First learn walk, then learn fly

So after a pretty full/late day yesterday, I came home, and knowing that my brain was mush and that I wasn’t fit for human consumption, I decided to flip through the channels and see what was on TV. Then I came across it. It was calling me and I couldn’t resist. Like a fly drawn to a light, I had to watch the original Karate Kid. I sat there mesmerized, knowing it was so bad but yet, somehow, so good.

Things that shocked me watching the movie this many years later:

• Ralph Macchio was 23 when he made the movie. He doesn’t look a day past 12.
• Somebody actually chose the wardrobe for this movie - we’re not talking bad 80’s clothing, we’d just talking bad.
• Someone actually wrote, and someone else actually approved, the dialogue in the movie.
• I somehow remembered all of the words to the “you’re the best around” theme song.
  

And then there was something that both shocked and depressed me.

Elisabeth Shue is now 41 years old. Broke my heart. Somehow I expected her to be in her 20’s forever. In my 6-year-old mind, somehow, one day, the stars would align, and we would catch up to one another and be the same age. This may not seem like much to you all, but a dream dating back to 1984 died last night. Please take a moment of silence on my behalf.

Well, not wanting to end on a sad note, I’m including a link to a brilliant review of the Karate Kid series by Bill Simmons. This had me laughing so hard I was in tears: <http://espn.go.com/page2/movies/s/simmons/020830.html>. The review of Karate Kid III actually reminded me that I had in fact seen the movie and was merely repressing all memory of it.

Kevin's musings on relationship books

So yesterday I sent a bunch of folks a link to what I think is the greatest book to come along in ages, "He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys." (If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend perusing Amazon's page on the guide - http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/068987474X/qid=1095952155/sr=8-1/ref=pd_ka_1/104-1642155-3671108?v=glance&s=books&n=507846)

The replies I got spanned the gamut from men and women praising the idea to women who thought I was speaking to their particular situations (some of which I never knew existed and some of which I didn't, but to all of you, I'm sure *your* particular guy is different.)

So last night while thinking about it, I began to think that maybe the other side needs to write some books in response. So, to help you ladies get started, below are some book suggestions I propose you write that guys, like myself, need to read:

• "She's Stringing You Along 'Just in Case'"
• "Are You Driving Her To See Other
  Men: and Other Stupid Things Men Do"
• "'Nothing' and 1001 Other Things that
  Aren't Wrong"

As always, your feedback, suggestions and additional book titles
are welcomed.

This one's for the ladies

If you're wondering why women everywhere are having epiphanies, it's because this was featured on Oprah yesterday.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/068987474X/qid=1095952155/sr=8-1/ref=pd_ka_1/104-1642155-3671108?v=glance&s=books&n=507846

Newfound respect for/fear of women

Today I went to the drugstore to buy some new soap/body wash and my usual stuff came packaged with a free “loofah” – whatever the hell that is. So in a nod to Seth and Brad for all the metrosexual schooling they’ve given me (ok, and Mike, you too) I decided to use the thing when I showered. It looked pleasant enough – almost like a massager, so I went with it.

HOLY SHIT! Nowhere on the box, at any place, at any time did it say ANYTHING about removing layer of my skin. Boy was that a surprise. That was NOT like a massage. Ladies – do you actually use these things? Do you all actually remove the skin from your bodies to look good?!? No, seriously, let me know – now I’m really curious. Do you all actually do this to look good? It’s like a form of medieval torture – and you all actually seem to pay to buy these things. I have a new found respect (and fear) for women if this is a common thing.

After the shower, I promptly tied the thing up in a plastic bag and threw it in the corner of my living room, near the trash. It and I are having a stare-down right now. I want to take it out with the trash, but I’m afraid of it. In my own defense, part of the fear may come from having seen the original Gremlins movie again last night…

Kevin's musings on antihistamines

Hello folks -

Some of you may remember the newsletters I use to write -- my post-college observations and musings on the world a la Kevin style - others of you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about but are either intrigued, annoyed or scared. Well, in the spirit of the newsletter, I'd like to share the following log of my day. A day that started normal and became a psychedelic ride as my friend Jen (henceforth known as Jen the Pharmacist) decided to drug me as a personal experiment (ok, in all fairness, she was trying to help). So here we go...

