Word to my mother, or The neutrality of nitrites

One of my summer jobs during the high school years was at a hospital clinic. I won't say where it was, but the city was at the time the teenage pregnancy capital of the nation. (Which made for some sweet t-shirts for the tourists.)

The best part of the job was that it yielded a very memorable phrase, uttered by a very large dude (he was a patient's relative, so what's the right term? customer? guest? client?) who was irate about having to wait for so long, or maybe it was a Medicaid billing issue or the utter lack of a functional air conditioner on a day when it was probably 100 degrees with 3000 percent humidity. Whatever. Anyway, after getting into it with one of the employees, he pounded his fist on the counter and yelled, "I'm tired of this shit-ass bullshit." (I added the hyphen.)

I'm sure I hadn't heard anyone else use that phrase before - and I haven't heard anyone other than myself and Howard say it since. It was beautiful.

That's a very long setup to get to the point, which is that the second best part of the job was that there was a hot dog cart about 30 steps away from the clinic's front door. (I can't swear that it was a Model 325, but it looked a lot like this one.)

This, of course, meant that when it was time for lunch, my only decisions was: One hot dog or two?

My mom was none too pleased with this seemingly unhealthful lunch diet. She said then, and has repeated numerous times since, that the nitrites from all of those weiners unquestionably stunted my growth. Her theory is that I deprived myself of the three or four inches in height that might have made it a cinch for me to make the high school basketball squad. Maybe she's right.

Or... OR!... maybe not. John Tierney, or as I like to call him, Saint John Tierney, has in today's NYT a list of 10 things that we might not need to worry so much about. One is the dietary properties of hot dogs. He dismisses the "nitrite scare" out of hand. And then goes on: "If you must worry, focus on the carbs in the bun. But when it comes to the fatty frank — or the fatty anything else on vacation — I’d relax."

There are other interesting tidbits, including the assertion that paper grocery bags are no better for the environment than plastic ones - I guess the optimist spin on that would be that plastic bags aren't as bad as we thought? - and that when it comes to saving gas while driving on the highway, no difference between using the a/c and opening the windows.

I'm more relaxed already. You?

Truth in cliches

One highlight of the weekend was getting on my bike - for the first time in about seven years - and pedaling down to Manhattan Beach. I don't know about you, but I think that sounds super neat. (OK, so it's not Lewis and Clark, but I only had one afternoon to work with. Cut me some slack.)

But it turns out they're right: Even after all those years, riding a bike really is like riding a bike. The only problem with that aphorism is that it doesn't mention how much your butt is going to hurt afterwards.

Other quick random thoughts until I think of something better to write:

1) It would be pretty impractical for me to stay at this hotel, since we live about 10 miles away, but I'm already a big fan because (a) I like the description that it's like a W Hotel but with a sense of humor and (b) there's a 25 percent discount on parking if the car you're parking is a hybrid. Now we're getting the hang of it! I think all businesses that charge for parking - restaurant valets, sports stadiums, public lots - should do the same thing.

2) I'd submit that the end of Dark Knight (warning: sound) is a little anticlimactic. But that's about my only complaint. Otherwise, I loved it - as good as advertised - especially Heath Ledger's performance. (Not an original observation, but whatever.) He was so creepy/entertaining, I actually would enjoy watching a cut of the movie comprised only of his scenes. And, I'll probably never look at a Ticonderoga No. 2 in the same way again.

Hey, over here!

There's a New York Times article today reporting that the leaders of the G8 countries "endorsed... the idea" of cutting carbon emissions in half - by 2050. By which time approximately all of these guys will be dead. Cool how they managed not to actually commit to anything - they just like the idea. Way to be aggressive, kids.

Anyway, the article is illustrated with a class portrait, in which all of your assorted presidents and prime ministers (can a brother get a chancellor?) are looking forward, one guesses, toward where most of the press photographers are. Well, all of them were looking forward except for one. Which world leader was facing a totally different direction? I'll give you one guess - and no, it wasn't Sarkozy.

Well, here, see for yourself:

Bright green

Years ago, someone got me a car-emergency kit as a gift. It came in a cheap yellow plastic container that never stayed shut. It had some jumper cables, the most poorly constructed flashlight ever made, some flares and a can of some substance -- perhaps air -- that was supposed to come in handy in the case of a flat tire.

I think the air can is highly pressurized and, as such, has a warning on the package instructing me not to throw it away ever -- or something like that. So for close to a decade, during which I've had two cars and moved four times, I keep taking this rusted can of tire air with me. I don't want to toss it in a dumpster and have it blow up in someone's garbage truck. And given the effort it would take to find the nearest hazmat dump site, it has always seemed easier to just keep packing it and moving it.

Any thoughts?

Aside from soliciting your advice, I mention that fascinating information because today comes good news that those orange-apron wearing do-gooders at The Home Depot -- or Home Despot, as I like to call it -- finally announced that they'd allow their stores to collect used compact fluorescent light bulbs for recycling. Unbeknownst to me, this had been an issue until now because the bulbs contain small amounts of mercury, which is an environmental hazard, although it's apparently OK to eat in seafood.

We just bought a few packs of cfls there, so I thought it was good to know. Of course, I think these bulbs are supposed to last until about 2035, by which time we'll probably be beaming them into space or something.