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After the previous post regarding MLK, I probably should leave the rest of the day post-less just out of respect. But my body is hurting bad, so I thought I should just write about how badly out of shape I am.
See, yogi, as his name suggests, does yoga every once in a while. I also play when the weather is good. Which means that I o pretty much nothing when the weather gets a little chilly. I mean, pushups and pullups, all 8 of them (twice a week), probably help me not turn into Jabba the Hutt, but they don't do very much else in terms of keeping me actually fit.
This last fact was brought painfully into focus at the first Ultimate Frisbee game of the year this last Friday. I mean, everybody was rusty, so the quality of play sucked anyway, but, wow, I was in BAD shape. Here's how I could tell, as always, in list form:
1. I had my hands on my knees and was dry heaving FIVE MINUTES into the game.
2. They made me defend the weakest person on the team (happened to be a first-timer), and I still got beat consistently. And handily.
3. I subbed out four times, three times of which I got the distinct impression I was being nudged out.
3a. I didn't mind. I took it gladly.
4. The last game was to 5. I pleaded for it to be a game to 3.
4a. I was overjoyed when we got our asses handed to us. 5-1.
5. I can't move today.
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
4 days of drinking, 1 frog leg, and 1 sixteen-hour throw up session
Ah... Yogi turns older by a year today.
Celebrations with multiple friends' circles = mucho alcohol and food + being surrounded by good friends. It's nice to know a bunch of people like you and care about you. It's a soft and mushy feeling even for a hardened cynic like me. I just couldn't do five days straight (plus I had to go in for a solid 9-hour day of work today).
Bet you thought the chundering had something to do with the drinking. Wrong. It had all to do with frog legs.
See, last weekend, I agreed to go to a play on a whim, and decided to meet the rest of the group at a bar. I was under the impression that the "friend from work" that my friends were bringing was a dude. In retrospect, I have no idea why I would have had that impression, because my friends certainly didn't tell me their friend from work was a dude.
Because the friend from work was one cute asian chick.
Unfortunately, they were late getting to the bar (may have something to with the fact that it was three women. Just saying, just saying...) by which time I had already run through three beers and was on my fourth. So by this time I was already feeling pretty good about myself, and the world was pink and rosy, and this woman suddenly seemed very very cute. So I'm thinking "Yogi, this is awesome. You should go make an impression" and so I open with this:
"HEEEYYY. Burp. How goooes iiiit... I'm yogi."
- " uh... hey (polite handshake). I'm Gina."
"Oh Gina? You mean like VAGINA? Hahahahaaa..."
This was a mistake on multiple counts:
1. This was the first time I was meeting Gina. You do not attempt to rhyme people's names with body parts when you meet them for the first time.
2. Her name is pronounced Jeena. Vagina of course, does not rhyme with Jeena.
3. This was the immediate death of any chance I had with Gina. Or Vagina. or Geena's Vagina.
Of course, I did not know this, and I interpreted the frozen mask of horror on our mutual friends as a look of pride (at my awesome ability to break the ice) and merriment (at my stellar sense of humor). Still, given Gina's sudden glum silence, I thought I should make another attempt at bonding. So when we sat down to eat and got our food, I looked around and saw that Ms Gina had gotten herself frog legs. The legs were deep fried in some sort of tempura and came arranged in a circle around a little bowl with some asian hot sauce. (It was one of those somewhat fancy restaurants where they think itsy bits of grub artistically arranged fills your belly). Feeling somewhat emasculated by my own choice of green salad with tofu and raspberry vinaigrette, I decided to take Gina up when she offered me some frog leg (while not making eye contact). I thought this was Asian demureness at the time, which I found quite alluring.
But anyway, I ate one. It must have been a big frog because it had a big-ass leg. I think it tasted like chicken, but more amphibious. Anyway, I washed it down with more beer, and didn't think any more of it; we had a play to go see, and we needed to hurry.
The play was uneventful and so was most of the pitstop afterward. We were midway through another round of beer and chips when I got a sudden spasm in my midriff. "Ah, well, yogi, you're getting old", I thought to myself, and I stretched a bit. No problemo. I downed a bunch of water and then we left for the night.
The second spasm hit when I was peeing at home. "Hm. Come now, yogi. Surely, you didn't drink THAT much, did you? You must be a little dehydrated, plus all that sitting through the play..." but still, I didn't think much of it and went to sleep.
