Finally!

As of late last week, I have reserved a new car and it will be ready by the end of August, around the time that I move into my new apartment. Two big events in one busy week. And to think that there were doubters that either event would ever occur.

In The Heat Of The Night

I haven't slept well at all this week. I think the problems are stemming from the outrageously hot temperatures we've been experiencing here. When your overnight low temperatures are 90 degrees, things can get a little uncomfortable at night. Usually the heat doesn't bother me too much, but for some reason I've just had problems falling asleep the past few evenings. My other problem is that I've been waking up at 4:30 in the morning several mornings with a sudden feeling of paranoia that I've overslept my alarms. My mind seems uneasy when I sleep as I'm constantly agitated from worry over my current affairs in a half-awake/half-dream stupor. I don't know why. Maybe my body is telling me that things are moving too fast. Or maybe it's the heat. Let's put the blame on mame.

The Great Fuel Experiment

With the recent increases in gas prices and with the dog days of summer causing everyone to blast the A/C, scientists and researchers having been telling us how to properly operate our vehicles to maximize fuel efficiency. The most popular recommendations to improve your vehicle’s fuel economy can be summed up in the following:

1) Reduced driving speed – cars are their most efficient at 55 mph, with anything faster succumbing to a ridiculously steep drag curve.

2) Proper tire pressure – cars with flat tires require more power to achieve top speeds.

3) Clean air filter – if clogged the engine must exert more power to create the proper suction through the filter.

4) Minimized accelerations – cars only need maybe 2-cylinders to provide enough horsepower for cruising speed, leaving the remaining cylinders for acceleration. More acceleration means more pistons firing and more gas consumed.

Yesterday I embarked on a mission to test these methods to estimate the potential cost savings associated with “smart driving”. I am determined to put each of these practices into use to demonstrate how one can easily save money with no increased hassle. My goal for this week has been to reduce my cruising speed from 70 mph to 60 mph, while being mindful of all accelerations. Over the weekend, I had my car serviced so my tires and air filter should be operating at their desired levels to achieve a higher fuel economy. I filled up my gas tank yesterday morning before the test began to give me a clean slate.

In a single day, I will drive 70-90 miles roundtrip to/from work. Almost all of that is highway driving, which will give me the best results of this experiment since city driving reduces your efficiency to begin with (from excessive idling and accelerations). After driving the same route to work each day, I have a good understanding of my car’s fuel performance and through this experiment I will be documenting and comparing and differences in my mileage or MPG to estimate any potential cost-savings.

So far, I have noticed what looks like an evident improvement in fuel economy; however, even after 200 miles, it is still too early to tell (since my car gets fair gas mileage to begin with). Some other benefits so far from experimentation include less brake strain (not having to brake as hard or as long to reduce speeds) and a more comfortable, less-rushed drive, resulting from less accelerations/decelerations.

The potential hassles to driving at such a reduced speed include increased driving time and possible conflicts with faster drivers. From my early estimations, the time difference between these two velocities from work to home is somewhere around 2 minutes. More data pending, this potential hassle might create the same setback one might encounter from a little extra traffic, and may not be all that significant. My greater concern has been the X-factor of other drivers who may or may not take kindly to slower drivers: the kind that will tailgate the hell out of you on the one-lane highways. It is definitely interesting to be on the other side of things – being on the slower side of things – but thankfully, I haven’t encountered many impatient drivers yet.

I have been thinking of doing this sort of thing for a while now, since I keep reading about the ways to improve fuel efficiency. The timing was perfect, so I embarked on this little quest, which I hope to learn something about my driving habits and also hope to take away something that I can share with everyone concerning the potential cost-savings available at the pump. So wish me luck as I head on out!

The Nuclear Rat Syndrome

Recently I watched two films classified as thrillers: Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” and “The China Syndrome”, which deals with the threat of a nuclear power plant meltdown (like Three-Mile Island for you history buffs). While I found both somewhat suspenseful in their own way, I wasn’t fully engaged in either movie enough to receive the full thrilling effect. However, it is now apparent to me the impact both films have impressed upon my mind.

Shortly after finishing “The China Syndrome” last night, I heard a loud low rumbling coming from outside. Now when you just finish watching a movie about a nuclear reactor that almost explodes twice and whose potential effects could wipe out an area the size of Pennsylvania, your head perks up a bit when you hear a loud rumble outside. I disregarded the noise at first since it couldn’t be thunder after such a nice looking day on the drive home. It was probably a jet flying by (which I witnessed from my office a couple weeks ago) or some truck from the street.

