Here we go:

1. These days, everything causes the cancer. Staring at Tom Selleck for too long can cause the cancer.  But fear not caffeinators, our lab-coated brethren have found that caffeinated-beverage drinkers are at a lesser risk of catching the cancer known as Glioma (it’s the kind that doodoos on your brain) than non-caffeine drinkers (aka boring people.) In the study conducted by some guy named Giovannucci and his friends, consumption of five or more cups of coffee or tea daily was associated with a decrease risk of Glioma. So, it’s kind of like a cure, right?

2. Having the choice of drinking coffee or energy drinks for your caffeine intake is like having a liquid mullet hairstyle. You can party like a rock star with a Rockstar or take it black for the grown-man/woman act.

3. When your heart starts jumping like a jitterbugging swinger after sipping on your morning sizzurp, that’s only because you’re realizing how much of a fool you are for paying $5 for a cup of joe at StarFu&ks. You’re not having heart murmurs… OR maybe you are, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. But research does show that individuals drinking four or more cups of coffee a day have 18% less risk of hospitalization due to heart rhythm disturbances. [disclaimer: while it is unlikely that moderate caffeine intake increases arrhythmia risks, people around you don't really appreciate the reek of your 5 cups of coffee breath. I'm just sayin']

4. Guys, listen up! High caffeine consumption through coffee and/or tea does not affect sperm count. High soda/cola consumption, on the other hand, does. Read it here if you feel like throwing your Dr. Pepper at the monitor.

5. Soon we can all whiff it and whiff it good my friends! No more annoying barristas with their cool sleeve tattoos and emo hair to contend with in order to pass through the gates of caffeine heaven. Thanks to Harvard professor David Edwards, we can now add to our fake cigarette collection a non-spilling, pocket-warmed, no-whipped-cream-mustache-giving, and customizable (OMG, the pink one is totally awesome) caffeine inhaler. Aaah, the smell of kicking coffee beans in the morning!

* Shout out to Energyfiend.com for showing me the light.

But really though… this time around it was actually fun watching the Olympics, because I got to yell at the screen on behalf of the skiers… Whoever was saying they weren’t looking too good should ski uphill for two hours themselves.

Now if they can only quit jumping events and show one at a time instead of 50 within 5 minutes.

First up in news that’s not really news -

Surprisingly still a headline: Pope… blah blah… sex abuse… blah blah…

Are we still dancing the same Dosey Doe folks? I condemn you all!

Next in the “I saw this coming a mile away” news -

E-mail scams exploiting Haiti earthquake generosity

Mr. Gutsche, you devil, you!  Kanye will have to make another cameo on the next “Heal the World” remix to ask people to donate money for the “stop exploiting Haiti” effort. It will appear on the Heal the World Greatest Hits album.

Then we have the “DUH!!” series -

Men ‘need better-fitting condoms’

So, who were the Einsteins that conducted the research and how many dumbasses participated in it?

And…

We are one public statement away from making another public statement about Iran.

That one was on a more serious note, but worthy of a “DUH!” nonetheless.

And lastly, this story is really a shocking testament to the present state of journalism.

The difference between Canadians and Americans

Time to put the coffee down and verse.

Now, if you don’t know anything about this neighborhood, it’s pretty much as if all the images in a Home & Garden magazine came to life. You know those pictures… it’ll be like of an expensive looking, gigantic ass wooden driveway gate that looks like they cut down a section of the Amazon’s forests for?  Yeah, they have those in Floral Park, except they’ve been banged up with rusty chain cables by some inmate somewhere in BFE to make it look “distressed” and therefore, expensive. So FP is filled with wide, tree-lined streets, blooming flowers in colorful gardens, bay windows that display your whole annual salary’s worth of trinkets (oh, and the necessary USC Trojans flag by the front door to go with the DB USC Alumni license plate frame on the Lexus)… the whole shebang. I came to know this high-class dwelling place when someone I knew I think got lost and instead of taking his huaraches back to his casa, ended up calling this place “home.” Luckily, it was only for a minute because I think the neighbors were not too happy that his being there brought down the value of their English Tudors. I could tell when we started getting side-eye action whenever we parked on the street with our Juan Pollo dinner.

So, in keeping with their Home & Garden Magazine aspirations, FP is holding an annual home and garden tour this April for $30 a pop. The tour said to hopefully open visitors’ eyes to the well preserved “sense of community and tradition” among its residents. My only problem is this — what Arellano talks about in his blog happens only too often in places like FP, which is ironically an enclave community amid a city that is composed of 79.6% Hispanic and Latin American.  The exclusivity that events like the H&G tour perpetuates is insidious and truly shameful. I mean, who do you think is going to this event? Who can afford to? I sure don’t wanna cough up $30 just to see a proverbial wooden gate slam in my face. On top of that, cops are only too eager to track you down if you are anywhere near the shade of brown, even if you live in FP, like in the case of Arellano’s friend. All this only serves to remind me that things aren’t all that pretty in Floral Park.

