Face Down

Smartphone users,

It's hard to imagine that I've only had my Moto Droid (original) smart phone for just under a year. Before that, I was still pimping the Verizon Moto Razr which after 3 years could literally only make 2 calls or 10 text messages before the battery would alert that it was near dead (but would make a ding sound for a day before it would actually die). And just forget about accessing email or the internet on the minuscule pixelated screen, let alone pay Verizon for access to their crappy VZW Navigator program.

And I wasn't going to get into the whole phone craze (maybe just a newer, thinner clamshell), but my uncle kindly commented/insulted that my swag didn't quite match my salary. And so began this unholy tethering of myself to a 3.7 touchscreen device.

For a reasonable price of $200 for the phone and $50/month paid out to my parents on or around the first of the month (they comp my minutes, but not my data plan), I get unlimited internet and email pushed to my phone via Google's relatively seamless system. Which would be great if it hasn't turned me into a email-seeking fiend.

The Droid alerts me to my Gmail messages with a windchime-like noise (I couldn't find a decent copy of the Razr default windchime) and a fluorescent green, blinking LED light in the top right corner. The green, blinking LED light also alerts me to weather alerts, alarms, Facebook stuff, and a variety of other things. Sometimes when I don't see that green light for a few hours, I start to get depressed* and wonder why the world ignores me.

But then I just force the world to pay attention by posting random status updates and updating my blog (sorry for the long absence, but I have my reasons). Or I read Ball Don't Lie or poker articles or check stock quotes. All the while waiting for that little green light to turn on to signify that someone in the ether has initiated contact and wants to talk to me. Pretty sad, I know.

Most of the time, it's just Overstock.com or Southwest.com, but it's still nice to know you're appreciated, even if it's just for your money.

So this morning, when I woke up at 4:30AM to take care of bodily functions, I noticed my favorite green, blinking light sitting on the desk. Though I passed it up the first time, I couldn't resist the second time upon returning from the bathroom: it was nowhere in my line of sight, but the temptation of its sitting there waiting for my response was irresistible.

After two random emails and a few minutes of Facebook newsfeed, I was wide awake and lusting for more contact with the outside world even though I only had 6 hours of sleep after being awake for over 24 hours.

In the subsequent 4 hours, I set up my old DSL modem/ wireless router combo only to learn that AT&T has LoJacked their DSL service to possibly only allow their current hardware to work, saw my parents off the work and harassed them for the new hardware that was sent in the mail, set up the new modem/router device, used up a week's worth of 4-letter words when the 'easy to follow instructions' were easy to follow but just didn't work, got the easy to follow instructions to work after a cooling off period, got on the internet using WiFi instead of PDAnet, forgot my password to my email account because I don't type it anymore since I get my email through my phone, used some more 4-letter words, remembered the password, saw that there were no new messages because I had seen them all on my phone, and finally composed a long-winded blog entry.

And now I think I might go back to sleep with the rising sun, which I'm used to since I work nights. But before I do that, I think I must turn my phone face down so the green light can tempt the wooden desk, which has far more staying power than me**.

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*Not really, because that would be sad.

**Ever so subtle double entendre :)

Wasting My Time

Procrastinators Non-Anonymous,

There's only a few people I know who aren't major procrastinators. I'm sadly not one of them. And I would bet even they are closet procrastinators and are simply good at putting up a diligent front. Or they're aliens. Yes, either they're closet procrastinators or they're aliens. There's no other logical reasoning. Book it!

However, there is one defense for procrastination: if your problem may go away by itself in the future, then it is logical to put off addressing it now. One application of this is to wait out the common cold. There's no cure anyway, and the doctor to justify a copay will just prescribe some new formulation you could get over the counter anyway (yes, this particular formulation of a decades old antihistamine and decongestant is sooooo much better than Claritin-D or Zyrtec-D). If you can't tell, I have a serious aversion to drug companies.

But for the most part, procrastination is a vice that many of us try to purge ourselves of and frequently end up unsuccessful. But we manage, either by the carrot (incentives) or the stick (punishment). The problem grows fierce when there's no carrot nor stick, as in my case now.

On my work week, I delay everything to my off week because it's direly important that I get enough sleep so I'm alert and focused so I don't make a misfill and get my pants sued off of me. On my off week, I go out carousing and making jolly, killing brain cells and spending 5-10 hours straight reading fine literature. All the while the to-do-list piles up in the corner, ignored the like red-headed step-child, who is soulless and therefore undeserving of love. And then the end of the week arrives, and the bill comes due.

