It's Friday, Friday...

Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend.


Yes, the song is so bad that it's good. But to be honest, Rebecca Black hit the nail on the head with her profound lyrics. It most indeed is Friday.

Now I have not done research on this, but I bet it is safe to say that if you polled (FB idea) the general population, the most popular day of the week is Friday. It's pretty obvious why because it's the end of a long, bitter week (whether your's involves work, school, or staying home) and the start of a well-rewarded weekend.

But if you analyze it closer, we spend the majority of our Fridays trapped until the last class of the day ends or the "yabba dabba doo" moment at 5 PM. We waste most of this day in zombie mode just trying to get through it. If you think about it, you could argue that Saturday is the most popular day. You get the whole day from sun up to sun down to do whatever makes your heart content. No sitting through a boring lecture or worthless work meeting.

But Rebecca's words of wisdom ring true... Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend. The anticipation is sometimes even better than the moment. Being a family man, my weekends do not involve partying or gettin jiggy wit it anymore so my Friday nights and Saturdays are pretty boring. But come 2 hours before closing up shop I feel like I am playing the SuperBowl tomorrow. No matter what my plans may or may not have in store, I so esscited.

That feeling has been there ever since I can remember. Junior high Friday afternoon's before the bell rang at 3:15 consisted of drafting our fantasy baseball players for the video game Baseball Stars on our first-gen Nintendo. We spent study halls, a quick ten minutes between classes, secret discussions while the teacher wrote on the chalk board picking guys like Frank Thomas, Joey "then Albert" Belle, and my all-time favorite player Will Clark (side note - I still do these things this time of the year for fantasy football during work... thank God for technology). When we got to whoever's house we were sleeping at that night, we'd spend almost all night editting the default names to the guys we spent all afternoon picking. The funny thing is we would spend more time on that then actually playing.

During high school, Fridays really meant something too. I can look back at the anticipation of the big game whether it was football, basketball, or baseball. Especially if you played the sport like I did, you could forget about acing that last test on Friday. All this nervous excitement makes it hard to remember the pythagorean theorem.

College... well, in college it was more about the parties. You would ask around during lunch in the commons who was having a party. You would figure out how you were going to get beer and sneak it in to your dorm. If you were smart, you would avoid scheduling Friday afternoon classes altogether. But since you were not a morning person you were stuck with Theories of Art during the Renaissance, learning about the unique brush strokes of some French dude while your buddies already polished off a case of Milwaukee's Best... not that I would know.

Even though my college sucked at parties (another side note - if partying was a program in college, then my college offered an unaccreditted certificate taught by a nun), it was still exciting to think the next epic party was just hours away (yet another side note (side note to the side note - I realize that's two side notes in one sentence and one to recognize them) - epic back then was only a term used by people who played Dungeons and Dragons, but now is considered cool).

Today a Friday for someone slaving away until retirement still holds fondness. Like I said before, I might not be deciding which drinking game to play first or getting ready for a big game, but the anticipation that maybe something I'll never forget could happen reminds me to... Check my time, it's Friday, it's a weekend. We going to have fun, come on, come on, y'all.

I leave you with this most epic Friday remix.

Lucky numbers: how to win at Powerball

I didn’t win it.

But someone in the land of 10,000 lakes (ticket sold in Dakota County if you’re wondering) won the Powerball last night. That lucky person or person(s) will take home a little over $83 million dollars after taxes. The odds of winning are 1 in 195,249,054, which is staggering to say the least. But when you think about it, you can prolly improve those odds by not playing combinations of numbers. Even though statistically it could happen, how many times have you seen the Powerball go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and then the powerball? Answer… never.

By getting rid of those sequential combinations, get rid of all combinations that show a pattern like all evens/odds, same increments like 4, 8, 12…, get rid of all previous winning combinations, getting a totally random combination could improve your odds to 1 in 150,000,000 I would think. Good luck.

