Blazinsaddles

So what's happening?

2011-09-01T11:53:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. Its been forever since I've posted. There is a whole new world out there. You can, as they say, book face, which is really what you have to do if you want to interact with me online. You can, of course, send me personal emails, as many of you do for assistance in making every major decision in your life, although many have taken the more convenient step of just granting me power of attorney privileges, since my decision making skills remain flawless.

I'm re-reading this last post of mine and really its all in there.
60 days passed, and as predicted, I became unstoppable. Not unstoppable like the train in the movie Unstoppable, which, spoiler alert, turns out to be entirely stoppable since they do in fact stop it, but more like Chris Pine's butt in the movie Unstoppable which, for the duration of the film, does not quit. So you tell me, was that a movie about a train, or a movie about Chris Pine's butt? Its all there in the movie title.

The only question is, if my unstoppability was on a collision course with Chris Pine's unstoppability, what would happen? Well, I've answered that in the past year as well: I continue along my meteroic trajectory through the stars, Chris Pine cries himself to sleep every night as he settles for making a movie about a trip through the stars.

Other things have happened as well, and I couldn't possibly sum them up in one or even a thousand posts, so for this unexpected blessing I am gifting you, I am going to share with you the collected wisdom thus far of the new Thundercats cartoon. That, I can sum up in one post.

It certainly doesn't merit a what would Liono do type inquiry, but I think it can be instructive for all of you who nostalgically follow along.

Episode 1
Technology is real
So are the things of my worst nightmares
Possible results of Liono's decisions: disaster, keys

Episode 2
Making cat mewing sounds is the last emotional appeal of cat people.
Eat found food first, question where it came from second.
After making a hard fought transition from dinner to equals with whiskers, it can be difficult to pinpoint reasons for feelings of unease.
Ice cream cones can be fashioned from spicy stuff

Episode 3
The ancient thunderian philosopher knew time is relative.
Hope is an illusion
When things get a little more hopeless, go towards the flame.

Episode 4
Panthro believes only lions can become king
When surrounded by the enemy the relevant oath is: whiskers
The only thing you can trust is a machine

Episode 5
If accused of kissing, a perfectly acceptable denial is to claim you were trying to get your "sword" to work.
The Temple of Omens is eerily similar to the Canyon of the Crescent moon

Phase II

2009-03-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

Things are going well right now in Houston. I'm enjoying my time away from Galveston, and my new car with low mileage. I have only filled up once in the past week and a half! Amazing!! I know that has more to do with the fact that I'm not commuting as far and little to do with the gas mileage of Susan, but whatever....it's a plus in my book.

I have also been trying to get a little more writing done, as I don't have very much actual work to do right now. I really slacked off on the writing, but I've got some good ideas and I'm trying to solidify them and get them down on paper. We'll see how that goes.

I'm officially in phase II of p90x, today is day 30....60 more to go! I am really enjoying the workouts, although I have to say it was difficult to keep the momentum going during my "rest" week last week. The rest week has a lot of yoga in it, and I'm still not finding that enjoyable. It also introduced the core synergistics workout, and I may start substituting that in place of yoga. As much as I know my balance and flexibility needs improvement, I am still pretty flexible....able to reach well past my toes in stretches, and I can curl myself into a pretzel pretty easily. My balance should improve as I work on my core, which is what the core synergistics workout is all about.

I started phase II last night, with a shoulders, chest, & triceps workout. It was intense, but I am seeing a lot of improvement. I can now do several pushups, without dropping to my knees, and I can go further down than when I started a month ago. I'm still going to my knees on certain ones, but I know its only a matter of a couple of weeks before I will be able to do everything from my feet. My shoulders are sore, and a bit tight today, but its no where near the pain of that first week. I also did Ab Ripper, which continues to be a challenge, but I'm noticing improvement there too. I'm even starting to see some definition in my abs.

Overall, I have lost about 4% body fat (still have a ways to go with this), and a couple of lbs, but I feel stronger and have more endurance. I'm sure after the next 60 days, I'll be unstoppable. :)

Meet Susan

2009-03-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

I have decided that next time I decide to buy a car, I'm making someone else do the shopping for me. I really didn't enjoy the process this time (probably because I did more this time than simply point and say "give me"). I've had my fill of pushy salesmen (Mazda was AWFUL).

I did purchase a new vehicle. Her name is "Susan the Fusion" and she is a Ford Fusion. I call her "Susan" for short. I decided to stay away from the hybrid, for the maintenance fears alone, but liked some of the options that the 09 Fusions had (I was trying to keep the $$ down, so I gave up my leather seats and navigation. I'll miss the leather seats, but portable GPS devices are so inexpensive these days that I couldn't justify getting one for the pretty display. I stayed away from the 2010 Fusions and the Hybrids because while I had good luck with the Mariner, and no real issues, I don't want the idea of having to replace one of those batteries hanging over my head again.

I also test drove the Mercury Milan (I liked the dealership, and they were offerering a pretty good deal, almost better than Ford, until I got them to come down quite a bit) and a Mazda6. Out of the 3, I liked the way the Mazda6 drove the best, but the car was a base model (and had a standard transmission) and the asshole salesmen wouldn't come down far enough on the price. The Mercury was nice, but it ultimately came down to Ford giving me a better offer that met all of my qualifications.

So, anyway, that's the story.

Urgh

2009-03-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

Um, I'm thinking about trading in my hybrid for a new car. This makes me queasy....excited queasy and am-I-crazy queasy.

Here's the deal.

My hybrid currently has about 67K miles on it. Being a hybrid, they don't really know what happens to the main battery when it reaches its life expectancy of 100k miles. The replacement cost runs around $6,000. I have a warranty on that battery until the 100K mark, but my extended warranty on the rest of the car's working parts is almost up. I'm very concerned that I could have an expensive breakdown once the extended warranty is up. I understand and agree with the idea that you should run a car into the ground before replacing it, however, I'm concerned that this car may be in the ground before I finish paying it off.

I am scheduled to be on my Galveston project until the end of the year. At that point, i will have been there for 3 years and I think I can fight like hell to get put on something different at that point (fingers crossed). Hopefully something traveling, where i can park my car at an airport for weeks on end. So, if I do get a new car, it will have some mileage on it by the time I'm done with Galveston, but it won't be 100K miles (fingers crossed).

In addition, if I buy something slightly less expensive than the hybrid, I can lower my monthly car note....it's like a re-financing deal, but with a new-car benefit. I'm looking at a Mercury Milan (think Ford Fusion). It's economical, but loaded with cool features and options (like leather and sync). It does have a 60/40 fold down seat, so i can still fit my bike in the trunk.

I'm looking at the Mercury for a couple of different reasons. 1) They have some great rebates going on right now....i can get about 6K off the MSRP, 2) I like the feature of key-pad entry....I have to stick with something made by Ford so that I can keep that, and 3) I like the dealership I bought the Mariner from. Knowing that I'm a repeat customer can help me get an even better deal.

Anyway, that's it. Do you think I'm crazy?

Day 16

2009-03-16T06:57:00.000-07:00

I have successfully completed 16 days of P90X....only 74 more to go!

I have to say, the second week was much better than the first. Not only was I able to complete the videos and (to some extent) keep up with the pace they maintain in the videos, but I was able to push myself to complete full sets of reps. I also wasn't as sore as the first week....that was hell. I still feel like i'm getting a workout, and I have little twinges of discomfort of soreness, but I can actually sit up in bed without having to pull my body up by climbing the headboard. I am keeping track of everything that i do (well, not the cardio days) and I'm striving to push myself further each time I work out.

Working out in the mornings has worked well for me. The only day it doesn't work is Yoga day, but only because the video is a half hour longer than the other videos. Yoga is also a good relax-the-mind workout and I think it will work better in the evenings anyway....I won't have to worry about watching the clock and then rushing to work. For the days that I also have to add Ab Ripper X, I get more out of both workouts if I wait to do Ab Ripper in the evenings. There are still a couple of exercises on that video that I don't like, but I'm getting better at all the others. I use the pause button quite a bit (which they encourage), but I can do all the reps I want when I'm moving at my own pace.

This morning's workout was Plyometrics. I struggled through it....for some reason my heartrate was going sky high, but i pushed myself until i felt the burn in each exercise and I'm happy with that. My legs feel a bit tired right now, but they should loosen up as the day goes on.

In terms of results, I have noticed some changes. I haven't lost any weight, but my close are fitting looser, my stomach is flatter, and my thighs are slimmer. Two weeks in - you can't complain about that. I'm not necessarily concerned with losing weight. I think Weight Watchers put me at a weight that's manageable. I also know that I'm building muscle, so I'm perfectly content with allowing the number on the scale to stay the same, as long as the body fat % continues to decrease. These aren't big changes, but I've noticed them and that's all that I need to stay motivated.

Big News!

2009-03-14T10:56:00.001-07:00

The long anticipated release of Au Pair III is finally here! I know some of you won't want to miss tonight's broadcast on ABC Family....check your local listings!

:)

Vacation Recap

2009-03-09T11:35:00.000-07:00

I have decided that next time I take a week off, just to stay at home and lay on the couch, I'm telling the folks at work that I am touring Europe or staying in a cabin in the middle of the woods, completely cut-off from civilization (that's right, just me, the bears, and the vampires).

I took a week of vacation last week, that actually really kinda sucked. I worked all day Monday and most of Tuesday (from home, in my PJs, but still!), got an eye exam on Tuesday afternoon by a really cute ophthalmologist that makes me want to purposely ruin my 20/20 vision so I can go back for another exam, was on house arrest on Wednesday waiting for the fire-place repair men (who didn't show up until 5pm), under room-arrest on Thursday, trying to avoid my sick roommate, and had a flat tire on Friday, while trying to find a bike shop that apparently doesn't actually exist.

There were highlights to the week (in addition to the cute doctor): $15 mountain bike shoes from REI, a new windshield, and the flat tire was easily fixable (and free!). I also started and completed my first week of P90x. Today was day 8, and I worked out this morning before work. It's going to take me a while to adjust to waking up early for workouts, as I was ready to pass out at my desk this morning around 9:30. So far, everything with that is going well. I'm able to do more during this second round through the videos and I'm not as sore as I was last week, although I did pull a muscle in my abs last night doing push-ups (in addition to the calf muscle i pulled on Thursday), but it feels a lot better today, so I don't think that's going to stick with me for long.

Essentially, I need a vacation, and I really want to get away, away from everyone and everything and just relax. Is there a place like that in existence? Isn't there someplace in Montana I can go (in the summer, of course)?

UPDATE: I meant to also mention that while my week sucked, my weekend was pretty great. No, I did not have a random run in with a sharp pencil giving me an excuse to go back to the cute doc, or a random run in with the cute doc himself, but I did have a good weekend none the less. My sister came in from Germany for a visit, and I spent a good part of Saturday & Sunday driving through parking lots and catching up with her. She brought her dog, which was a treat, because he's a sweet, sweet, dog. In comparison to our other poodles, Justice has always seemed big (he's a miniature poodle, but with long legs), however, in comparison to the 50 lb boxer at home and my other sisters 100 lb lab, he's incredibly tiny (and a big-ole fur ball right now). It was good to see both of them, and I look forward to another quick visit with her next weekend before she heads to DC and then back to Germany.

3 and then a 4

2009-03-05T05:56:00.000-08:00

Days 3 & 4 went pretty well. I ended up doing my workouts a little late, at a time that I would be doing them if i waited until after work. While that may be good for releiving some of the stress of work, I don't think its going to work in the long term. I get too keyed up working out and would probably have issues sleeping if I did that on a regular basis. I am on vacation this week, so I am able to figure out what works best. I think, for me, early morning workouts will be my best bet.

Day 3 was Shoulders/Arms and Ab Ripper. I really liked the shoulder & arms workout and I enjoyed the Ab Ripper a little more this second go through than I did the first day. I was able to take my time and complete the full reps of each exercise courtesy of the pause button. I still have to take breaks, otherwise its too painful. The exercises are intense, to say the very least.

Day 4 was Yoga. I've done a lot of pilates in the past few years, and I figured it would be similar to that. I have to say, for me, I didn't really enjoy the yoga. I like pilates because it has variety, whereas Yoga (or at least this video) goes through the same motions, adding to them in each round. I understand its benefit though, so I will continue to do it each week. My sister said it was her least favorite workout of the bunch and I have a feeling that it may be mine also. We'll see as it goes along.

Today is Kenpo, which is billed as a kickboxing type workout. It is supposed to be pretty fun, so I've got my fingers crossed that I will really enjoy it.

wish me luck.

p90x: Days 1-2

2009-03-03T05:20:00.000-08:00

Several months ago, my roommate purchased the P90x. If you haven't seen the infomercials, then you may not know what I'm talking about, but its a 90 day exercise program that works off of the idea of muscle confusion. It has 12 different workouts, everything from chest & back work (lots of push and pull ups) to plyometrics (jump training) and yoga. If you google the program, you'll see before and after photos of normal people completely transformed into the physically best shape of their lives.