Well, it turns out that I have a checkpoint in my gut, around where the stomach gives way to the small intestine. I call it Checkpoint Charlie, like in Berlin. It's sort of like immigration check. Unsavory characters get held up for a bit, and then if you're brown and have a beard, you're in for an extra check, lubed up baton and all. And then if you happen to have crummy papers, you're out. You and your belongings do a U-turn and head back to wherever you came from.
So around 2 am the frog legs got a thumbs-down from Checkpoint Charlie. Which is when they packed their bags and trudged back up. But see, by then they had already dispersed out a lot and were swimming in a sea of beer, and because Checkpoint Charlie sends out bad guys bit by bit, it makes for a long drawn out process. This was when I started feeling really bad, and I was pretty sure what was coming. The thing about the process is
a. Once the U-turn is made, there's no stopping it
b. The exodus is forceful
c. It is also extremely thorough
So I parked myself near the toilet and let it start. And it did start. It was good. It was spectacular, even. I think I should spare you the details, but I was done by the end of it, which was midway through the next morning. Done. I couldn't move, my head was killing me, my body was killing me, my abs were killing me, I had a fever, but surprisingly, the bottom half of my GI tract was absolutely fine. It was like the West Germans that were milling around in Berlin and had just not noticed a bunch of East Germans being given the finger.
So yeah, even though I lost a solid five pounds and my abs look sculpted, it was less than a pleasant way to start the birthday week. Anyway that's the story I thought I should tell you on this beautiful day. Makes the second half of the week feel even better. It also adds one item to the (short) list of things I think I should avoid in the future.
Happy Birthday, me.
Celebrations with multiple friends' circles = mucho alcohol and food + being surrounded by good friends. It's nice to know a bunch of people like you and care about you. It's a soft and mushy feeling even for a hardened cynic like me. I just couldn't do five days straight (plus I had to go in for a solid 9-hour day of work today).
Bet you thought the chundering had something to do with the drinking. Wrong. It had all to do with frog legs.
See, last weekend, I agreed to go to a play on a whim, and decided to meet the rest of the group at a bar. I was under the impression that the "friend from work" that my friends were bringing was a dude. In retrospect, I have no idea why I would have had that impression, because my friends certainly didn't tell me their friend from work was a dude.
Because the friend from work was one cute asian chick.
Unfortunately, they were late getting to the bar (may have something to with the fact that it was three women. Just saying, just saying...) by which time I had already run through three beers and was on my fourth. So by this time I was already feeling pretty good about myself, and the world was pink and rosy, and this woman suddenly seemed very very cute. So I'm thinking "Yogi, this is awesome. You should go make an impression" and so I open with this:
"HEEEYYY. Burp. How goooes iiiit... I'm yogi."
- " uh... hey (polite handshake). I'm Gina."
"Oh Gina? You mean like VAGINA? Hahahahaaa..."
This was a mistake on multiple counts:
1. This was the first time I was meeting Gina. You do not attempt to rhyme people's names with body parts when you meet them for the first time.
2. Her name is pronounced Jeena. Vagina of course, does not rhyme with Jeena.
3. This was the immediate death of any chance I had with Gina. Or Vagina. or Geena's Vagina.
Of course, I did not know this, and I interpreted the frozen mask of horror on our mutual friends as a look of pride (at my awesome ability to break the ice) and merriment (at my stellar sense of humor). Still, given Gina's sudden glum silence, I thought I should make another attempt at bonding. So when we sat down to eat and got our food, I looked around and saw that Ms Gina had gotten herself frog legs. The legs were deep fried in some sort of tempura and came arranged in a circle around a little bowl with some asian hot sauce. (It was one of those somewhat fancy restaurants where they think itsy bits of grub artistically arranged fills your belly). Feeling somewhat emasculated by my own choice of green salad with tofu and raspberry vinaigrette, I decided to take Gina up when she offered me some frog leg (while not making eye contact). I thought this was Asian demureness at the time, which I found quite alluring.
But anyway, I ate one. It must have been a big frog because it had a big-ass leg. I think it tasted like chicken, but more amphibious. Anyway, I washed it down with more beer, and didn't think any more of it; we had a play to go see, and we needed to hurry.
The play was uneventful and so was most of the pitstop afterward. We were midway through another round of beer and chips when I got a sudden spasm in my midriff. "Ah, well, yogi, you're getting old", I thought to myself, and I stretched a bit. No problemo. I downed a bunch of water and then we left for the night.