Well, this is how I look at it. Instead of it being 1 in impossible odds of winning, I figure someone has to win it, might as (not mind as or minus as I’ve seen according to FB language) well be me. Those odds then decrease significantly. They get even better when you play easy pick because now I figure it’s just a matter of timing. Most Powerball winners come from the easy pick (randomly chosen by the computer). So if the computer is doing it consistently it’s just like a slot machine. Whoever was there at the right time is going to win. So that guy in front of you who got out of line to go grab a Yoohoo, which allowed you buy your easy pick 30 seconds earlier could have cost you $83 million and you’ll never know. Freaking Yoohoo!

Anyway, I only play Powerball or MegaMillions when it’s big. I don’t want to settle for $10 million… lol. I know I’m not going to win, but if I did I want it to be filthy big. I have already imagined what I would do with it. Imagine is prolly not a strong enough word… I have a master plan laid out.

Let’s take last night’s winner who will bank $83 mill. Before I claim the prize, I would contact a top-notch finance lawyer who would set up my contracts for me. I have a buddy accountant in mind and would retain his services by doubling his current salary just so he can do my taxes every year. He could quit his current job and spend more time with family b/c he’ll have one client.. me. My financial planner buddy I would do the exact same thing.

Now I’m going to claim the prize. Don’t expect a press conference because I will remain anonymous. The winner would be me, but announced as some obscure trust called The Likeded Group set up by my top-notch finance lawyer. I don’t want 4^th cousins I’ve never talked to coming out of the woodworks begging me for money. Worse, I don’t want them pressuring my family and guilt-tripping them to give them money (even though Hmong people have big mouths and it would get out eventually). And we’re definitely moving to an undisclosed residence for about a month, most likely some fancy hotel in downtown Minneapolis so we don’t get random people knocking on our door.

Now I’ve got the money. What do I do first? “Two chicks at the same time” (Office Space – great movie). The obvious thing to do is to become debt free right away. Then I would start giving it out. First my side of the family. I have 3 brothers and 2 sisters. Each would receive $1.5 million. I would then give them $100,000/year so they could quit their jobs and hopefully use their $1.5 million wisely. My parents would get $3 million. Total of $10.5 million gone from the top on immediate family members. My aunts and uncles would get $200K each. I think there are six left from both sides. Cousins get really tricky, but I would give varying amounts up from $25K-$50K depending how close I am to them. So from 1^st cousins and aunts/uncles I’m thinking $1.5 million – gone just like that. So my side trimmed it down to $71 million.

Now the wife’s side. Three sisters and one brother. Again $1.5 million each and $100K per year. Mother and father-in-law, $3 million in the bank. Will try to do the uncles/aunts/cousins similarly, but her side is not just some average family tree. No, it’s like that freaking Mother Tree in the movie Avatar (another pretty good movie if you’re bored on a Friday night). So I’m budgeting about $2 mill for them, which brings the Hang side total to $11 million. Now down to $60 million.

Friends… can’t forget friends. I have some really good, life-long friends I would definitely hook up. Mortgages would be paid for. I would pay for college educations for some other buddies, pay for cars, credit cards, etc. We will have one awesome poker night that’s for sure. Guesstimating $3 million… down to $57 million.

Churches… I know times are tough and so are tithes so there are few I have in mind. $3 million (accountant buddy should see about tax deductions). Charities… I have a few in mind as well like the homeless, anything with kids, cancer research, make-a-wish, etc. $2 million.

$52 million left.

We’re moving. I love having four seasons, but not 3 months at a time. We’ll either buy a place or build in the Monterrey, CA area. Guessing $5 million will do… trust me I have looked (you gotta have a master plan). Great weather year-round and most importantly great golfing i.e. Pebble Beach. Bam! Down to $47 million. After purchasing toys, installing putting green, Winnebago, furnishing home I’m guessing $2 million total will be spent.

So that leaves $45 million to live off for the rest of our lives. If my financial planner buddy diversifies our money in the right/safe places I am thinking we could easily get 5% overall every year. That’s ultra-conservative and still yields $2.25 million every year. Giving my siblings $900K per year and paying my accountant, financial planner, and lawyer their salaries/services would be about $400K a year. That means I could spend $1 million a year on living expense and never have to touch that $45 million nest egg!!!

