Today is my wife's birthday. It comes just a day after mine, so all day yesterday, I was only 3 years younger than her. Here are the Top 10 reasons I love my wife:
1. She is very creative, and I appear much more interesting by merely copying her, rather than thinking of my own thing to do. Which is why I'm doing a top 10 list. (Who knows if I would have thought of it on my own. She did have a day head start!)
2. She is very smart, and knows many arcane things like when my sister's boyfriend birthday is. She's like having a Blackberry, without the sore thumbs.
3. We didn't meet at a bar. We met just outside a bar, and she was totally drunk. Therefore, I can still keep my belief that no long term relationship can ever start inside a bar.
4. She loves dogs.
5. She has this amazing character trait which I've tried to absorb: she just does stuff. I'm notorious for stopping and analyzing and thinking and planning, and she just does it. Of course, that means that sometimes we aren't that prepared (and I have to make a quick trip to Home Depot) but most times, I'd still be thinking if I was in charge.
6. She's a great artist (fibre and otherwise) and has a great eye for color. (Yes, I admit the green you chose for the Living room wall was perfect!)
7. She loves UFC and horror movies. And she likes watching me play video games. And she watches poker with me. I know guys that would kill for their wives to be like this. Actually, when it comes to horror movies, she has a much stronger stomach than I do. I've become more fearful in my old age, sort of like Max (the dog).
8. She's a fantastic mom. Her attitude is if you don't get upset by it, you kid won't. If he falls off his bike, calmly walk over and say, "You're a tough guy for not crying." If you panic, run at him, and scream, "Are you okay?!?" the kid is going to burst into tears (mainly because your reaction scared the sh*t out of him).
9. She gives great head rubs.
10. I knew she was the one the day I met her. So I guess I love her for saying yes, and avoiding the years of stalking I'd have to do. (Just kidding ... that's creepy.)
using science for good
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Hospital - Part IV - Celebrity
Two of my room mates were celebrities. And by celebrity, I mean they appeared on local news.
The first, Don, was a city road worker who's crew was hit by a car on the Deerfoot. One guy was severely injured, the other was fine, and Don was in the middle with a bad broken leg. The doctor also figured he had a concussion, because, as the nurse politely put it, Don was "confused sometimes".
Don was retiring to the Philippines in May with his Filipino wife, which he commonly called "Mongoloid". They had sold all their furniture, and had shipped most of their possessions to her parents in the Philippines.
Don's the kind of guy who steers every discussion towards things that anger him (his stupid co-workers, Calgary drivers, his lawyer). The only passion in his life is his anger, which he probably uses to get out of bed in the morning. I was glad when he finally hobbled out of the hospital, because it was only a matter of time before he shanked a nurse.
The second is Bobby, a 20-year-old kid who was thrown 30 feet after his street racing buddy crashed his imported Toyota Aristo. Bobby wasn't wearing his seat belt, and is incredibly lucky that 1) his window was open, and 2) his buddy hit the telephone poll on the right side of his car. This allowed Bobby to be "thrown-clear" without having to open the windshield with his face. His biggest complaint was the patch of his hair the doctor cut off to stitch up a cut on his scalp. I swear, young people have Wolverine-like healing.
Bobby had a never ending stream of visitors: parents, sisters, girlfriend(s), other members of his church, etc. A couple of times, they closed the curtain and prayed for about 15 minutes. I swear, every single adult asked, "Have you learned your lessen?" and every teenager said, "Man, you should be dead." He would always laugh at the last one, and say, "I know, man, I know."
The first, Don, was a city road worker who's crew was hit by a car on the Deerfoot. One guy was severely injured, the other was fine, and Don was in the middle with a bad broken leg. The doctor also figured he had a concussion, because, as the nurse politely put it, Don was "confused sometimes".
Don was retiring to the Philippines in May with his Filipino wife, which he commonly called "Mongoloid". They had sold all their furniture, and had shipped most of their possessions to her parents in the Philippines.
Don's the kind of guy who steers every discussion towards things that anger him (his stupid co-workers, Calgary drivers, his lawyer). The only passion in his life is his anger, which he probably uses to get out of bed in the morning. I was glad when he finally hobbled out of the hospital, because it was only a matter of time before he shanked a nurse.
The second is Bobby, a 20-year-old kid who was thrown 30 feet after his street racing buddy crashed his imported Toyota Aristo. Bobby wasn't wearing his seat belt, and is incredibly lucky that 1) his window was open, and 2) his buddy hit the telephone poll on the right side of his car. This allowed Bobby to be "thrown-clear" without having to open the windshield with his face. His biggest complaint was the patch of his hair the doctor cut off to stitch up a cut on his scalp. I swear, young people have Wolverine-like healing.
Bobby had a never ending stream of visitors: parents, sisters, girlfriend(s), other members of his church, etc. A couple of times, they closed the curtain and prayed for about 15 minutes. I swear, every single adult asked, "Have you learned your lessen?" and every teenager said, "Man, you should be dead." He would always laugh at the last one, and say, "I know, man, I know."
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Hospital - Part III - No Smoking
The best part about the hospital is the crazy neighbors. And the morphine ... hahaha. Actually, by the time I go home, I'm so sick of narcotics, I don't want to look at a Tylenol for months.
When I first got to the hospital, before my surgery, I had a big Scottish bear of a man in the bed next to me. He had a red puffy face, and his hair was falling out, so I assume he was receiving Chemo for cancer. One night, several friends came to visit him and his wife told this story.
Friend: "So is the redness on your neck from the Chemo also?"
Wife: "Oh, has Harold not told you the story? When Harold was 21, he and two friends went to a campground in Saskatchewan by a lake. Harold had to go to the bathroom, so he went into a port-a-potty and closed the door. As he sat down on the toilet, he lit up a cigarette, and the whole port-a-potty burst into flames. His pants and shirt were on fire. He burned his arm because he had to open the burning door. He ran out of the port-a-potty, up the path, over a railing, right into the lake. His friends drove him to the nearest hospital, 1 mile away, in 5 minutes."
Friend: "So what caused the fire?"
Wife: "Afterward, Harold found out that some lady had dumped kerosene into the chemical toilet, and the port-a-potty had filled with highly flammable gas."
When I first got to the hospital, before my surgery, I had a big Scottish bear of a man in the bed next to me. He had a red puffy face, and his hair was falling out, so I assume he was receiving Chemo for cancer. One night, several friends came to visit him and his wife told this story.
Friend: "So is the redness on your neck from the Chemo also?"
Wife: "Oh, has Harold not told you the story? When Harold was 21, he and two friends went to a campground in Saskatchewan by a lake. Harold had to go to the bathroom, so he went into a port-a-potty and closed the door. As he sat down on the toilet, he lit up a cigarette, and the whole port-a-potty burst into flames. His pants and shirt were on fire. He burned his arm because he had to open the burning door. He ran out of the port-a-potty, up the path, over a railing, right into the lake. His friends drove him to the nearest hospital, 1 mile away, in 5 minutes."
Friend: "So what caused the fire?"
Wife: "Afterward, Harold found out that some lady had dumped kerosene into the chemical toilet, and the port-a-potty had filled with highly flammable gas."
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