That software was awesome.

Then, this last Monday, the news came out that with Cyanogen (the new software we’d put on our phones), our phones couldn’t dial 911.

It’s not a problem with all phones. It’s not even a problem with some phones. It’s a problem specifically with this one model of phone, the Samsung Vibrant, which just happens to be the one model of phone that Scott and I both have. But this is the kind of freaky fluke thing that happens to us all the time. We’ve had these phones for a year and a half. We’ve thought about changing the software off and on for over a year. We finally do it, and the very next day, the software developer says sorry, no longer supporting your phone, because Samsung has it wired in some totally wack way that we can’t work around.

GREAT.

So I made it through the week without needing to call 911, thank goodness. This weekend I researched putting the original Samsung software back on the phone, which kills my soul a little bit, because they loaded it up with dozens of crappy programs that I don’t want, don’t use, and can’t delete. That’s right, they filled it up with tons of bloat and don’t give you the ability to get rid of it. At least Windows lets you delete the AOL setup software if you don’t want it, am I right?

Fortunately, you can re-install the original Samsung software and then root the phone, which gives you deep-down access to everything. Of course, rooting the phone voids the warranty, but I’d already voided the warranty by installing the Cyanogen software, so what the heck.

So it’s back to stock Samsung Froyo, but rooted. And with root access, I can delete programs that Samsung wants me to keep. Goodbye Layar, and Gogo, and MobiTV, and The Sims 3, and the movie Avatar. Don’t want any of you, don’t need any of you.

I also added in a new launcher, since the stock TouchWiz launcher is also a stinker. I’d used Launcher Pro before, but saw that Go Launcher EX has a ton of themes to choose from.

And the developer offers a theme-making program.

How could I not?

Here’s my first attempt at my own theme, to get comfortable with the program. I based some of the icons off of another theme that I mostly liked, but wasn’t 100% in love with.

I also made a new battery widget. Although this is not my weather widget; I found this one that was already in the Beautiful Widgets download section, and liked it a lot. (Please don’t hate on our weather; we tolerate four ghastly months in the summer and this is our reward.)

Here’s inside the app drawer:

Now that I’m familiar with the theme-building program, I’ll have to think about what icon theme to build. I have two three-day weekends coming up, and Scott’s working all of those days, so I’ll have some time on my hands. Maybe a full Basic Instructions theme, although I can’t quite see yet what the icons would be.

Chickpeas: An episode of Good Eats was dedicated to chickpeas. For me, however, they will always be garbanzo beans. Why do we need two names for these legumes? How do they get to be both a pea and a bean? I don’t think I even heard the word “chickpea” until my late 20s, when suddenly hummus was everywhere.

My first experience with garbanzo beans was at an Italian restaurant called Teo’s Mia Roma, in Kenmore, WA. There were garbanzos on the salad, as well as in the minestrone. Best minestrone I’ve ever had, by the way. And one of the best Italian salad dressings in the world. Google says the restaurant is still there, but they may have changed cooks/recipes.

Polliwog: On an episode of QI, the “fact” was mentioned that what English kids call tadpoles, American kids call polliwogs. And I was all, WTF, Stephen Fry? I grew up knowing those larval frogs as tadpoles. I always thought “polliwog” was an English thing. But perhaps it’s the location of my upbringing.

Gesundheit: This one is clearly location-based. Both Scott and I say this as a response to a sneeze, and we’ve received many a strange look here in the south. It’s all “bless you” or “god bless you” down here. But just like my way of calling fizzy drinks “pop” instead of the southern standard of “soda”, I’m not about to change.

$ Dollars: I saw this on a billboard on my way home last night: $3 Million Dollars. To me, having the dollar sign and the word “dollars” is redundant. It’s like saying “ATM machine” or “PIN number”. In my mind, it should be either “$3 Million” or “3 Million Dollars”.

I think we can all agree that there are errors on this truck. I’m fascinated how they covered both “its” and “it’s” bases in the same sentence. Also, capitalization of titles: all or nothing, friends. Don’t leave out the word “your” if you’re so dead-set on capping your slogans. (But at least they did use “your” correctly.)