But there it was again: the low rumble from outside. My better instincts told me not to worry about it, but feeling antsy from the movie I had to step outside to investigate further, only to discover that indeed a thunderstorm was rapidly approaching. I quickly exonerated the fears impressed upon me from the film and went back to my room. Sometimes fiction does have a strong impact on our perceived reality.

This point was stressed more today at work as I was starting up again after my lunch break. Suddenly I start to hear little scurrying above me on top of the ceiling tiles. After listening for a couple seconds, I confirm that there is some rodent above my office scratching around. At first, I try to ignore the rat (presumably) and attempt to continue with my current tasks. However, the noise from above starts to get louder and with each little scurry my tensions rise. Recalling the recently watched film “The Birds” didn’t help either as the scratching became more pronounced. Just like in the movie, the rat started to go crazy, from my best estimates, and I could hear it frantically scratching at the styrofoam ceiling tile. I look around my office to confirm that I have no food around or anything that might possibly attract the rodent into coming in the office.

The only reason the birds ever tried to force their way into peoples homes in the movie was to kill them, so maybe the same circumstances were happening here with this rat. By now, I have completely stopped what I’ve been doing and am staring up at the ceiling, planning out my course of action for when the rat enters my office. Do I hit it with one of my big textbooks? Do I try to capture it? Do I force it out of the office? Options are running through my mind as the rat scurries to another tile and continues scratch.

The rat continues to move across the ceiling and eventually stops on one of the air vents leading into the room. I could almost imagine the rat prodding every possible entry point and method for its attack, much like the Velociraptors in “Jurassic Park”. Then, as soon as it had arrived, it scampered off along something metallic, leaving only the sound of my heart beating in my ears. I wait for another minute to confirm that the rodent has actually left and then slowly return to work. The whole incident reminds me of the bee invasion I had at school one night.

Maybe my imagination pronounces these fears more and exaggerates the suspense involved. Maybe this is a sign that I’m watching too many movies and need a break from fictional-reality. Or maybe my mind prefers a slightly traumatic state, which would explain my suspensefully tense dreams. Whatever the reasoning behind it, I took two simple things from nature and blew them out of proportion with the aid of a few films. Fear is truly a compelling emotion.

Red In The Face

It’s Saturday evening and we’re standing outside a small, pinkish building in Hollywood directly across the street from Paramount Studios. Jessica’s roommate Natalie had managed to get us on the list for some club as part of her friend’s birthday. I’m standing there wearing one of Blake’s shirts after an intervention was held earlier where I was told just how uncool my own clothes were. Fortunately, my “crappy” shoes don’t enter the picture as the bouncer informs us that our names are in fact not on any such list.

Immediately, Natalie calls her friend, who is running late, and hands the phone over to the bouncer, who then hands the phone over to the manager. The circumstances soon begin to unravel: a list of names had been emailed in …… the reservations had been made under a different name …… no list of names was present at the door …… seating had been paid for …… etc. The party entourage soon arrives and shortly thereafter, they work out the problem so that admittance is granted.

From the inside, the club appears much smaller than from the outside and soon it quickly fills up to max capacity. Talking becomes near impossible with music blaring over the speakers and dancing space is very limited, but the potential for fun is apparent. As the night progresses I soon discover what the main draw of the club is to its clientele. No, it isn’t cheap drinks; no it isn’t “hot, fresh beats”; no it’s not the celebs (despite the occasional presence of some from my understanding). No, the main draw of the club is the nightly burlesque show they put on with two dancers and a small instrumental trio.

So around 11:30, we are treated to the first of two burlesque shows, complete with girls shaking tasseled bras and hanging from bars hung from the ceiling as the band plays the Peter Gunn and Hawaii 5-O themes. It’s entertaining to watch the interaction between the dancers and the band, and the dancers with the audience. The flexibility of these girls is amazing, or as one guy next to me put it, “White girls aren’t supposed to shake their ass like that.”

Shortly after the show ends, the club music begins blasting again and for whatever reason I give Jess a hug. As I bring my head back, I notice something red smeared across her cheek and immediately my hand goes up to my nose. Leave it to me to get a bloody nose right after a burlesque show in a Los Angeles nightclub. My timing, as always, is impeccable. In a matter of seconds, the manager is over asking if everything is all right and if I need anything. Worried at first that a fight had broken out in his club he soon realizes that things are under control and shortly returns with a towel. Towel, blood and nose in hand, I’m ushered out the backdoor. The bleeding stops shortly after exiting the club as another, wet towel is handed to me.