My sister and brother-in-law purchased and started it about a month ago, and they both love it. Since the only thing my roommate was doing with his copy of it was collecting dust, I decided to brush it off and try it out. One complaint I've always had about my own fitness is my lack of stregnth...I am very week and I'm interested in doing some basic weight training, combined with cardio, that will allow me to build muscle and stregnth. Plus, it's lent, I need a lenten promise.

So, I started the program on Sunday. The first day included the chest and back workout combined with their abs program. The chest and back wasn't bad. I wasn't able to do everything that they did, and it may be a while before I'm able to do the number of reps that the folks on the videos do, but there wasn't any move that I flat out couldn't do in some shape or form. I can't do a full out pull up to save my life at this point, but with the assistance of a chair, i'm at least able to do the motion and do a pull up type action. The ab workout was just flat out difficult, but only because I had been working my abs doing push ups and pull ups for an hour before I got to it. My sister says that she will do the first work out earlier in the day, then come back at night to do the abs. The break in between will probably help.

The second day was Plyometrics, which was like jump training. I had heard that it was the most difficult workout of the bunch, so I went into it a bit worried. Most of the workout was lunges and squats (you jump up in the air a lot too). It really wasn't bad, although I am not coordinated enough to do some of the exercises, I have no doubts that I'll improve as I go along. The only time I yelled at the TV was when they told me to jump on one leg while moving in an X formation on the ground. Its so sad how difficult it is to jump on one leg. All in all, the video wasn't as bad as I feared, and several of the exercises were a lot of fun.

I was sore yesterday, and I'm sore today, as my body has been reminded of several undeveloped muscles that it prefers to ignore. From what friends and family have told me, I should be sore most of this week, but it will get better as we go along. The soreness isn't too bad and its nothing I can't handle.

I'm not doing too well sticking with the diet aspect of it, although I have enough weight watchers training so that I'm not eating poorly, just not always as they recommend. The diet changes as you progress in the program, and its similar to weight watchers in the sense that you trade off what you eat. It focuses on high protein through out it, but it does allow you more carbs as you go through. I haven't eaten too far from the plan, but while they recommend veggies like green beans, I'm pretty sure they didn't mean for them to be battered and fried a la TGIFridays.

Anyway, that's day one and two for me. I won't update this every day, but I will periodically post some info on here. It should be fun to track the progress as I go along.

Super Bowl

2009-02-03T12:38:00.000-08:00

How many monkeys taking how many pictures before you see someone that you know?

The young man giving the thumbs up with the yellow protective headgear is the mentally differently advantaged adopted son of the mother of Jacob's valet. Jacob is the Pittsburgh native who steals me away for that vitage car race they hold every year. His name is Harry, although his nickname is Nut. I'm not really sure why they call him that, perhaps because without the headgear he is likely to crack his head open like one. I don't know why that other unshaven, and I can only assume, also mentally differently advantaged youth interfered in the picture. He is obviously too mentally differently advantaged to understand how cameras work. I don't know why the institution that cares for them allowed them to mix in with the crowd. It seems dangerous.

Hey Pretty

2009-02-01T10:37:00.001-08:00

This past week was my hell week. Starting off with the flu was a rough start to a stress filled week at work since my deadlines don't move just because I'm sick. Alas, everything that could get done, plus more, did get done and I left work Friday feeling accomplished and able to relax and enjoy the weekend. Karma paid off when at 5pm on Friday evening, I found out that one of my deadlines for this upcoming Friday was moved to the following week, allowing me a little more breathing room with everything that has to get done this week and next. I think my "busy" season is officially over now.

Work has been challenging lately for several reasons:
1) I was recently assigned an entire boatload of work that doubled my previous workload. I was not happy about this assignment because it only proves that I've been on the project for way too long. It also came completely out of the blue and left me feeling like I had received the rough end of the shaft.
2) I was officially assigned to another full year on the Galveston project, meaning another 40K miles on my less than 2-year old car (which already has 60K+ miles on it).
3) I recently discovered my passion for writing fiction and finally feeling that strongly about doing something only makes working, at a job I don't like, excruciating.
4) The economy sucks - I think that its depressing everyone at this point.

All of these things leave me less motivated to perform at the level I have been at work and that lack of motivation means that I find it harder to do EVERYTHING. One nice thing about this week was that I found my motivation again...stress and deadlines are powerful tools for me to get things done in a timely manner.

However, I still want to figure out a way to write full-time and I'm devoting my energy towards making that dream a reality. I can't help but feel that if I have finally found something that I enjoy, as much as I do with writing, it has to work out....I HAVE to be able to do this with some basic level of talent...enough to achieve some level of success. Recently, I received a fortune cookie that said "You will be an accomplished writer." I'm taking that as a sign from God that this is going to work.

I also need to figure out a way for me to move to New Orleans in the next couple of years because I'm tired of my life here in Houston. I will hate to give up living so close to my sister and her family, but I need to be closer to the friends that I call family. I know she'll understand; her old friends brought her to Houston.

ugh

2009-01-25T16:53:00.001-08:00

I hate the flu.

That is all.

Almost to work? Not so fast....

2009-01-15T09:47:00.000-08:00

I was about 10 miles from Galveston this morning when my car died on me. Fortunately, I still have about 15k miles left on the extended warranty, so this (hopefully) won't cost me too much.

Car trouble sucks.

HIMYM

2009-01-12T17:52:00.001-08:00

I love this show.

quiet?

2009-01-11T14:58:00.000-08:00

I find it difficult to work at my house....the sound of explosions from whatever video game, cheers/commentary from the sporting event on the TV, or the stench of certain vices (or all of the above) often drowns out my train of thought (even when I'm in my room, with music on). Because of this, I tend to get frustrated and distracted and don't get as much work done as I wish I could.

So I was really excited today when the roommies all left the house to go to work (poor Cody - he's got year-end close and has been working crazy hours all week and weekend) or to run errands (Jared), leaving me in a quiet house with a sleepy puppy. I was set, curled up on the couch with the new computer and my story ideas laid out in front of me. But the time passed too quickly and Jared soon returned. As he settled in to study for the CMA, with a football game on full volume, I knew my solitude was over. Instead of locking myself in my room, I decided to try out the local starbucks. Its a Sunday afternoon, so its not crowded, and I figured I could get some quietness as I worked. I was wrong.

Why are the starbucks baristas the loudest thing in here? They can't seem to speak at normal volumes.

Why did I forget my headphones?

Productive

2009-01-10T13:42:00.000-08:00

Today is the official start of my MS150 training session. I'm determined to do better this year at both the ride and the training and I have my schedule all mapped out. Not sure how this is all going to work with my writing schedule, but somehow, I've got to make it happen.

I started the day at 7am, heading out with my bike to ride in Memorial park. It was an easy ride, a simple loop that goes round and round. I was able to accomplish the distance I wanted in just over an hour. My friend Alison joined me for the ride, and I'm happy to say that neither of us left with a broken shoulder blade. I've been on the bike since my accident, but not with my emergency room driver Alison.

I made it home by 9:30, took a quick shower and headed out to get my oil changed in the Mariner. I bring the Mariner back to the dealership for oil changes for 2 reasons: 1) oil change places don't necessarily like working on hybrids, and 2) the dealership is right next to the only location of Rudy's in Houston. I actually look forward to having my oil changed for this reason.

I made it back around noon, and after a feast on brisket, sausage, and their fabulous creamed corn, I settled down for a nap.

I got up a little while ago to mix up a batch of Carmelita's for the annual post-holiday re-gifting party with the Clem women. We get a large group of ladies together each year and enjoy a night of food, drink, and crappy gifts. I do have to admit, I'm bringing a rather special gift this year. I'm bringing an original stickfigurist painting of a pirate. I'm kind of sad to part with it, but homemade gifts seem to be the best thing to bring. I'm still jealous of that knitted tissue holder Kelly got a couple of years ago. Maybe this year, I'll be the lucky recipiant of the Christmas wreath made out of shredding U.S. curreny.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Motivation?

2009-01-09T12:15:00.000-08:00

My new computer was delivered today! It was a Christmas present and I'm very excited to get it! My old computer is on its last legs and there are things that I just don't want to do on my work computer (namely: my checkbook, my writing). I bought an HP laptop with rather basic features (although its probably 100 times better than old Agatha). I originally was going to use the promise of a new computer as motivation for my writing....finish my story, get a computer, but the increasing need, combined with Christmas money, allowed me to abandon my original plan. In addition, there is a deal at work where we can get a copy of Office 2007 for $8, so that helped keep the cost down to a manageable level.

The best part: I used its delivery as an excuse to "work" from "houston" today. :)

Attack

2009-01-08T06:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I was attacked by a cupcake. A simple birthday celebration at work quickly turned messy when my cupcake tried to commit suicide before letting me eat it alive. I saved the little bastard, but not before it covered my hands, arms, face, and pants with icing.

It was a damn good cupcake.

Hmmmm.....

2009-01-07T12:48:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been silent too long. I kept dropping hints (to myself of course) that this blog should be updated, but apparently, I just didn't catch on.

I have recently been getting in touch with old high school friends via facebook. Not the SJA grads, but the good old HHS alums that I would have graduated with if I had not moved to Baton Rouge. Its great catching up with them and I have been really excited about making contact again, but I have to laugh because of one little thing. Several of them, in their first communication with me have stated that I look fabulous (of course) and that they love my HAIR!

Hehehehe.

Just when I was contemplating growing it out again, I get a multitude of compliments and find an article about how wigs are the latest and greatest style accessory. Makes me laugh.

We are living in the future

2008-09-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

So the anonymous commenter is probably one of my many many stalkers or perhaps merely one of the throng who tirelessly follow my every move. Obviously it wasn't anyone especially close to me as those special people received hourly updates throughout the night of the great storm. While I had prepared myself to suddenly find myself catapulted to the previous century where all the modernities that make life so easy were ripped away by the powerful winds of a devastating hurricane, the reality was quite different. I have a laptop, my internet connectivity was not interrupted, and I have an inverter so my faithful companion, Rocky, was able to supply whatever power I required.

I will let you know a little secret. I was compiling my list of people to keep informed of my status, and just when I had it all together, and was compiling my initial missive, someone, who--and I think while this description has specific relevance, its actually a descriptor that could be used as a complete summary of this person who I am trying to otherwise be non-specific about, even though it is, as it must be, a male--was not on the list, interrupted me. This person asked very sweetly if I was adequately prepared and seemed genuinely relieved that I would not be going through the storm alone. I say sweetly because his query just showed how very little he seems to know about anything at all. As if I were ever alone. A person like me is only alone when I want to be, and even then it can sometimes be impossible. I mostly just smile sweetly and nod while I'm drifting away in my own little world. Except when I'm talking to you. Of course, I'm paying attention then, sweetheart.

Anyway, the main point here is that I included this individual in my private mailing because he caught me off guard. And in retrospect, I don't appreciate being caught off guard. So, my message to this individual is: you will receive no further communication from me. Starting now.

Last Telegraph

2008-09-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

The rain has started here, though just little splotches now. It seems odd that a couple of weeks ago, the National Guard was ferrying me from danger and now, the official word is not to flee but to brace ourselves for a vicious onslaught of wind and rain. It was Rita in 2005 the last time we had a bad one, and this is looking worse, a more direct hit on Houston.

Several of you have promised prayers. Of course, I welcome them, but it seems somehow unnecessary as if some higher being is going to hear your prayers before he hears mine.

Anyway, I'm certain that there are a team of utility workmen standing by for the express purpose of restoring my power once the all clear is given, but in case there are unforeseen delays, I wanted to let you know not to worry, or at least not anymore than is humanly possible, because of course, if my contact with you is severed you will probably feel as if it was an important body part that has been cut off, and you really can't forestall that feeling, so my advice is just to ride it out and know that you are not alone in your agony, unless of course it does happen to be my time, in which case you are absolutely all alone, and I would totally understand if you have to fall on your sword or whatever you are using for home defense just to somehow be closer to me, even though you won't really achieve that because once I leave the corporeal plane of existence, I'll probably be on some higher plane unachievable by mere mortals, so on second thought, don't fall on your sword, just try to eke out whatever kind of empty life you can in a world without me, which by the way, probably won't even happen.

Honestly, a world without me. Can you even imagine such a thing?

Shame on every last one of you.

2008-09-01T14:24:00.001-07:00

Where is the adulation to which I've become accustomed? Was yesterday not the greatest day in the calendar year? Maybe you were hunkering down for a hurricane that wound up falling flat. Maybe you were in the middle of some sort of Labor Day Weekend escape. Maybe you think my facebook page is the place where I conduct my business now, and is therefore the suitable place to share your wishes of happiness for me.

I had to leave Louisiana as the National Guard was under specific orders not to let a National Treasure be anywhere near danger. I suppose its possible that what happened is that the months and months that go into planning a party for me were foiled by the catastrophic threat, and the balloons, and flowers, and fireworks, and ice sculptures, and carnival rides, and unique spectacles for which experts in their respective fields have scoured the globe all for my pleasure, were just too much to relocate on short notice. Yes, that must be it.