So what do you all think? Who says what out there? I’d love to know of any Americans who grew up thinking of pre-frogs as polliwogs. Or of anyone else who responds to a sneeze with gesundheit. Or your take on the garbanzo vs. chickpea battle.

I visisted my brand-new gastroenterologist yesterday.

A recap: I was originally diagnosed with Crohn’s disease in 1997, and had been in medication-free remission since 2003. I had a Crohn’s flare in 2009, and hadn’t found a new gastroenterologist in Floriday yet, so my HMO referred me to Doctor #1. Had a colonoscopy and started on the meds that I know put me in remission (immune-suppressors), although they started me at a lower level. After 3 months, Doc#1 opted to put me on a second medication, Cimzia (one of the new “biologic” drugs that specifically targets something called Tumor Necrosis Factor Alpha) as well. He said after 6 months, I’d stop with the immunosuppessants.

Two years later, Doc#1 never did stop one of the medications. I’m still on both. I had to go in for a visit every three months because he enrolled me in a 10-year clinical study for the Cimzia. Every visit, I complained of dry, grainy eyes (I can’t wear contacts anymore)and horrible cystic acne, among other issues (occasional fatigue and arthritis). All of those things started when I started the Cimzia. He’d always wave them off, or tell me to see a dermatologist and an ophthamologist for additional creams or drops or pills to deal with the side effects. When I said that I still had occasional joint pain (because I probably have permanent joint damage from all the steroids I took when initially diagnosed with Crohn’s). He’d also wave that off, saying things like, “Well, that shouldn’t be happening.” Sometimes he’d act like I was lying. Sometimes he’d even roll his eyes.

I knew he had a terrible bedside manner, but my last visit took the cake. Once again I complained about the side effects of the Cimzia, and also expressed concern about the long-term possible side effects: cancers, brain injury, even death. He looked me square in the eye and said, “If you can’t stop worrying about these things, I recommend you seek therapy.”

After making me cry (not for the first time), he left the room. And while I was standing at the counter making my next grueling follow-up appointment with the receptionist, I got to overhear him complaining about me to his staff. Because I’m in remission, and other people aren’t, and I just don’t appreciate the great doctoring he’s done to get me healthy.

Awesome, right?

Finally I’d had enough. I went to my HMO to get a new referral to a new gastroenterologist. First they gave me a referral to Doctor #2, but then I got a call from one of the ladies at Doctor #1′s office. Doctor #2, it turns out, is in a different branch of the same practice that Doc#1 is in. She warned me that Doc#1 would most likely discuss my case with Doc#2, since they’d just be handing my records over inside the same practice. So I called the referral folks and asked for someone completely separate.

Got an appointment set with Doctor #3. Then I went to get a copy of my records from Doc#1. The ladies in his office were very understanding, and didn’t charge me for the big stack of paper. (They’ve always been lovely.) It was an interesting read, to be sure — nowhere in two years’ worth of records is there a single mention of the side effects I’ve had. There’s also no mention of any joint pain, nor of when I reported that I had a stubborn inner ear infection (when on immune-suppressing drugs, you have to keep a close eye on any infections). There were no mentions of anything — according to these records, on every visit I was healthy and free of symptoms or side effects, with no problems at all. After reading through everything, I was horrified and angry, but so happy I was going to get another doctor’s opinion.

I just hoped he’d have a different opinion. I was very nervous to see Doc#3, because for all I knew, he’d agree with everything Doc#1 said, and he’d keep me on what all my research told me was too much unnecessary medication.

I went over my 14-year Crohn’s history with Doc#3. He asked if I’d ever had a small bowel x-ray, and I told him no, never. He seemed perplexed, and asked again to be sure. Nope, doc, never even heard of a small bowel x-ray. I’ve only ever had colonoscopies.

I told him about the two medications I’m on. He asked what others I’d tried before taking the Cimzia. I asked, what do you mean? He listed other biologics — Remicade and Humira — that apparently people are supposed to start with, because Cimzia is a medication that people move to after others stop working. I told him no, I started with Cimzia.

