“God’s Plan”… Or Your Plan?

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts lately about people wondering what God’s plan is for them, or crediting (or blaming) every twist in their life on some mysterious divine roadmap.

But, hear me out….. what if there is no plan? Not trying to start a holy war amongst friends, but….

What if there’s no cosmic blueprint with your name on it, no puppet strings pulling you toward success or failure? What if you are the one holding the pen, writing your own damn story?

It takes more than prayer and patience to build the life you want. It takes thought, desire, and a whole lot of trust in yourself. You want a better job? Apply. Want to get healthier? Put in the work. Want to find love? Go where the people are and take a shot.

To seriously believe that a higher power made you fail or made you succeed, that’s pure hokum. If you believe God is paving the way for you, fine… but at some point, you have to step off the prayer rug, put on some boots, and start walking. Otherwise, you’ll eventually become a pile of dust waiting for that sign!

Because ultimately?

It’s not divine intervention that gets you there.

It’s you.

Fore-Get Your Manners? A Rant for the Pretentious Hackers Among Us

Golf. A prestigious sport…. A gentleman’s game, if you will…

But let’s cut the crap, shall we?

Not all golfers are gentlemen. Hell, some of them wouldn’t recognize prestige if it hit them in the balls with a titanium driver.

Now, I’m not a golfer myself, never been seduced by the sweet call of the tee box or the overpriced polos that scream, “Look at me, I peaked in sales in 2007.”

But I’ve seen the species in the wild. And let me tell you: some of y’all are straight-up asshats in khakis.

Take today, for example.

A group of golfers swaggered into a local restaurant. Loud. Obnoxious. Drunker than a frat house on Thirsty Thursday…..probably halfway through their “18 holes, 18 beers” challenge.

A server, politely and professionally, asked them to move to the lounge area.

Did they listen? Of course not.

Because these clowns think being on a golf course gives them the same entitlement as a hedge fund manager with no prenup.

They ignored the staff, crumpled up the empty cans they brought in themselves (classy), and tossed them on the bar top like some sort of tribute to their own ego.

Translation: “Clean this up, peasant. I birdied on the back nine.”

Now, hold your fire, gentle readers.

I know plenty of golfers who are respectful, down-to-earth, and genuinely enjoy the game without being raging douche rockets.

This blog ain’t about them. This is about those guys. You know the ones.

The obnoxious, performative alpha bros who use the links like a stage to act out their washed-up glory days and imaginary stripper conquests.

These are the guys who use golf as an excuse to escape their wives, talk over bartenders, and pretend they’re important while bragging about a “hole-in-one” they took three mulligans to get.

Listen up, fellas:

The next time you suit up in your finest pink taco polo and fire up your ego for 18 holes of mediocre golf, try doing the world a favor:

Hydrate with some water between your Bud Light baptisms. Tip your servers like humans, not minions. Keep your war stories under 100 decibels and for the love of the green jacket, don’t treat public places like your damn rec room.

Nobody cares about your fairway fairy tales, your career in whatever, your miserable home life, or the crushed beer cans you leave like breadcrumbs for someone else to clean.

Wanna pretend to be somebody important?

Fine….. Just do it a little quieter, with a little less trash, and a whole lot more respect for the people around you.

Because in the end, you’re not impressing anyone.

You’re just another guy with a golf glove, a God complex, and a growing tab of poor behavior.

Privilege Isn’t a Personality: The Entitlement Epidemic

Let’s talk about something that makes the room go cold real quick; entitlement. Not confidence. Not ambition. I’m talking about that smug, nose-in-the-air energy you feel from folks who believe they were born into the VIP section of life because mommy and daddy had a fat portfolio.

You’ve seen it. Hell, if you work in food service, retail, healthcare, or literally any job that requires human interaction, you’ve felt the sting of someone looking at you like you’re a footnote in their fabulous little world. All because they come from money.

So here’s the question: Do you feel privileged because you come from money?

