Garfield Ridge

New Jersey High School To Test Urine For Alcohol.

Ahhh, the nanny state at work:

The test, which will be given randomly to students at Pequannock Township High School, can detect whether alcohol was consumed up to 80 hours earlier. The legal drinking age in the United States is 21.

Other districts already use the test. Middletown began using it last spring for students suspected of using drugs and alcohol. This month, the district expanded it to include a random pool of about 1,800 students.

Pequannock Superintendent Larrie Reynolds said the policy approved last week should be a deterrent to students who feel peer pressure to drink.

Under the program, students who test positive will not be kicked off teams or barred from extracurricular activities, Reynolds said. Instead, they will receive counseling — and their parents will be notified.

Remember-- the Constitution is going to be torn to shreds if your librarian suspects Al Qaeda is checking out books on fertilizer bombs, but our civil liberties are quite safe as long as we all care about "the children."

OpinionJournal's James Taranto picked up on this quote in the story:

Critics have said the testing does not work and invades students' privacy.

"Medical care and treatment are issues between parents and children," said Deborah Jacobs, executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union of New Jersey.

Taranto not-so-sarcastically asks: "Does that include contraception and abortion?"

No, probably not, Jim.

Doctors Remove 93-Lb Tumor From Woman.

It was called "her husband":

A 32-year-old woman, who was repeatedly told she needed to lose weight, soon discovered why years of dieting simply didn't work; she was carrying around a 93 pound growth on her ovary.

Taquela Hilton said she struggled with weight for 12 years and during that time, the cyst was never diagnosed.

"I quit going to doctors, every one I went to told me to lose weight and I had tried every diet I could think of," said Hilton.

. . .

Desperate for answers, Dr. Cameron, scheduled exploratory surgery.

During the surgery doctors made the shocking discovery, a 93 pound benign ovarian cyst.

Okay, we've all heard this story before-- person thinks they're fat, instead has a tumor, tumor is removed, and voila, they're not fat anymore.

But here's where this story goes off the rails and makes no sense to me:

Since the surgery three weeks ago Taquela has lost 137 pounds. Doctors said her health is improving daily and she now weighs 359 pounds.


Hmmm. I'm no good at math, but something tells me that if you weigh 403 pounds AFTER you have a 93 pound tumor removed, your weight problem probably doesn't have much to do with the benign growth inside your body.

I'm just sayin'. . .

Couple Brought Together Through Mutual Desperation.

The Onion. Ahhh, love in your thirties. . .

Though they credit their meeting to luck and a well-timed impulse to settle for what they can get, both agreed that it takes more to build a relationship healthy enough to stave off thoughts of suicide for another few years—namely, an unusually high threshold for deep character flaws.

"Paul can be so self-pitying, and his humorless earnestness can be suffocating, but I know that a lot of that came from being single for a long time, so I do my best to empathize," Ridenour said. "And I know he can get annoyed by my tendency to obsess over old boyfriends and my xylophagia. I forgive his little quirks, and he's willing to forgive mine. It's a perfect balance."

While these traits might provoke other, less impetuous couples to see the writing on the wall and end their relationship, Klein said his and Ridenour's commitment to lowered standards and desire to have someone to list as an emergency contact are strong enough to get them through any rough patches.

"Sometimes I think, 'If I have to hear that grating voice for one more second, I'll kill us both,'" Klein said. "But then I remember all the nights I spent crying myself to sleep holding a body pillow, and I find the strength to love again."

FYI, Xylophagia is a condition involving the excessive consumption of wood. That's usually been a dealbreaker in my book, unless, of course, it's MY wood she's consuming.

Things I Hate, End Of January 2007 Edition.

-- College athletes who look older than me
-- The McDonald's drive-thru
-- Laundry
-- The inhuman amount of toilet paper my beloved girlfriend consumes on a weekly basis
-- Co-workers in adjacent cubicles who constantly "accidentally" overhear personal conversations
-- Co-workers who hover around your cube while you're trying to goof off
-- MSNBC
-- The Washington Metropolitan Transit Authority
-- People who casually spoil unseen episodes of 24.
-- Pornstars who look just like ex-girlfriends
-- *Really good* pornstars who look just like ex-girlfriends
-- Rosie O'Donnell's voice
-- Rosie O'Donnell
-- Tennis
-- The "standard" 9-hour workday (also, the "typical" 10-hour workday, or the "regular" 13-hour workday)
-- The awkward conversations you have when running into women you dated over five years ago
-- The awkward conversations you have when running into women who rejected you over five years ago
-- Holes in the sides of your shoes that allow water to get in while walking through rain puddles
-- Shopping for new tires
-- The current state of professional boxing
-- Flying
-- The Indianapolis Colts (on general principle)
-- The new Sunday 10:00 pm timeslot for Battlestar Galactica (WT-F-F??)