And so here I am scrounging about for Form 4868 to file an income tax extension*, to do more work than is necessary if I had done it right the first time around.

Oh, I'll never change.
--

During school, there were reset switches. Let me explain: When making the most of life not studying for a test, the elapsed time until the test doesn't change. The test will still be in 2 weeks whether you like it or not. And I really don't understand why people assumed that I studied all night and day for stuff. I didn't and I don't. It's a gift to guess between A-B-C-D-E a little more than 90% of the time.

So the day before the test like every other super-studious student, I crack open my notes to page 1 of 1,000 and curse the day I was born into this world which has tests and isn't just a whole Montessori-it's-okay-just-try-your-best-you're-all-winners delusion. But my test-taking skills prevail, and the procrastination is reinforced instead of punished: if I can study just a day before a test and still make the same grade, then what is the point of studying in advance. Hate me; you know you want to.

But then the situation is reset: that test is over, and then there's the next one which you have 2 weeks to study for. It's like a 2-player Halo game: when your partner gets to the next checkpoint, you get to go along for the ride even though you hardly did any work. And at the end of the year, there's a giant reset button and you get the summer off to do whatever the hell you please.
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When you beat the game (grade school & college), however, the resets and checkpoints mostly disappear. That same task you wrote down to clean out your notes and have a huge, purgative bonfire will remain there until you actually complete it. Your dumbbell set stares at you condemningly when you don't work out ('I worked out yesterday!' 'But you didn't work out today...FAIL'). The stuff you said you'd sell on eBay remains unsold. Etc, etc ad nauseam.

Okay, so today, I'm going to listen to some music, reconcile some receipts, and clean out my room. I predict I will complete just 1 out of 3, and that would be the listening to music task.

Queue Default's Wasting My Time.
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*Not really--the government owes me a fat check every year since they take out 1/3 of my income, and I file my taxes as early as possible so those bastards can't get more interest off of MY money.

Pre-Filled Flu Syr

Dear new techs,

The bad part about working at a brand new store is that you can hardly find a pharmacy technician with any experience. All those AIU, Remington, ITT tech places promising thorough training and career placement have fine print saying jobs aren't guaranteed. The reason being that employers want people with real-world understanding of the job. But when you open in a brand new market, those trade school grads are the ones you can find with some exposure, however minimal.

Though you can find a truly remarkable individual once in a while who ends up being really great but didn't have any experience initially, that is the exception. Experience matters, period.

But luckily for me, the techs at my store have a good attitude towards learning, which is really the most important characteristic in my opinion.

With new techs, you do see some pretty funny situations such as a tech saying that we were out of stock of albuterol MDI ('Dude, there's ProAir, Proventil, or Ventolin...pick one') or ordering Indocin suppositories because that's all that was pulled up in the computer when they typed 'Indocin' (brand for Indomethacin, which we had 10 bottles on the shelf).

But the one that took the cake, which I could see myself doing if I had a brain fart, was this:

I came in one night and noticed that we had low-dose heparin syringes, the kind that they used to clear out or push through medicines in IV lines in hospitals. It's pretty common in hospital pharmacies which usually carry several cases of them. But not in a retail pharmacy--if you have an IV line, you should probably be in a hospital or a long-term care facility. And IV drugs are probably not going to be covered under prescription insurance anyway.

Anyway, I laughed at it, chalking it up to ordering error, which happens a lot. The syringes came in white boxes with about 50 in each. In turn, the 4 white boxes fit inside a large cardboard box, which had the label: BD Pre-Filled Flush Syringes.

My goodness, so that's the reason! BD Pre-Filled Flush Syringes. I guess one of the techs thought that the 'BD Pre-Filled Flu Syr' in the wholesaler catalog was the pre-filled flu syringes that we've been using like warmcakes*.

And we can't return it because it's 'generic', but at least it's cheap. So if you need some flush syringes, get a prescription and then holla at yo boy.
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*Flu shots haven't exactly been flying off the shelf. Maybe 10/week if that?

The Ambien Prior Authorization

Dear new RPh's and techs,

A post for my retail pharmacy people and those insomniacs whose insurance refuses to pay for sleep pills.

