Contrary to popular belief, there are actually three things that are certain in this world: death, taxes and friends making fun of me for using Hotmail.
I've had friends laugh — not in the "LOL"-over-text-message sense, but in an actual laugh-out-loud-in-person sense — over the fact I own a Hotmail account in the year 2020. "Who uses Hotmail anymore?" they’ll ask. "I do," I'll respond. Or, rather, "I do," lowering my voice to a barely audible level, as if I should feel embarrassed.
But the truth is I don't feel embarrassed. I'm actually proud of myself for sticking it out with Hotmail after all these years. We've been through a lot together.
I created my Hotmail account back in the summer of 2002, after I graduated from college. The only email account I had at the time was the one my college had issued to me. The email address was complicated; it was more like a string of 25 characters with no real purpose, best as I could tell. I had no say in it. The admissions office didn't ask me, "Hey, do you mind if we attach a ‘2’ to your name in your email address? How about five periods and an 'uno' at the end?”
So I chose Hotmail. The way I remember it, I searched around and found that Hotmail was one of the more popular options. Remember, Gmail didn't exist in 2002. Every now and then I'll dig into my Hotmail archives. It's like reading an old journal. It brings back so many memories. Here are a few examples of emails from 2003-2004 I still have saved: notes from several former classmates congratulating me on my first job; a Ticketmaster receipt for Jerry Seinfeld in concert; and a message confirming I'd registered for LiveJournal. (Have you read my blog on LiveJournal lately?)
Like any long-term relationship, I've experienced some ups and downs with Hotmail. I've seen perfectly legitimate emails sitting in the junk folder. I've seen emails that I wrote myself sitting in the junk folder. No exaggeration. A few times I fired off an email to a Yahoo Group of mine and had a copy land in the junk folder. Hotmail rejecting itself, essentially. (Stay tuned for my next blog post, “Yes, I Still Use Yahoo Groups.”)
The junk folder in general can be an interesting read. I once wrote a blog post about how I found an email in there with the subject line "Shane, The Imbecile." It was reassuring to know that Hotmail considered it spam, but at the same time it would have been even more reassuring if Hotmail had just blocked it altogether.
The funny thing is I have a Gmail account now but I almost never use it. I'd still rather use Hotmail. What can I say? I'm loyal.
And, if I'm being honest, I can't be bothered to contact everyone in my life to let them know my email address has changed. Knowing Hotmail, it would probably filter the message into my junk folder anyway.
Monday, May 25, 2020
Monday, May 18, 2020
Three Easy (And Possibly Unconventional) Meals You Can Make At Home
Over the past year or two, I've taught myself how to prepare some simple meals. I figured that since I'm in my late 30s, it was long past time to maintain a more balanced and varied diet. In the past, my idea of a varied diet was mixing Rice Krispies and Froot Loops in the same bowl. (It's a delicious combination, by the way.)
This is so simple and so tasty. First, pop a slice of bread into the toaster. Once it's nice and crispy, lay it on a plate. Now you can slice the avocado. There are many ways you can slice an avocado, but I prefer my approach: Slice the top of the avocado and squeeze. Squeeze it from the bottom, like a half-used tube of toothpaste. And push it, like a Push Pop. Right onto the slice of bread.
There are three meals in particular that I often make. I learned to make them on my own — no instructions, no YouTube tutorials. Now, I should point out that my wife is far more experienced with food than I am, and she generally disagrees with my methods, but I consider them to be logical and easy to follow. I thought I'd share with you how I prepare these meals, in case you might benefit.
Avocado toast
This is so simple and so tasty. First, pop a slice of bread into the toaster. Once it's nice and crispy, lay it on a plate. Now you can slice the avocado. There are many ways you can slice an avocado, but I prefer my approach: Slice the top of the avocado and squeeze. Squeeze it from the bottom, like a half-used tube of toothpaste. And push it, like a Push Pop. Right onto the slice of bread.