The second spasm hit when I was peeing at home. "Hm. Come now, yogi. Surely, you didn't drink THAT much, did you? You must be a little dehydrated, plus all that sitting through the play..." but still, I didn't think much of it and went to sleep.
Well, it turns out that I have a checkpoint in my gut, around where the stomach gives way to the small intestine. I call it Checkpoint Charlie, like in Berlin. It's sort of like immigration check. Unsavory characters get held up for a bit, and then if you're brown and have a beard, you're in for an extra check, lubed up baton and all. And then if you happen to have crummy papers, you're out. You and your belongings do a U-turn and head back to wherever you came from.
So around 2 am the frog legs got a thumbs-down from Checkpoint Charlie. Which is when they packed their bags and trudged back up. But see, by then they had already dispersed out a lot and were swimming in a sea of beer, and because Checkpoint Charlie sends out bad guys bit by bit, it makes for a long drawn out process. This was when I started feeling really bad, and I was pretty sure what was coming. The thing about the process is
a. Once the U-turn is made, there's no stopping it
b. The exodus is forceful
c. It is also extremely thorough
So I parked myself near the toilet and let it start. And it did start. It was good. It was spectacular, even. I think I should spare you the details, but I was done by the end of it, which was midway through the next morning. Done. I couldn't move, my head was killing me, my body was killing me, my abs were killing me, I had a fever, but surprisingly, the bottom half of my GI tract was absolutely fine. It was like the West Germans that were milling around in Berlin and had just not noticed a bunch of East Germans being given the finger.
So yeah, even though I lost a solid five pounds and my abs look sculpted, it was less than a pleasant way to start the birthday week. Anyway that's the story I thought I should tell you on this beautiful day. Makes the second half of the week feel even better. It also adds one item to the (short) list of things I think I should avoid in the future.
Happy Birthday, me.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Groundwater Tables in India - a dire situation indeed
Did you read about this? The ground water is falling DRAMATICALLY in India. I mean, I knew that India's water resources are under some serious strain, but FIFTY FOUR CUBIC KILOMETERS LOST EVERY YEAR?????? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????
You can read Richard Kerr's article about it here ; the Original article is by VM Tiwari et. al., but I can't link to it right now. It includes some very cool satellite imaging that records very small localized changes in Earths gravity, and uses it to track water content at or below the surface.
Here is the money chart.
Green is OK; means the water tables are more or less stable. Not bad for most of central India and some of the west (which gets poured on every monsoon season). The blues indicate some trouble; unsurprisingly, Tamil Nadu in the south east is shaded blue; the state is always just that bit short on water (the North east monsoons yield less that far south; Bangladesh gets dumped on during that cycle).
But you see that GIANT swathe of dark blues, purples, and hot pinks?
Yeah, those people are FUCKED.
When you have 600 million or so people living in the plains of the Ganges and drawing on groundwater for irrigation to feed themselves, you're bound to run into problems. But 10 or more centimeters a year????
Oh Jeez. Oh Jeez. This is not going to end well.
Update: Reader Pzau points out that the states currently worst-hit by drought are in Central India, and therefore should be darker pink. Not quite. This graph shows you the rate of water table decline, which is independent of the current water table levels in any particular area. In fact, it is quite likely that areas that are already arid would have a small drop (if any) in the water table because the levels are already so low, they can't go any lower, either because the aquifiers have dried up, or because the satellite can no longer pick up changes in signals.
You can read Richard Kerr's article about it here ; the Original article is by VM Tiwari et. al., but I can't link to it right now. It includes some very cool satellite imaging that records very small localized changes in Earths gravity, and uses it to track water content at or below the surface.
Here is the money chart.
Green is OK; means the water tables are more or less stable. Not bad for most of central India and some of the west (which gets poured on every monsoon season). The blues indicate some trouble; unsurprisingly, Tamil Nadu in the south east is shaded blue; the state is always just that bit short on water (the North east monsoons yield less that far south; Bangladesh gets dumped on during that cycle).
But you see that GIANT swathe of dark blues, purples, and hot pinks?
Yeah, those people are FUCKED.
When you have 600 million or so people living in the plains of the Ganges and drawing on groundwater for irrigation to feed themselves, you're bound to run into problems. But 10 or more centimeters a year????
Oh Jeez. Oh Jeez. This is not going to end well.
