoes Uncategorized
13 Aug

You Can Stand Under My Um-Ber-Ella

I am sure it is a common feeling to walk out of work on your last day of the week and want to run away as quickly as possible.

That’s how my weekend started, though I wasn’t fleeing in an unhappy state. Rather, I was trying to make it from my building to the nearest Metro station during a torrential downpour. A string of severe thunderstorms rolled through the area just as it was time for me to leave, but I wasn’t about to stick around to wait them out.

After all, it’s just water right?

It was actually kind of fun to go splashing through the huge puddles that had formed along 4th Street and seeing the other boring adults walking along with their umbrellas. When I got to the Metro station, there were probably a hundred people congregated near the entrance waiting for the rain to stop. I had way more fun with my morning.

Sitting on the train with fully drenched clothes and shoes that felt like they were still underwater, I had a flashback to an incredibly similar situation four years ago.

I was in New York City, interviewing for a job at ABC News. My cousin, Lauren, was going to school in the city at the time so we met up for dinner. Another cousin (Lauren’s brother) happened to visit the same day, so after our meal at a really unique location we went out to have a drink with Shawn.

As we walked to his hotel, it started raining. It wasn’t drizzling, or misting, or some other term for a little bit of rain. It was pouring. It’s possible some old men were snoring. Neither of us had an umbrella, so she used my copy of The New York Times and I shielded my incredible fragile hairdo with the portfolio I had brought for the interview.

I’m not sure why we bothered. We arrived at the hotel in a soaked state that instantly made Shawn laugh. On our way out (I think to the Hard Rock Cafe), he insisted on buying us umbrellas.

As I explained to my coworkers this morning before sprinting from the building, I’m not usually a fan of umbrellas. I think my main issue is that when you arrive at your destination you are left with this wet stick you have to stash somewhere. Plus, I defy you to run through the rain and not have a good time.

I had a great time hanging out with my cousins in the city. It was a strangely neat experience to spend time with them so far from our usual encounters (their house, my house, our grandparents’ house). And of course, it was probably raining even harder when I had to leave to catch a train back to my friend’s house in New Jersey.

I faced that day the same situation as this morning — sometimes you have no choice but to just run. Never mind that I was wearing a suit and dress shoes, all of which were already thoroughly soaked. It was windy enough by that point that the umbrella was pretty much useless.

Google says it is a little less than a mile from the Hard Rock to Penn Station. That was enough time to get even more soaked than I ever dreamed possible, and to fill my shoes with water. A few minutes after boarding the train I took off my shoes and literally poured water out of each one. When the guy who punches your ticket came around, I handed him a slimy yellow mess that had once been my ticket. He just laughed and went right on to the next person.

I own two umbrellas now, but it’s the one Shawn bought me that stays in my car and goes wherever I go.

By cjhannas family metro Uncategorized
11 Aug

Get Two Beers and Jump

By now you have surely heard about the JetBlue flight attendant who had a run-in with a passenger, cursed out everyone on board and slid down the emergency slide to instant fame.

Of course he also grabbed two beers on his way out of the plane, leading to this touching tribute last night from Jimmy Fallon. His song “Get Two Beers and Jump” should definitely catch on as a way of describing any moment where you just say “@$#% it, I’m done with this.” (Also note that half of the crowd can’t clap on beat, some not even close).

Having spent a number of years in the service industry, I must say I don’t for a second fault this guy. It doesn’t matter how patient you are, there are days that the public seems united in a quest to frustrate you as much as possible.

When I worked for a certain shoe brand franchise, we had a program that allowed podiatrists to give us a “prescription” of a customer’s footwear needs. The customer got 10 percent off their purchase if they had one of the slips, and we got a clear idea of what they needed. The system was tremendously helpful since most people would come back from their doctor and only vaguely describe what they were supposed to be looking for.

One customer didn’t understand the system. We needed the slip to send back to the parent company in order to get reimbursed for the discount. He didn’t get that we needed one every time he bought shoes.

I did not like this man (call him Will), but fortunately he usually dealt with one of the other managers. That is, until the other manager — also named Chris — left the company. That meant that every time this guy called and asked for Chris, I had to help him.

The first time, I think I spent at least half an hour on the phone trying to explain the system and why I couldn’t just give him the discount. It’s not like I didn’t want to help people, but if you make my life difficult you are much less likely to get a hand.

Those who have worked in retail, especially in management, know that there are thousands of ways you can give people discounts. College student who could get a more expensive shoe if you give them a break? Senior citizen discount! Fifty-year-old who served in the Army 20 years ago? Active duty discount! A really nice customer right after someone who demanded the world? Well imagine that, a coupon from the health fair we went to last weekend!

Will went for more of the entitlement route, expecting us to just give him the discount because he felt he deserved it. At the end of that loooong first call, he demanded to speak to our corporate office in D.C. One problem — the corporate office was in Delaware, and if you know me at all you understand that this led to another 10 minute conversation about that very fact. In the end, he got the number to one of our stores in D.C., and I later got a call from the manager of that store wondering why I had unleashed that hell on his day.