Then I told him about the side effects I’ve had ever since starting Cimzia, the horrible embarassing cysts on my face, the gravelly dry eyes, and when I told him that my old doctor advised me to see a shrink, I started to cry.

I apologized for crying. And Doc#3 quietly put his hand on my arm and said, “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

He told me that the eye problems are absolutely due to the Cimzia. And that he hadn’t heard about cystic acne, but it’s absolutely possible because of the Cimzia, or perhaps the combination of drugs. He told me that for Crohn’s disease, which affects the entire digestive tract (as opposed to ulcerative colitis, which is only in the large intestine), a small bowel x-ray is essential to see if there’s any damage in the small intestine. And he said that if my small intestine looks good, then there’s absolutely no reason I should ever be taking the Cimzia.

Then he asked if I’d been put in a clinical study for the Cimzia. Yes, I told him — some 10-year thing. He asked if it was the Secure study. Yeah, that’s the one.

“THAT,” he said, “is the reason you’re taking the Cimzia.”

And I burst out crying. Because all of the studies on Crohn’s I’ve read (and I’ve read a lot) made me think that because I respond beautifully to a less dangerous medication, I should never have been put on the Cimzia. That it’s the next step for people who aren’t helped by other medications. But Doc#1 insisted that he knew best, both meds were essential, and that I should remain on the combination of meds “until a cure comes along.”

I dried my face and left with orders for some blood tests and a small bowel x-ray, which I’m doing next week. It’s a 4-hour procedure where you drink barium and then wait for it to make its way down into your innards, then they take snappies of your barium-coated guts. If all that comes back looking good, I’ll be able to go from two dangerous medications down to one, and potentially down to zero at some point in the future. I might be able to wear contact lenses again. And hopefully the acne scars should fade … in a year or two. I also left feeling like I have a doctor who listens, and who cares about what I think and what I want.

Car Doctor

In less my-innards news, Scott’s car died in a clanking, clattering, puff-of-smoke way the other day. He knew his clutch was getting squishy, and had just called around to see what it would cost to get a new clutch put in. He was planning on dropping his car off before his tonsillectomy, so they could take their time. But last Thursday, the clutch decided to give up the ghost.

He had something like a 3-hour wait for AAA to send a tow truck, and then had some crappy service from the rental car company. But on the plus side, we dropped the rental car off yesterday, and the guy who helped us was the branch manager. He asked how the rental process was, and we both smiled and made “ehhh” sounds. Told him about the rental guy who tried to charge us more than we’d reserved for, among other things, and the manager took forty bucks off the bill. Nice!

Scott has his car back, and he says the clutch feels great, but now it’s idling rough. They had to replace a couple of hoses and gaskets and such that were underneath the engine, so we figure something just didn’t get tightened down the right way. I think he’s going to take the car back tomorrow to see if they can get it smoothed out.

Throat Doctor

Friday, Scott’s going in for his tonsillectomy. I had my tonsils out when I was five, so I have no real memories of the pain or how long it took to recover. All I remember is that I got an injection in my butt, and that really hurt.

We’ve heard a wide variety of stories, but for the most part it sounds like recovery takes longer for adults, becaust they have more nerve endings and blood vessels connecting to the tonsils than kids do. So he’s going to be out on medical leave for 10 days, and we’ll play it by ear if he’s still feeling bad after that. Meanwhile, he has bottles of hydrocodone at the ready, and we’re going out tomorrow to get ice cream, popsicles, protein shakes, and any other cold, soothing thngs we can find.

I can’t wait to see what kind of writing he gets done. I’ve told him he should write a diary. Neither of us knows how loopy the hydrocodone will make him.

All that for a little mole. Seems a bit drastic!

The good dermatological news is that on all three things that were excised, the margins are clear — they got the whole mole out on all of them. I go back in three months for another lookie-loo, then settle into an every-six-months visiting schedule. Most people go once a year, but because I’m so massively freckled, I get to be part of the more frequent group.

Please note that the dermatologist’s office won’t “except” bills larger than a $20. With picture, in case you’re not sure which one is the $20. I was excited to find an except/accept gaffe, because they’re one of the more rare homophone mixups. (Are they really homophones, though? I pronounce them slightly differently.)

