Valerian Root and Melatonin

I am a terrible insomniac. I always have been. When I get stressed out, it is not uncommon for me to go to sleep at 11 pm, only to wake up at 1 am and not fall back asleep until 4 am. This sometimes will go on for two or three days until I drop from exhaustion, which just increases my stress levels. The entire cycle has, in the past, lasted for month-long stretches.

In the past, I have tried medicating myself with alcohol in the form of two or three scotchs between 9 pm and my 11 pm bedtime. I know this is not healthy. I could probably get a script for Ambien or other prescription sleep aid, but, as they are narcotic, quite frankly, I am leery of them. Additionally, I am somewhat hesitant to use Tylenol PM, which is also potentially narcotic, though to a much lower degree.

For the past three weeks, because of stress loads at work, I have been taking melatonin and valerian root 1 hour before bedtime. I started this at the suggestion of a work friend. Ordinarily, I avoid herbal and vitamin supplements, especially those from a certain store whose name resembles an American car company. However, I needed something other than scotch to get me to sleep. Additionally, as the child of a surgeon, I am skeptical about non-FDA approved or AMA endorsed treatments. My b*llshit meter is set pretty high.

And This Is Progress HOW?

Just checked my RR, Yahoo, and Hotmail accounts for the first time in 3 days. I received over 50 useless messages from spammers and listservs and shopping sites. So really, what is the point?

Of course, my personal favorite is my Outlook box at work. The little pop-up fade-in, fade-out notifier. What a wonderful invention. One little window can raise stress so effectively and simply. Here is my experience with email. For companies, it enables them to charge advertisers or justify costs.

Board Member: Sure, we’re losing revenue, but I should get a substantial bonus because of the interest in the brand that has been growing. After all, just look at our email list. Not only that, but we can sell this to spammers. If we get caught, we’ll just change the privacy TOS because we reserved the right to do that without notification. Everyone wins.

For workers, it is, quite simply, the greatest backstab tool ever invented.

Supervisor: Hmmm. This project isn’t going well. I know. I’ll spend 30 seconds sending an email to an underling who is already overworked and unable to respond to all his emails anyway. Then, when the project goes south, I’ll have a paper trail that points at him, not me. He was planning on quitting anyway so it’s ok to throw him under the bus. Everyone wins.

Seriously, e-mail is useless. Get rid of it.

I Stand By My Earlier Assessment

On Saturday morning, while watching the soccer game match, I began to be more irate at the ineptitude of ABC’s commentary. I posted as such, but deleted the post because, on reflection, I thought it was nitpiking. Guess what? It wasn’t.

Rule No. 1: When calling a soccer game football match, try to get the star player’s name right. There is no Michael Beckham on the Great British team. There is not a movie out inspired by Michael Beckham’s banana kicks. Michael Beckham is not married to Victoria Posh. Got that, Marcelo?

Rule No. 2.: If you can’t get the star player’s name right, at least try not to confuse his name with one of literature’s greatest writers. David – or Michael should you please – Beckham is a soccer player. Samuel Beckett is dead, having been murdered in Deptford centuries ago.

Rule No. 3: Try not to f*ck up who is playing. England and Germany are both stellar teams squads. That does not give license licence to say that “Germany is on the attack!” when it is England playing. Imagine if that mistake had been made in the North African campaign.

Rule No. 4: If you cannot comply with the first three rules, pony up the dough to license licence the feed from the BBC. The Great British are much better at calling soccer games football matches than Americans Yanks.

In summation – David Beckham. Write it down. David Beckham. You claimed his face is recognizeable wherever he goes. His name should be too. David Beckham. Not Michael Beckham.

And “Bend It Like Beckham” came out years ago, you twats!

Judging Apple’s Sweatshop Charges

Steve Jobs’ Think Different campaign celebrated labor leaders like Gandhi, who used strikes as a form of civil protest, and Ceasar Chavez, who organized poor, migrant farm workers. But a British newspaper at the weekend published a rather shocking report about the factories in China that make his company’s iPods. Maybe Apple shouldn’t have teamed up with Nike.

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Who Is Michael Beckham

7 minutes into the match, ABC’s commentary by Al Michaels and his knucklehead sidekick have just proven why SAP is a great invention. After spending two minutes droning about Beckham’s marriage to Posh, and noting that there was a study of Beckham’s spin, and even that there is a movie inspired by Beckham, Michaels’ sidekick then proceeded to talk about how, after it’s all said and done, Michael Beckham is one of the greatest players. After about half a minute, he corrected himself.

Oh and thanks, Al. I love hearing you reading inane chatter about stats in a sport that you and your cohort clearly don’t know anything about. Can’t ABC just license (licence?) the BBC feed?

And soccer in hi-def – NICE!

edit: Jon O’Brian, not Al Michaels.

Liberal Bloggers Gather In Las Vegas

Hundreds of liberal (they’d say progressive) Internet bloggers crawled out of their cybertunnels for face-time and political networking here at the first-ever YearlyKos convention.

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Post-Drinking Post

As promised, the traditional Post-Drinking Post. I’m “sad in my heart.” A certain someone likes to talk big and complain that I occasionally frequently usually annoyingly refer to myself in the third-person with a nickname. That someone was AWOL last night. That makes Puddin’ sad in his heart. Further explanation below.

But first, a memo to myself:

Self,

When you get home, and you’re still drunk and overly proud of yourself for waking up at 7th Avenue, as opposed to Ditmas Avenue, after you’ve put on the jammies and brushed your teeth, drink two pints of water. Yes, it is quite a bit of water. But remember, you were drinking PBR. which is filled with all sorts of nastiness. Your liver and kidneys used water to get rid of that nastiness. Also, the alcohol is a diuretic. It made you pee. So you need to refill your water supply before you go to bed. And take a couple of Tylenol, just for good measure. Better to take the fresh ones in the medicine cabinet at home than the almost-stale ones at the office.

Signed, embee

Otherwise, a pleasant but uneventful night. The countdown begins. HP and AP are leaving at the end of next (?) month to open a branch HQ of CBNYC, Inc., in Nawlins. Mr. Morning was remarkably well-mannered and not-so loud. Either way, he’s good people.

Pre-Drinking Preview Post

I got the marching orders yesterday. Thanks to HP for giving plenty of heads-up. And because I don’t say it enough, thanks to HP for what should prove to be another great Cheap Beer Thursday.

In honor of a very special Cheap Beer Thursday – not the one where the bicycle shop owner touches Double R in his bathing suit area – in which we combine the best baseball this side of September with beer on a school night, tomorrow’s post-drinking post will have the box score. Hipster Union is branching out in whole new directions.

The betting pool is now open. How many minutes do Double R and Mr. Morning spend bickering over the game? And Double R, don’t be afraid to tell about the bad touch.

The Post Where I Drop A C-Bomb

I have a new hobby: collecting cease-and-desist orders from famous people. Next up – the Harpy Queen. No, I’m not setting my sights too high. This one goes out to Ann Coulter.

Dear Ann:

Let’s cut to the chase. You are now officially a fucking cunt. You god-damned hypocritical bitch. I’m not a Christian and ideas of an afterlife where poetic justice are doled out only interest me in passing. Nevertheless, as you are such a lovely Christian, I say congratulations. According to Dante, you’ll be spending an infinite number of days and nights in the eighth circle of Hell.

Hello Shiloh

Just running a little experiment on whether I will get sued.

All praise the Infangelina.