Well as magnanimous as I am, I will grant forgiveness for sizeable donations.

An Open Letter to Whoever Runs the Equipment at the Dairy that supplies Milk to my Grocery Store

2008-08-26T11:28:00.000-07:00

You probably don't get a lot of communication. Most of the time, you just do your job and people take it for granted. Well, this week you didn't do your job. And now you're going to hear about it.

Let me introduce myself. I am the consumer. I purchase your product. I am the reason you have a job. I buy a lot of milk. Not for consumption. Heaven's no. That's disgusting. Its a time honored beauty secret to regularly soak in milk, and I do. Not every bath, just once a week. I like to bathe in skim milk. Its thin, yet contains the same curative powers as the other grades. It doesn't leave the same sort of milk fat residue. It takes a lot of milk to do this, so I buy a lot of milk, far more than the average consumer.

This week, I was shocked to discover that the milk in the skim milk container was not, in your parlance, skimmed. I could tell immediately it was not skim. It was significantly whiter, like the Elmer's glue they actually use in Cereal commercials for the cameras and the fact that it is too thick to make the cereal soggy. I could tell immediately as I poured it out and noticed its creamier texture. Gallon after gallon, all the incorrect kind of milk. No, I don't know what kind of milk it is. I don't think its whole milk as I didn't quite float it, but it has some percentage of milk fat in it uncountably times more than than the zero I was promised when I selected skim. Did you think I could not know?

Maybe you are one of these activists. You think 2% is better and the skim drinkers of the world who are depriving themselves of the 2% in an attempt to achieve nourishment without corresponding calories need a little dash of milk fat in their lives. That if they are exposed to the product they will like it so much they will switch, and it will somehow vindicate your feelings that what you like is the correct thing to like and everyone should like what you like. Probably, you are smugly thinking, "You're welcome."

Well, I did not say thank you. I am not saying thank you now. I am demanding your job be sacrificed. What if I were one of the children with an allergy to milk fat but without the discerning eye I possess? What then? How many children are hospitalized, and dead because of your malfeasance? Probably unemployment is insufficient punishment. Probably some kind of trip to the dark corners of Dick Cheney's mind is justified.

You did not get away with it like some bitter waiter who puts alcohol in the drinks of customers who insist on virgin ones because they are sobered alcoholics and they know that is the secret phrase to get alcohol without the judgmental visages of their friends and as long as they keep silent they can pretend like their sense of taste is so dull that they don't even know, even though that sweet nectar is a blessed release and they show you the gratitude you require with an overgenerous tip which you crumple in your sweaty palm, while muttering, "You're welcome."

You did not get away with it like the same bitter waiter who leaves hidden meat in the dishes of customers who insist on them without because they are pompous vegetarians and love to believe that their chosen path, for religious reasons, or otherwise somehow makes sense in the evolutionary path of mankind all the while believing it somehow makes them a better person, lauding it over their less enlightened friends, insisting that there is nothing, no taste at all missing from their lives, because their dish is just exceptional, perfect even without the meat that is actually there, and they don't tip well, because after all they are sanctimonious vegetarians, and they think their smile and some zen koan of appeasement is of much more value but you know better because you've taught them a lesson they will never learn, but was really nothing more than as before, complete inaction on your part, passing on the very least information possible to fulfill the order.

You are just a lazy fool, which is why you have the job that you do and can never even aspire to something better.

And now with this letter, your employer will more than likely remove even this humble task from your possible aspirations, leaving you nothing, which is what you have made of the raw materials given unto you that we call life.

Good day.

Race for the Cure - October 4, 2008

2008-08-19T10:02:00.000-07:00

All -

As most of you know, my sister Renee found a lump on her breast last December, on her 35th birthday. She was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks later, shortly before Christmas. After a quick lumpectomy and an aggressive chemotherapy schedule, she is currently in the process of finishing up her last couple of weeks of radiation in Washington, DC. I thank God every day that she was lucky enough to find her cancer early and has responded well to treatments and I'm looking forward to the celebrations we have planned for when she completely finishes her treatments.

I am planning on participating in this years Race for the Cure in Houston on Saturday, October 4, 2008. While I am participating on a team for work, I would also like to see how much money I can raise for this cause on my own. If you would like to help me out and donate under my participant name, please use this link.

As always, I hope you have a wonderful day!

I Kissed A Girl

2008-08-17T18:43:00.000-07:00

The very next weekend after the PVGP, an acronym I love to say as quickly as possible, Jacob invited me on another tryst to Akron, Ohio. I can't even begin to defend such a trip. In the first place its Ohio, home to such cities as Cleveland and Cincinnati. Can you believe, just last night, an economics doctoral candidate was trying to tell me that he had just passed through Cincinnati, and its waterfront area seemed pretty nice. I wouldn't hear it, and I told him so. On top of that, this was Akron. I swear, while there, a dirty, dirty, Puerto Rican boy in our party insisted that it was pronounced with a hard A.

Anyway, Akron is famous for really only one thing and that was the reason I was there, the All-American SoapBox Derby. First of all, I found the title grossly misleading. There were several teams from other nations, so its really not All-American is it? An interesting fact about the Soapbox Derby is that during its heyday in the 50's and 60's it was one of the nation's top draw athletic events with as many as 70,000 attending. Thankfully, there were no where near as many attending. I despise crowds, and to be honest, the "box" seating a person of my status requires was little more than a roped off section at the finish line.

This is a view from our seats looking up the track.

And here is one with a couple of cars barreling down the track.

Anyway, as some sort of guest of honor, its traditional for the person in my position to bestow a kiss upon the winner in these sorts of races. Of course, the winner was a girl, Krista Osborne, and a cheerleader to boot. I was not a little disappointed that she failed to mention me in the article and the kiss with which I favored her, as primary motivation and inspiration for her victory, to speak nothing of the very model of perfection I deliver each and every day. But I suppose I will just have to get used to not being mentioned specifically. Ahem.

There were all sorts of precious details to this trip, I couldn't possibly begin to delineate them all. But I will share a couple. While there, I toured around Kent State University, and let me say with conviction that it is very possible that the Kent State massacre may not have been the fault of the Ohio National Guard at all, but a sudden seizing of opportunity by several students only wishing to end the misery of their lives at Kent State.

Finally, there was a funny man running around all afternoon. I couldn't dare to take a picture directly of him, but I did snap a picture of ze Germans with him on the left side of the frame.

I don't know if you can make them out, but take a look at his shoe. Isn't it precious? Its a veritable bowling shoe in its brashness.

Bigfoot Revisited

2008-08-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

It wasn't that long ago in a rambling and nearly impenetrable post about my identity and relationships and sex, that I compared a stable relationship to the eastern bigfoot and it seems now that not only is bigfoot real, but the first evidence of it comes from Georgia.

No, I know its confusing with the war and everything, but I mean our Georgia. The one in the Southern United States. Where they don't even have real mountains, just ridiculous and dimensionally inaccurate tourist attractions.

Here is what I'm going to do. If this evidence of a bigfoot, and eastern one that doesn't even live in the mountains pans out, I will in fact acknowledge the existance of a stable relationship and no longer publicly seek the dissolution of the marriages of my fairer friends to the brutes they have somehow been brainwashed into involving themselves with. If the evidence does not pan out however, then all the dainty damsels must offer up an hour per week of mute meditation on the deficiencies of their jack booted oppressors and the hobnails under which they suffer.

Failure to comment grants tacit agreement.

Catalog and Classify

2008-08-14T15:27:00.000-07:00

Its been a whirlwind of traveling for me lately, and frankly I've had no time, no time whatsoever for the unwashed masses. Or you, dear readers, who are washed, of course. Its been weeks, but Jacob did whisk me off again this year to the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix. That was in July. I think roughly a month ago. I know. I've been that busy.

A few of you, and I won't name names, although I am perfectly capable of doing so, doubted my trip last year. This year I took a few pictures of my own, although in review, they are horribly disappointing. I couldn't possibly take a digital camera, so I just used the one on my threeg. You might be surprised that my special phone lacks any sort of zoom just as yours does. I know, its totally unacceptable. I promise you Stephen has received quite an earful about this even though he his on his deathbed. People just don't survive pancreatic cancer especially not through homeopathy.

This little roadster was such a nice color, virtually identical to the pants I proudly wear while performing my sport of choice. I know some opinions have been expressed about the pants, but to put it as crudely as possible, when you are as callipygous as me, sometimes you like to show off.

This one was exactly the rosso corsa color I've been looking for for so long. Ironic it was raced by a Canadian team.

I don't think you can tell, but there's a picture of Marylin Monroe on a pink corvette.

I guess I got a little overzealous because of the race and ran down this zipcar sign. I found it wonderfully ironic if a poor reflection of my driving ability.

Remiss

2008-07-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

I would be unjustifiably remiss if I let this day pass without mentioning its near status as a universal holiday also known as Mary Vath's birthday. If you have somehow let the day pass without celebrating appropriately, shame on you.

Will future generations dance tirelessly on this day, and generously splurge on gifts to shower upon each other to commemorate something so much bigger than them it is beyond even their undoubtedly narcotic enhanced cognition? Science tell us it is inevitable and you can't argue with science. So why delay your celebrations? Surely these future generations will look upon the originators of this holiday in much the same way we view the pilgrims: religious zealots who survived the winter only with the help of the indigenous, but insufficiently clothed heathens.

So, I think its clear that if you want to survive the winter, you should buy me a gift. For Mary.

Delayed

2008-07-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I've been silently absent form your lives, and you've wondered, is this the start of a long break? Will the light of your lives leave you in darkness again. Of course not, dear readers. I am always with you, and the sanative halo of my turbulent verbiage is suitable for reading and re-reading.

I'm breaking my curious silence to wish my dear, dear friends the LaBordes a happy, happy first year wedding anniversary. Has it really been a year? It has. Hopefully, my gentle ribbing has not hit to close to home and the marital bliss continues. But in case it does not, and a split or some form of counseling is imminent, I think its perfectly clear whose side I'm on: mine. What was I talking about?

The Details of My Injury

2008-07-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

Some of you who may not know me very well wondered last month about the details of my cycling injury. Its a little hard to describe to the layperson, that is you, dear reader, what exactly I was doing and in what manner I specifically injured myself. Since my sport of choice is so rare, there really isn't a vocabulary for it.

Since the Tour de France has started and the dilettantes of the world turn their attention to this grueling sport, there have been more questions about my riding and my injury. Somehow, people equate my injury with the supposed difficulties of riding within the peloton, something they consider scary. I don't mean to in anyway belittle the skill and dedication of a professional cyclist, but frankly, compared to my sport, their shit is a little weak.

Many thanks to Ines, my training partner, for putting together this little demonstration of the types of things we do.

Citizenship Test

2008-07-04T19:58:00.000-07:00

A sententious and boorish acquaintance of mine revels in trotting out a totally unverifiable, but completely believable statistic that 80% of all people consider themselves to be above average drivers. Of course, you, gentle readers, probably are above average drivers in the same way that you are likely to be above average in everything that is good, perhaps simply by virtue of placing yourself within the sanative halo of my verbal turbulence.

But this question of driving ability is not really the reason behind this post. One year, or 77 posts, ago, I asked What's so Great about America Anyway? and as I'm apt to, failed to really answer that question. I believe against a myriad of problems that still plague us today, I offered only a "delectable chicken salad" as a positive. That really doesn't seem to do our nation justice.

I think what's so great about America is great Americans, but what is a great American anyway? It cannot be the 80% of Americans who likely consider themselves to be above average citizens. They passed no test. They couldn't even name the criteria on which they should be judged. Will unearned jingoistic pride be the last lie to fall? Or will it be love, or religion or one of the other things we justify with a modicum of faith?

I'm being awful, I know. I can't tell you how awful I feel. Its been observed that I might think just a little too much of myself, but I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. By whatever criteria are being used, I hope to be a better American. I just hope the criteria used is taxes assessed.

Pillars of Sand

2008-07-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

Is nothing sacred? It seems the authorship of poems and comments and everything has been brought into question. Did sweet Maureen really say what she did? Did she submit this poem:

this is just to say

by mo reen mo

I have written

this one verse

that is in

my defense

and which

you were probably

not going to

reimburse

forgive me

I gotsta

get

paid

I do not believe that she did. There is a certain element and style to it that, objectively speaking, is quite striking, but if we are to ascribe authorship to her, then to whom should I credit the other poem in her name?

I can't possibly reprint it here. Its honesty, its truth is too much with which to burden the world. I read it and it raised my head like a mother's shrill and inconsolable cry at the funeral for her only son, all the more piercing that it is heard above the din of a rolling and undulating sea of mourners, a nation of mourners for a surer hero they never knew, whose sacrifice hangs their heads and commands a majestic monument engineered to weather the abrasive sands of time all of which means nothing to the mother, alone in her loss.

Can you even imagine that words can capture such a feeling? That they might crush you under their weight? No, it would be irresponsible to let such feeling loose upon the unprepared. But the authors of the two poems cannot be the same person. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if a careful and thorough scientific analysis revealed that the ditty I've printed above was written by the same writer who earlier claimed lapope as his name. I'm prepared to call it a fact. But I will reserve judgement and ask my readers to, also.