JOBS: It’s still kind of amazing to me how many places I applied to that haven’t said one peep to me. I’m sure they get tons of applicants, but even a quick e-mailed “Thanks but no thanks” (like I just got from Best Buy, to whom I applied 3 months ago) would be nice. I mentioned earlier a “working interview” I did at a vet clinic, wherein a woman brought in her deceased pet and called us all motherflippin’ beaches. Only she wasn’t that coy with the cusswords. Anyhoo, they never called me back with a yea or nay. Seriously, there were probably only a scant few people who went in for their half-day interview process; why not a word back?

This is my last glorious weekend of unemployment. On Monday I go in for orientation at my new Disney job. I’m scared and excited at the same time. This is going to be very different from the rest of my Disney experience — entertainment is such a separate beast from everything else. But I can’t wait to get into the front lines, actually talking with guests directly, going by my own name (And wearing my name tag for the first time!), and helping make the guests’ vacations better.

The hardest thing is finding shoes. Disney is very strict about footwear — my job requires “dress shoes”, black, polishable (no suede or stretch), no contrasting or decorative stitching, and no decorations (buckles, buttons, bows). You try to find shoes that meet those requirements. Not that easy! Every pair of plain flat mary-janes seems to have white stitching, or a big button or buckle on the side. I did find a pair that I think will work; they’re a little pricier than I’d hoped, but I have to remember that when you’re on your feet all day, good shoes are an investment.

UNDERPANTS: Those cold-hearted jerks at Victoria’s Secret have stopped carrying the hipsters I liked. Besides which, their entire underpant focus these days seems to be on being “cheeky”, which appears to mean showing the bottom edges of your butt. Which strikes me as damned uncomfortable. Exhibit A:

In what universe is that full coverage? Look at how much cheekbottom is showing! Even on that model, with her model-sized butt! That thing would practically be a thong on me.

So on a whim, and because they were having the same 7-for-$25 deal that VS often has on their underdrawers, I stopped in at Aerie. It’s part of the American Eagle family, and I used to think it was just for the young people. BUT NO! Not only do they have a great selection of undershorts with great ass-coverage, but they also are my new brassiere purveyor of choice.

Usually at VS, there are two models of bra that come in my “weird” size. Which is 32C (if you’re a 32 band, they expect you to only have size A or B boobs). That’s two models out of the what, 40 or 50 in the store. But at Aerie, they had eight models of non-pushup for me to choose from in my size. Add in pushup and other styles, and I could have chosen from 15 brassieres. They fit great, and cost less than VS.

Aerie is, right now, doing their 7 for $25.50 sale both online and in-store. So if you’re blessed with a junk-rich trunk, check out their boyshorts and boybriefs. Although I can’t imagine any boy or man I’ve ever met wearing underthings the shape of any “boyshort” I’ve ever seen.

This is a great example of how small cable shows start a trend, and then seasons later, the big networks pick up the concepts. Because auctions and memorabilia shows have been showing up all over the cable channels. Oh, I’ll totally check out this Ty Pennington one (that hopefully, Ty Pennington won’t ruin for me), but I totally dig quite a few of the other shows about junk merchants. At least with their ginormous title, this new ABC show won’t be as easily confused with some of the others.

Here’s what we watch:

American Pickers (History): Frank and Mike scour the country, looking for people with eight barns full of collected junk on their property. They buy various things (that always seem to include oil cans, bicycles, motorcycle parts, and giant old tin signs) and turn them around for resale at their store, Antique Archaeology. The show is a full hour, but there’s a lot of filler that can be fast-forwarded through — mainly the stilted phone conversations with Danielle back at the shop, and anytime Mike talks to the camera with a discomforting sales-huckster tone.

An episode of American Pickers showed some of these folk art paintings of skeletons over the top of old portraits, but they didn’t talk about them at all. The guys were more interested in their tin signs and bike parts. I wish I knew who this mysterious “BA” is, so I could acquire some of these.

