2010, So Far
Posted by Jose in Uncategorized on January 15th, 2010
How’s 2010 been so far you ask?
Sobering.
Last summer I lost my job at eBay — and I stressed over it. Six months into a new job and I find myself immersed in the daily grind of it all. I stress over being late or unprepared for meetings. Sometimes, both. I twitch when the red light on my BlackBerry flashes. And, I eat too many things that come in foil wrappers. But it’s all good, right? It’s good to be productive and know that those new pair of jeans aren’t going to break the bank. But if you’ve been reading my blog and are a sentient being of recent world events, the first few days of this year have been an abrupt, sobering wall of reality wrapped in an enigma.
While I spin over unanswered emails and travelers bitch about the tighter security at airports, others are looking for their family members amidst the rubble. It’s tragic. Life.
As I was wrapping up a very late conference call with one of our international offices, I found myself surfing Facebook. Subconsciously looking for something to feel good about and ran across this story from my home town of and it made me feel good to read about how my community has rallied around a fallen friend and neighbor. I didn’t know Rich very well. In fact, if he saw me today he’d probably struggle to remember we went to high school together. But everyone who knew him in school cherished their friendship and time with him. I hope his family finds some peace in the coming months and years.
- Jose Mallabo
Passing
Posted by Jose in Friends and family on January 2nd, 2010
Today someone in my family passed away. I’ll likely never be able to accept that someone so young and wonderful can be taken like this so I am trying to find the resolve to stay focused on the fun we had together as kids. And, for how thankful I am to have known her.
Thanks for being like another big sister to me. I am saddened by your passing and I will always miss you, Vina.
- Jose Mallabo
How to lick H1N1
Posted by Jose in Friends and family, Funny, Work on November 19th, 2009
I can quip about it now. But when it was happening a smile and a blog post was the last thing on my mind.
It was Friday morning and the night before I had eaten an overstuffed, fatty carnitas burrito (for those east of the Mississippi and north of Maryland, that’s pork) late at night and fell asleep at my computer. I know. It’s a very healthy approach to heart disease — which is just shy of smoking a couple of Marlboro reds while eating pork rinds in bed. So the grumbling and fever I woke up with were easily attributed to that burrito.
Off to work I go. First meeting: CEO, CFO and my boss are in there along with a consultant that I hired. That’s a big ticket meeting to be in when you’re starting to feel the symptoms of H1N1. (For more info: check out the CDC site.)
Fast forward to the part where I’m in the doctor’s office after a two hour drive: The receptionist and nurses are insanely friendly, smiling and seemingly glad to take my co-pay and give them something better to do than complain about the shitty grub they got from Taco Bell. Everybody, show some spirit, here comes a sick guy!
Sprawled out on the examination table trying to get comfortable, all I could think of was having those stirrups might actually relieve the pressure in my back caused by my legs hanging off the edge. But that would risk the wrong examination. Me likey the sore back!
15 minutes into the examination my doctor confirms it’s 99.8% likely it’s H1N1. But he’ll swab my nose and send the tests to the lab. Those tests look real easy on the TV news. But imagine taking a very thin pen and pushing it through your nose up into your sinuses then making a figure 8 with it. Twice. The deepest nose pick outside of an Our Gang episode.
He leaves the room. Comes back. Says he’s going to write me a prescription for Tamiflu. He says, “you’re all set, come on out.” Two beats. Then “on second thought, just hang in there for a minute.” That seals it. No lab tests needed. They all know it’s 100% that I have H1N1.
As I leave the office it’s like I’ve become Moses. People are parting in front of me like had a loaded shotgun and a frothing Pit Bull sitting on my shoulder. It’s both weird and kind of nice not to have to go through all the fake good byes. So I grabbed the prescription, pushed the door into the lobby open with my elbow (ensuring they all saw that) then stroll to the main exit/entrance, lick the door knob and leave.
Take that you over friendly co-pay takers.
- Jose Mallabo
Bad Ass Pinoy.
This little Pinoy will kick your ass. Manny Pacquiao. Go ahead, call him “Asian” or “Chinese” then duck.
