New home!

I'm finally moving out!  As of April 9th, I will no longer be renting a room inside a house, but rather a one bedroom apartment all to myself.  I am sooo very excited to move out, while also very nervous.  My contract work could end at any time so I'm taking a huge leap of faith that I'll be ok.  I've made some major progress in reducing my debt so if worse comes to worse, I can pay minimums on my monthly debt rather than what I have been doing.

I'm also slightly worried with how I'll handle being by myself for most of the time.  In all my life, I've lived with someone else.  I've never lived completely alone.  A couple of years ago, this would not have been a good idea in the least.  But I'm confident it's the right decision now and I'm happy I've made it.

I've been so excited, I've even thought of a quick list of great things I'm looking forward to as the move-in day gets closer.

Top 10 Reasons I Will Love My New Apartment

TEN
I won't be completely embarrassed or held back from inviting a girl to my place, rather than to my room.

NINE
I can lounge in my underwear. I suppose I could've done that before, but that would've made my housemates very uncomfortable.

EIGHT
It'll be my TV in the living room with my recorded shows. And I'll get to watch them on a couch instead of from a bed.

SEVEN
Since my TV will be in a living room and not a bedroom, I'll have room for Rock Band! (And a Kinect if the games get a whole lot better).

SIX
I'll have a 24 hour fitness center to work on my cardio. It's midnight and I feel like getting some stress out of my system by walking? No problem. Mosey on down to the fitness center feeling safe and secure during my walk.

FIVE
I can leave the door open when I shower so it won’t be hot and steamy in the bathroom to the point I'm sweating buckets by the time I'm done shaving.

FOUR
No more stairs!!! Walking upstairs after a workout and, well, just in general pretty much sucks.

THREE
My own kitchen! Gas stove! My own kitchenware! I can stock the pantry, freezer and fridge FULL of what I want. Costco, here I come again.

TWO
Air conditioning any time I want! As cold as I want!

ONE
My parents will get to come visit me.  They haven't been down to California in about 7 years. I'll finally have a place where they can stay with no concern for sharing a bathroom or kitchen, or whether or not they'll be too loud for my roommates.

This won’t be funny to you…

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace December 15, 2008

But it's funny to me (and Amber since I stole it from her blog).  None of the names have been changed so no innocent is protected.

Albert: what are you guys going to order tonight?
(2:30:58 PM) Amber: steak
(2:31:11 PM) Amber: : D
(2:31:20 PM) Amber: don't know what kind yet.
(2:32:08 PM) Albert: No Rules Pasta
Grilled shrimp, scallops or chicken breast. Served over fettuccine with a Parmesan cream sauce.
(2:32:20 PM) Darrin: steak with steamed veggies, hold the carrots.
(2:32:25 PM) Darrin: side salad with ranch, hold the red onions.
(2:32:39 PM) Darrin: hot waitress, hold my johnson
(2:40:52 PM) Darrin: tough crowd.
(2:43:35 PM) Albert: I like my women like my crowds. Tough and numerous.
(2:45:12 PM) Amber: they have pasta?
(2:45:51 PM) Albert: Yes.
(2:46:06 PM) Amber: mm
(2:47:11 PM) Darrin: the only entree i've had that wasn't steak there was the alice springs chicken.
(2:47:17 PM) Darrin: which was good.
(2:47:27 PM) Darrin: but it's outback the steakhouse, not outback the pollopen.
(2:47:45 PM) Albert: i've never had their steak.
(2:47:48 PM) Darrin: so i can haz stekz
(2:47:57 PM) Amber: I'm getting steak
(2:48:02 PM) Darrin: I'm getting steak
(2:48:03 PM) Amber: usually get the outback combo
(2:48:11 PM) Darrin: w/ shrimp?
(2:48:16 PM) Amber: no
(2:48:18 PM) Darrin: w/ lobster
(2:48:19 PM) Darrin: ?
(2:48:24 PM) Darrin: w/ pancakes?
(2:53:52 PM) Albert: wow, tough crowd.
(2:54:11 PM) Amber: haha
(2:54:16 PM) Amber: with steak!!
(2:54:20 PM) Amber: jesus
(2:54:43 PM) Amber: + a baked potato and a caesar salad
(2:55:32 PM) Albert: any appetizers????? enquiring minds want to know.
(2:55:34 PM) Amber: crimany
(2:55:47 PM) Albert: fast response there
(2:56:03 PM) Amber: it was sent before yours showed up
(2:56:12 PM) Albert: crimany
(2:56:23 PM) Amber: im dying laughing again
(2:56:35 PM) Darrin: wait you're getting an outback combo of steak + steak? what kind of combo is that?
(2:56:36 PM) Albert: I have that affect on the world.
(2:56:45 PM) Albert: meatlover combo
(2:56:48 PM) Amber: lolol
(2:56:53 PM) Amber: both of you
(2:56:56 PM) Amber: jeeez
(2:56:59 PM) Albert: speaking of meat lovers. Where's Jaron?