Auction Hunters (Spike): Allen and Ton buy up auctioned-off storage units, then find all sorts of magnificent collectibles inside. They actually did a really nice special episode all about how they gauge how much they’ll bid on a unit, and what they’re looking for. It’s a tight half-hour show, and they almost always come up with some really cool stuff. My biggest issue is that Allen is 30 years too young to be tucking his t-shirts into his jeans the way he does. But both guys are decent, and this is the only junk show in which I don’t dislike anyone.

Auction Kings (Discovery): The day-to-day workings of a real auction house, Gallery 63. People bring in their junk, professionals are brought around to appraise, and then we see the auctions. Most of the team seems tolerable, except for the office manager — her “funny” antics are the most cringe-inducing part of the show.

Storage Wars (A&E): This was the first of the junk shows we tried. It follows a set group of storage-unit auction buyers, and the stuff they find. The buyers all have different angles (the collector, the thrift store owners, the consignment dealer) and are all looking for different things, but frequently enjoy screwing each other over in the auctions. A couple of the buyers we dislike all the time, and a couple of them we just dislike some of the time. But I still like seeing some of the cool collectibles get appraised, and it’s always nice when a character you don’t like gets stiffed on something.

We tried watching an episode of Oddities, but it didn’t capture us — the pace was too slow. We still catch the classic Antiques Roadshow now and again, but that’s pretty slow-moving too. Though you can always count on Roadshow to show you something ghastly hideous, then appraising it at $10,000.

Anyone have any other collectibles shows to recommend? Since I don’t want to live in a thrift store inside a Russian submarine, I’d like to live vicariously through other people’s junk collections.

Well, now we Androiders can enjoy the same game as those iPhoners (and play against them) in rousing rounds of Words with Friends. That’s right, there’s now an Android version!

I do have to wonder, though: does the iPhone version not allow you to shuffle the letter tiles in your tray? I’ve gotten used to that WordFeud feature. Oh, and can you set a specific ringtone to let you know when it’s your turn? Because the Android version of WwF doesn’t have that. Although they do have sound effects when you play. I guess there were some complaints about those sound effects, because right after the game came out, an update came out that included the ability to turn sounds off.

Oh, and does it crash every other time you use it on the iPhone? Just wondering. Because it’s the only app that’s ever crashed on my phone.

Also! How long did it take you iPhone users to figure out that to delete old finished games, you have to gently swipe your finger over the game in a leftward fashion until a red “delete” button pops up? Or is that a standard iThing that you all knew about already? Perhaps I’m just silly, looking for some kind of delete feature on the menu.

Oh, and do you iPhone users get a menu? We don’t have that.

Lastly, I want to praise a feature that makes me laugh. It’s when Words with Friends puts two game boards on top of each other, so that you have to pop out and then back in a few times until it gets its words straight. I don’t know if it’s a bug or a feature … or maybe just one of those sneaky “rearhax”.

A huge portion of its idiocy comes from the “recommended sources” section — it sees what blogs you read, then recommends other blogs based on (I believe) what other Google Reader users read. But I wish it wouldn’t recommend:

- Blogs I already currently read (at the exact same address)

- Blogs I used to read, but unsubscribed

- Blogs that haven’t been updated in over six months (bonus points for blogs like one of today’s recommendations, which had an “I’m closing down the blog” post as the most recent item)

- Blogs it has recommended before, and I’ve already clicked “no thanks”

How hard is it to keep track of stuff I read now? Or things I’ve already turned down? I mean, if cookie technology has made it to the point where banner ads can target products I browsed weeks ago at Overstock, surely Google Reader can have some sort of memory for what I’m reading.

Also, when I decide I don’t want to follow a blog anymore, I go to that blog on the left-hand list and pick “unsubscribe” from the choices. Dearest Google, that doesn’t mean I then want to go to the main feed page for that blog. Why do you take me there?

So hey, out there in the internets — is there a better feed consolidator than Google Reader? Has someone developed a magical site that pays more attention to its users?

We’re packing to move house these days. We’re just going about 10 miles away from where we are now, and we’ll be paying less money for a little larger space. Win/win.