70 percent of Californians say Angels, duh
According to this ESPN poll (about 15 minutes ago), 70 percent of Californians believe the Angels will beat the Yankees in Game 4 of the American League Championship Series. The same poll says 72 percent of New Yorkers believe the Yankees will win the game.
Other than the obvious bias by the denizens of these two respective states, the last two games between these teams have been just that close. Over the course of 24 innings played in Games 2 and 3, the teams have the exact same number of total runs scored: 8. The exact same number of hits: 21. The Angels have been charged with 3 errors, while the Yankees have 2 — though Mariano’s errant throw to third base could have easily counted as error number 3. His greatness probably helped the official scorer from hanging that on him. Fair enough. Mariano is the Michael Jordan of closers, minus being an arrogant turd.
Brought the ragged, cotton hat to Anaheim. The wool 1973 lid is 0-2 this series.
On the way to the airport to catch Game 4 in Anaheim today, I hedged against it but couldn’t fight the urge to turn on the so called ‘national’ sports radio channels. Caller after caller with the Tony Bagodonuts attitude called to lament how Girardi’s decision to pull Aceves cost the Yankees the game. The Angels let up four solo homers and only four other hits to the $200+ million Hall of Fame lineup. (Kendry Morales earned $1.15 million this year and hit .306 with 34 homers vs. Mark Texiera’s $20.6 million salary and .292 with 39 homers.) On offense, the Angels rang up 13 loud hits to all parts of the field against every pitcher the Yankees put on the hill. Rewind the hits from Mathis, Kendrick, Abreu and Guerrero and you’ll see frozen ropes. And, all the fans can hang on is Girardi’s situational decision to bring Aceves in. Were you watching the entire game?
There’s a saying that I think applies here about seeing the forest through the trees. Keep obsessing about that move. Non-Yankees fans enjoy listening to the pathology of denial that perhaps there’s something else at a more fundamental level that could be wrong.
If the Yankee organization is scratching its head today about Girardi’s decision I’d be stunned into fasting for a decade. (Girardi isn’t Torre, but the dude won 103 games. 103 games, yo! ) It’s the 12 previous hits that led up to that moment that the Yankee brass (and fans) should be thinking about. Those weren’t toss-the-bat-out and hope it lands where Damon isn’t types of hits. Those were dead red line drives and bombs — where the Angels were doing anything but guessing.
The entire Yankee rotation and bullpen has been seen at this point — and that’s on Girardi. So, there are no surprises in that pen unless Joba curves the brim of his cap and throws left handed. That — is what I’d be worried about if I was a Yankees fan — middle and long relief. Buster Olney (the true Go Sox/Yanks partial analyst of ESPN) said the Yankees bullpen was “taxed a little” in Game 3.
Ahem. Buster. If by “taxed” you were referring to scenes from Pulp Fiction involving Ving Rhames’ character in a basement, then I agree. The Yankees bullpen was taxed, alright. Otherwise, the forest through the trees are that the Angels dropped some lumber on the dream team and caught enough breaks to win a game. That’s baseball. Talent mitigated by the luck of a bouncing leather ball.
- Jose Mallabo
Socks off a plane
I put them in a plastic bag and walked off the plane with my swollen bare feet inside my shoes. I made the terrible mistake of getting on a 20+ hour flight home from India with dress shoes and kind of burly pair of socks on.
For those of you who have never sat upright for a day at 40,000 feet – your body, particularly your feet expand like accordions. Somewhere over Jakarta, I slipped my shoes off compounding the first mistake – which allowed my dogs to swell at their leisure outside of my shoes. Believe it or not, not only did I go to graduate school, I did pretty well.
Fast forward three beers later when I have to go number 1. Mind you, I am on a full flight of about 400 people who have not only ingested as many fluids as I have but have flat out ransacked the lavatories. Ten hours into it, they still look like a room used by civilized bipeds. Fifteen hours into the flight, it reminds me of a fraternity party and what happens when a bull pisses on a flat rock in the wind.
Pay attention. In the next paragraph is the lesson of ages that will prevent ever having to carry your socks off a plane.
I really have to go. But my feet are so swollen that I can’t get them in my shoes – with or without socks. I realize it’s now a choice of soiling my groin or my feet. I rip open my back pack and see I have plenty of Purell hand sanitizer left – enough to wipe out 99.9% of the germs that would get on my feet.