Forwarded emails… from my mom.

I love my mom dearly. I'm a mama's boy to the core. All the good personality traits I have come from her.  There was even a time when I would not take lightly any “mama jokes” about my mom.  I took it personally as a blow of disrespect. (If you do know my mom or have met her, I still will!) But the frequency at which she forwards emails to me has become increasingly irritating.  I've already once told her that I don't look at half of the stuff she forwards me because it's not as interesting to me as it is to her and/or it's simply garbage stuff she's sending (urban legends, propoganada, etc.).  

I'll backtrack to the origin of this rant first.  It started with the thought, "preaching to the choir."  My mom has been deaf nearly her entire life.  She didn't even learn commonly used sign language (ASL) until she was about 8. Deaf society and culture was much different and treated much differently when my mom was growing up. Education for the deaf was institutionalized rather than integrated. So written sarcasm or cliché phrases like "preaching to the choir" don't always make sense to her, at least not without further explanation.

Back to the forwarded emails. Fond as I am of trivia games, I don't find "interesting facts about" whatever to be as interesting as my mom thinks they are.  And a good portion of the time, they're not facts at all.  She also sends me political emails from parties that promote their own agenda with major embellishments and skewed statistics.  But a majority of the emails lately seem to be religious—Powerpoint presentations of beautiful scenery tagged with verses from the Bible, anecdotes of Jesus' time on earth, even emails that predict end times based on current events and tragedies.  I don't need to see any of those.  Although there are many questions I still have (and admittedly remain ignorant about), I'm already a "believer," mom.  I don't need my inbox spammed with the very thing I'm already familiar with. In other words, you're preaching to the choir. I don't need to be converted.  It's done. 

I'm almost at the point where I want to set up a Gmail filter to tag anything with a "FWD" in the subject line from her and trash it.  Or maybe label it and archive it so I can review once a week to see if she added any of her own thoughts into the email to which I may need to respond. But usually it’s, "Interesting. Have you heard about these?"  No, mom. And I don't really want to take the time to find out if any of it's true because your sources suck. And mom? Please learn to remove the other headers from your forwarded emails so when I forward you something truly of value, people don't get my email address and send me the same thing you're forwarding me.  Thanks.  I love you!

Being sick sucks.

I don't like being sick.  I suppose nobody does.  But it's part of life; I accept that.  What I hate more is that when I'm sick, I don't have the energy to do much of anything at all.  It feels like a waste of a day when I can't get a single productive thing done. I only have the sniffles right now and as annoying as they may get, I could still re-organize my desk or clean a closet.  But my energy level betrays me. I become exhausted so quickly and am drawn back to laying in bed.  

I suppose that tells me I'm not doing enough productive things when I am well.  I shouldn't have chores to do if I'm sick.  I should just be able to take a day of rest and not stress about the things that need to be put away or cleaned.  Hmm, didn't think this rant would be a two-parter and one against myself at that.  Wow, this blog is good for self-realization!  OK, now I'm rambling... and I'm typing it... I'm so weird.

I also didn't go to Crossfit this morning, so although I'm currently one ahead of bartender friend, I'm now one behind my other friend.  Argh!