Instead, let's return to the good natured fun I like to promote here. Life is too short to let the heavy truths weigh us down.

Wonderfalls

2008-06-30T12:48:00.000-07:00

I finally finished watching the "Wonderfalls" series. I have to say, I really enjoyed it. I'm sad i won't get to see more episodes of this pretty fantastic series, but I'm glad they wrapped it up nicely. It felt "finished".

Sweetness

2008-06-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

I thought I had been clear about it, but as the details of my unrequited affection have been shared, several of you have revealed your violent sides. Let me be absolutely clear. I do not want any of you to get on a plane, then fly to the city of his residence, disembark from the aircraft, then proceed to his address, then ring one of his neighbors and claim to be delivering a package in order to get buzzed into the apartment building, then steal up the one flight of stairs to his apartment, kick his door in and serve him that most filling of delicacies: a knuckle sandwich. That is exactly the type of thing that you cannot do. Mary, I am looking at you. That's right, I used your name. What are you going to do about it?

If something is truly yours and you let it go, then it will come back to you, unless it suffers a debilitating fall down its apartment stairs that knocks it unconscious and suffers several broken ribs, almost as if it had been kicked repeatedly. Then it will not come back to you. It will stay away and rue the day it turned its back on you.

As a consolation to using her name I'm going to print a poem here by a Mary, who may or may not be the same Mary although really how many Mary's can one person know?

this is just to say

by mary mary mary

I have finally

defrosted in my

home that is like

the icebox

and from which

you were probably

thinking

you'd never hear from me again

Forgive me

I'm soaking in the sun that is

so sweet

and so warm.

I think the thing I like best about this submission is that it varies so little from the original. I think Mr. Williams was a true poet, but if a truer poet came along could she not speak more directly to our souls, by changing just one word in Mr. Williams' poem? Could she change the meaning altogether? I think Mary has done a fine job here saying something completely different while retaining at least a line from every stanza. Yes, I think we can all marvel at this accomplishment.

However, I do not want this glint of praise to go to anyone's head. You can't seek it out. That action cheapens it. Let me describe another situation to show you what I mean. Imagine, and I know this will be hard to do, since it is so terribly unlike me, it may actually help to substitute someone else for me in the following scenario, but imagine if you will that I contacted you in the middle of your day when you least needed to be bothered and fished in a round about way for feedback and compliments on my postings here. Wouldn't you weep for me? You would cry the soft, giant tears of someone trying not to cry, but unable to stop themselves, because the person in this scenario would be truly pathetic, like the people you see at the mall going into Old Navy.

What a relief it must be to know I would never do that. I don't even like going to a shopping center if I know there is an Old Navy there.

Doubleshot

2008-06-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

The only thing exceeding the number of submissions in my inbox is the number of requests to hear so-and-so's poem. Unfortunately as with any contest, especially one with so desirable a prize, the runners-up (runner-ups?) are destined to be forgotten in time, and I think it best I not share them with you at all. Instead I'll continue sharing some oddities with you.

There was a glaring hole on my authors list from one normally well regarded for her creativity. I dared not inquire, lest she merely be polishing a certain winner, but finally I noticed a submission from her substantially lesser fifth--he can't be half--hidden well by his name choice which offers some perplexing explanation.

this is just to say

by gregander lapope

my wife will not

be participating

in your little

contest

it is beneath her

and she has

womanly duties

to perform

forgive me

or not

I don't

care

I'm sure you're as shocked as I am at this, but ultimately, I'm just glad he didn't compose a lengthy satirical allegory which would have been tedious, at best, to read. I'll make a direct appeal: break the chains of your imprisonment, if but for a minute.

I'd dwell on it a little more, but I actually have a more pressing issue. After so recently feeling the pain of a broken heart, its difficult for me to see the many submissions of past suitors hoping to rekindle fires never ignited. I implore you, sirs, if I have granted you no attention, I am not playing coy; leave me be. Here is an example submission:

this is just to say

by name redacted (but we'll call him boudreaux)

I never thought

myself worthy

of a girl

so perfect

was I wrong

to see desire

in the face you

favored me?

forgive me

that look

that dream

will not fade

I wonder how dismissive I would have been in a previous time. Oh, certainly, I won't be speaking with this individual, I was fair and direct months ago, so I owe him no explanation. But what hope is there for him? What release can he find from his persistent dream? What words do I want to hear, that I might share with him, that might grant us that release? This is the conundrum of language. Even if there are the right words, we are not likely to know them. But right words or not, saying something is better than nothing.

This is the story of Petrarch, to know love like a furious summer storm, but to know that feeling is not real, and will not be returned. Life is not a fairy tale and the boy does not get the girl. So, to all the men holding out hope against hope, I'm just not into you. Please stop trying to contact me

Yes, Virginia, there are crappy poems

2008-06-19T14:08:00.001-07:00

Some of the haughty amongst you have wondered if perhaps the quality of the poems posted here is in some way indicative of an overall poor quality of poems passing through the selection committee. I can only tell you, that you have no idea. Some people seem to have replaced their morning crossword with poem creation and their multiple submissions are coming not unlike an especially poorly acted Paul Walker movie, which is to say, Fast and Furious. Some of you don't even seem to care, not even letting the poetry speak to your soul. Take this submission:

this is just to say

by carrie riché riché

I could not

come up with

a suitable

topic

so this

stanza is just

a placeholder

before the end

forgive me

my creativity

is sapped

by drudgery

In the first place, I don't think that's even her real name, and if its not she totally screwed up the name pattern anyway. In the second place, the second stanza talks specifically about itself which is totally against all rules having to do with poetry. You can't make self referential poetry. Everybody knows that. This type of lackadaisical submission only makes me angry. It is the equivalent of a paperweight gift. If you refuse to put any thought into it at all. Then don't bother.

But before I scare you off, ask yourself when the last time was that you wrote a poem? I thought so. What about jumping for joy? Attempting a cartwheel? You don't even know.

More Friendly Competition

2008-06-18T19:45:00.000-07:00

What is friendly about any competition? It seems to be a general agreement over some arbitrary rules, but science tells us that there is only one competition for men, and that is the biological imperative to pass along his genes. The closest a man will ever come to being immortal is when he has a son. I don't really believe that, but I believe there is something in men that they themselves do not understand. So when men talk of friendly competition they are usually talking about the view in the glare of public lights because let me tell you that in my experience, behind the scenes, they will slit each others throats.

this is just to say
by chad obi chad

i have not
returned the dvd's
that you loaned to me
over a year ago

do you
think i
could not
know?

forgive me
the geek council is unable to decide
if it is acceptable for a hot chick to own
firefly

If you are wondering if unabashed flattery is an effective way to get your poem featured here, then let me be the first to say, I forward these things to a committee who use a very complicated and proven selection process before I even read them, which I may or may not even do, so I wouldn't describe it so much as an asset to your poem as a veritable requirement, especially if your submission is merely the latest salvo in an ongoing game of brinksmanship to flood the internet with your musings.

Another good doctor

2008-06-17T15:36:00.000-07:00

Of course, william carlos williams' primary occupation was physician. I do not think he was a very good one. If his poetry was any indication, he must have been truly terrible. I feel strongly that a true poet can only be a true poet and nothing else. It probably also didn't help that he was a raving communist.

There have been numerous inquiries into my little contest. Yes, there will be prizes, although the pleasure of having me read your creations should be enough of a prize, although I probably won't actually be reading your submissions. I'm much to busy to do that. I'll delegate responsibility to a committee, and I'll read whatever submissions they feel are worth my time. I probably won't read those either, though. I'm very busy. For all you know I'm too busy to be writing this. I may have delegated it to someone else, and really would you know the difference? Probably you wouldn't get the same feeling of warmth within you that sustains and nourishes you. Probably you would struggle to rise from your beds knowing that I was not an integral part of your lives. Yet you rise and smile and laugh and life is good, so you may take comfort that it is I.

And now that that's settled beyond argument, I'd like to pass along a submission, fittingly enough from a good doctor. Now, he is a good physician, so please do not judge him too harshly for his poetry.

This is just to say

by lara diego lara

I have not joined

the facebook

that is on the

internet

and which

you keep insisting

i join to increase

your friends count

forgive me

it is creepy

and i am a

father

Well, I can't say it speaks to my soul, but it does have a certain understated quality to it. At the very least there are no knives.

Mistakes Were Made

2008-06-15T17:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I'm getting the whole gist of it, but a rather bookish friend of mine called me up on his way to examine what he claimed was an extremely rare stamp collection to say someone is playing a prank of sorts on me. Obviously, he doesn't know who the someone is, or what the back story might be, but the person might assume I listen to This American Life and in particular, this episode. I couldn't possibly listen to the whole thing. Hearing an obvious fool talk about freezing dead bodies for the majority of the show is a little bit more than a person of my sensibilities can bear, but if you can somehow tune it all out but perk up your ears when you hear Feist, you'll hear about the poem and the actual great American poet:

this is just to say

by william carlos williams

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

And what they did was, several contributors wrote and recited their own version of the poem which is supposed to be funny in some way, but is really kind of sad, I think. So it is that perfect combination of life that we could really use a quaint little word for and which some nation on earth probably has, though it wouldn't be the Germans despite their affinity for words, because they have terrible senses of humor. Or perhaps, terrible sense of humors. I don't see how a knife is anything like a plum, but I am not an English major.

Anyway, at the very least, I did think it was an idea. Its an idea that I'm happy to take submissions on. If you'd like to show off your poetry chops, I'd love to see submissions of your own versions from all of you warming up the writing skills you've let fade and lie dormant while the slavery of work crushes your soul and very will to live. At the very least, if you're too afraid to have it published here, I encourage each of you to write a short poem for your lover. It doesn't have to be good. It just has to be sweet. And if being sweet is not enough, then it may be you are with the wrong person.

A poem

2008-06-15T11:50:00.001-07:00

These great American poets are so obtuse. What are they trying to say anyway? Someone sent me this today, and I can't really follow it:

this is just to say

by carlos williams carlos

at this point

self disembowelment

seems a perfectly

legitimate option

you probably

have no idea

that it hurts

this badly

forgive me

the knife feels

so sweet

and so cold

Life 2: The Unhappy Ending

2008-06-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

A few of the Apple fanboys in my audience, hesitant to disturb me in my period of mourning, have been unable to contain themselves, so I may as well confess here since it was announced today, that yes, I do have an iPhone 3G. As usual, Stephen wouldn't dream of putting a product out without incorporating my feedback. I know many of you have not even yet made the proper life altering choice of possessing an iPhone 1.0, so any review I have to share is a bit like reviewing a calculator for people who don't know how to count, isn't it? No, no, I'm not saying you can't count. Of course you can. Don't be silly.

Personally, I can barely get past Stephen insisting on a 'v.' Really, the world is being changed by a Steve? I shudder just to see it in print by my own hand. Lets do everyone with any sensibilities at all a favor and refer to you exclusively as Stephen. Just be glad I'm not insisting on Stefan. Maybe you feel its too late to change, or that it will appear a bit too nouveau riche. Darling, you're a billionaire. Just change it. No one will think any worse of you.

As for the 'threeg' as the engineers have taken to calling it, I'd say the most disappointing thing is the plastic back. Of course, I had them make a metal back especially for me. Also, 3G isn't so great. Twice as fast as slow as shit is still pretty slow.

The applications are nice, but I really don't know what will be made available to the public. Of course I enjoy some most favored evaluator status, or however Stephen puts it, so I'm fairly certain the applications I'm using are being written exclusively for me. I'm sure most people will be eager for the TomTom software, but the ThomasThomas I use with priority traffic routing and exclusive points of interest can hardly be made available to everyone, or else those features are somewhat meaningless, aren't they?

Well, as sweet as Stephen's threeg is, it can't take away my heartache. So, what good is it at all?

Today Will Be Better, I Swear!

2008-06-06T13:49:00.000-07:00

Of course there has been an outpouring of support following my little confessional. Many of you have offered whatever I might need to soothe my injured heart. Others have been simply stunned into abject silence. Its as though I were Hillary and had decided to surrender the nomination despite winning all the important states and possessing an insurmountable popular vote lead. But that's not how elections work is it? Or romance either, for that matter.

Others have been simply indignant, demanding details, offering to kill who I hate. Well, first of all, I couldn't possibly hate anyone. My heart is so big and pure I have only love for all the mortal creatures that populate this anomalous orb for this brief instant. Can a person love another person so much that it crushes him to death, or at the very least makes him feel all the horrible things a person should never have to feel, but she does anyway completely outside of her control? Science will never be able to answer that question, but I'd just like to say in advance, in case it happens to be true, that it was all love, I swear.

At the very least this whole experience has taught me that despite my tested and proven intelligence and virtually flawless insight into people in general there is one incomparably complicated individual whom I do not fully understand: myself. How is it possible to fall so hard? To be strolling confidently though life, only to discover there may be great chasms lying in wait to consume one wholly and completely? And if life is so perilous why does it feel like it helps at all to type open ended questions onto a public website where anyone might read them but not offer any real solutions?