The lavatory door opens. A bittersweet moment. Because I know what is about to happen. It’s instantaneous. The moment I step into the water closet it’s a wet sock in what I can only hope is a diluted puddle of urine. I stand on one leg and as far away from the toilet as possible – which is about a 36 inches away – and pray for no turbulence. As soon as I get back to my seat, off with the socks. Out with the Purell.
I’m just happy I didn’t have the second package of walnuts.
- Jose Mallabo
Positivity. Here’s proof.
Posted by Jose in Friends and family, Funny on August 29th, 2009
Positivity is a strength. Here’s proof.
Last week, we did a StrengthsFinder exercise at work. Most of the strengths I found out I had were consistent and completely expected. Context and Command are top two strengths. I guess that means I can bark out orders with some conviction because I’ve read a lot about how Atila the Hun did it centuries ago.
But, Positivity was the lone wolf strength that threw me a bit. All you have to do is read this blog to know that I find folly in what many might call negative situations. I don’t care what anyone says, an adult falling down is always funny and an adult sprinting down the street (think of Tom Cruise’s character in The Firm) in a suit is even funnier (both because it’s a sight unto itself and also promises a high probably of said adult sprinter tripping and eating pavement).
Next time you see that 42 year old metro sexual tearing up 3rd avenue, just stop and ask yourself where the fuck is he going that he has to pull a Renaldo Nehemiah in a $1,000 outfit? You know it’s because of something trivial like he was walking his dog earlier that morning and stepped in a pile of poo causing him to have to go home and change shoes. Only when he changed shoes he realize that the tasseled mahogany loafers he has on now didn’t go with the dark navy suit he had on. So he had to change suits or pick up an English accent on the way to his first meeting. It’s always something as mundane and vain as that that causes people to be late. Otherwise, wake the fuck up on time and you’ll never have to sprint unless you’re being chased.
This flight to India is easily the longest trip I’ve taken in at least 20 years. I’m in coach. Middle seat. Every seat on the first leg of the flight has a bum in it. Yet, I must say that there was more to be glad about than to bitch about. Positivity:
- Flight attendants were seemingly from every culture in the world and had some pretty hip yet traditional Arab uniforms – extra credit points for having historical context and a command for the now to be current. Plus all of them were far more polite than the most polite US Airways attendant – I think those folks aren’t so much working as they are seeking prey.
- The audio visual ensemble on the seat back staring at my mug is better than any coach class entertainment system I’ve seen. A quantum leap better than JetBlue. A notch above Virgin America. United Airlines just plain sucks by comparison.
- Every meal had rice in it.
- As the lone Filipino on a flight of about 400 people – I enjoyed being unique even if it was for a mere 15 leg cramped hours. Having lived in the Bay Area for the past few years being a Filipino male is about as differentiated as that 3 millionth penny in a park fountain.
I get off the plane for a layover in Dubai and am thinking about all this positivity – hashing out a blog post in my head. It only took about 15 minutes for some of the shine to wear off. As I’m trying to orient myself and figure out where to go I hear a language that immediately nixes that last bullet. It’s not English. It’s not even Spanish. It’s Tagalog. Apparently my Filipino brethren haven’t just taken every US airport job, we’ve expanded the franchise to the beautiful airport in the UAE. I give the guy at duty free the universal Pinoy “you know that I know that you know that I’m a Pinoy” look. Next time I see you, I’ll show you what that look is and also teach you how to point with your lips.
Then I break into a light run for my gate and he’s probably thinking “I hope he falls.”
Jose Mallabo
Don’t be a creep
One of the most famous corporate mantras ever is “don’t be evil.” If you haven’t heard about this code of conduct, you should go to your favorite search engine and look it up. Then again, if you have to search this, it’d be hugely ironic because not knowing where this mantra comes from would lead me to believe you’re not too online savvy, which begs me to ask “how the heck did you find blog?”
Regardless.
I guess simply stating “be good” was potentially too patronizing for a company to be telling its workforce. I can buy that because that’s what you tell your dog or your 15-year old son just before you leave a tray of bacon or open beer in front of him.