Another bet… also a workout boast

So apparently, the challenge/gambling nature in me is still ever present.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine and I were having drinks at a bar where our mutual friend bartends.  All three of us workout at the same gym, Crossfit714.  Somehow it came up in conversation between my friend and I that another challenge between us needed to be made.  At first I declined.  The last challenge was $200 toward a trip to Vegas for the most body fat percentage lost over 3 months.  We both did horrible at the challenge, but I did worse.  And I knew I could've done better.  I didn't want to spend that kind of money again.  Although I didn't mind putting up some kind of money.  That should motivate me right?

I'm not sure which one of us thought of it, but we decided to make the challenge—who does more WODs (Workout Of the Day) from that day until May 7th (which is my friend’s birthday).  I think I came up with the specific bet because my friend hadn't been going in about three weeks and I had gone at least once a week. I thought it might give me a slight edge because he's been worried about hurting his back and wrists to the point of not showing up to WODs.

But...  He decided to ask our mutual bartender friend into the challenge.  These two have been members at the gym since early November.  Bartender friend has been going 3 times a week consistently, not missing a class, except for about a week and a half when she hurt her rib.  Other than that, she's been unstoppable.  My friend said, "Then this should be good motivation for the both of us."  FUCK THAT.  But I accepted the challenge.  I will try.  And if I lose, I'm only doing my body a favor by exercising, even if it feels tortuous while I'm doing it.  And I can still have an advantage.  My bartender friend says she can only go Monday, Wednesday and Friday and not Tuesdays and Thursdays (even though our bet was made on a Tuesday and she had gone that morning to make up for the Monday she missed).  I go in the morning before work so theoretically I can go every day. That gives me a potential two extra days over her every week.  Now, it means I have to beat my other friend since he works from home and could go every day and more than once a day if he wants.  The other kicker to the bet—Bartender friend had gone to her WOD that day we started the bet, so she was automatically one day up on us.

And that leads me to my rave instead of a rant this time.  I'm SO proud of myself for going FOUR times a week for the past two weeks. I'm sore as hell and I don't see any weight coming off yet, but I'm so glad I went.  Now, I think the bet has only served as a catalyst for me to go to Crossfit with such a goal.  It’s more about trying to create a habit so that going 3 to 4 times a week in the morning becomes routine for me.

At this point [edit: as of yesterday], I'm one WOD ahead of bartender friend and tied with my other friend.  This bet makes me a winner even if I don't win the bet itself. Despite getting up 2 hours earlier than I normally do, I'm feeling great during the day and I'm in a much better mood.  Don't worry though.  Things and people still piss me off, so there will be rants.

Childhood landscape changed. :(

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace October 27, 2008

Not very long ago, the city came and cut down the trees in my parents' front yard.  Apparently they grew tired of trimming the trees that grew around the power lines and just decided to cut them all the way down and kill the roots.

It's not really that big a deal, except that these trees were a part of my childhood playground.  These were two big Evergreens that created a kind of lair in between the two trees.  It was like a shelter.  The branches of the trees spread out and spiraled up like a staircase, so climbing pretty high in the tree was pretty easy and of course death-defying for a little kid.

So I guess this is just to show my friends on my MySpace who grew up with me hiding under, climbing up, and peeing on these trees that the landscape has changed.

Just like every time I go back up to Seattle and see new places pop up and old places torn down, it was strange seeing these trees gone from my parents' house when I visited back in September.

Here are pics to see how it's different now.

Then:

Now:

The RJ Reynolds Weight Loss Plan

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace June 6, 2007

I posted this in response to a friend's blog a few months ago.  I still think it's the most brilliant idea I've ever had, which is to say I never have brilliant ideas...  Read on...