So Powerball/MegaMillions will surely climb back up eventually and I’ll surely get my easy picks. And sure mo’ money mo’ problems as they say. So if one of you Dakota County friends of mine won last night, I’ll gladly share in your burden.

back to the future

I wrote this almost 10 years ago. most of it still holds true, but ironically I work at a career-focused school now. By the way, I like to read comments about my blog... good and bad ones.

is it better to be pretty good at everything or exceptional at one thing? i'm perplexed b/c my strength is my weakness. i can talk to you about philosophy and i can throw a baseball very hard. however, you won't see me leading a new age mind of thought or leading a baseball team to the world series.

i'm grateful that i went to a liberal arts college instead of some trade school, but it's like i know a lot about nothing and then these computer nerds that never went to the keggers are making boat loads of money. sup with that? i know, that's why they make you declare a major, but how vague can business management be (which was mine)? the only thing worse would be the diversity major my school offered... 3 minors equaling one major. hello? might as well have declared "undecided" and graduated suma cum dunno.

but it's not just in schooling though. being hmong in america, i've grown up knowing two worlds. the american way and the hmong way. and somewhere inbetween i've incorporated the hmong-american way. i'm not fully one or the other.

wierd, but... i'm not definitively anything. i can't be pigeon-holed i guess. but i can't be an expert either! i'm like an oxymoron or maybe i'm just the moron.

i guess i'll just be exceptional at being pretty good at everything.

Ad man

I majored in business with an emphasis in marketing in college. I thought with my creative ways I could make commercials someday. I never went down that exact road, but from time to time a commercial will come on that will make me think I could have done a way better job than that crap. However there are some amusing ones like the Miller Lite radio ads...

So I decided to make my own. Picture the announcer's voice going with this.

As the dog days of summer come upon us, we at Miller Lite understand you deserve a refreshing beer to kick back with friends and have a grand ol’ time. Cause grand is a lot better than paltry. Ever heard Beethoven’s 5^th played on a paltry piano? It sounds like my nephew going number 2 in his diaper. So your baseball team hit a paltry slam… congrats, here’s a burrito you’ll see more runs that way. While you’re at it, why don’t you take a trip to the Paltry Canyon? The ants tell me it’s majestic this time of year. Nothing compares to the smell of paltry ma-ma’s cookies. Except for her sweaty feet so don’t mistake the lint for chocolate chips, bud.

Getting a ride in your friend’s Paltry Am? Get ready to pee into his radiator. So you went to Paltry Valley State University in Paltry Rapids, Michigan? Guess what? The B.S. in your degree doesn’t stand for Bachelors of Science. Listening to some country music from the Paltry Ole Opry. There’s going to be a tear in your beer because I just kicked in you in the crotch. Waiting for a verdict from the paltry jury? Your guilty of being a loser. We stand by our beer at Miller Lite and when you’re looking for grandiose taste, pop open a refreshing Miller Lite.

I can still dream.

The scenic route

It was a perfect evening to ride my bike last night. It’s something I definitely need to do more often for several reasons. First I need to get my butt back in shape and I really hate running so biking is a great alternative. Plus I have a better chance of outracing a dog if needed and I like cruising down hills.

Secondly it reminds me when I was young. I used to ride my bike everywhere when I was kid. I had a handful of bikes and remember almost all of them because they were the soundtrack of my youth. I remember exactly where I was when I learned to ride a bike. It was a crappy bike that I think my cousins owned and gratefully pawned off to me. I couldn’t tell you what color she was or the brand, but like most things in life I remember all of its flaws.

It had no pedals… well, I should say it had the metal rod piece to place your foot on like a bike peg but no flat pedal to support my entire foot. I would pedal maybe two full revolutions and my feet would roll forward and I would have to keep adjusting by scooting my feet back on the metal rod. I have well-defined calves to this day because of her so I can’t complain (I’ll challenge anyone to a calf-flexing competition).