The Beginning After the End Stars

2008-06-05T13:24:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are three months later and my previously perfect prognostications seem certain to take a black eye to an otherwise stellar record as Hillary is reported to be withdrawing from the race tomorrow. I suppose it will be months before we know if there is indeed some damning story Hillary refrained from using and if the Republican machinery has their wretched claws on it, but at this point it seems ridiculous, even to me, to suggest that the Republicans, while loathsome, are any more nefarious than Hillary. Is there honor amongst thieves, and what is this honor anyway? I think men believe themselves to be good and honest, but ideals, and goals, and institutions allow them to forget.

I've been so silent, but I think at last I'm ready to say a little. To be perfectly honest, I need the catharsis. Oh, I was busy at work, and life and all the things one does while time marches inexorably on, and then, quite inexplicably, I was lovestruck. The most depressing thing about the whole ordeal is that I don't even believe in love! Yes! Exclamation points! I can hardly believe it myself.

I can't explain it in anyway. He was completely wrong for me in every single possible way, far too many to enumerate. Nevermind that he's not of noble birth or fabulously wealthy or any of those other qualities one might assume a man must possess to merit my attention. But in all the ways I know nothing about, I imagined he was exactly perfect for me. It all seems so trite, but I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode where Jerry is made to feel emotion and while crying wonders what the salty wet discharge from his eyes was. I felt exactly that way. Is this love? This? I do not want any part of it. Well, the after effects anyway. Perhaps the reason I liked him so was exactly the reason he had no idea how much I liked him. I hung on his every word and movement and at first he seemed to enjoy it a little bit, but quickly seemed to be totally oblivious, leaving me a mute mess.

And now, I have this utter feeling of emptiness. I can't even ride a bike properly. Please don't write in about my injury. Its the least of my worries. I couldn't eat. I was always a dainty eater, but these few days I've eaten nothing. Whatever this feeling is, its grabbed a hold of my middle and squeezed tighter than I can bear. I didn't even know what it was. I actually went to see a doctor to complain of my persistent nausea, and that nothing over the counter helped in the least. She asked about my job and possible stress there, and when I told her I could care less, she slyly smiled, and asked, "So what's his name?" Twenty Eight years old, and I'm feeling this for the first time. At least when I didn't know, I could sleep. Now I can't. I guess it turns out I'm not anything like the person I thought I was. It is pathetic.

I used to think he was exactly like a character in a book I read, but of course, I was not in the book. Now I think maybe I was lunch.

Oh, the blood and the treasure and the losing it all, the time that we wasted and the place where we fall. Will we wake in the morning and know what it was for, up in our bedroom, after the war?

Lonely & Blue

2008-05-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

I miss my witty and entertaining posts. I should fix that.

Goodbye To You Scandal

2008-02-26T16:06:00.000-08:00

I'm really tired of the stream of emails, people. I've allowed comments on this blog for a reason. That way you can answer each others questions and take a bit of the load off of me. As it is, my prognosticative abilities have been receiving a lot of attention lately.

First, no, pictures of Obama in Somali tribal dress are not the thing that Clinton has on him that will secure her the nomination. People have been writing in wanting to know if that was what I was predicting. Look, I went to a lot of trouble to talk about how Clinton is a warfighter, and that sort of political effort is not the sort of warfighting I'm talking about. The kind of blood-letting bitch that Hillary is, she probably didn't even know about the photos. Photos are the sort of small time political effort of low level operatives. When this drops, you'll know. I like to quote Training Day: "The shit's chess, it ain't checkers."

As much as I throw that quote around, it never seems to have the impact I desire. I think the problem is that most people's intellect is fully stressed by the game of checkers, so chess holds no distinction. Oh, no, of course I'm not talking about you, dear reader. I mean other people.

I suppose that the certainty that my prediction will come true is based in no small part on the recent Oscar win of No Country for Old Men which just happened to be the only movie I took the time to recommend here. Some of you wondered, how could I recommend one movie all year long before the movie even came out and have it turn out to be the Oscar and Golden Globe winner of best Picture of the year? Well, I suppose I might take the opportunity to point out that it is an irrefutable testament to my exquisite taste, but the truth is that its purely coincidence that for nearly the first time in their history the supposedly esteemed Academy happened to agree with me. Maybe they're just reading my blog. I don't know. I don't look at the statistics.

The Boys Wanna Be Her Peaches

2008-01-27T18:51:00.000-08:00

Another political commentary...I think its less about having another one and just a simple lack of posting altogether. I suppose I've redirected my online efforts to maintaining my facebook personality, even though, this entire online community is destined to dwindle to obscurity. I knew that the instant Josh Kopelman opined that Myspace vs. Facebook, wasn't a choice, it was an IQ test. It turns out he wasn't talking about users but developers. Ultimately, the difference is moot. Still, my response is that if America is going to be subjected to an IQ test, America will fail. Its not the upper end of the scale that willingly clicks on the banner ads.

Speaking of IQ tests America will fail, the presidential election ranks as an important one. As a woman in power, when Time runs an article like this, it makes me wonder where the analogous article is seeking to understand males sexism in their reluctance to support Clinton. Oh, sure, its distressing if Asian-Americans support Clinton over Obama in disproportionate numbers presumably because he's black and they are racist, but if men support Obama over Clinton because he is male, and they are sexist, well, there is no real reason to draw any attention to that at all.

Still, this obstacle seems to not be hampering Obama very much and as his effort gains momentum and the wins come like so many dominoes falling in succession, and the Clinton camp seem to be in utter disarray, I raise the question: Is this the way the (Clinton) world ends?

As I'm apt to do, I will tell you what I think. Mankind is meant for war. War is the ultimate trade, and man is the ultimate practitioner. I didn't create that phrasing, but I think it perfectly distills everything worth knowing about mankind. A mother's true love for her child is nothing more than the capacity of war she will wage for its benefit: total.

Now, many people are not in touch with their own capacity to wage war and perhaps find the phrasing objectionable, but I assure you that Hillary Clinton is not one of those people and it is a mistake to think for even one second that she is anything but a ruthless warfighter in her own way. Its quite surprising to me that the press seems willing to forget this in pronouncing her campaign all but dead. To me the more likely explanation is that she's just not trying very hard, because she knows she doesn't need to. And we should know too by the end of March but certainly by the DNC in August. I think she wants to win the "right" way, but I have no doubts that what she really wants is to win.

Reckoner In Rainbows

2008-01-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

Some poor boy--well, perhaps a man child is a better description--with a deep country accent operating a shovel outside the parking lot where they are laying a new water line called over to me just now, as I was returning from lunch. As you can imagine, I'm used to the catcalls of the lower brain functioning men, so I was prepared to ignore him altogether, but it turned out he just wanted to show off his new toy that he was so proud of. Oh, I'm certain there was an underlying sexual drive that, much like every other drive he possesses, came from no conscious thought, but he truly was childlike in his delight. His vernacular was, not charming, but not ashamed. I think he 'reckon'd' everything he said.

Apparently, some company that sells machinery to the company he works for had come out and grilled pork and potatoes for the laborers and as a souvenir had handed out little folding pocket knives complete with nylon sheaths. They had used plastic forks, and these knives to eat their bountiful feast.

It was just a wonder, working in an office environment where there is a clear and stated zero tolerance for weapons of any kind in the workplace to behold a world, not so far from mine, by which I mean in physical distance, because to be honest we might as well live in different universes, where weapons were encouragingly handed out to everyone and so openly brandished and reveled in.

I saw the dirt on his pants, the grime permanent in his sweatshirt, and I swallowed my distaste and offered him a smile, a true highlight to him; undoubtedly the brightest color in the rainbow of today after the soggy, grim never ending drizzle that is his life.

Flawed Logic

2008-01-17T17:34:00.000-08:00

I have a little political commentary to dispense here, and I hope you'll bear with me while I do. I don't really have any organization to these thoughts, so if they seem a little disjointed, you're just going to have to accept my very busy schedule and the fact that I can't always arrange things into the parable form feeble minds can readily soak in.

For the most part, I don't really concern myself with politics. I think it takes a certain type of person to be truly interested in the subject and that type of person is devoid of what I consider humanity. However, as our country appears to be heading in a path that is the opposite of what I think most Americans want out of a country, a great number of people are attaching a great deal of importance to the upcoming election.

We are all likely to be subjected to numerous opinions and rationalizations about who is and who is not the best candidate and to be honest, I trust the American public to make a rational, informed decision because its important about as much as I trust them to stop eating at McDonald's because it makes them fat. In other words, I think it would be just about right if Ronald McDonald were elected president. However, amongst the many reasons I have heard for voting or not voting for a candidate there is one that really, really makes me angry.

It is this: the people who think they are enormously clever by saying they won't vote for Obama because they're sure he'll be assassinated. Its asinine. People seem to say this and its like they are really claiming to be on his side in a way that even he can't comprehend, and really he's just a silly man for running for president at all, but no need to worry because we're looking out for him, and we will protect him from the certain future that he cannot perceive. I look at these people and I feel sorry for them.

It reminds me of a time, many years ago, growing up a small princess in Louisiana. As many of you know Louisiana is not the most welcoming place for people of color. In 1991 David Duke, a white supremacist and member of the Ku Klux Klan, ran for governor of that state, and placed second in the open primary to Edwin Edwards a former governor, who eventually won that election, and was later sentenced to 10 years in prison on racketeering charges in 2001. It was all very surreal that the quality of candidate the constituency chose to support was so deeply and obviously flawed. I remember bumper stickers that read: Vote for the Crook. It's important. To those not familiar, the crook was Edwards. What I remember though is hearing a poor young boy, who I believe is a Doctor now--but I'll save my opinions of Doctors for another day--say that his parents were voting for Duke because Edwards was a crook, and besides its not like the legislature would let him do anything. I didn't say anything then, but I distinctly remember thinking, "You poor, poor boy. Your parents are racists and you don't even know it." That's what I think of these people who are protecting Obama, that they are racists and don't even know it, and I feel sorry for them.

If a person wants to vocalize a reason for not voting for Obama, its their right, but not that reason. I'm letting people know this now as my means of protecting them, because if I hear this reason from someone, I will kill them.

p.s. Secret Service, if you read the post you'll see very clearly that despite the combination of the words, 'president,' 'Obama,' 'kill,' and 'assasinate' this post in no way necessitates that you interview me in anyway.

Comando Everyday

2007-12-31T13:47:00.000-08:00

I'm a ball roller. A number of you probably knew that already. If there is a ball around, and I determine that it needs rolling, I'm willing to roll up my sleeves and put my shoulder to it. Sometimes people think a ball will just get rolling on its own, as if some unseen mystical force with no known mode of operation can just grab ahold of something and move it. Its called inertia, people. I know you've completely forgotten your high school physics, but the general interpretation of Newton's first law is that an object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion. So, to explain it clearly, there is a ball, and it is at rest, until I come into contact with it. Then through sheer force of will, I put it into motion. And once its in motion, do you know what happens to it? It stays in motion.

Sometimes Newton's third law comes into play. Namely that some other particle, that is to say, you my gentle readers exert a force on, in this case, the ball. Is your force as strong as mine? Of course not. You are just a particle. I can prove it with the mathematics. That's what the second law is all about, but frankly, that proof is a bit beyond the scope of this article, which is mainly concerned with the first law, the ball rolling.

The ball in this particular article is the blackhole trip for 2008. I've selected possible destinations, and while they are by no means the only places we might go, since I've selected them, they might as well be.

They are:
1. Las Vegas - In English, "The Vegas" is well known as the height of American culture.
2. Cedar Point - Located in Sandusky, Ohio, this theme park is the mecca for roller coaster enthusiasts who can tolerate being in Ohio.
3. Germany - Most right thinking people hate the French. This is the only nation to ever actually do anything about it. They also have sausage.
4. San Francisco - In English, "San Diego's father" is a mecca for rice enthusiasts. Also, there is a bridge.
5. Orlando - I don't really want to go here. They have a mouse infestation, but five destinations sound better than four.

I think we can all agree that the ball is irrefutably in motion.

With Teeth

2007-12-20T14:21:00.000-08:00

A long time ago I knew a boy. I'll call him G. Deist. No, that's too obvious. Greg D. Even though he was madly in love with me, I really couldn't have anything to do with him. He was a simple boy of simple pleasures, which can be summarized in one word-mayonnaise, who perhaps was scarred for life when I rejected him. While he isn't listed in any credits, I have it on good authority that this is in no small part, his project.

Now, occurrences such as these--that is, artwork of an insane mind, unleashed upon the public, by men undoubtedly consumed by their obsession with, lets just say me--beg the question: am I driving men mad with lust, or are they predisposed to their conditions. I think this question probes at the very nature of man. Is man predisposed to insanity, or is his mind simply incapable of fully comprehending great beauty?