I heard this song today by Justin Timberlake. (PAUSE. Reflect… Compose and blame this atrocity on the fact that the cd player in my car is kaput and that it doesn’t support an auxiliary connection to an mp3 player.) I heard it for the first time on the radio and I think it’s a new song, though I really can’t be too sure about these things nowadays. Now before I go into the song, I’d like to say that I’m usually the type of person who tries to benefit the songwriter or the performer by suspending disbelief if I have to, in order to give credence to an individual’s craft. In the past, I’ve come to the defense of an artist’s lyrics whenever my significant other — who, by the way, must have an express lane for song meanings on the top of his head because things like that always just go over him-- bashes or questions a song’s credibility. I’d do so even for the most indefensible of verses.

In one instance, the Rational Investor protested, “This song is wack,” while he sat in my car listening to a Jay-Z and Alicia Keys collaboration.

“C’mon, she’s trying to convey how most people perceive New York city. The big lights and the streets and stuff. It’s supposed to be uplifting,” I said in an effort to explain.

“Well, it’s not that dope,” he snapped.

At times, I’d been frustrated at my incredulous partner’s insults over songs that I truly believe need no explanations. Their merits are obvious. Songs like Sade’s Sweetest Taboo or The Eagles’ Hotel California only suffer from a downgrade in spite of my enlightening analyses. That’s just what you come to expect when you’re a music lover. Except that I really can’t conjure up any fervor for music when the ugly truth hits me. And this is exactly what happened when my ears  heard such poop laced lyrics as these:

“Baby, you’re lookin’ fire hot/I’ll have you open all night like an IHOP” … “Cause it’s me, you, you, me, me, you, all night/Have it your way, foreplay before I feed your appetite/Let me get my ticket baby let me get in line/I can tell the way you like it baby supersized/Hold on, you got yours, let me get mine/I ain’t leavin’ till they turn over the closed sign.”

I mean, what can I say after that… “I’m hungry?”

Such class, such artistry, such cleverness and wit obviously eluded Mr. Timberlake.

It would be a challenge for anyone to try and convince me that this song deserves to be on the radio. It was a good thing I heard Method Man and Mary J Blige’s “All I Need” right after. Otherwise, I think I would’ve wished for some second hand smoke or something. Anything is better than this  piece of radio doo doo.

Just a few moments ago, I logged off of Facebook only to attempt logging back in with my regular email account. I didn’t realize what I was doing and was getting mighty frustrated at the arbitrary gate opener that allows web sesames to open and close at his evil whim. I tried a few more times until I realized I was still on Facebook and not on Gmail. WTF. This got me to thinking how many login names and passwords I have and how one must have to have an uncanny (mine stricken down due to current predicament) ability remembering all kinds of login combinations and such.

Before the known digital era, I remember having to commit to memory only my telephone number and my address. Now my days are filled with the mundane activity of logging in and logging out with every digital step I take. This is just a small part of the kind of things that drive people nuts to the point that they want to get out of dodge and live off of the grid or some shit like that. At least from there they won’t really have to remember a telephone number or an address for that matter, just their Facebook login and password.

Me: Do you wanna know where the word assassin came from?

Rational Investor: Some guy got banged in the ass??

Me: Do you wanna know where the word came from? Yes or no?

Rational Investor: I guessed it.

Me: No.It’s from the Arabic hashshashin, ‘ hashish-takers,’  who were members of a fanatical Muslim sect whose creed sanctioned their adversaries’ murders. Allegedly, the assassins drugged themselves in preparation for the murders.

Rational Investor: That’s cool.

Moments later… I grab my notebook and start writing.

Rational Investor: Are you writing about assassins?

Me: Yes.

Rational Investor: Put it on Streetverse.

After a successful go at some nicely tailored pants, I got the hankering to make use of the lovely left over royal blue micro touch fabric on hand. I got the inspiration from craftymeg and cam557 from Burdastyle.com, who shared their awesome Origami projects with the rest of us. So here are some pictures to illustrate the finished product and some instructions along the way. Enjoy!

Skill level:  Beginners

Time it took:  Nearly 3 hours (with breaks to watch the Super Bowl… Though I should say that there were moments when folding small pieces of fabric and stitching them together garnered more excitement than the game.)

You’ll Need: Ruler and scissors to cut fourteen pieces of 3×3 squares of fabric, needle, matching thread, and chain of choice.

Part I: Creating the squares

Step 1: measure 3 inches by 3 inches on a piece of fabric. Cut 14 pieces.

Step 2: Fold and press into a triangle twice. The first time making a line going one direction and the second time going another direction. The point where the lines cross is the center mark.

Step 3: Take two ends of the square and fold them toward each other at the center mark, allowing them to slightly overlap.

Step 4: Stitch where the two ends meet. Repeat until all ends of the square meet and are stitched at the center.

Step 5: Fold new ends of the resized square toward the center and stitch.

Step 6: Now flip the square over and take the corners into the middle to stitch.  This completes one square. Repeat steps until you get 14 squares.

Part II: Assembling the squares

Step 1: Arrange the squares as you like. You can be creative here.

Step 2: Stitch them together carefully.

Step 3: Attach a matching chain to the back of the piece.

Step 4: Rock it!