More than anything, the problem I’ve always had with “don’t be evil” is the position it implies the deliverer of this message assumes he or she is in. The concept of evil or to be more precise good vs. evil comes straight from the bible. For a company to push this maxim, it just eerily implies to me that they believe themselves to be at a plane higher than the common worker – to be almost godly.
Perhaps I may be deluded but “don’t be evil” rings very close to the English translation of primum non nocere or “do no harm” – a tenet from medical school. Can any non-life sciences company honestly think itself to be that important?
My favorite alternative is “don’t be creepy.”
Everyone knows what creepy is. It’s like quality. You know it when you see or feel it. And, it’s not biblical. It’s not implying deity level power or import. It’s straight forward and honest. Like a cup of hot black coffee. When you order it, you know what you’re going to get.
To prove the point here are three things that I believe to be universally creepy:
- Brigitte Nielson having plastic surgery on live TV. I watch Nip/Tuck so it’s not the surgery that creeps me out, it’s the potential for Flavo Flav to be making a cameo while she’s under.
- Ronald McDonald. Ever since I was a kid he freaked me out. I used to love going to McDonald’s every Saturday with my father largely because it was our time to spend together, secondly because that meant there was no school, but mostly I stuck close to my dad so he could keep that creepy clown away from me if he was wandering around.
- A former very senior colleague of mine suggesting to a client that we have a team dinner at Bed. Unless I’m working at a place owned by Hugh Hefner, my sense is this would be way creepy, borderline gross and probably a prelude to evil doings.
- Jose Mallabo
Ball bearing in the wind
Posted by Jose in Friends and family on June 20th, 2009
450 + 150 + 40 = 640
640 lbs.
That’s the combined weight of a Kawasaki Ninja 650R with me and 3 days of gear strapped to the top of it. You can imagine just how strong the crosswinds were to be blowing that kind of weight left and right across an 8-foot wide lane like it were a ball bearing in a Pachinko machine.
During the last 19 miles of what was otherwise a spectacular 675 mile ride up and down the California coast through Mendocino, the great redwoods, the land of Big Foot and up to Eureka, I all of a sudden was in a blender of 50 mph wind. A blender that Moses himself may have plugged in.
Humboldt County gas pump doesn't want you "smoking" near it.
My speedometer said 55 mph. I could hear the motor running and exhaust blaring. And I clearly was pointed west, but I felt like my tires were stapled to the asphalt while taking vicious southbound left hooks of wind to the right side of my head and rib cage.
During normal conditions, you ride vertically to go straight. Leaning left to turn left and right to turn right. But on a stretch of road no more than 20 minutes from home I was leaning hard right to go straight while dancing precariously on the left yellow line of the road. If you’ve ever looked at the shrapnel of debris just left of that line, you know it’s not a good place to be driving anything short of an Abrams tank or a water buffalo.
As I looked down at that yellow paint directly under my left foot there were no words, but only that “oh fuck” feeling that under these circumstances aren’t words but is in fact a state of being. Like happiness. Or anger.
At rest in Mendocino
About 2-3 minutes into this ridiculousness, the thought of pulling over crossed my mind. I quickly dismissed that option because waiting on the side of the road for the wind to die down would guarantee on thing and only one thing for when I decided to restart my motor: darkness.
Head down. Maintain white knuckle grip. Lean hard right and keep front tire pointed west.
The problem was there were 15 more miles of this hell to deal with. I tried to psyche myself up for the challenge like I was a character in a Steinbeck man vs. nature novel.
“King Kong ain’t got nothin’ on me!” I shouted in my already very noisy helmet.
“King Kong ain’t got nothin’ on me!”
Looking back now, it sounded very little like Denzel and a lot more like “Gingko’s main God almonds on knee!” Whatever. It got me through the first few miles of this last leg of my trip.
But like any motivational speech, I got bored with it quickly and had to find something else. For some reason Lieutenant Dan jumped into my head. I couldn’t get the image of him shouting at the heavens on Forrest’s boat out of my mind. As I continued to take shots to the head and chest from the wind I thought “why the hell am I challenging God to knock me off my bike?!”
Stupid is as stupid does.