Occasionally I will slice an avocado in half, remove the pit and scoop out the avocado onto the bread, but I find the squeeze/push method to be less work and more fun. The presentation might be a little messier, granted, but it's not like I'm telling you to post a photo on Instagram.
In my bachelor days I owned a plastic container with which I cooked eggs in the microwave. It was an imprecise way to cook eggs. I basically left it in the microwave until I heard a loud POP sound, letting me know that the top of the container had flown wide open from the steam.
I know what you're wondering: Why didn't I just cook eggs on the stove? Because I didn't have a stove. Not an operational stove, I mean. I had asked the gas company to cut off service. It's a long story, but it had repeatedly been charging me for gas I wasn't using, and I never used the stove anyway, so what was the point in having service?
I had the service reconnected when I got married because, like many people, my wife believes it's nice to have a stove you can turn on.
I devoted an entire entry to the pasta sandwich four years ago so I won't repeat myself, but it boils down to this: Warmed-up frozen Trader Joe's linguine in between two slices of bread is a brilliant idea and I make no apologies for it.
There are other kitchen secrets that I could share with you, like the coffee water (make the most of your empty iced latte glass by pouring water into it to maximize the ice cubes) or the buttered bagel (put the butter on top of the bagel, rather than inside the bagel, to save time), but those are recipes for another day.
Eggs
In my bachelor days I owned a plastic container with which I cooked eggs in the microwave. It was an imprecise way to cook eggs. I basically left it in the microwave until I heard a loud POP sound, letting me know that the top of the container had flown wide open from the steam.
I know what you're wondering: Why didn't I just cook eggs on the stove? Because I didn't have a stove. Not an operational stove, I mean. I had asked the gas company to cut off service. It's a long story, but it had repeatedly been charging me for gas I wasn't using, and I never used the stove anyway, so what was the point in having service?
I had the service reconnected when I got married because, like many people, my wife believes it's nice to have a stove you can turn on.
Since I have a workable stove now, I've adapted and have been cooking eggs on there. It's a no-fuss method, really. First I crack two eggs into a bowl. The kind of bowl doesn't matter. I've used large bowls, small bowls.
I preheat a pan on the stove, and after I pick out the eggshell pieces from the bowl (make sure you wash your hands first!), I pour the eggs into the pan. I leave the eggs in the pan until they appear fully cooked or until I hear my wife say from the other room, "You overcooked your eggs." Whichever comes first.
Pasta Sandwich
I devoted an entire entry to the pasta sandwich four years ago so I won't repeat myself, but it boils down to this: Warmed-up frozen Trader Joe's linguine in between two slices of bread is a brilliant idea and I make no apologies for it.
There are other kitchen secrets that I could share with you, like the coffee water (make the most of your empty iced latte glass by pouring water into it to maximize the ice cubes) or the buttered bagel (put the butter on top of the bagel, rather than inside the bagel, to save time), but those are recipes for another day.
Monday, May 11, 2020
A Strong Young Man? Me? Hardly
Somehow, early on in my adult life, I earned a reputation as a strong young man. I've heard it so many times in the past 20 years: "You look like a strong young man."
If you were to take a look at me — I mean a real good look at me — you would not mistake me for a "strong young man." I am, by any reasonable measure, not a strong young man. Perhaps I'm a stringy young man, but not a strong young man.
I've had a gym membership for three years and have yet to lift weights. I always use the elliptical machine or bicycle so that I can simultaneously watch sports on the built-in monitor and "Bachelor" reruns on my phone. That's my level of strength.
And yet some people say I'm a strong young man. They usually don't say this to pay me a compliment. They say this because they need some sort of favor.
As an example, a few years ago I was boarding an airplane and an older woman needed a hand with placing her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment. She turned to me and said, "You look like a strong young man. Would you be able to help me?" I replied, only half-jokingly, "Oh, I'm not a strong young man, but sure I can help." She laughed as I grabbed the handle of the bag — it must have weighed 35 pounds, at least — struggled to lift it over my head, and slid it into the overhead, beads of sweat forming on my face.