I can just imagine what I look like standing outside of a club with my hands covered in blood. Fortunately, the blood didn’t get on Blake’s shirt that I was wearing; however, two drops of blood did manage to land on my jeans and one hit the tip of my shoe. I throw the towels away once finished and make a trip to the bathroom to wash my hands. The rest of the night passes without any further mishap, even after the second burlesque show at 1am. No more blood is shed and the only thing damaged is my ego. You could say that my little incident had temporarily left me a little red in the face. And in the hands.

You Know You're In The Oil Industry When ...

... a phone rings in a restaurant and the entire room stops to check their phone. Literally 15 heads all looked down at the same time as people groped for their phones at the sound of a single ring.

I'm off to LA tonight for the weekend, so in my absence I've found an article for people to refer to in order to maximize their internet capabilities. Enjoy the weekend everybody!

Overlooked

“Chris, come here I have something for you.”

Our financial guy beckoned me into his office this morning. At first I panicked that I had made some serious financial error that was coming back to haunt me. Late last week I got a call in my office from a finance lead telling me that I had been coding my time to the wrong team for the past 6-months and that they were just now getting around to solving the problem.

Great, I made another mistake with this stupid program. It’s not enough to label the hours we work every week, but we also have to document all the activities associated with those times so they can track where their money is being spent. A great concept that’s just tiresome to manage. Half the time I don’t even know what to bill my time to, but as long as I keep receiving paychecks it’s all good.

So what did I do this time? I enter the office expecting the worst.

“You got overlooked when they were handing out the CORs (Certificates of Recognition) for that weekend project you helped on.”

Overlooked? I understand that I was on a plane to Iowa when the event took place, but I was the one that orchestrated all the planning and scheduling for it, which was no simple task. I didn’t even volunteer for this job; rather it was forced on to me and I had to cram it in right before my Europe trip on top of the other projects I was trying to complete.

Two weeks ago they handed out CORs to all the office staff for their hard work on the project, but I didn’t get one. I didn’t complain because like I said I wasn’t there so maybe I missed out on something special. I just shrugged it off and went back to work, but I knew that I was left out. Overlooked indeed.

But before I could feel jaded, the guy went on.

“It comes with a $50 gift certificate at Tahoe Joe’s for you to use.”

Free steak dinner? Well, I suppose all is forgiven. It’s not like the project was that difficult. And really, who am I to judge other people. Now to get me some meat!

Whizzin'

Recently the fluorescent lights in the bathroom here at work have been struggling to completely illuminate once the light switch has been thrown. So half of the time when you're going to the bathroom it feels like you're in line for the Space Mountain ride after having too many pineapple smoothies. I don't know why that analogy pops into my head, but there is just a faint glow in the darkness as you close the door so the whole room has that blacklight aura. And for some reason I feel a little uncomfortable peeing into a urinal in the dark. Maybe it's the fact that I hear the same sound whether I'm actually hitting the urinal or the wall next to the urinal.

Bend It Like Jefferson

bend·er n.
1. One that bends.
2. Slang. A spree, especially a drinking spree.

Officially, this past week was Jessica’s last week in Bakersfield before starting work in LA, so what started as a plan to celebrate her leaving in conjunction with our traditional 4th of July party slowly began to spiral out into a week long party. The next thing I knew I was going down to LA on a Wednesday night for a concert, bar hopping in B-town the next night, helping move Jessica to Pasadena, participating in a Texas Hold’em tournament, and celebrating Independence Day two days in a row, all the while drinking at every possible moment. It seriously became a weeklong bender to end all benders. By the end of all the festivities, I feel willing to swear off alcohol for a month.

This is somewhat reminiscent of the movie “Remember Last Night?” where several socialites go on a huge bender only to swear off alcohol forever in the end. The only difference here is that in the movie, someone is murdered at the party and in their drunken stupor no one can remember what happened. Maybe it’s more like “Mr. Deeds Goes To Town” where the socialite promises Gary Cooper the greatest bender possible, minus the whole trying to feed donuts to a horse thingy. Then again, there’s Charlie Chaplin’s “City Lights” that has the socialite who recognizes the Tramp as his friend while on his rampant benders only to forget him once sober. Well, despite a rich history of films involving benders, none quite captures the exact nature of the week.

However, things weren’t all just parties and drinks. I also managed to play golf, see “Wordplay” in theaters (with a brief cameo made by the director), and finally get to eat at the infamous Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles (delicious). While I am somewhat glad the bender is over with (so that I can catch-up on my sleep and start losing that party weight I put on) I’m not quite ready for the aftermath; people returning home to their apartments, work starting up again, 5am wake-up calls, etc. But at least it’s a short week and the weekend will be here before I know it for some more R&R time.

At least that’s the plan.