I've heard that a person burns more calories eating celery than the number of calories that celery actually contains.  So, assuming that nicotine is 0 calories and knowing it's addictive, we should figure out a way to add massive amounts of nicotine to celery, so that all a person wants to do is eat celery.  People would take celery breaks at work, eat celery when they're socially drinking, eat celery because it's "cool," and they'd have a stalk after sex while asking the question "Was it good for you?"   Weight loss in action! And because you'd be consuming a veggie that's high in vitamin C (an antioxidant!) all friggin' day long, it would cancel out the whole cancer thing.  I should write a book with loose references to medical journals I've never read to support my "facts" about the benefits of my fail-proof $elery Diet.  I need investors!  Who's with me?!?

I got profiled!

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace February 13, 2007

This happened to me yesterday.  My story must be told.

I wasn't speeding, I wasn't swerving. I even used my signal when making my turns. But for some reason the Po-Po decided to pull me over when I was driving from our corporate office to our off-site data center in Irvine.
I was sitting behind an 18-wheeler at a two-lane left-turn waiting for the light to change. I saw the patrol car pull up in the lane next to me, just a little behind. The light turns green and I follow the 18-wheeler through the turn. I'm now in the middle of three lanes, with the patrol car in the left lane, nearly right along side of me and the semi on the right, but I need to get over to the right. I look over and I see the cop looking at me as I notice him. I accelerate slightly and pass the semi on the right since I needed to make a right turn up ahead. As I do, the patrol car moved over two lanes and pulled right up behind me. Just as I'm about to get to the street I need to turn right on, the cop flips the lights on. I turned very slowly onto my intended street, but realize there's no shoulder, just a sidewalk. I wasn't sure what I should do. Do I slowly drive until I could turn into a parking lot or street, or just stop? Well as soon as I made the decision to stop, I hear a BLOOP coming from his siren. Yeah, I stopped right there. I pulled up as close to the sidewalk as I could.

I couldn't think of a reason why the 5-0 would stop me. Was my tail light out? Did someone steal my tags? Or even my license plate??

As the law enforcer walked up to my car, it was fortunate that my rear windows were rolled down enough so I could lean back and inform him that my driver side window doesn't roll down (yes, STILL, for those of you who know it hasn't been working for over a year now). The officer said nothing and opened my door. He tells me to remove the key from the ignition, so the constant beeping while the door's open wouldn't become bothersome. He then asked for my license and registration. With no hesitation, I gave him the documents.

He asked me where I was headed. I replied, "to the AT&T Data Center off of Kelvin and Jamboree."

"For work?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's wrong with your window?"

"I think the motor's broken. All the other windows roll down except this one. I have the part [lie] but I just haven't put it in yet."

At this point I think, That's it. I'm getting a fix-it ticket because my window won't roll down. But he wouldn't have known that so why the heck did he pull me over?

NOW, he starts asking some unusual questions, all the while with my driver side door open and he's standing practically in the middle of the right lane... 

"Have you ever been pulled over?"

"Yes, sir." 

"What were you pulled over for?"

"Speeding." 

"How long ago was the last time you got pulled over?"

"Quite a while ago, sir. I don't actually remember." 

"Have you ever been arrested or gone to jail?"

"No, sir." Now I'm wondering if they think I'm someone else and I probably have either a scared-shitless look or a look of comical disbelief. 

"Have you ever been in trouble with the law other than traffic violations?" asks the cop.

I almost crack up and I think I may have even chuckled when stumbling with a response. "No, sir. No way, no. Uh-uh. Never." 

"Do you have any weapons or illegal substances in your vehicle?"

I'm thinking WHAT?!? OK, what gives? I'm definitely NOT who you think I am. This time I did let out a small laugh and said, "Absolutely not, officer. None at all." After I replied that way, I thought I just incriminated myself somehow. THEN he tells me why he pulled me over. 

"I pulled you over for these," while tapping my window. He then asks for my insurance card. I give it to him and he says he'll be right back and to watch myself as he closes my door for me. He walks to his patrol car.

The realization hits me that even though he didn't specifically say they're too dark, I've got tinted windows and they're probably TOO dark. So here's a car that you can barely see into, except that you can probably make out that there's some guy with a cap and a shaggy face driving it. AND it's Irvine. No funny-business is allowed in Irvine, one of the top ten safest cities in the United States. Great. Now I'm going to get TWO fix-it tickets. One for the window that won't roll down and one because my windows are too dark. Well, at least I'm not getting arrested... I hope.