Because some people don’t just feel privileged, they feel entitled. To pick first. First class. First bite. And first attention. And if they don’t get it? Cue the meltdown. It’s giving “I’d like to speak to the manager” energy… only with a black AmEx and the belief that rules are for peasants. I have a place for your black AmEx!

And it’s not just about service, it’s about worth. There’s this underlying attitude that money = superiority. That if you’re struggling or working hard, it must mean you didn’t work smart. That you’re somehow lesser because your family tree doesn’t come with a trust fund and a country club membership.

Here’s the tea: Money doesn’t make you better. It just makes you louder in a world where too many people are still being silenced.

Entitlement is learned, not earned. And if you think your bank account gives you a moral high ground, then babe, you’re bankrupt where it really counts.

Let’s redefine what deserves respect: Kindness. Work ethic. Empathy. Accountability. The stuff that can’t be wired, inherited, or faked with a Gucci belt.

So take it back a notch and calm down. Your money doesn’t impress me. It doesn’t buy character! It doesn’t earn respect.

And it sure as hell doesn’t get you ahead of the line.

Because around here?

We don’t serve egos, we serve people!!

Busted Back, Broken System: How WV PEIA Turned My Medical Emergency Into a Bureaucratic Nightmare

Imagine living with a herniated disc, two annular tears, nerve pain that shoots down your leg like fire, and a foot so numb it might as well not exist. Now imagine being told the surgery you need won’t be covered—not because it’s unnecessary, not because the doctor isn’t qualified, but because the treatment is 40 minutes away in a different state.

When your spine breaks down, you expect your insurance to step up. Instead, PEIA stepped aside and left me hanging—literally.

Welcome to my life with WV PEIA insurance.

I didn’t twist my ankle or pull a muscle. I’ve got a herniated disc at L4-L5, a bulging disc at L3-L4 with desiccation (that means the disc is drying out and crumbling), and two annular tears. The nerves in my lower back are so compressed I get numbness and burning sensations down my right leg. My foot? Useless. I can barely walk. Work? Out of the question. Exercise? Forget it.

The pain is constant. The frustration? Even worse.

I Did Everything Right—and Still Got Denied

I followed the rules.

I did physical therapy—even when it made things worse.

Multiple times, the disc shifted during PT and left me stuck on the table for hours, unable to move.

I tried cortisone injections. Nothing helped.

Eventually, the doctors ordered an MRI.

But instead of imaging my lumbar spine, where the pain actually was, they ordered an MRI of my thoracic spine—the wrong body part.

When I flagged the mistake, the insurance company told me I’d be responsible for the bill unless the doctor admitted fault. Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

Insert failed treatment here.

Hope in Pittsburgh—Then, a Kick in the Gut

I finally found a specialist in Pittsburgh—just 40 minutes from my home in West Virginia. A real doctor. One who listened, ordered the correct MRI, and confirmed what I already knew: I needed surgery.

A couple nerve block injections got me through the worst of the days, but we were finally at the step that could actually fix me.

And that’s when PEIA dropped the hammer.

They told me I’d be responsible for $85,000 of the surgery costs.

Why?

Because even though the doctor is in-network, he’s out-of-state.

And apparently, that’s all it takes for PEIA to slash your coverage and pretend your deductible doesn’t exist.

So not only would they cover less, but they refused to apply anything I’d already paid toward my deductible—because it wasn’t in West Virginia.

I genuinely believe that might be illegal. And I intend to find out.

The Appeal Games: Rules Followed, Denied Anyway

I appealed. The hospital appealed. We met every criteria:

Proximity: My specialist is 40 minutes away. The PEIA-recommended providers? 2+ hours. Failed Local Treatment: My previous doctor ordered the wrong MRI, and all treatment attempts failed. Established Relationship: I’d been working with my Pittsburgh doctor for months. He was recommended by someone I trust.

All of it? Denied.

So we appealed again.