The pedal thing wasn’t even the worst part of the bike. She didn’t sport rubber tires for wheels. No, she had the black, made-to-look-real, hard plastic wheels. The same material as ones you would see on a kid’s Radio Flyer wagon. I literally felt every freaking crack, bump, rock, etc. so it was more comfortable for my butt to ride standing on the pedal thing. But doing that put so much pressure on my feet standing on two medal rods/pedals. I should have just ran to places come to think of it, but even back then I knew I hated running. Bikes could only go uphill literally and figuratively from that first beauty.

Then the movie “Rad” happened in 1986 and changed all grade school boy’s thinking of bikes. Diamondback and BMX bikes were totally awesome and everyone wanted one. They were a little pricey so I got some knock-off Huffy at Wal-Mart. I remember she was red, had REAL tires, and I would try to do all these tricks like spinning the handle bars, curb indos, your typical wheelies, and of course jumps. A wooded area across the street from our house became an obstacle course for my friends and I. How I never got lyme disease is a mystery with all the hours we spent going back and forth. God placed a perfectly-formed mound about five feet tall at the end of the woods that made a perfect ramp. We would have some epic jumping contests. No one ever attempted any flips, but there were some fantastic crashes. I ran that bike to the ground, but she’ll forever be my favorite.

The third reason I should ride my bike more is how aesthetically pleasing it can be. Normally I jump into my Toyota Highlander and take off on the most direct route passing by homes, parks, stores, etc. without giving a glance. A bike slows everything down. I’m not in a rush to get somewhere or worried about hitting another red light. Don’t have to flip through radio stations to find something interesting. It’s just me and the road and whether I want to go left, right, or straight is the biggest thing to ponder.

Growing up in town of about 10,000 people I knew every street and alley, every short cut, which streets to avoid because of hills, and which homes let the dogs roam free. Riding my mountain bike last night and exploring different neighborhoods near my home was refreshing. As I weaved through streets I was transported back to that Huffy only I had no idea where I was going. I stumbled across neighborhoods and found parks tucked away here and there. I had an idea where I was at all times, and it was fun trying to get back to those familiar roads. But part of me wanted to just keep venturing off and get lost. I would have taken that chance if it wasn’t getting dark.

Life is a lot like that I think. We might have an idea of the right path, but the more you take the path less known, the less it becomes unknown. We’re in such a rush to get on the most direct route that if we ever get lost, we don’t know what to do. We miss all the little things along the way and the details become a blur. We become so focused on the destination that the thrill of the journey becomes a burden. Our lives become charted out like a GPS and we lose our instincts to find our way.

So if you’re feeling overwhelmed, just slow it down because even if there’s an easier way does not mean it’s better. Take a break if you have to. If it looks interesting, go detour over to it. Don’t forget that dead ends have some cool sights and give you an opportunity see them twice… from a different angle. Take that turn you always wondered about taking and see where it leads. No matter how dark it's going to get, don't worry... you’ll find your way back.

The house always wins.

Tonight is poker night at my house. I hold it atleast once a month and it's always a good time. I usually invite about 10-12 homies and we all know each other from various things. Plus it's a small Hmong world anyway so we can all poke fun of each other at the poker table while trying to catch the river (Chippy, I'm talking about you).

I won pretty big a few months ago and decided to re-invest in poker night. I built my own poker table top. At first I thought I could skimp a little here and there so I got felt from Michaels. Big mistake because the felt started balling up making it hard to slide cards. Lesson learned. Well, after a few months of procrastination, I finally have it right. Professional-grade material (water-proof FTW!), bottle holders installed, and a comfy arm rest bumper (I'll upload picture later). Can't wait for boys to see it.

There are certain unwritten rules with poker night that have become a tradition. As host, I am responsible for the food. This is one of my favorite things about poker night because I get to pick and choose what to make. If I've never made it before, I usually get a few weeks to perfect it.

In the past I've made steaks, brats and burgers, pizza and chicken wings, pho (I can now open my own restaurant called Pho Shizzle), and Philly cheese steaks (they were the bomb) to name a few. Tonight I am conquering hot dogs... I am having corn dogs, chili dogs, and bacon-wrapped dogs. It's going to be hot dog heaven.