I last worked at that store in July of 2007, and if you want to read some blogs written out of pure frustration I recommend the period beginning around the fall of 2005.

A few choice entries:

Listen Up

Um, Do I Know You?

Depository Please Receptacle of Man

Now That’s a Good Question

Please Make it Stop

Oh For the Love of Pete

Enjoy.

By cjhannas shoes Uncategorized
05 Aug

The World Better Prepare, For When I’m a Billionaire

Imagine yourself as a billionaire. Your bank account doesn’t just have $1 billion, it has several.

Even if you tried, you couldn’t spend it all. At least, unless you bought lots of really ridiculous things like multiple magic sets or a European principality.

So the question is, what do you do with your money now, and what happens to it when you die?

Bill Gates and Warren Buffett (of the multi-multi-billionaire group) have pledged along with others of their kind to give away at least half of their fortunes. In the cases of Gates and Buffett (G/B), both have said they will donate the majority of their wealth.

Beyond wanting to help others through direct donations, G/B have said they are against “dynastic wealth.” They argue there is no social benefit to having generations of people sustained by money they didn’t earn.

A few years ago I saw a town hall forum the two held at the University of Nebraska, which was broadcast on PBS. It’s a really interesting view into how two of the richest men in America view their fortunate lot in life and capitalism as a whole.

It was during that program that I first heard Gates talk about giving away most of his money. He said having billions in the bank would hurt his kids’ motivation to work for something of their own. Without that effort, society misses out on whatever innovation might have resulted.

The dynastic fortunes also serve to reinforce the divide between the haves and have-nots — a system that is further entrenched despite decreasing merit for each successive rich generation.

Before you feel too bad for the kids missing out on free money, remember that they are growing up in mansions, going to the best schools and having every opportunity to prepare for a successful future.

Of course, for most of us it wouldn’t be so bad to have a few billion lying around. These guys certainly have some ideas. (Note: the link has some language — as my friend Ralphie would say, the F dash dash dash word).

By cjhannas Uncategorized
02 Aug

Dealies, Please

Everyone has a favorite dish, the one you could eat any time of any day and instantly feel better about your life.

For me, there are few bits of culinary amazingness that can match the “dealies” at IT Express in Selinsgrove, Pa. They are actually called pepperoni roll-ups, but that takes far too long to say when you are telling your roommate what food you want delivered.

I was reunited with the dealies last weekend during a day trip to my alma mater, Susquehanna University. I met up with two close friends who were a part of a seemingly daily ritual that involved ordering something from IT. My love of the dealies got to the point that when my roommate, Shawn L., would order food, he would automatically get some for me.

When we walked into the restaurant on Saturday with our friend Mindy, the owner and his son greeted us as if it were 2003. I guess it’s good that they remember us since we got to a point that they knew Mindy’s voice when she would order over the phone and wouldn’t bother to even ask our address.

I told them I had dreams about the dealies, and that no matter how close some places here come to attempting a similar dish, it’s just not the same. I mean, who wouldn’t want to eat this:

So delicious. IT Express also has two other items near the top of my food list — Sicilian pizza and Wild Cherry Pepsi. I may need to move back to Selinsgrove just for the food.

The only problem with IT is that they are closed on Mondays. I cannot even begin to count the number of times we would walk into town, the taste of dealies tantalizingly close to our tongues, only to realize it was Monday and we were idiots. I would estimate somewhere in the 40 range during our four years, and that might be low.

Of course beyond the food it was nice to be hanging out with old friends. Mindy didn’t graduate with us, but she was with us for our first two years. She also spent our sophomore year living with my first roommate, Shawn R., and thus can appreciate the unique experience therein. I shared a little about him in a post last year.

The funny thing was as much as we were together during our two or four years, we found on Saturday that there were tons of stories that one person in the group had never heard. It’s possible we just forgot, but I guess that just goes to show how much we assume other people know.

Standing in front of Mindy’s old apartment (which after 7 years still had the same shower curtain, gross) we had one of those total flashback moments to so many days at SU:

“So, what do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, we’ll figure something out.”

The short-term answer was to walk to the river, which is just down the street from where Mindy used to live. By just down the street, I mean you can walk there in 30 seconds. In the year she lived there, she never once made the trip and it didn’t seem as if she even knew it was there. Which is a shame given her crazy roommate situation and the absolute serenity of sitting on a bench looking out onto that water.

While the three of us were sitting on the bench, Shawn L. (who is deathly afraid of spiders, not important here but I wanted to share) said he got the strongest feeling of deja vu he had ever felt. I will say it was strangely good to be around them and to see how seamlessly we slipped back into 2003.

We’ll be back next year, though maybe then Mindy can figure out how to take the date stamp off of her camera:

One other entertaining note. Shawn lives about 45 minutes north of me, conveniently right on the route that I would take to get to school. I picked him up at a mall where we met to enjoy some Starbucks action. It turned out the Starbucks there closed (along with half of the other stores), but the trip was redeemed by a sign in the bathroom:

So watch yourself or I might trespass you right out of here.

By cjhannas food Susquehanna Uncategorized