For those of us who may have missed it, I found the link for the Democratic presidential debates.  The link below breaks down the different parts of the debate by topic.

I won't make any statements about the qualities of the statements made, but I will say you can tell the questions and the questioners knew they were in a predominantely black audience.     

http://www.pbs.org/kcet/tavissmiley/special/forums/video/ch1.html

For those of us who have had a dozen too many late night benders which end with the not so early  question, "Where am I?"  I would also wonder how many brain cells I managed to kill off or poison in the process.  Sure we've got billions of them, but how many of those late night benders does it take to really make a direct difference to the physical composition of the gray matter?  Question like this drove me crazy.  I call it neural hypochondria.

So when I had a fever earlier in the week that topped 104F for who knows how long, I was a bit worried that I was just literally baking the ones I had left.  Crisping my most important insides and losing parts that made me who I am.  It was a bit troubling when taking the neural hypochondria into account.

Should I have gone to the hospital?  Or was that cold water soaking in the tub enough?

After my fever broke, I hopped online and did some research on what constitutes hospital worthy fevers.  In the process I focused on how high fevers affect the brain and learned something fascinating, that contrary to conventional wisdom, which said we are effectively born with the same brains we die with, brain cells being so specialized there is little room for differentiation. 

Think about it, pun intended, that how we think, has strong effect on who we are.  With the capacity to reason and reckon based on the wet stuff between our ears.  New brain cells. WOW.   Yes we grow them and this is exiciting and hopeful news for many who may feel locked into certain behaviours or patterns.  Here's the scientific version of that:

http://nootropics.com/regenerate/index.html 

By the way, I've calculated I have about 6 billion brain cells left, but most are living in poverty, and there are some currently on strike refusing to work.
   

Have you heard of TED?

TED stands for Technology Entertainment and Design.  And its a fitting name.  Every year TED awards prizes for greatness, and though Bono's award was some time ago, the message hasn't changed.  The reason for the message hasn't really been altered, and once you learn the message, I think you'll find a bit troubling as I did.

Like many Asians, I love to gamble. 

And with the new year approaching, I feel my asiatic side tingle this time of year.  I am a water rat. . .

The point of it all is that I feel playing the game has  taught me some fairly insightful lessons, lest I wouldn't be in the process of hammering it on the keyboard for public consumption.

Largest lesson learned ( I love aliteration ) thus far is that of patience.  One side of me figures the ultimate point of the game is to make the most money.  Poker playing patience has taught me to wait for the times to make that goal most efficacious.

Perhaps this is the lesson of all competitions.  They're a manifestion of the internal competition, between the ego and id (for you FreudJungians) or yin and yang.  Independent of the model, there is some universal truth to listening to all the voices within.

Money sure has a way of making me listen.     

Nothing says Valentine's Day like free condoms, and when my better half who is currently interning at Planned Parenthood said there was a pub crawl to pass out free condoms, I sounded like it would be a fun and good thing to do. 

Talk about spreading the Love. . .

I wanted to learn more about the plan, where we'd be going, what we'd be doing, etc.  We were meeting at 9:00 PM in Midtown, across the street from the Planned Parnethood offices.  Check. 

Then walk a block over to the Continental Club.  I like the place well enough and know one of the cocktail waitresses.  Check.  Condoms, lube and information.  Done and done.

Head down the street two doors to Big Top Lounge, where I had been once before.  Check.  Pens with blue lights inside, and more condoms lube and information passed out. 

Roll into Montrose and hit up gay friendly bars such as South Beach and EJ's . Uncheck.

It is February, and I really must say, baby it's cold outside.  Add that the group would not be allowed inside any of the clubs targeted.  Standing out in the cold in what can be a rough area at night wasn't that appealing.  And the message of parenting to a group who have issues in becoming parents seemed a bit like a slap in the face. 

There were some in the group who seemed keener on the idea than I.  Some of the girls, of which there were more than five total, seemed to like the idea of catering to the gay community.  Almost as though the point of heading there was some type of trendy novelty or accessory.  "This is my gay friend Ricky."  And the following thought popped into my head:

Is gay the new black?

Hoping the answer to that question would never be found, I shared my reasons on why I thought avoiding the area would be better for all concerned and we decided not to do the gay thing.  Possible issues galore mitigated.  Yay.

The next stop was Poison Girl, check, a bar that I do love going to as they have pinball and good drinks.  There is a hipster / trendster vibe there that suits me just fine.  And after a quick stop by the house to customize the Planned Parenthood shirt the group was wearing, the night started getting better.  After all (in case you can't make out what the shirt says)

Love is the most wonderful thing in the world -

With Free Condoms.

For everyone who loves to ride two wheeled vehicles, motorized or not,  I think most would agree that the love for this mode of locomotion comes from bicycles being the first bringer of freedom. 

When I was just a kid, and started riding around the neighborhood it was my first escape, it was my independence blossoming, wind in the hair, bugs in the teeth and all the pollution Houston could throw at me.

There has been a bike in my life longer than cars, and so when my last bike got pinched from the TeaHouse on Westheimer and Shepherd, it was a bit of a blow to the ego, id and wallet.  Was it my karma or just some needy dope fiend?  The pragmatist that I am, that thinking quickly ended during the walk home.  New thoughts about what kind of bike I needed started filling my mind.

And so it was with great pleasure that I went bike shoppin' today.  My better half and I were in a bit of a row, and I needed a pick me up.  Nothing lifts the spirit like shopping, and bike shopping is the best.  I also reckoned, bike rides together would help us bond more.

The Sports Authority Galleria, was where I staked my claim.   I was eyeballing a K2 Crush, that was on supersale for $450, which is a $200 savings from list.  I'm thinking this is a good deal.  Nice color, disc breaks.  I hopped around and liked the balance much, but something the next row over caught my eye, a very red and sexy, 2005 GT iDrive 4.0

My last two-wheeled love was a GT, and I do have a spot in my heart for them.  As I tried to put sentimentality aside, the components on this rig started talking to me.  Fox this, Shimano that. . . but the $1100 price tag was giving me the heebies and the geebies.  Just as I was ready to replace the bike in the rack, the sale tag caught my eye.  Whats this I see? !  A price reduction. . . to four ninety-nine.  My heart started pumping.  duh-dub, duh-dub, duh-duh-dub.

With quick mental calculations of fundage, I started chatting with Big Mike, the apron wearing bike mechanic.  He admonished me the bike was a size too large for me, and this was their last one, no other sizes available.  Oversized frames can hurt a man in a special way, and the 'crushing of my grapes' seemed to be the topic for the next few minutes, as Big Mike did his best to dissuade.

He relented, I persisted and I started heading toward the checkout with the bike by my side.  Grinning from ear to ear, I roll up to the cash register and slap down the plastic.  And just when the pride of ownership was peaking, and I thought the day wouldn't get much better, the cutie behind the counter said something magical, "Three Hundred Ninety-Nine dollars, plus tax."

I couldn't scribble my signature fast enough.  An error in my favor totalling a sweet Benjamin. 

And as quickly as a very ingenuous thank you left my lips, my hands were on the doors of the store.  I swear the sun started shining thru the clouds . .