Finally, the officer walks back up to my car, on the passenger side this time, and taps on my window. I roll down the window. The officer reaches in without even leaning down whatsoever and hands me my documents. I don't even see his face. All he says is, "This is a verbal warning," and walks away. Like an idiot I lean over to the window and ask, "For the windows, sir?!" realizing I should have kept my mouth shut, but expecting some sort of specific answer as to what was "wrong" with my windows. Without skipping a beat he said, "Yes" and continued walking back to his patrol car.

As I drove away I thought, Maybe, just MAYBE, it's time to fix this window so it rolls down. At least I could go through the drive-thru at Del Taco again.

Retarded bet/I win! (two blogs in one, and an addendum)

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Part 1 “Retarded Bet”
Originally posted on MySpace November 22, 2006

Working in the IT department, where nerds abound, I've met a few of the most athletic or at least sports-involved people I know. Partly due to that fact it seems our department is pretty competitive, especially when wagers are involved. People bet on everything. There's the Bills vs. Raiders pizza party bet from last year, there's our version of the Biggest Loser where we have two teams competing to lose the most percentage of body weight. The prize of course... lunch paid for by the losers (losers of the bet, not losers of the weight). Heck, I've even bet 11 pennies just to see if an incoming phone call was going to be someone calling in sick for the day. There's even been games of chance--heads vs. tails--to determine if someone might be coming out for Happy Hour.

Well now the latest wager is who's going to grow longer hair: Me or Richard. The bet is simple. We both just let our hair grow. Whoever cuts it first loses and has to buy lunch for the winner and the two witnesses of the bet. The loser ALSO has to completely shave his facial hair (eyebrows excluded). That's where the bet turns dangerous for me. For Richard, I don't think that's a big deal, since he pretty much keeps his facial hair to a shadow. It's bad business for me. It's obvious I'd be sporting a bare double-chin with my adorably chubby face if I lose this bet . But it's worse than that. I've had a goatee continuously for eight years now. I would say not more than 5% of my close friends know or remember what I look like without a goatee. Believe me, it's better that way. Thanks to genetics and my dad's side of the family, I've got quite a distinguishable chin. To put it one way, if I wore a suit in high school, I was mistaken for Jay Leno. So for me to win this bet is more than just a free lunch. I cannot and will not allow Richard to win. Past friendly bets have shown that Richard will give up and shave his head before he grows even an inch of hair. But now there's money on the line and a little bit of embarrassment, so we'll see how serious this will get.

Since Richard's head is currently shaved and my hair was a little shaggy, I was allowed a "reset" to cut my hair short for this bet. I've done that today, so the competition is on.

Here's a picture of my hair now. We'll see if Richard doesn't shave his head before I post another pic sometime in the next month or so.

Part 2 “Retarded Bet”
Originally posted on MySpace January 16, 2007

I win!!! See my other blog about the stupid hair bet I made. Today, I received a message on my phone showing Richard with a shaved head and shaved-off beard. That means free lunch for me and I keep my facial hair! Here's a pic of how long my hair got. It didn't really get THAT long and you can't tell much by this picture since I wore a hat all day today.

Addendum, Added today

I actually kept growing my hair out with no goal. Just kept growing it. It eventually grew as long as what you see in the pic below, around June 2007. I only had it cut after this pic because my ex begged I get it cleaned up before her cousin’s wedding I was to attend.

Losing faith in everlasting friendships

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace June 5, 2006

Maybe it's because I'm in Seattle this week and I'm just reminiscing about my past here, but I realized today that everlasting friendships are becoming uncommon. Or at least in my life, they seem to be. Time and distance seem to have such an impact on friendships.

The only person I consider to be my best friend lives halfway across the country, perhaps even more if I really knew my geography. This is a friendship that was built while I was in high school. I was able to tell him anything without feeling judged or belittled. He knew most of my history and I knew most of his. He knew my struggles and I knew his. Typical "best friend" type stuff...