So Easy, A Caveman Can Do It.

El Capitan has the 'shop of the day up on his blog.

Although, maybe he plagiarized it. . .

The *Real* Microsoft Nightmare.

As captured in Slate, it ain't Microsoft Vista-- it's Microsoft Office 2007.

I already hate the new Internet Explorer-- why can't I move the frickin' menu bars anymore?-- but sweet Jesus, I take one look at the Ribbon in Office 2007 and I get hives.

Okay, I understand: progress is progress. And I'm sure there are two million Mac users out there who will praise Microsoft for finally ripping off something useful from Apple.

But while I'm flexible when it comes to my OS, I'm seriously old school when it comes to Office. Because unlike the OS, I spend all my damn day embedded in the minutiae of MS Office. Hell, I just upgraded to Office 2003 when I took my new job last May, and it took me three months to figure out how to use the different version of Powerpoint ("Where the hell did they put the text auto-sizing function, and how the hell do I shut it off?!?"). Now, I'm faced with the inevitable learning curve associated with a wholesale changeover of how Office works. Joy.

I'm guessing, however, that they *still* haven't introduced the one damn piece of functionality I've been praying for since, oh, Office 97-- the ability to manipulate and relocate single pages of text in Word as easily as you can move slides in Powerpoint, or pages in Adobe Acrobat. Seriously, how hard is it to get that, Mr. Gates?

Poll: Mac Guy, PC Guy Both Need Cock Punch.

At the Brushback:

LOS ANGELES--According to a recent poll conducted by Arbitron Media Research, 73 percent of Americans think the “Mac guy” and the “PC guy” from the popular Apple TV ads, both need a cock punch. The poll also suggested that most viewers didn’t know which character is supposed to be likeable and which is supposed to be the asshole.

“According to our research, most people in America would like to deliver a savage beating to both of these supposed ‘opposite’ characters,” said Alex Freemont, a researcher at Arbitron. “Most feel that the PC Guy is a hopeless dork and the Mac Guy is a smug hopeless dork, and that they could both benefit from a nice, strong cock punch. Personally, I like the PC guy a little better because at least he combs his hair and shaves once in a while. I mean, you’re in a television commercial, asshole. At least try to look presentable.”

Anyone Have A Spare $12,000 I Can Borrow?

A small price to pay for a trip for two across Greece escorted by none other than Victor Davis Hanson.

Maybe I'll make a run in Vegas. . .

"Wait. . . Lovie Smith Is Black?!?"

Bill Simmons snapped a ton of photos at Media Day for the Superbowl. And his captions are funnier than 90% of the stuff I write on this crapblog.

Damn him all to hell.

Just For The Record.

My girlfriend is the Patron Saint of Compassion for putting up with all of my amazing shit. We're not talking little shit here, we're talking "World-Class, Gold Standard Neurotic-Crazy Shit."  

While I'm a damn rewarding boyfriend-- the best the world has ever seen, ladies, and don't you forget it-- I admit that I'm not always an easy one. The good Nurse not only put up with a lot, she was waiting for me on the other side of a heaping steaming pile of introspective crap I've forced myself to deal with for far too long.

For her infinite patience and understanding, the most secure and stable woman I've ever known-- yes, I know the very phrase is an oxymoron, but in this case it's true-- she earns the Garfield Ridge No-Prize. Which earns her a cold and frosty beer at happy hour tonight, and maybe an extra 30 best-seconds-of-her-life later on this evening.

No, I'm not being paid to write this-- I just thought I'd share. And brag.

Yup, that's the most important piece of advice to you, the readers: always enjoy the ride, for as long as you can.

Oh, and always get a pre-nup. You know, if you're getting married and stuff. Which I'm not.

Why would I ruin a good thing?