7:10 AM - I roll out of bed. I find my collarbone is itchy and red. In my just-enough-medical-knowledge-to-be-dangerous mind, I diagnose it as an allergic reaction and take a Claritin in hopes it will help.

8:30 AM - I get into the office. No luck so far on the itchiness. I can't stop scratching like a mofo.

10:30 AM - I ask my friend Jen who's been suffering from an allergic reaction if I can bum some Benadryl off of her. She reaches into her purse and pull out a prescription bottle and gives me what she calls "Benadryl on Steroids." Afraid, I take the little green pill from her and take it back to my desk.

10:43 AM - I look at the tiny pill -- etched into it are the numbers 3375. I put fear before itchiness and put the pill down.

11:17 AM - I can't take the scratching any more. I pop the pill and wash it down with some water.

11:47 AM - Exactly half an hour has passed. So far everything is ok. Itchiness is starting to subside. I feel a little drowsy, but nothing too bad. Maybe I'll have a cup of tea.

11:59 PM - Inhibitions are subsiding. I ask my new rep in accounting to tango as we pass in the hall. I learn his name is Francisco. Maybe tomorrow I'll come in as a tango dancer. I could buy a puffy shirt. I could make it work for me.

12:30 PM - I can't keep my eyes open. Holding up my head requires more effort than I can muster. When people walk up behind me, I merely tilt my head backwards in my chair to see them upside-down. It's easier than turning around.

12:52 PM - I tnhik Jen is trying to kill me. She's waiting until I pass out to take my kidney and leave in a bathtub full of ice with instructions to call 911. I can't faall aschleep or it's al ovr. I must make it through. I try and trun my atentsun to the memmmo I'm writtting. Why does it say "I'm a litel tea pot shrto and stout?"

2:02 PM - I can't muster up the energy to pull my copy of the Physician's Deskside Reference off the shelf, but I somehoe remeber my loig iun name and password. I look up "Hydroxyzine" and find the following passage:

"Hydroxyzine depresses activity in the central nervous system (brain and spinal cord), which causes relaxation and relief from anxiety. Therefore, hydroxyzine is used to treat anxiety disorders and tension in stressful situations--before surgery, for example.

Hydroxyzine may also increase the effects of other medicines, such as pain relievers and sedatives, so it is useful after surgery also.

Hydroxyzine is also an antihistamine. It blocks the effects of the naturally occurring chemical histamine in your body. This makes hydroxyzine useful for treating allergic conditions, especially those that involve the skin, such as hives, itching, and rashes."

I further learn that side effects include: "dizziness, drowsiness, sleepiness, or confusion." Great - like I don't have enough ""dizziness, drowsiness, sleepiness, or confusion" in my life on a good sday.

4:14 PM - I can feel the effects slowing down, but unfortunately the world is toooo. I see trails when I turn my head. Not too much movement. Effie is speaking too me, but herer voivec is slooooow and deeeeepppp.

5:55 PM - I return to my desk after a trip to the kitchen for some water. I have a missed call from HR. Something about the new rep in accounting...

7:07 PM - Just got out of a strategy session/brainstorm with my boss and three Managing Directors (outside of PR folks read as a level above Executive VP). Trying to remember English. I could speak once. I felt like a shell of myself and could see the meeting from outside. I'm paranoid. They think I'm on something. Did Sherry just say "oxycontin?" Why was she looking at me. Oh no, they're referencing an idea of mine, wait, why am I speaking? God don't let this inner-monologue go public. No wait, I'm talking about Merck, wait, about our program. Hurray. Does it make sense? Is it English? Is someone recording this?

7:43 PM - I make a quality based decision that the memo can/should/will wait until tomorrow. I also decided I may not live if I take the subway home, so I'm leaving in a cab. The effects are starting to wear off, but I'm still feeling mac-truck hit. I can't believe how this allergy pill has hit me -- and my friends wonder why I didn't do drug in college....