Sadly, I am able to contribute little to this inquest. In the first place, I don't understand the first thing about men's minds and to be perfectly honest, I've always thought their minds were getting a bit too much credit in the decision making process if you know what I mean, and I think that you do, so I will not be crude and say it specifically because no one wants to read that, although its possible the fact that I've gone on about it so long makes little difference, because if you hadn't thought about it, I've certainly brought quite a bit of attention to it now and its probably the only thing you'll be thinking about for the next few minutes.

Let's all applaud young Greg. You certainly have an imagination, sir!

Thanksreceiving

2007-11-26T13:55:00.000-08:00

I did my usual rounds for the holiday, and I should note here that so many of you kept the true spirit of the holiday in mind taking time out of your doubtlessly busy schedules to personally thank me for being the shining light in your lives that I am. I want you to know that I received your thanks with all the grace and humility that you know to be an intrinsic part of my very being. I also want to specifically commend those few who took the added time to tell me about how all the rest of you are lacking in their appreciation of me. In the spirit of the holidays I will in no way condemn those meager and altogether lesser minds. Its not as if I can really expect everyone to recognize what a treasure I truly am or for that matter memorize every word I have ever written. Oftentimes I forget that my mental acuity is a blessing not shared by anyone else, and I hope that you, dear reader, can understand how difficult it is to imagine what it must be like to be you. Probably imagining what your existence is like, is like you imagining what your own existence is like, but without an arm, except if that arm always had the correct answer to every question, and also gave you the ability to fly.

I was a little bit saddened that I could not see you all, but I suppose the future solution is to hold some kind of court where visitors can be shown in, present their gifts, kiss my ring, and be hurried along. At any rate, those I did see, warmed my heart and made me regret that it will be too long until I see you again. There is only one thing worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about.

I was quite disappointed to see LSU fall again in gladiatorial contest. The team I saw perform had no right to their national placing. I believe their coach purposefully failed them as a reprisal for his inability to secure any automotive dealership sponsorship deals. But then again, would you purchase a vehicle sold on the guarantee of Les Miles?

Wurstfest

2007-11-13T14:06:00.000-08:00

I recently headed over to New Braunfels with the Riche'''''s--I don't really know how many apostrophe's are in their name, so I just put a bunch in there, but they should in no way take that as any disrespect, because spelling is just not one of my strong points. Anyway, you might think a ten day sausage festival isn't exactly the type of refined event which I would attend, but Mr. Riche' assured me I would both enjoy the event, and not be subjected to the type of endless low-brow man-jokes one might typically assume was the key feature of such an event. He is such a gentleman.

And there was much more to the event than just eating sausage. There were arts and crafts, dance contests, and live music. It was quite a privilege to be steered through the event by an old hand like Mr. Riche' and as enjoyable as it was, I can't imagine what it would have been like without him.

So I guess I can cross item 273 off my list: attend a sausage festival.

First Thing

2007-11-07T13:45:00.000-08:00

Do exactly as I tell you. Click on this link and leave a comment of congratulations and adulation for the happy couple. Or you could call them. That is also still acceptable. You could also send them a florid letter. Or even send your man servant cross country bearing some kind of gift, and of course tidings of good will and celebration. All those things are still looked upon favorably. Animal sacrifice to Hathor pagan goddess of pregnancy has fallen out of favor. I mean, if that's your way, go ahead, but I wouldn't be broadcasting it. I would keep that little ritual to yourself. Its the digital age now, after all. We've got things they don't even have gods for. They aren't just making up gods anymore after all. Most people are pretty settled on one.

Its just so exciting to know there will be a littler version of someone I know out there. And not just someone, but someone good and decent. I mean, I've probably talked at least a whole hour to one of them. That's at least enough time for me to have been a dramatic influence on their lives. You can tell where this is going. They'll probably regale this precious child with stories of me, sharing my philosophies and insights that touched them most, and probably before she can even conceive that people have a place in this world, she'll be well on her way to her rightful destiny as a great and learned member of what may very well be my benevolent monarchy. I don't know. It could be malevolent. I haven't really decided what will be necessary. The important thing is that she will be a beautiful child brought up in a beautiful world, by beautiful parents, everything all the more beautiful because of my presence.

Isn't life just wonderful? Of course it is.

Treat

2007-11-01T13:54:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear, the phone has been absolutely vibrating off the desk. I let slip one little detail of my privileged life in my journal, and suddenly major news organizations are harassing me for details to elaborate on their breaking news. I can't possibly answer all the inquiries, so I'll just say it here: if she can't be bothered to make millions off of it, then I can't be bothered to violate her trust in me. Of course, I can't speak for the other six, but I already feel absolutely horrible that I may have overstepped the bounds of modesty just by sharing the fact that of course she would continue writing for people like me.

In other news, my Halloween costume went over like gangbusters. There was a small glitch when after perhaps a few too many drinks I decided it would be funny to scream loudly "UFO's do not exist" and then punch out someone I was certain was dressed as Dennis Kucinich, but turned out to be a young child dressed as an elf, which I only discovered after searching the lifeless body for a pocket copy of the constitution, failing to find it, and screaming "Unauthentic!" while his horrified parents begged for mercy. I'm just going to come right out and take all the blame for that one. I really don't know what came over me, except to say that in my head, it was exactly the sort of surreal frightening experience that will make this year's Halloween memorable. So, in a way, I should also take all the credit for it. You are welcome.

When I finally alighted home, I was in no mood to hear from my man servant that attendance at my door had been low. Previously, I had planned to serve cake to deserving visitors, but my man servant felt that traditional candy was more in order. I instructed him to spare no expense and that I wanted to hand out skittles and starbursts, favorites of my childhood. Although the appeal of full sized packages can not be denied, he assured me that I was much better off buying 5lb bags of miniatures and just handing out more. Well, given the low turn out, now I have my body weight in candy barely contained in a trash receptacle purchased expressly for the purpose.

Trick

2007-10-31T13:36:00.000-07:00

I really don't like Halloween. You're all familiar with the premise so I won't expound, but it just seems silly. Its the one day of the year I face a barrage of "I like your costume" comments from the unwashed masses. Admittedly I don't wear a tiara every day, but its hardly a rare occasion. I usually just smile pleasantly, and return the compliment. Yes, your costume is a very accurate rendering of a sodden homeless person. What? Those are your normal clothes? If you really want to say so, but I'd stick with the costume excuse. Also? I'd try a little harder in the shower. You're in there for a reason.

Also, there are the endless invitations to costume parties. Its a lot of pressure. I think all of the men are just anxious to see me dress as a slut. From my experience, it isn't even necessary to dress as a slutty something anymore. Women are just showing up at these parties dressed like sluts. I prefer to think of my costume adjective as sexy, even though I'm tired of being sexy. I'll be going as a sexy Hillary Clinton, but also with class. I'll be sporting a drooping neckline and talking no nonsense, but I'll also be a cuckquean, a common affliction of anaxiphiliacs and easily duped by functional retards. Its really a sublime and nuanced costume. I wish you could see it.

Finally, there are the little children running around in flame retardant plastics eager for a hand out. The little one are fine, but the older ones are just too much. That's why I have two sets of treats. If you're cute and young, my butler rewards you handsomely. If you're older and pimply, you get carrots. Also, if you're a parent carting around a baby too young to speak, and certainly too young to be eating candy, you get child services called on you.

Music is My Unbridled Consumerism

2007-10-29T14:26:00.000-07:00

I have to hand it to the people at Apple. I think they understand Me in a way that can be universally applied to people. I like the fact that they price their products outside the range of the average consumer but have become so popular the average consumer lusts after their products anyway. I like that they are so popular that their own customers make advertisements for their products. I like that their ad agency has such humility that they have no problems adopting this advertisement as their own. I like that Apple has positioned themselves perfectly to take advantage of the faltering Microsoft dinosaur. I like that there is no chance of a massive anti-Apple backlash looming like hurricane on the horizon.

The only thing I'm worried about is that, despite the assurances, it seems like ugly people are still able to purchase their technology. I can't believe how many people I see out there with seemingly the same Apple products I was able to get long before they were available for consumers. I don't know when the government or some higher power like Apple itself is going to step in on this, but aren't there rules about what ugly people can and can't do? There aren't any ugly people reading this, are there? I'm not specifically informed on the details of how the internet works, but I assume this is built in functionality. No, its alright, you can keep on reading. Beauty on the inside counts also.

Since Apple has given the song its official endorsement, I know I can listen to it endlessly and confirm that this song, this entire band, speaks the feeling in my soul that I didn't have words for previously. Its only ironic that English is not the band's first language. Music is my beach house, and hometown, and kingsize bed, and all the other things that I actually already have, but somehow music is still all of those things. Most importantly, as the song repeats at the end, he is a great fuck, and so am I.

True Entertainment

2007-10-22T14:01:00.000-07:00

G4's Japanese import Ninja Warrior is everything a discerning connosieur of television looks for in a show provided what she is looking for is a show that defies all preconceptions about what should be on TV. So, in other words, its pretty much exactly like every other Japenese import, although thankfully there are no tentacles of any kind involved.

The show is made up of menacing obstacle courses, which contestants must best to claim the title Ninja Warrior. In my opinion a true ninja warrior should have to display some killing skills, but apparently American sensors will not allow the broadcast of that portion of the show. Instead we are forced to watch scrawny Japanese humiliate themselves time and time again, while the announcer shouts what may very well be vicious insults or simply the daily obituaries at the audience.

Much like a shiny new nickel, this show has no value whatsoever, which is to say that from my point of view its value is indistinguishable from zero. The show is clearly targeted towards G4's primary audience, young boys with approximately a nickel's chance in life of ever getting laid. I suppose I should point out somewhere that the obstacles are so difficult only two people have ever even successfully claimed the title. Of course they were both men, because only a man could be so stupid as to want to win, although there maybe something to the upper body strength to go along with it.

Frankly, I think I could probably waltz through the course after my daily PowerThirst, but perhaps thats not allowed.

The Only Thing We Have

2007-10-19T13:24:00.000-07:00

After essentially single-handedly winning World War II, despite almost being court-marshaled by Ross Gellar, Damien Lewis returns to American hearts as NBC's new quirky detective. NBC-Universal used to have Vincent D'Onofrio as its resident quirky detective on Law & Order: Criminal Intent, but his unabated consumption of illicit drugs led studio executives to back off featuring him on a major network. Already they had cut his workload in half by reintroducing Mr. Big as a Law & Order detective, but Vincent's increased bloating and graying hair were just too much. Directors were increasingly worried about being able to fit his head onscreen, so the show was moved to the red-headed stepchild USA Network.

Recognizing a huge void in their schedule of detective shows, Life has taken the detective show starved television viewing public by storm. The premise of the show is that Damien Lewis's character was a police officer who was framed 12 years ago for the murder of his business partner and the partner's family. After 12 years in prison, after the tireless efforts of his lovesick lawyer, he is released with a big fat settlement that also includes a position as Detective on the LAPD. Now, he was just a regular officer before, and I'm pretty sure there are some educational requirements for detective work, but reality is not a pressing concern for this show. I think it would have been more interesting if he had required, as part of his settlement, that he be made head surgeon at a hospital, which would have filled another void in the line-up: hospital shows.

Of course, because he spent 12 years in jail, as a cop no less, we are constantly reminded that he has an appreciation for things that you or I will never understand. This appreciation is revealed in his desire for fruit, his refusal to have furniture, and the fact that he is has a new trollop staying over every episode. I'm trying to understand how this differs from a normal man, but all I can come up with so far, is that he doesn't seem to watch sports.

Anyway, most people find Vincent D'Onofrio incredibly uncomfortable in Criminal Intent, because the ticks he gives his characters are so unnerving. Damien Lewis is a bit more charming. Here's a secret though that will either ruin Damien Lewis for you or possibly make him a must watch. Also, it may have no effect on your view of Damien Lewis at all.

He's British. That's right, you can watch him report on great deals in Bolivia here. Personally, I find it a little bit annoying that his American accent is totally fake. Its like watching Imagine Me & You and admiring the British so much because of their very cheeky comedies, only to discover that the lead character is played by someone who probably sounds more like Jessica Simpson at home than Madonna.

Anyway, if you can get past the idea World War II may have been won single-handedly by a Londoner, this is actually probably the best new show on television. In case you think this is some kind of high praise, let me disabuse you of that notion. More scripts have been ordered, so it looks like it will be around for awhile.

Its Big and I Guess Love is as Good a Word as Any Other

2007-10-17T13:52:00.000-07:00

Like the rest of television Big Love is awful. I'm sorely tempted to go on a long rant about the second word in the title because I feel that if I'm going to talk about something I ought to at least make an effort to get everyone on the same page about what that is. However, as many of you are married, and I kept my mouth shut before you made your vows--another meaningless four letter word (you know who I'm speaking to)--I ought to have the decency to keep my mouth shut now.

Anyway, my main problem with this show is that it is absolutely impossible for me to watch Bill Paxton on screen without imagining him responding to any sort of crisis of any degree by reprising his role as Private Hudson in Aliens and exclaiming: "That's it man, game over man, game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?" And on top of that, watching him lustily contemplate the posterior of any young vivacious woman as she walks away is just too much. I've known enough men in my lifetime. That's not acting. Its just not giving a shit that people are watching.

