Remember That I Suck At Math

I saw a commercial last night with an interesting statistic. It said: "4 out of 10 high school students don't graduate". If you're like me, you are marginally relieved that those high school students who do not graduate are still able to obtain employment writing copy for commercials. Do they no longer teach the children about the lowest common denominator? That was second or third grade for me, so in my world if you're over the age of nine and don't know how to reduce a fraction then I get to hit you. With a bat. Or a vampire. (Hmm... that would mean that I get to hit people with Tom Cruise and/or Brad Pitt! That's a bonus!) I mean, hell, we're not a metric society. You're telling me that base ten has more of an impact than "2 out of 5"?

I guess I should try to be more positive. After all, they spelled it correctly. Baby steps.

38th Parallel

I'm officially 38. Deb and I went out for my obligatory "free" steak dinner and meringue-covered flaming brownie on the 5th, and also went to church. Why? To vote, of course. (Yes, I voted for Ron Paul. No, I don't agree with him on everything. I just agree with him on the things that matter most to me. So there.)

This is one of the reasons why I know I'm spiraling towards 40. I'm talking politics. Add the grey hairs, and the dull ache that's been in my knee for two days now, and I'm a regular crotchety old man. If I had a lawn, I'd be yelling at the kids to stay the hell off of it. Then again, since it's Arizona, if I had a lawn I'd be knocking the little bastards into the cacti. (cactuses. cactoozles.)

The birthday festivities will consist of leftovers, work, and a heating pad and/or ice on my knee. If I can keep the face-to-face human contact down to just my wife, it'll be the best birthday ever.