And were denied again.

Meanwhile, PEIA starts advertising a new perk—if you live in southern WV, you can now go to Cincinnati, Ohio for care.

That’s even farther than Pittsburgh for many people!

But if you’re in the northern panhandle, like me? You’re not allowed to go 30–45 minutes across the state line for excellent care.

Make it make sense. You can’t. Because it doesn’t.

The Truth About PEIA

Let’s call it what it is: garbage insurance.

PEIA isn’t designed to help patients—it’s designed to save money by denying care.

They put up red tape, hide behind technicalities, and leave patients like me in chronic pain, unable to work, and drowning in bills.

And I know I’m not the only one.

So here’s the deal:

If PEIA has denied your surgery…

If they’ve forced you to pay for their mistakes…

If they’ve told you “no” when you did everything right…

I want to hear your story.

Send it to me. Comment. Share this post. Whatever it takes.

It’s time to hold this system accountable. Because no one should have to fight this hard just to get their life back.

My Health Journey: From Scary Diagnosis to Life-Changing Realizations

Several years ago, I received a diagnosis that shook me: stage 3 chronic kidney disease. At first, I had no idea what that meant for my health. But after some terrifying doctor visits and a nephrologist who almost had me convinced I was heading for dialysis, I decided to seek out a new doctor. The good news? My kidney function wasn’t as bad as I thought. But it wasn’t all clear skies, either.

While I wasn’t completely out of the woods, there was no need for talk of dialysis or the dreaded fissure implants. The real turning point came when I realized just how much my lifestyle and diet had contributed to the damage. This wasn’t just about kidney disease. It was about what I was putting into my body every day.

So, what’s the deal with kidney disease? Is it contagious? Is it hereditary? How did it happen to me? These were all questions that swirled in my mind. That’s where I started to understand the importance of being mindful of what we consume.

After a few more visits to my new doctor, we pieced together a theory for how I ended up with kidney disease. I’m not a big guy by any means, but during my days as a police officer, I figured if I wasn’t going to be bigger than the criminals I faced, I’d have to be stronger. So, I started taking creatine.

I would have a shake before work, during work, and after work—three a day, sometimes more if I hit the gym. Creatine was supposed to build muscle and make me stronger. What I didn’t know was that our bodies can’t break down creatine. It ends up getting processed through the kidneys, where it will form stones and cause damage. In my case, I never had a kidney stone that I was aware of, but the years of abuse to my kidneys had already taken their toll. Some stones pass unnoticed while others leave you in miserable pain. And to make matters worse, I found out I only had one kidney.

Once the damage is done, it’s irreversible. The focus shifts from fixing it to managing it. That’s where diet comes in. Without making drastic changes to what I eat, I’d continue damaging the only kidney I had left. Certain foods, like proteins, sugars, and high sodium, are all enemies to my kidney health. I had to be cautious.

Here’s where life got tough. My family’s Italian background means food has always been about meat, cheese, and pasta. That’s a challenge when you’re trying to eat for health and not indulgence.

At my heaviest, I weighed 208 pounds. But after a few months of strict changes to my diet—no red meat, limited protein (mostly plant-based), zero sugar, and very little sodium—I dropped to 180 pounds. I feel better, look better, and have a sense of hope that I can keep this disease from getting worse.

It’s not easy, especially since I own a restaurant where the food is amazing, but not exactly kidney-friendly. Sure, I cheat every now and then, but I know I have to stay disciplined. My Glomerular Filtration Rate (GFR) is currently sitting at 50%, and below 20%, they’ll start prepping you for dialysis. That’s something I’m determined to avoid. Instead, my goal is to seek a kidney donor before I ever get to that point.

From grocery shopping to meal prep, everything has changed. It’s not just about me—it’s about the people around me adjusting to make my lifestyle a little easier. Not drastically, but enough to support the new way of life I have to follow.