Just about the middle of last year, I started to notice that refills for zolpidem, generic Ambien, was being rejected for a prior authorization. This means that the insurance company wants to talk to the doctor to make sure that the patient really, really needs the medicine. What it really means is that insurance companies are the spawn of the devil and don't want to pay for anything.

A quick note about insurance companies: their business model is to take regular premiums from their customers and find ways to NOT pay out claims. One of the sneaky ways they do this is to send out brand new cards every year so that they can expire the old ones and hopefully not pay for a refill. In doing so, they make my job sucky for a few months out of the year, even more than usual with having to deal with insurance.

Most of the time though, their prior authorizations (PA) are well founded: rejecting an ADHD med for a kid who is 4 years old (my goodness, are we going to pump 1 year-olds with Ritalin next because they cry too much? wait a minute, we do! *sad face*), rejecting Cambia(R) because it's glorified ground-up diclofenac*, and rejecting Nexium(R) because it's basically rehashed omeprazole whose patent had run out**.

To these situations, I must say to the insurance co's, 'Nicely done. If I had more time to talk to the doctors to convince them to use medicines judiciously, I'd do the same. But since I'm here to dispense drugs pursuant to a prescription, I'd really wish that you'd make my life easier and just approve the medicine for a $200 copay so I can tell the patient to take it or leave it or take it up with their insurance/doctor. Because a PA makes it look like the pharmacy is being withholding, when it is in fact, you who are the angry wife (who is withholding of the marital obligation). Thank you.'

But I just don't understand when they reject meds which are comparatively dirt cheap (in the $40 range). Branded Lamisil tablets used to be prohibitively expensive, but the generic isn't too bad. Come on, guys! Let the old dude have it for his onychomycosis! Or when they rejected generic zolpidem when they had paid for it the first couple of months.

But then I remembered the lecture I gave on sleep disorders shortly after I graduated***: Ambien is FDA-approved for 'short-term treatment of insomnia characterized by difficulties with sleep initiation. Ambien has been shown to decrease sleep latency for up to 35 days in controlled clinical studies.'

Bingo! The resident medical 'expert' at the insurance department picked up on the little bit of important information (the package insert that accompanies the drug bottle), and found a great reason to reject refills of Ambien. 'Dear Dr. so-and-so: As you can see from the package insert, Ambien (Zolpidem) is not approved for treatment lasting longer than 35 days. Thank you.'

Anyone with any bit of reason (even insurance companies) knows that Ambien doesn't simply stop working after 35 days because the drug isn't approved for long-term treatment. It simply meant that Sanofi-Aventis didn't have the money to run the trial longer or were afraid that the sleep-inducing effects would wear off after 35 days and would lead to not-so-good-looking clinical results. As such, the drug is FDA-labeled for short-term treatment and now insurance companies have a perfectly valid reason to reject a claim using a prior authorization.

They could run longer trials now, but they won't because Ambien is generic, so they couldn't re-coop their expenses.
--

So why know all of this? Because it is always better to explain to customers how it really isn't your fault. When you pass the buck to other folks, preferably drug or insurance companies, customers can get angry at them instead of at you. By the way, don't pass the blame to their doctor, because they may really like their doctor or their doctor may call and chew you out.

'Why is my insurance not paying for my medicine?'

*Smile* 'Well, sir. Ambien is not approved for long-term treatment of insomnia. Though I realize that you've been using it for years now, the original studies approving the medicine was only for short-term treatment. I think the insurance company wants to run this by with your doctor and make sure that there isn't a better way to treat your insomnia.'

Congratulations! The customer is no longer angry at you, and thinks you're pretty swell for your insurance knowledge. He shakes your hand, happily pays the ~$40 for the cash price of Ambien, and will take it up himself with his doctor/insurance.

Based on a true story.

Incidentally, you could also recommend the customer to get a prescription for Temazepam (generic Restoril) which is only about $20 per month without insurance.
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*I wanted to tell the patient to get a prescription for diclofenac 50 mg, buy a mortar and pestle, grind the pills up herself to put in water, and save $200 for 5 friggin packets!