Another unwritten rule is the homies bring the drinks. Beer consumption is a staple and now and then my buddy Gui brings the hard stuff. We started a new tradition at the last poker night. On any random hand, the winner not only wins the main pot, but also a side pot of chips donated from a few guys at the table. Great right? Well, there's a shot of whatever to go with it. I think I donated about $20 to that cause, but it's like buying your buddy a few shots at the bar.

Tonight I'm introducing a new tradition:

It reads "Tonight was duty / to answer / the call of booty." The last part has multiple meanings. The obvious one since we're dudes. Also a few of the guys play Call of Duty. Lastly "booty" as in treasure (aaargh, matey!). I'm thinking that everyone puts in $2 at a chance to win this bad boy. The first to win 10 hands on the night will have the right to proudly hold on to this manly cup until the next poker night. Great right? Well, they're going to have to drink whatever we put in there first.

The World Series of Poker may currently be on ESPN, but I tell you what, there's no better table to go "all in" then the one I'll be siting at tonight. And at the end of the night if I win or lose money, I always come out ahead.

But don't think I'm not going to try to keep the cup with me. I'm going to answer the call...

UPDATE!!!

Like I said, the house always wins.

Your calling

I'll ask, "On a scale of 1-10, how important is this to you?"

I usually get 9, 10, or 11.

I'm asking them how important is it for them to go back to school and change their lives so it better be a 9, 10, or 11. That's my job. I work for the Admissions Department at a career-focused college.

I'll talk with prospective students who come here knowing for the most-part what they want to do. They vary from business, vet techs, medical assistants, criminal justice, paralegal, and a several others (contact me if you're looking). Company standard wants the meeting to wrap-up in an hour, but I like to get to know them better and habitually build too much rapport and end up spending about an hour-and-a-half... sometimes two.

I am scratching that itch that motivated them to come in and find out if going to school is the best thing they could do for their career and livelihood. I dig, challenge, consult, console and do such a good job that occasionally I'll get them to cry right infront of me... and it's not always women. I am not mean, berating or even judgemental. Truth is, the realization that they literally can change their future hits them when they talk to me. I'll come out and say what they have been thinking for years. "You're not reaching your potential are you?" That's when the eyes get watery. I am the "expert" they have come to see and when I tell them they're doing the right thing, emotions can come flooding if I've done a good job.

Now this blog has nothing to do with tooting my own horn. If anything, it's putting a plug in it. You may be thinking "what a great job." I get to help people reach their goals and fulfill their true calling. That does make it worthwhile cause I do enjoy helping others. I'm making recommendations and coaching others... I'm helping guide them to their future.

And yet here I am wondering if there's something better for me. I know this isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life. What I need is a taste of my own medicine. Get challenged, consulted, and consoled. I'm like a marriage counselor who has marital problems... a chef without a palate... a dentist with crooked teeth. You get the picture.

I envy people who truly love what they do... those who love getting to work early and don't mind if they leave late. I think we all strive to do something we have a passion for... for me playing 2nd base for the Twins isn't going to happen.

So I borrow a saying when I meet with prospective students, "Love what you are doing and you will never work a day in your life." Unfortunately I do feel like I work everyday... like it's a grind. Maybe we never find our true calling. Maybe we're not all supposed to become professional athletes, models, actors, or astronauts because someone has to pick up my trash. Someone has to call me to donate blood. Someone has to plow the snow. Someone has to serve my food. Maybe I should just be grateful I have a job and can dream bigger. Maybe we just keep striving for the next best thing for ourselves until we grow tired of it and do it all over again. Maybe we'll always think we're not reaching our potential after each goal is conquered.

I know there's more of us out there still searching or going through the motions than there are who have followed their dreams. I see them everyday. My advice is don't be complacent where you are now. There is something better for you. It won't be handed to you and there will be obstacles standing in your way to make it difficult, but you shouldn't have it any other way because if it's too easy, it's not worth it.

So how important is it for me to find my calling?

It's a 12.