Following the family dynamics of a polygamist just isn't particularly interesting to me. Its like watching people live without modern amenities. It's just not the way we do things anymore. I'm sure one day in the long term future there will be some sort of "media experience" about two people being married. Possibly they will have children. It will probably be a comedy. And it will be just as strange and fascinating to the proletariat of the future as Big Love is to you now. Self-important economists will bloviate about how marriage amongst fundamentalists causes war.

Really, I weep for you married people and the awkwardness you must endure living with someone else so totally imperfect. Look over at them right now or contemplate them in your mind. See that glaring imperfection? The thing that eats at your very being until you want to scream? The thing that will keep you up at night, tonight and every night that you haven't been exhausted dealing with them? And you're willing to forgive it for a little joke that is really kind of insulting and demeaning? Well, I suppose you can always hope you die first so that there will be someone else who will feel obligated to dispose of you in whatever socially acceptable way the future holds. That's the upside I see. I think some greenie is going to come up with a way to make human disposable carbon positive. For the children.

Bottom Feeders

2007-10-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

Shows with Top in the name are crimes against humanity. They are: America's Next Top Model, Top Chef, and Top Design. Like any other reality show, the essence of these shows is to put a bunch of whiny, backstabbing malcontents into ludicrous situations that have nothing to do with actual talent, all the while devaluing the only thing that may have any real value in this world: teamwork. In other words, watching this show is like watching my employees work. Americans have been conditioned for many years to enjoy vastly superior forms of this sort of entertainment in the form of shows I will tentatively title America's Next Top Sports Team.

Top Design has been dispensed with for being totally unwatchable. Top chef appeals to those who just cannot get enough food porn on the food network. The most deplorable part of Top Chef is of course Padma Lakshmi, who has, well, issues. She was married to Salman Rushdie for about five minutes, a man only seven years younger than her father. She describes her father as "the most sexy, manic, in-shape, lean, tall, handsome man I have ever met." Try to watch this show knowing she said this. If you can't, then I'll consider my job here done.

America's Next Top Model features a truly disturbing individual as its host: Tyra Banks. Where Padma has unresolved issues, Tyra Banks is just plain nuts. I mean that literally. You are watching the ravings of a lunatic if you watch any of her shows. You might as well take a trip down to the mental hospital and ask for a seat with a view of the padded rooms, because there is little difference. Actually there is a huge difference. ANTM also features models which in the current age are people of a body type that is a little freakish. I'm not saying I automatically hold a grudge against tall people, but there is roughly a 99% chance. I've observed that they somehow think their height entitles them to hold their noses high in the air.

Even though I enjoy even more privileges then these so called models, of which absolutely none have found any fame or fortune, I do not for one second act as though I'm entitled to them, when I'm not. I'm simply always entitled to them. These people grow up in a cocoon of kid glove treatment. I always tell the peanut butter story. Once a model "friend" of mine went to the "grocery store," but didn't bring enough money to purchase everything she wanted to buy. A man behind her, bought "peanut butter" for her. Do you see what this means? Its my little life parable. Of course, as is always the case, the friend is me. And the peanut butter was a new car. Also, I didn't so much go anywhere as it was just one of the many gifts that are daily showered upon me for being so perfect.

People Different From You

2007-10-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

I watched Heroes last season. I'm not making the same mistake this time. I've already seen this show before and its called The 4400. The glacial pace of the show combined with the fact that actual heroics are absent makes this show unwatchable in my opinion. Unfortunately, thanks to TIVO and the internet serialized shows like this don't quite hemorrhage viewers like they used to. I think that the normal human psyche has some intrinsic desire to know what happens next, even though the answer is clear: nothing happens next. Not a damn thing. Characters talk in hushed emphatic voices because the ludicrous situations the actors find themselves in, namely having to fill an actionless hour of television with precious little dialogue and never ending exposition, allow for nothing else.

According to this show, heroes are not people who take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them, but people with genetic advantages which they use primarily for personal gain. In other words, I am one of the world's greatest heroes, possessing preternatural abilities in nearly everything I do. Mostly, I use these genetic advantages for personal gain, but on more than one occasion I have saved the life of another. Every time I haven't stabbed a barista in the eye for getting my order wrong, I've saved lives.

In fact for a bunch of supposed heroes, there are quite a number of crimes being committed. Its the old flight vs. invisibility argument. (When you listen to this, ask yourself, am I listening to PC narrate Act I? because the answer is Yes you most certainly are.) These superpowers speak to primal desires within ourselves, and these desires are some basic recognition that being a human is not enough. The world is filled with so many. A thing has value only if its truly rare, and you sadly, are not. Notice, of all the things you see these supposed Heroes doing, these evolutionary superiors, you will never, not for one second, catch them watching NBC. Or at least that was one of the notes I gave the studio executives as their model for human superiority.

Blank of Love

2007-10-12T13:48:00.000-07:00

After the truly disturbing success of Flavor of Love, Poison's Brett Michaels decided to throw his bandanna into the ring with Rock of Love. Well, only figuratively throw since he needs it to cover his Hulk Hogan like baldness.

This show trumps Deal or No Deal by a wide margin in the worthless sweepstakes. Normally every show has an equal chance at true worthlessness, but this show went out and bought up all the tickets at tremendous expense, leaving none for the other shows. While Deal or No Deal has a sprinkling of long legged models, Rock of Love has a heaping serving of strippers, and frankly prostitutes. Many of these women signed up for this show without even knowing who the title character would be. And now that its concluded we learn that nothing was resolved. Brett was unhappy with these whores, ditched his final selection and plans to return for a second season.

I can't even begin to talk about this show without pointing out that shows like this are not actually shows. They are IQ tests. If you watch it and are entertained, you must report to the zoo where parents with nothing else to do with their kids will thoughtfully contemplate unique facts about you presented in plaque form such as that your DNA is 99% identical to humans.

What were my options?

2007-10-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

I can drag this out for a while. Even while couch ridden, I wouldn't watch Deal or No Deal, but I can talk about it at length. The game show originated in the Netherlands, but was imported to the United States after brilliant television executives finally identified the flaw in the previous prime time game show success, Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Namely, the central question of the show was too difficult for American audiences to grasp. Deal or No Deal solves this problem by incorporating both possible responses in the question, while, and this demonstrates the true genius of the executives, remaining monosyllabic. Once the theory had been laid down, scientists only needed to add a heavy sprinkling of long-legged models without speaking parts, and the magic was born. Initial prototyping somehow oddly included weird facial hair, long spurned by the networks for its orgy origins, but scientists were unable to correct this flaw before release to the public.

Altogether these things added up to NBC's most popular television show for the network last year averaging 15 million viewers per episode. That's right, on average 1 in 20 Americans were watching this current nadir of cultural performance.

The premise of the show is so basic, so empty headed, that it has made a good candidate for analysis by economists, a group of people with unwavering devotion to the idea that human motivations are discernible.

In conclusion, if you watch this show, you and I are over. I mean over.

I had the artists in the marketing department work this up for me the other day. There is a sad little boy constantly bemoaning whatever it is that happens to him. I had it printed out poster size and affixed to the wall of his cubicle. I don't expect him to stop complaining, but at least I can laugh a little bit now. I think we all can.

Fall TV

2007-10-09T14:35:00.000-07:00

So, there are TV shows. Ordinarily I don't watch television as it is totally unworthy of me but by some odd coincidence, I managed to suffer a cracked rib of some sort, that left me unable or unwilling to do anything but sit on the couch at the beginning of the new season. I've kept that little nugget of personal information all to myself because its totally inconsequential and really completely healed now.

I'll share a few details just to stave off the wave of concerned calls from everyone. I don't know how it happened, but it did. I woke up one morning and it hurt a little bit to breathe. And it really hurt to cough or laugh, and sneezing was just awful. I didn't think it was really a big deal, but it never occurred to me that it might be a rib, until I finally went to the doctor, whom I absolutely mistrust so completely. He did an x-ray, checked off the list, and told me it was probably a cracked rib. He offered to do a ct scan, but I told him I wasn't interested. I don't have time for cracked bones, especially when they can't do anything for you, which is why I totally mistrust doctors. They just can't do anything for you, except in very specific cases which aren't the type of thing that happen to people like me. Anyway, I only went to the doctor to make sure it wasn't one of those specific cases, but as soon as I knew they couldn't do anything for me, I was out of there. Let me tell you, I don't know how cracked my rib was, but its about the least painful injury I've ever sustained. I almost wished I could trade other injuries for cracked ribs.

My, I've gone on too long about that. Now, please, no calls or concern about it. If you didn't bother to worry yourself about my health when it happened, you certainly have no right to do so now.

Anyway, while it isn't very painful, I had no interest in making it worse, so that meant a great deal of sitting down and I watched a great deal of television. I saw it all, and I must say, that I have not been missing much. Whatever passes for television now is just not very good at all. But, I recognize now that it makes for shared experience in this pathetic society, and I thought that if you, my gentle readers, were to comment on your favorite television shows, I could mercilessly explain to you in plain and simple language why it is beneath even you.

Dead

2007-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

The main reason I'm so put upon is that the general manager died. I think I may have mentioned to some of you in private that she had been diagnosed with cancer. Its the type of thing that's very sad. And she went just like that. Of course, I knew from the instant I heard. I looked into her face, and I tried to show compassion, but deep inside I knew she was a goner.

I think that's the first time I've ever looking into someone's face and thought, 'very soon you'll be no more' and known it to be true. I mean, I've known people who have died, but never anyone who has had the knowledge that their death was imminent. I don't even know if she knew. I mean she knew if the doctors she visited were in anyway honest with her, which it sounds like they were, although I wonder what its like to tell someone that she is going to die. It seems like each patient might require a different tact to get the message across.

When I last saw her, she seemed positive which I guess is really one's only choice. I learned that her sons were with her at her side as she died. They spoke at the funeral, and they spoke about speaking to her in those last moments, that they were told the sense of hearing was one of the last thing to go, so they talk as much as possible. I wondered then if that was true, or if that was just something hospice says, more for the families than for the dying.

I don't want anyone near me when I die. That way, the good Lord won't have any unworthy witness excuses for not assuming me into heaven. Or maybe just pulling some trick granting me eternal life here on earth with my youthful features. Either way, I think We have an understanding.

Worn Down

2007-10-06T16:14:00.000-07:00

I just don't know where all these high powered executives find the time to maintain their blogs. Honestly, I'm not nearly as high powered as my birthright entitles me, and I just don't have any time at all anymore. And not even for blogging. For me. Me time is the most important time, and yet the world has encroached onto that.

The worst part is that I don't feel adequately compensated for my selflessness, which is why I feel I can call it selflessness. I look around me at work, and honestly, its a wonder I'm not having to pull peoples' hands out of shredders. I'm beset on all sides by stunning incompetence. Its all I'm ever confronted with anymore. There's just been a lot of concern about my lack of posting and I want to assure everyone that I haven't forgotten you. I mean, I have forgotten you, but only because you are absolutely unmemorable and there are just so many new details in my life.

A kind gentleman offered to host me in Las Vegas sometime, and I can't even break away for one weekend. Not one. I'm going out for drinks.

Lucille

2007-09-19T18:55:00.000-07:00

I saw the damnest thing tonight on my way home from work. As I was leaving work, and driving along Harborside Drive in Galveston, I noticed a light blue Dodge Stratus in the lane next to me. It caught my attention because it looked just like Lucille, the old stratus that I totaled back in March. Strange enough, it had a Sterling Opelousas car dealership tag on the back, just like mine. I quickly pulled ahead of it and noticed that part of its grill was missing just like mine was.....I had a car on the interstate throw a piece of tire at me that cracked a piece off the grill. It was unbelievable how much this car was like my old one. Shortly thereafter, it pulled in front of me and I noticed that it had the same american flag sticker on the back of it that my car had!!!! This was Lucille!!! complete with the same scratches on the bumper that I had!!!!

How CRAZY is that! Glad to see that old Lucille looked much better than the last time I saw her.

Rocky my dear

2007-09-18T12:57:00.000-07:00

so, i just today realized the danger of naming your car. Poor Rocky has picked up 6 windsheild dings, chips and cracks in the past two months. I think she may need a new name. That was not my intention.

I'm taking suggestions.

My Birthday

2007-08-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear. My birthday. I think that should be Birthday with a capital "B." Its a little known fact that Labor day does not actually celebrate workers, many of whom have to continue working anyway, but celebrates the day my mother went into labor and birthed me, not that it was any labor for her at all, but truly the most special day of her life. Of course, it never happens on my actual birthday. That would be silly. Its one of those special holidays: on a Monday. And if you think about it, every holiday should be on a Monday. I mean, who votes for less working Mondays? Well, really your votes don't count, so it doesn't matter, but the logic of my argument as is commonly known, is indisputable.