So, before you dive into the next big supplement craze, I urge you to think twice. Do you know what those supplements are actually doing to your body? It’s important to understand the full picture, because everything good has a downside. Take care of your body—it’s the only one you’ve got.

Airport Survival Guide: Stop Being an Inconvenient Traveler

Airports are a necessary evil. Whether you’re a frequent flyer or an occasional traveler, one goal remains the same: get to your gate, board your plane, and move on with your life. Unfortunately, that goal becomes much harder when people seem to forget that they aren’t the main character in this story.

If you’ve ever muttered “What the hell is wrong with people?” while sprinting through an airport, this guide is for you.

1. Get Out of the Damn Way

Airports are high-traffic zones. No one has time for human roadblocks. If you need to stop, whether to check your phone, have an existential crisis, or debate life’s choices, step aside. Don’t stand in the middle of a walkway like a confused Roomba.

And if you’re walking at a glacial pace, stick to the right. Let the people with connecting flights and bad knees pass.

2. Phone Calls: Move, Don’t Yell

Yes, Karen, we can all hear your conversation. No, we don’t care. Airports are loud, but that’s no excuse to raise your voice to ‘stadium announcer’ levels. If you need to take a call, find a corner and lower your volume.

Pro tip: No one believes your “big business deal” is real when you’re yelling about it in Terminal C.

3. Restaurants and Bars Are Not Your Living Room

If you’re lucky enough to find a seat at an airport bar, act like a decent human being. That means:

Don’t hog chairs with your excessive baggage like you’re running a mobile storage unit.

Don’t be a slob, clean up after yourself.

Remember your limits, no one wants to sit next to a tequila-fueled disaster on a long-haul flight.

Public space = public rules. Act accordingly.

4. Airplane Seats: Your Ticket Doesn’t Come with Land Rights

Yes, you paid for your seat. So did the person next to you. Here’s how to not be that passenger:

Don’t sprawl out like you own the row.

Armrests are neutral territory, don’t claim them all.

Keep your feet (and questionable socks) to yourself.

Personal space may be limited, but common courtesy is free.

5. Entitlement Isn’t an Excuse for Being an Asshole

The airport experience would be significantly better if people stopped acting like their time, comfort, and existence are more important than everyone else’s. Reality check: They aren’t.

Traveling sucks for everyone. But if we all move with a little more awareness, a little more respect, and a little less self-importance, airports wouldn’t have to feel like a survival game.

So be better. Or at the very least, stop making things worse.

Talkers Are Gonna Talk

By the time you are an adult, you should most likely already understand what type of person you are. There are two types of people in this world, well for the sake of this post, there are two types of people.

Talkers and Doers! Which are you? A talker or a doer? Most of you are talkers, and usually just pop off because you want to make yourself feel better or you want others around you to think highly of you. Here’s the truth, most of us see through your bullshit! You can only talk so much before the world realizes you are full of hot are and pointless words. Doers on the other hand, are people who not only talk about it but actually get out there and do it!

To quote an old friend of mine, “be about it, don’t talk about it”. I went on a trip one time, I talked about the trip for a weekend, then come Monday I was on a plane to Hawaii! Monday night my friend shot me a text message to meet up for happy hour and I let him know I was walking into my resort in Hawaii… That’s when he said, “you my friend are a doer, not a talker, enjoy the trip”

The point I’m trying to make, whether you want to travel, visit someone, help someone, move away, quit a job, start your own company, pick up a new hobby or start working out. No one gives a shit if you do or don’t, what people do care about is how often they have to hear you talk about the things you never do or never will do.

Do yourself and the rest of the people surrounding you a giant favor…. either Be About It, Or STOP Talking About It! Plain and simple. You will gain much more respect from your peers and co-workers if you actually do what you say your are going to do.

Like Aesops tale, “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” Eventually, everyone will stop listening to you and one day you may actually end up doing what you say and there will be no one there to appreciate, validate or join in with your adventures. The toughest part of being an adult is adulting…..