Now... I hardly ever talk to him. I can't even remember the last phone conversation I had with him. The last time I saw him was in December of 2004. The last time I had seen him before that was in 1997, when he helped me pack the moving truck I drove down to California. However... He is still my best friend. Why? When I saw him in 2004, it was like our friendship never skipped a beat. We reminisced of old times of course, but we also talked about new things going on in our life and the conversation never got stale. I was still able to say anything without feeling judged. Even if I become a complete asshole in this world, I know he'll still be my friend. I know that if things get so bad I need somewhere to turn, I can still call him up and get support.

Why am I even mentioning all this? Because it's amazing how some of the other friendships I've had that seemed so strong have withered so easily over time. The friends I grew up with from the time I can remember all the way through my high school years, I hardly know now. Since I've moved to California, I hardly see them, hardly e-mail them, hardly talk to them. Again, time and distance have such an impact on friendships. Even some of the friends I've made since moving down to California, I only see from time to time. Friends I've had when I worked at Mercury Insurance, I rarely see. Friends I've had at White Cap who no longer work there, I hardly see. I know that some day when I leave White Cap, I won't be as close to the friends I have there now.

All these relationships fade and it's quite sad. It seems that as I get older, the harder it is to form permanent friendships with people. When there's not a single common gathering place where people regularly meet, the friendship goes away. Whether it's been school, work or church, a common thread kept the friendship going. When that common thread disappears, the friendship eventually goes too. Time passes by and because the reason for getting together is no longer there, friends stop meeting. Because someone has moved more than 30 minutes away, friends stop meeting. Friendships seem to be conditional.

Perhaps my expectations for building new friendships are too high. Maybe being vulnerable is only for spouses and siblings, neither of which I have. Maybe just going out with friends for drinks, seeing movies, or playing sports is all that there is in a friendship; not discussing life issues, beliefs, goals or anything else that might be too personal.

Don't get me wrong. I do have great friendships right now and I enjoy being with my friends as much as possible. But when I look at the friendships I had 10 years ago and see what state they're in now, I wonder which of my current friendships will be sustained 10 years from now?

Stanky Corridor

Until I can put some of my ranting thoughts in order, I’m posting some of my old “blogs” from the MySpace days. Considering they’re more than 2 or 3 years old, they’re quite outdated. They’re also pretty ridiculous in nature—so not much different than now.

Originally posted on MySpace March 25, 2006

The entrance to the bathrooms where I work have a double entrance. You walk through one door, enter a small corridor, open another door and you're in the bathroom.

Here's my bewilderment. What's the corridor for? There's no clearly visible vents of any kind. Only a flourescent light and fire sprinkler. My best guess: This room is a "stank corridor." A way to help release the stank left by men after they've presided over the procelain throne as King Poopa. Perhaps it's like a pressure release for the stank.

For example, when the stank has filled in the bathroom, as the gentleman exits the bathroom into the corridor, some of the stank gets into that corridor as well. Only a little bit of the stank gets out though as the window of opportunity for the stank to escape is limited to the amount of time between when the door gets opened and shuts. When the gentleman exits the corridor, the stank wafts out of the corridor. It's unfortunate that any stank escapes into the hallway whatsoever, but at least it's limited.

Here's my rant. Why oh why is the Stank Corridor always so damn stanky?! There should be about the same level of stank entering as leaving, which means a minimal amount of stankiness. Is someone sabotaging the process by holding the door between the bathroom and the corridor open, thus saturating the Stank Corridor with stank? Once closed, do they exit so swiftly that the door-to-hallway window of opportunity is practically nothing? What would drive someone to do such harm to mankind? If the stank was visible as a mist, somewhat like cigarette smoke, there would be a cloud o' stank lingering right outside the men's bathroom.

Now far be it from me to volunteer, I would never want the job, but there should be somebody to regulate the flow. A Stank Inspector, a Bathroom Bouncer, an Oust Officer or a Corridor Captain. Insert any clever name you want, but it's a tragedy and having to endure some of the kings' pungent sovereignty building up inside the Stank Corridor is torture.