It took me about 30 minutes to ride through those 19 miles. I got home and immediately felt good about myself. Not just because I got through that windstorm. But I completed my first real motorcycle adventure. 675 miles. I survived retirees driving RV’s that were pulling SUV’s up narrow, winding roads. I survived a plate of bad tuna on the first night of my trip. I survived stoned neo-hippies walking aimlessly across my path. I survived soccer mom’s driving while text messaging.
A million dollar view worth the ride, Advil and Pepto Bismol
15 minutes after pulling my bike gear off while folding laundry, I actually thought maybe King Kong had nothing on me…
Crap, this duvet cover is still wet! And, there are no more dryer sheets. What kind do we use? Scented or unscented?
That giant sucking sound isn’t the wind. It’s the air of my ego leaking out of the ball-bearing sized hole in it. While I may have cheated a severe limp and some road rash, I couldn’t escape the one universal truth in life: No one — not King Kong, not Lieutenant Dan — has the constitution to lie in wet sheets.
- Jose Mallabo
Monkey butt to keep shorts over sweats buried
Posted by Jose in Friends and family, Funny on June 11th, 2009
Led Zeppelin released its first album forty years ago in January of 1969.
I’m not sure the 15 year old wearing the Zeppelin tee-shirt in the taco shop quite appreciates the possibility that he was conceived because of the track “Dazed and Confused.”
Probably not.
He probably just thought it was a cool retro shirt — which then forced him to download Led Zeppelin IV (home of “Stairway to Heaven”) to substantiate the $40 price tag for that shirt at Urban Outfitters.
I think it’s kind of cool, actually. Cool to see bands that comprised the soundtrack of my teenage years influencing today’s acne demographic. 15 years from now when that kid is my boss, I’ll be trying to convince him how In Through the Out Door was Zeppelin’s best all around album.
I was no boogie woogie bugle boy
The parallel would have been me wearing an Andrews Sisters tee-shirt when I was 15 in 1984. Instead, I was wearing a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt in 1984 trying to look cool against all the Van Halen fans wearing 1984 tee-shirts.
A couple days after spotting the taco eating Robert Plant fan, I saw another kid walking down the street in what can only be described as what you’d get if you threw a teen aged Asian into a blender with Joey Ramone and Howard Jones. By Howard Jones I mean this Howard Jones:
Everyone is to blame for this look
Not the guy that kind of looks like Sting now and plays your local amphitheater in the summer.
Under the shaved side faux hawk / mullet were the Square Pegs spectacles, denim jacket with hoody under it — all on top of a nasty pair of skinny black jeans that the Ramones helped make cool because Judy was in fact a Punk.
As I drove through trendy Walnut Creek past the Apple store, past Tiffany’s then of course past Urban Outfitters, I couldn’t help wonder if there is anything from my youth that hasn’t or won’t come back into vogue?
Two days of contemplation later, I give you the gym shorts over the sweat pants ensemble. Heidi Klum can’t make this look cool without going NC-17. I scoured my memory for all the things I saw in the 70s and 80s that haven’t resurfaced as a cool or fashionable thing to do or wear.
- Baggy jeans. Check and double check.
- Skinny jeans. Check. See above.
- 70s rock. My 15 year old niece likes AC/DC. Check.
- Bobby Brady haircut. See any playground in America. Check.
- My all time favorite tube sock has even made a renaissance. Thanks Nick Van Exel.
- Acid wash denim is thriving in certain parts of Americana. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Check.
It seems like everything has come back — except the gym shorts over sweat pants look. One would argue that the shift towards the show me your curves while you exercise movement would be the biggest nail in the coffin for shorts over sweats. While Dwight Howard is yoked and looks bad ass in a tank and women’s volleyball is made all the more interesting because of the attire, I rest my argument on a more practical matter called Monkey Butt.
Better than the skinny jeans. And no Monkey Butt.
It’s an uncomfortable condition caused by the sublime combination of friction, heat and sweat during exercise that is exacerbated by wearing layers and layers of clothing over ones nether region. The shorts over sweats wrap is simply too much cloth because it doesn’t preclude having to wear some kind of underwear or jock strap. So, until the Anti Monkey Butt product becomes the iPod for your bum, I’m willing to bet that we never see this Rocky Balboa meets Urkel at a track meet look again.
- Jose Mallabo