**Please explain this to me: Omeprazole 20 mg and Nexium 40 mg are the most commonly dispensed strengths. We are made to believe that the S-enantiomer is supposedly the more active (or only active) component of the racemic mixture, and/or that it has less side effects. Therefore, if Omeprazole 20 mg contains 10 mg of the S-enantiomer (Nexium) and 10 mg of the R-enantiomer, wouldn't the equivalent strength of Omeprazole 20 mg be Nexium 10 mg?

So why does AstraZeneca market Nexium 40 mg which would be in essence, a four-fold increase in strength vs Omeprazole 20 mg (Prilosec, which they made)? Don't give me some BS about how there are fewer side effects so you could give a higher dose--show me a person who was taken off omeprazole for side effects and I'll show you a hypochondriac.

***Excuse the not-so-subtle reference to my genius :)

Death of AIM

Dear harried folks,

The truly wonderful thing about being done with school is the freedom to do and not do whatever the hell you want. If the only thing I do besides work is to sleep all day and night on my 7 off, I could very well do that. It's not at all productive, but who cares? Sleep to me is akin to another activity that starts with 's', which is to say it's immensely pleasurable.

And being virtually stress-free, I've begun to understand the ideal of single-tasking, that you do best when you focus your entire attention on a single task at a time. It is a luxury that I daresay few people have in the workforce when most have to bring their work home. At the pharmacy, you multitask for your whole shift, but when you leave, you get to leave everything there. And thankfully your salary isn't tied into your performance (there is incentive pay, but it pales in comparison to the base salary and for the most part isn't worth stressing over*). That's one of the greatest perks of my job: when I leave, I leave.

Related to this myth of multitasking, which you can read a review of the book here by Dave Crenshaw, is that I've pretty much stopped using AIM, or AOL Instant Messenger. I found that the people I really wanted to chat with aren't on there, and the ones that I don't want to chat with would annoyingly pop in ('hey wats up?' 'nothin much, chillin' ...5 minutes pass, aZnHaVoc04** has signed off ) when I'm reading my favorite blog, Ball Don't Lie, which introduced me to my favorite NBA comic-strip blog, Garbage Time All-Stars***. I think most of the screen names I had on there were from high school when instant messaging was the rage.

The last time I signed on was probably over 6 months ago, and that was because I was helping a friend shop for something and we needed to paste links to websites. People whom I talk to on a regular basis have my phone number and they have phones which are capable of making phone calls and sending text messages. Some also have the ability to send email on their devices, which is even better. When I do get messages and calls, I know that the person on the other end really wants or needs to communicate with me and isn't simply bored and I'm 'available' because I'm signed on.

When I talk to someone now, I try to put effort to connect to what they are trying to say as much as possible (but I can't help it sometimes if I'm distracted because they're hot). Because no one really listens anymore. Not really. But everyone wants to talk.

My feeling is that all this new media has created more noise instead of more communication. We cannot decide what is important or we waste too much time parsing through all the nonsense.

It'd be cool if we were to write letters using quill pens and inkwells on unlined parchment and sealed our letters with hot, red wax using our crest and gave the mailboy a shilling or shekel to hand deliver to our closest friends and mortal enemies. And we'd wait patiently the next day and wonder ever so heartbreakingly why she hasn't responded yet to our latest sincere behest. To only receive a note two days later from the fair maiden's womanservant that 'the lady has gone out riding (horseback, not bareback) with Sir what's-his-face and won't be back for a fortnight.' To which you'd respond with, 'Ah, the tiresome wench! How she irks me so!'

I swear I haven't been watching the x-rated remake called Mr. Prejudice's Pride. These are some of the random thoughts that float through my head on a daily basis.

But the point I'm trying to make using a poor metaphor of Victorian novels is that people really cared and put thought into what they're trying to say (at least I would hope so). They had writing desks, a piece of furniture designed for just writing! They didn't use crackberries to tweet while on the john in 140 characters or less.

So along with eliminating all the empty calories in my diet (with the exception of tasty single malt scotch, which no one should define as empty simply because it is alcohol), I am eliminating the empty communication in my life.

It reminds me of one of the closing lines from a Supernatural episode: 'You're all so connected...but you've never been so alone.'

How true.
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*Imagine if bonuses were large like those finance CEOs: there might be misfills everywhere when pharmacists are pressured to increase numbers. But corporate execs would never do that because retail pharmacist salaries are insane as it is.
**Not the actual screenname, but pretty close. Not mines of course. I'm too classy for that.
***This was when Tracy McGrady was out with 'back spasms' and Von Wafer was actually a decent stand-in.