My arms hadn't shaken that much since the time in high school gym class I was forced to attempt pull-ups for the Physical Fitness Test and I just hung there for 10 seconds before letting go. I was sore for the entire four-hour flight.
Had I known I would be asked to place a carry-on bag in the overhead, I would've lifted some weights at the gym.
As challenging as it was to lift that bag over my head, it didn't compare to all those times I had to change the plastic jug of water at the water cooler at my old office. I sat no more than six feet from the water cooler, and inevitably the water would run out and the jug would need to be replaced. I avoided this responsibility for the longest time because I had visions of dropping the replacement jug on my foot, or spilling five gallons of water on the floor, or both.
Basically, I thought this would happen:
via GIPHY
Eventually I rose up to the challenge, partly because I'm a team player, partly because I was very thirsty, and partly because I was pushed into doing it. I swear the jug weighed more than I did. I uncapped a new jug and wrapped my arms around it, giving it a great big bear hug as if we were two close friends who had been separated for years and had finally been reunited. I waddled over to the water cooler and, against all odds, managed to install the jug with minimum spillage. I went on to replace the jug several more times later on, too.
I consider this one of the most notable accomplishments of my career. I'm considering giving a TED Talk around it on the theme of overcoming adversity in the workplace.
But just so we're all on the same page: I'm not really a strong young man. I might not be your best option if you need a carry-on bag placed in an overhead compartment or a water jug replaced on a water cooler. Or if you need someone to do a pull-up.
If you were to take a look at me — I mean a real good look at me — you would not mistake me for a "strong young man." I am, by any reasonable measure, not a strong young man. Perhaps I'm a stringy young man, but not a strong young man.
I've had a gym membership for three years and have yet to lift weights. I always use the elliptical machine or bicycle so that I can simultaneously watch sports on the built-in monitor and "Bachelor" reruns on my phone. That's my level of strength.
And yet some people say I'm a strong young man. They usually don't say this to pay me a compliment. They say this because they need some sort of favor.
As an example, a few years ago I was boarding an airplane and an older woman needed a hand with placing her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment. She turned to me and said, "You look like a strong young man. Would you be able to help me?" I replied, only half-jokingly, "Oh, I'm not a strong young man, but sure I can help." She laughed as I grabbed the handle of the bag — it must have weighed 35 pounds, at least — struggled to lift it over my head, and slid it into the overhead, beads of sweat forming on my face.
My arms hadn't shaken that much since the time in high school gym class I was forced to attempt pull-ups for the Physical Fitness Test and I just hung there for 10 seconds before letting go. I was sore for the entire four-hour flight.
Had I known I would be asked to place a carry-on bag in the overhead, I would've lifted some weights at the gym.
As challenging as it was to lift that bag over my head, it didn't compare to all those times I had to change the plastic jug of water at the water cooler at my old office. I sat no more than six feet from the water cooler, and inevitably the water would run out and the jug would need to be replaced. I avoided this responsibility for the longest time because I had visions of dropping the replacement jug on my foot, or spilling five gallons of water on the floor, or both.
Basically, I thought this would happen:
via GIPHY
Eventually I rose up to the challenge, partly because I'm a team player, partly because I was very thirsty, and partly because I was pushed into doing it. I swear the jug weighed more than I did. I uncapped a new jug and wrapped my arms around it, giving it a great big bear hug as if we were two close friends who had been separated for years and had finally been reunited. I waddled over to the water cooler and, against all odds, managed to install the jug with minimum spillage. I went on to replace the jug several more times later on, too.
I consider this one of the most notable accomplishments of my career. I'm considering giving a TED Talk around it on the theme of overcoming adversity in the workplace.
But just so we're all on the same page: I'm not really a strong young man. I might not be your best option if you need a carry-on bag placed in an overhead compartment or a water jug replaced on a water cooler. Or if you need someone to do a pull-up.
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