We’ve known that we would be moving with the expiration of our current lease, but it’s as if our apartment is telling us over and over again to get out. First it was the new neighbors across the hall, who moved in a few months ago and haven’t learned that you don’t need to slam the door every time. They also like to prop their front door open and have loud conversations. Then last month the apartment next door, which we thought was vacant but was actually being paid for but left unoccupied, finally got an occupant. He likes loud music, thumping on the walls, and jogging. Which involves grunting stretches outside his door. Lots of grunting stretches.

Then there’s been the December FireAlarmPalooza. Last week, just as we were going to take a load of stuff off to the thrift store, the fire alarm went off. We dilly-dallied in gathering ourselves together, because it’s never an actual fire. Except this time … it was an actual fire. Two apartments below, the occupants had some sort of kitchen grease fire, with billowing grey smoke pouring out their door. Fortunately, the sprinklers didn’t get triggered in our apartment. And it was kind of entertaining watching this really doddering old lady who also lives on the 1st floor asking everyone what was going on.

Then last night, the fire alarm went off again. No smoke from anywhere, just the shrilling (which got us out of bed). The same doddering old lady came out of her apartment on the phone to 911, shouting that the alarm was going off in her apartment, and she hadn’t done anything! Why was this happening? She didn’t touch anything!

The dozen-plus of us from this building stood around in the parking lot, waiting. Our roaming security guy came over, and the old lady dragged him down the hall into her apartment. Because the alarm was going off in there, and she didn’t touch anything! She came back out to the parking lot while the guy looked around to see if any of the alarm boxes had been pulled. She then looked out at all of us and said, “The alarm is going off in MY apartment! I didn’t do anything!”

I couldn’t take it any more. “It’s going off in ALL of our apartments.”

“Really?” She asked.

“Yes. That’s why we’re ALL STANDING OUT HERE, ma’am.”

“Oh!” She gasped.

I think I blew her mind with that one. And I honestly don’t think she realized that the entire building’s alarms were going off. I wonder why she thought we were all standing out there.

In other news, for those who want an update about Commie, his eye looks a little worse every day. The mass keeps growing, and you can’t see his eye in there anymore. But he still seems happy, purring and cuddling and eating and pooping and having little smackfights with Trouble, so that’s good. He sleeps a little more than usual, but that’s the only real sign (other than the eye) that anything’s wrong.

He’s also helping immensely with packing, by placing himself in, on, and around boxes as much as possible. He’s a huge fan of the lids to these office document boxes, the corner of one which you can barely see under his loafy form. He’s a good, good boy, and we tell him so many times a day.

PHONE: Ring! Ring!
ME: Hello?
LADY: Hello, may I speak to Mrs. May-Urr?
ME: I’m Missy MY-URR.
LADY: Hello, I’m calling from Blah Blah pharmacy. You have a prescription that’s due for a refill.
ME: Oh, okay. Sure. Which prescription?
LADY: First, I’ll need to verify your date of birth and the name of the medication.
ME: Okay.
(pause)
LADY: May I have your date of birth?
ME: Um, you called me. Shouldn’t you be telling me that information?
LADY: I need to make sure I’m speaking to Missy May-Urr.
ME: Yeah, but … you called me. How am I supposed to know you are who you say you are?
LADY: I’m calling from Blah Blah pharmacy.
ME: Right, I have no way of knowing that. I guess I’ll have to call you back at the number I have on file.
LADY: All I need is your date of birth and the name of the medication.
ME: Again, I’ll have to call you back. I have no idea if you’re actually who you say you are.
LADY: Um … fine, well, I can give you that number if you like.
ME: Again, I’ll call back the number I have on file. If I don’t know who you are, why would I trust the phone number you’ll give me?
LADY: Um … well, you’ll have to call back on Monday. The Cimzia department is open Monday through Friday, from 7 until 7 central time.
ME: You do realize you just told me the name of the medication.
LADY: Um …
ME: Thank you. I’ll call on Monday.
LADY: Thank you, have a nice day.

I think I just confused her. Or she thinks I’m a ginormous bitch. But seriously, any call from a blocked number isn’t going to get the best response from me.