Po-po Predicament

Dear 5-0,

I have to think that the only people who love (traffic) cops are friends/family of cops. And even they only love the cop(s) that they know. Because people usually dislike those who have authority over them.

And cops can pull you over for any reason, and are in fact pressured to pull you over to increase their numbers/metrics. That's not cool, but This American Life is cool, liberal-ish cool. This 'cold front' hitting the Gulf Coast is mildly cool, but Ira Glass & crew are uber-cool. Anyway, check out their weekly podcast.

Not like it matters to me much. Since I hardly speed because I find my Corolla sitting on 14" starts to creak and shake above 70mph. And I find the gas mileage is insane when put on cruise control at 60mph (yes, I'm the jerk in the right hand lane chilling at 60mph, listening to podcasts on long drives because I like to not have to be on the lookout for cops sitting under bridges or just over hills).

But when I start to hit the greater Houston metro area, I turn off my cruise control and start driving attentively aggressive like everyone else. Because if you're doing 60 on a Houston freeway and it's not rush hour, you're bound to almost get slammed by some large truck bearing the flag of Texas and/or Mexico. Or an old caddy driven by grandma. Or a Lexus LS driven by Asian grandma. Or Charger/300 driven by middle-aged African-Americans. Or Infiniti Gs/Nissan Zs driven by Asian males. Of which, the latter two groups are rolling on glimmering dubs or dubs+.

But at least you don't have to worry too much about the nicer sports cars because the drivers care too much about their whips to get into accidents with your jalopy. When they cut you off, they know that they're not in any risk of messing their paint job--if you get distracted/pissed and wreck your car, then that's your fault. That's just my take, since I'm hopefully going to be upgrading my vehicle soon.
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So when US-59 turns into 3 lanes somewhere around Grand Parkway, I turn off the aforementioned cruise control, because [stuff] starts to get stupid with these idiot drivers. I caress and careen the steering wheel and the car, respectively, to avoid the speeders and the tortoises. I check out the cop sitting under the bridge in his light-grey 'POLICE' on white cruiser--Impalas (and moderately priced American cars) without rims are dead giveaways. I take the Beltway exit and check the rearview to make sure the 'Scalade behind me slows down a bit while he's checking out his shades in the mirror. Some people can be so narcissistic, not that I'd know anything about that (end sarcasm).

Then I take the first exit off the Beltway because it's the last free exit. I still haven't gotten the EZ tag yet, which I really should, considering I'm not poor anymore and can afford the couple bucks to avoid those atrocious Beltway feeder lights (which are synced so that you hit every damn one no matter how fast/slow you drive). My parents paid upwards of $10 to cross a bridge in NYC when we lived there; I should feel thankful to pay a buck-fifty to avoid some traffic lights.

And then just after the Hwy 288 intersection, I get a bit of amusement. Just some background about this tollroad: the Beltway 8, aka Sam Houston Tollway, completely encircles the greater Houston Metro. It costs about $1.50 to make it through an 1/8 of the circuit which is around $12 to make a complete revolution, which would take you a couple of hours (though I don't know why you'd do that except if you were a Nascar fan). The feeder, or frontage road, which runs adjacent to the tollway, is completely free, but depending on the section can have a crapload of lights. With the exception of going over the Houston Ship Channel and some other spots (I assume), you can use the frontage road and just pay with your time wasted on the lights. That is, it's free if you've got some time to kill.

Houstonians have made it a habit of killing time and the environment to save some coin. So the Beltway feeder can be packed at times. And it's only 2 lanes which wouldn't be a problem if people followed the generally accepted rules of a 2 lane highway, which the Beltway feeder mimics: slower traffic to the right, left lane for passing only.

I think in smaller towns and country roads, left-lane-for-passing-only is a law and you can get ticketed. But not in Houston of course. So all the time I see jerks driving the speed limit in BOTH lanes next to each other, not letting people pass for a good couple of miles. I've decided that it's usually because they're not paying attention to their surroundings, and not because they're vindictive a-holes. Chalk it up to my naivete or hope for humanity.

So when it happened this time around, I wasn't surprised. I just turned up Katy Perry's Teenage Dream on the radio ('yea girl, I think you're pretty without any makeup on, now can I put my hands on you in your skin-tight jeans? ;)') to turn down my frustration. But then I noticed the cause of this vehicular rudeness: a cop car.