Update: Reader Pzau points out that the states currently worst-hit by drought are in Central India, and therefore should be darker pink. Not quite. This graph shows you the rate of water table decline, which is independent of the current water table levels in any particular area. In fact, it is quite likely that areas that are already arid would have a small drop (if any) in the water table because the levels are already so low, they can't go any lower, either because the aquifiers have dried up, or because the satellite can no longer pick up changes in signals.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Great new weight loss plan!!!
Here's my 5-step plan that I plan to patent:
1. Get a bad upper-respiratory tract infection.
2. Suffer for about a week. The sneezing, hacking and coughing will tone your abs.
3. Go on a 5-day course of Azythromycin.
4. Your bowels will turn to mush. You will get the shits so bad that you will be spewing contents of your esophagus down, about 4 times a day.
5. Weigh yourself to see the slimmer, healthier and lighter you!!!
It's quite simple, really.
Of course, there is an Optional Deluxe package of Indian parents showing up at your house on that same week. In this case, you will also experience:
6. Home-made super spicy traditional Indian food (known to turn bowels to mush even in healthy individuals).
7. Deceptively counter-intuitive ribbing from mother regarding appearance of the smallest of convexities around the midriff (Hey yogi -poke, poke, poke at belly flab- you've put on weight with all this American food)
8. Constant badgering of Indian mom about getting married (known to turn Indian and Jewish bowels to mush).
9. Daily dose of "advice" from Indian parents. This will involve the point-by-point dissection of various character flaws in exquisite detail every morning. And afternoon. And evening. Of course, all for my own good.
And the Ultra-deluxe package, which will shave off another 10 pounds, guaranteed:
10. Long weekend camping with extended Indian family in the middle of nowhere, none of whom have camped before.
I'm done.
1. Get a bad upper-respiratory tract infection.
2. Suffer for about a week. The sneezing, hacking and coughing will tone your abs.
3. Go on a 5-day course of Azythromycin.
4. Your bowels will turn to mush. You will get the shits so bad that you will be spewing contents of your esophagus down, about 4 times a day.
5. Weigh yourself to see the slimmer, healthier and lighter you!!!
It's quite simple, really.
Of course, there is an Optional Deluxe package of Indian parents showing up at your house on that same week. In this case, you will also experience:
6. Home-made super spicy traditional Indian food (known to turn bowels to mush even in healthy individuals).
7. Deceptively counter-intuitive ribbing from mother regarding appearance of the smallest of convexities around the midriff (Hey yogi -poke, poke, poke at belly flab- you've put on weight with all this American food)
8. Constant badgering of Indian mom about getting married (known to turn Indian and Jewish bowels to mush).
9. Daily dose of "advice" from Indian parents. This will involve the point-by-point dissection of various character flaws in exquisite detail every morning. And afternoon. And evening. Of course, all for my own good.
And the Ultra-deluxe package, which will shave off another 10 pounds, guaranteed:
10. Long weekend camping with extended Indian family in the middle of nowhere, none of whom have camped before.
I'm done.
Monday, August 3, 2009
sickness + parents = hectic weekend
Man, this whole sickness thing is beginning to piss me off a lot. I have the ears of a three ear old, so I have tinnitus, I have waxy ears, my ears hurt on flights, and yep, I get ear infections like I'm in day school for the first time every month.
And pushupmom&dad are in town too this week. Which means a lot of going around town with them. Fortunately they're all independent, so I don't have to do a bunch of chaperoning, but still, you know how it is, you've got to be on your best behavior, you've got to pretend you've always wanted to go to that museum...
Most importantly, you have to remember to clear your internet history. Pushupmom&dad and I might be best buddies, but, you know.
On the other hand, this is a great time to have your eustachian tubes all blocked up so you can't hear your mum harangue you about why you aren't married yet, as she feeds you some super delicious food.
And pushupmom&dad are in town too this week. Which means a lot of going around town with them. Fortunately they're all independent, so I don't have to do a bunch of chaperoning, but still, you know how it is, you've got to be on your best behavior, you've got to pretend you've always wanted to go to that museum...
Most importantly, you have to remember to clear your internet history. Pushupmom&dad and I might be best buddies, but, you know.
On the other hand, this is a great time to have your eustachian tubes all blocked up so you can't hear your mum harangue you about why you aren't married yet, as she feeds you some super delicious food.
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