The screening consisted of several parts. Here’s why they all suck:

1. BMI: First, they measured my height and weight, and used a chart to show my BMI, or body mass index. Now, for someone of my average height (5-foot-4) and build, the BMI scale is relatively accurate-ish. However, if you venture much below 5’2″ or above 5’8″ or so, the numbers start getting crappy — the taller you get, the more scrawny you have to be to fit within the numbers (and conversely, the really short can be much heavier and still be considered “fit”). That’s because BMI was developed almost 200 years ago by a Belgian mathematician as a quick and rough way to assess trends in large groups, NOT as a tool to measure individuals. It came into favor in the ’70s thanks to Ancel Keys, the same guy who convinced the government to get behind a high-carb diet for health.

A better measure would be body fat percentage, but they certainly don’t have the time, money, or manpower to dunk us all in the tank. I’d also like to see waist measurements and waist-to-hip ratios instead of BMI. Funny thing, the pamphlet they sent us away with mentions both of those waist-related things, but we didn’t get measured for them.

2. Glucose: Yes, it’s good to know your blood glucose numbers. They can certainly be an indicator of diabetes, hyperglycemia, or other issues. However, these screenings don’t require you to have fasted for over 10 hours. They also don’t take into account when you last ate, or what you last ate. So we’re comparing the glucose of people who just ate a sandwich and chips an hour ago to people who haven’t eaten since the night before.

If we can’t count on everyone to fast beforehand, maybe we should be looking at the HbA1c, which is more of a snapshot of how blood glucose has been over the previous 3 months. Or even better, a full glucose tolerance test — fasting beforehand, drinking a measured amount of glucose, then charting of the resulting blood sugars over several hours.

Overall, the glucose doesn’t suck as much as the other biometrics, since at least it’s not based on inaccurate formulas. Still, it doesn’t tell you much of anything.

3. Cholesterol: Several problems here. Just like with glucose, fasting matters in a cholesterol screening. If you had something sugary an hour ago, especially something with fructose, your triglycerides will show as way too high. That’s not a fair way to be judged. Also, this test was done with a quickie fingerstick instead of a venous draw. The machine measures total cholesterol, HDL, and triglycerides, then calculates the LDL using something called the Friedewald formula. In a perfect world, LDL would be measured directly, and would also be divided into large LDL particles (actually good for you) and small LDL particles (the actual bad stuff).

(Yes, I fasted for these numbers. I knew they’d be more accurate that way.)

As you can see, the Friedewald formula failed me, because my triglycerides are too good. They’re lower then 45 mg/dL, which is below the threshold of the machine, so the formula (which is TC – [HDL + Tri/5]) can’t be applied.

There are a couple of boxes checked on the left side of this picture. That means I’m supposed to follow up with my doctor, because of my low triglycerides (that’s right, the stuff they want you to get as low as possible) and my nonexistent LDL (which is actually represented in a fair-ish manner by the “non-HDL” reading).

I had a cholesterol test less than a month ago, when I was in the hospital. My triglycerides were 43, and my LDL was directly measured (not calculated) at 74. Which an actual cardiologist raved about. So I won’t be rushing out anytime soon to get followed up on these bad numbers.

4. Personal Health Assessment: Last up is a big ol’ quiz we have to take through WebMD. There are a ton of questions about stress, habits, exercise, nutrition, and miscellaneous other factors. Then you get a score on the 100 scale.

I was completely honest about food. And this was frustrating. They group fruits and vegetables together as one item — for this survey, a glass of fruit juice is equivalent in health to a serving of broccoli. Which is absoulte bull. Also, saturated fats and trans fats are considered the same thing here. I eat a LOT of natural saturated animal fat, and NO trans fats. Still, I was totally honest with my answers.

I was shocked to score as high as 84, especially since I got a 72 last time I took this thing. I think I improved on stress, and my cholesterol numbers were slightly better. Just for giggles, I plugged in fake numbers for my foods — 6 servings of fruit/veg, 6 servings of grain, and zero servings of high-fat foods. What a surprise, my number jumped up to 93.

So yeah, my biometrics are all good. But I feel bad for everyone who’s going to fail these tests (and either not get a bonus [or worse, have their premiums raised]) because they’re using outdated formulas, inaccurate calculations, and ideas about health that are the fads that just won’t die.