I pass by a speed limit sign: 50 mph. I look at my odometer: 50 mph. I look at the cars: 50 mph, deduced by using relational physics. In redneck speak: 'He goin 50 cuz I'm goin 50 and I ain't passin em like Dale Earnhardt.'

And the cop just tailed them for a few miles, and finally got to his turn off the feeder. He seemed pissed because he got halfway into the left lane, but then decided that the other car wasn't going to speed up or slow down either. And it's not like he could pull them over for any moving violation: they were obeying the law--50 mph. But the cop knew and the two cars in front of him knew and I knew that everyone drives 65 on the feeder if they're under 65 (years old).

That's that. I guess this would be a Seinfeld-like post, an episode about nothing.

Esquire Survey of American Men

Dear the metrosexual,

A shorter post today.

A couple of years ago, I had a discussion with a good friend of mine about which magazine subscription to get for general manliness (as in how to be man, not how to get men). In a way, it reminded me of the Superbad opener where Michael Cera and Jonah Hill describe the perks/downsides of subscriptions to particular porn websites. Except ours was a serious discussion and not a debate between the post-pubescent absurd. (Since we all know that [website expunged] has the best stuff for free!)

We narrowed down the choices between GQ, Esquire, and Men's Health, all very nicely put together magazines. Maxim et al did not make the cut since we're classy guys.

'Men's Health has articles on workout regimens and stuff. It also has some nutritional primers in addition to how to dress.' 'Yes, but GQ and Esquire go into more detail about fashion and accessories.' As you can see, the conversation was graduate level in its complexity and simplicity.

I'm not quite sure how we manage to not drown in the reflecting pool while admiring our Narcissus-ine qualities. He got married, and it's working for him. I drink, and I guess that helps.

Joking aside, those magazines really have some good articles in addition to the stuff pandering to men's baser instincts. There was a Fall guide in GQ I recently perused about the closet essentials. I knew most of the stuff on watches (I prefer slim and elegant vs the cheap, chunky monstrosities that some guys choose to sport), but the guide on mixing & matching colors and textures was truly enlightening. It takes confidence to fly in the face of the color wheel once you've learned what colors work and don't work together.

And at least for guys, you can get a few essentials in high quality and then mix everything else in. There's almost no need to redo an entire closet; just pick a staple, add some flair, and walk confidently knowing that you're worth a million bucks. Because at least to some girls in the world, you are worth that or even more. Excuse the hopeless romantic. -5 man cards.

--

This morning on the Today Show, there was a segment about a survey done by Esquire of 20 and 50 year old men. Of course they hyped it up and advertised it for about 2 hours before actually getting to the interview with the editor (or whomever), and it was almost kind of worth it.

On the segment, they played up how it seems that 20 year olds may have a more conservative lean towards relationships and such. They cited 2 survey questions in which more 20 year olds than 50 yo said that 'divorce was never an option' and that they (20 yo) preferred their wives to be stay at home moms. After reading through the survey myself, I think the subtle difference was overdone. People love to cite proof which contradicts common opinion/knowledge (that 20 yo are out sticking their members in anything that moves).

But weak evidence aside, I've noticed personally that in my generation of early 20 year olds, there seems to be a higher frequency of commitment vs the dudes in their late 20s. Five of my friends are married, and more are dropping like flies. One of them is even having a kid. (This is a sample size of college graduates or soon to be college graduates in the South). If this trend continues, the CDC will have to get involved.

It is all quite a bit upsetting to me, as you can well imagine. Even if one feels that one is making a good decision by being promiscuous (or, more accurately, having the option to be promiscuous), when one's friends are all enjoying (or succumbing) to the married life, one starts to reconsider one's lifestyle.

Don't hate me, but I think the only mistake Tiger Woods made was to get married when he wasn't ready. If he was single, who would care about his multiple sex partners and his slight deviance towards sadism? And it's not like he had to get married to get action--this dude's going to be worth a billion bucks by swinging at a stationary object.

So I'm guessing commit if it works for you? Otherwise, hold off until you're sure? I am Catholic so there's the whole if-you-divorce-you're-going-to-hell-because-of-the-hardness-of-your-heart thing.

Anyway, read the survey if you're bored. Chime in if you're irate at my Tiger Woods' comment.