So, when you are preparing your gifts for me next year, remember that day off you enjoy on my behalf and be generous. I think its in the lowest taste to criticize gifts, so I'll just criticize the gift-givers. Frankly, you left much to be desired this year. It may be that thousands of years from now around this time of year, little children will prepare for and perform elaborate pageants featuring characters that had the pleasure to pass through my life, and it may be that their gifts to me will be immortalized in these children's minds even if they do not know the gift givers names. Some will consider them to be Kings, and some simply learned Astrologers of the highest order. No doubt they will attempt to identify some celestial event that coincides with the event, but the main point is that the only thing these children are likely to learn and remember about the whole thing--since of course much of their education will focus on my actual life and lets face it, if the current trend in test scores continues thousands of years from now, the human race will be fortunate if its children know anything--are the gifts. Now do you want to be remembered for--and it is likely to be the only thing you will be remembered for, although only by the fact that I was involved--gifting me myrrh, frankincense, or gold?

That's what I thought. Didn't I say indisputable? I did.

Banquet

2007-08-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

Finally, finally, someone noticed this little project of mine. And now that its complete, I'm just about ready to give it up. Actually, no one noticed, I'm just saying that in the hopes that someone will, but I don't think they will. You'd think that the way the brain works, someone would, but nobody said anything.

Helicopter

2007-08-17T06:08:00.000-07:00

You can't imagine what its like to turn on the news in the morning and see this as a headline. I don't see how I'm to blame at all. I just sat there a little unnerved that the media could report such a thing. Then a helicopter landed in my lawn.

Apparently, someone noticed that I'm stressed, and so I get to ride by helicopter today. Well, I couldn't very well turn it down, but they've missed the point entirely. I'm not complaining because I want to spend even more time at work. I'm complaining because I'm spending too much time at work. Can you see the difference? And now you've taken away the time I commiserate with with my gal pal, Rocky, who may be the only individual who truly understands me. She always listens and purrs encouragingly, and never interrupts.

On days like today, its not even a comfort that its Friday. Friday is just like all of those other very un-S starting days. Just because its the last in the series doesn't make the assaults on reason any easier to take. And now I just have to answer a lot of impertinent questions about what its like to ride in a helicopter. For the record the headphones mess up your hair, and even with them, you can hardly hear yourself think. I just hate over sized headphones.

Compliments

2007-08-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

I've just been deluged at work. I mean an actual cataclysmicly enormous waterfall of work has just been gushing towards me. Its like everyone has decided, oh, here's someone who takes care of everything, let's not stand between her and the stated everything. And on top of all that, I'm being sought out for personal advice, too! I'm surprised people aren't bring their kids to work to sit and learn from me instead of sending them to school. Its gotten ridiculous. Probably the worst part is knowing the Ewing effect--which will shortly be changed to the Erin effect--is in full effect. Everyone is so in awe of my abilities and achievements that instead of being inspired to work hard they are just languishing about excited to see me do my thing. It has got to stop. At this rate I see a ridiculously inflated title in my future: grand poobah and genius of all things. Of course, I'm just joking.

I actually know a guy who's position title is genius, and its not some kind of marketing scam like he works at the damn Apple store. He chose his position title and its genius. What a jackass. That's right, I called that guy a jackass. What is he going to do about it? Nothing, that's what. I don't care if he actually is a very nice guy. If you pick your title, and you pick genius, and what you actually do is sit very oddly at your computer--I mean with one leg under you, and a knee by your face while you sit hunched over--and type furiously, then what you are is a dork, and that should be your title even if you are proud of the code you write. So, compliments to you for being a dork. You can be proud of that too.

I'm sorry. Is my frustration showing through? In addition to all this work, I had to spend an hour telling some angry woman that I didn't know who her husband was or why my number showed up on his cell phone caller ID. It was just a matter of principle. I thought my phone plan had this section of the population blocked from calling me. Apparently not. I think its time to switch providers. See, what happened was, she thought he was having an affair, and thinks that because my number showed up in his caller ID, it must be with me. Well, I don't know how my number showed up.

Look even as I'm typing this, some VP of something or other is calling me. I think I'm just going to have some man throw my phone off a cliff. Well, honestly, I don't want to have to figure out where a cliff is, and then drive all the way out to it. That sounds like something for a man to do. What makes anyone think its alright to talk to me at this time?

I think I'm going to have a spa delivered to my office tomorrow and then relax in it all day. And what are they going to do about it? Nothing, that's what. Compliments to me for a brilliant idea.

Luno

2007-08-16T11:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know where they get off with these headlines, but I'll have you know that it was specifically requested. You can't say you want something and then say its unwanted when you get it, okay?

I'll just send back the complimentary gift I was sent in advance. I don't want it, if that's how you are going to be.

Back to work...

Little Thoughts

2007-08-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone has noticed lately but we are in the dog days of August. I know this has been written about to death and it seems there's hardly anything I can add to the collection that will make it in any way better, but I am going to say this and it is going to be direct and perhaps a little vulgar so if you're the sensitive type that so many of my gentle readers are you might just want to skip over this little thought.

Weatherperson, can you get your head out of your ass? I don't know what sort of education you have to have to be so upbeat to come into work and smile and predict day after day that tomorrow will be better. Look its 100 degrees right now, and I know some rain is supposed to come through and cool things off, but do you really think that tomorrow the high will be 91, and the day after that 88, and after that 87? I mean really. And do you expect anyone out there to believe it? Look at this, you're making me put all these question marks in here and its is just hurting everyone's sensibilities.

I guarantee, that over the next three days, I'll see 100 degree weather, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit to see it all three days, even with the rain. So what I'm getting at is to find out if you do any sort of backtracking, looking at the temperatures you predicted and what they actually were, because you might notice a trend, namely you consistently predict highs 5-6 degrees low.

I think the world needs a dour weatherman. Not someone who promises tomorrow will be better, or that this is a bright and beautiful world that we live in, but one who promises that tomorrow will be worse and while it is often beautiful--I'm in it after all--this world is not always so. This weatherman should just pretty much take the forecast and add a degree of depressing to it. If its hot, claim it will be hotter, cold, colder, rainy, wetter and so on and so on. Then, this world will seem bright and beautiful compared to our expectations.

Look weatherman, you don't have to sell the weather to us. There's only one kind. Its not going to be some other kind. Just that one. So prepare us for the worst, and leave the hoping for the best to us.

Pioneers

2007-08-13T14:27:00.001-07:00

It doesn't really astound me how lowly I regard the regular offerings of the entertainment industry. I can understand the independent fervor and the intrinsic need to create in a mind not as ordered as my own, but once you get a whole industry in on a project, well, that's where the suck truly begins.

People are always telling me I just have to see such and such a movie,, but the truth is that movies bore me to no end. Even when a movie is actually pretty good it can be hard for me to take. For instance, I saw The Bourne Ultimatum recently and it was actually pretty good as hollywood faire goes and if you like that sort of thing, then you will like this particular thing, but the continually jerky and swift camera motion intended to evoke realism just gave me motion sickness that made me want to walk out and get some fresh air. It would have been rude though. They have a private viewing room for people like me, where the movies start when I want them to. I think the seats are just too close to the screen. I'll have to tell someone to enlarge the rooms.

I wanted to make note of a movie for you to look forward to: No Country For Old Men. I can't say what your tastes in movies are, so maybe this isn't the movie for you, but if its not, then you'll probably be alright watching VH1 or whatever it is that you do watch. Anyway, its a Coen Brothers movie, but in the vein of Blood Simple; its not a comedy. And its based on the book by Cormac McCarthy, which is really the only thing you should need to know except for this additional tidbit: to watch the trailer, you'd think it was not an adaptation at all, but a direct book to screen representation. Every word in the trailer, well nearly every word, is straight from the book. Of course, the movie isn't exactly like that. Those Coen brothers changed details, but I think they've been about as faithful as can be expected.

I think this movie is probably about a million times better than A History of Violence, but everyone who loved that movie, which was on every critic's yearly top ten list, probably isn't smart enough to know any better. While this isn't quite up to McCarthy's other literature where pioneers and settlers are slaughtered on the open plains its about as close as you'll be likely to see in a movie of wide release.

She's Hearing Voices

2007-08-12T13:53:00.000-07:00

There have been a few complaints about continuity lately. Interested parties have been wondering what happened to Quentin, has there been any Islamic backlash against my disapproval of their laws, did I get a portrait made for the journal, did anyone get fired, and did I really go to Kmart. Look, I know you, my gentle reader, hang onto ever little word I write, and it disturbs every element of your life to know there might be some trouble, or unresolved element in my life, but really, I have to live this thing too, not just share it with you complete with witty self-introspection. I can't share every little detail with you, or else, I'd just be writing about writing, wouldn't I? Think about it. Neither of us want it. So, you'll just have to accept the little morsels I parcel out and though I'm sure they fill your conversations like the hot potatoes they are or else I may just stop altogether. Then you'd truly know disappointment.

Lately, Quentin has been hounding me over IM. I made the mistake of passing along my email address, and he added me as a--and I can't think of a more colloquial designation--buddy. I'd like to see some messaging service allow public classification of contacts so that a user can let someone else know exactly where they stand. I think "buddy" is the wrong way to describe my relationship with Quentin. I think a better nomenclature would be "guy I slept with, but really never want to speak to again, unless I've maybe had a few and he seems the best available candidate to satisfy me, even though that would involve no promise of future contact, and even though he pines for me, and feels I, myself help him, fill some void in his brief life, he just needs to get over it and find someone else, and for my sake, stop bothering me." Of course, the classifications will have to be user-customizable. That wouldn't be a default.

All this while I've been trying to write this, Quentin has been hounding me. Its really sort of pathetic. One of the reasons I gave into his inquiries, besides his firm biceps was the fact that I haven't spoken to him in a decade. In answer to your other questions, I'm already an enemy of the Islamic states by virtue of the fact that I'm an American, I have a portrait made yearly, but the real kind, not a photograph for a silly journal, no one's been fired, yet, and yes, I did go to Kmart. I could probably write about it forever, but my analyst says that will only lead to the possibility that memories of the visit will haunt me in the future. For now, its better just to know it happened, but not dwell on the details.

Blue Light

2007-08-10T14:50:00.000-07:00

Its no secret how easily I bruise. Oh, people are always chalking it up to some iron deficiency, but the truth is I'm just delicate. I'm always in danger of a contusion in this rough and tumble world, and too often I must soothe myself with a piece of ice. I can't go about covered in bruises, like some needy beaten-wife. Well, today an acquaintance--seeing me delicately holding a cube to my calf after some nameless, but indescribably careless individual left a lower file cabinet open--sensed a void in my life, and recommended a reusable ice cube. Of course, my delicacy cannot stand a whole ice pack, but I've never heard of a reusable individual ice cube.

Frankly it sounds disgusting considering what one normally uses an ice cube for, namely drinks. This acquaintance however, assures me that its really the perfect thing for my little first aid requirements, and I can't help but see the logic in it. I'm forever dealing with the mess of water as the ice cube melts. To be honest, I've never been thrilled with the idea of common water touching my skin, but I discontinued importing Perrier by the truck load when, in an epiphany, I realized its jackass spelled backwards.

Here's the disappointing caveat: apparently, the place to purchase this quaint little idea is Kmart. Now I can understand that this little invention is the province of, well, whoever it is that shops at Kmart. They probably do use it in their drinks. So now, I'll need to find a Kmart, and then find some of these products inside of that Kmart, purchase them, and then somehow wipe the whole experience from my mind. I don't even know what to expect, but I imagine there are beggars inside of the store with garish blue revolving lights spinning everywhere and maybe klaxons to go with them. In other words, as little Owen said: "scariest environment imaginable."

I wish I could bring a trusted friend with me inside of the store with whom I'd feel protected, but I doubt Rocky will fit through the aisles. You can see, dear reader, why I need a butler, or some kind of man-servant. I'll try to treat it as an adventure, but if you don't hear from me in a week's time, send help, please.

Positive tension

2007-08-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

There is a palpable tension in the air at work. I think someone is going to be let go. Oh, I hope its the smelly fellow who sits near the group printer. Anytime I have to pick up a large report, it is just an assault on my sensitive nostrils. I think it would be an entirely positive development, in which case all of this late seriousness will have been for something good.

There have been increasingly hushed tones and less interaction all week. Should that be decreasingly hushed tones? I suppose it could be argued that its the tones that are increasing not the hush of them. Well, I've been busy as a little bee with all the work I've had. Although it may seem to the casual observer that I operate on a plane entirely separate from the quotidian, I am, I think, rather observant of all the little quirks and goings on. The perception that gallows are being erected for someone really has a negative effect on office morale when people don't know who its for. I want to graciously take individuals underneath my comforting wing and let them know I'll protect them from whatever storm crashes in, but I must suppress that inclination. Despite the lowered morale, nearly everyone seems even more--if you can imagine the possibility--eager to please me.

I only wish I could eliminate the awkward small talk. Sometimes, as a little joke, I say nothing and let them fill the long pauses with increasingly awkward speculation as to my opinions. Its a bit of a guilty pleasure I suppose, but really, I wish they knew better. Perhaps they'll learn.

Like eating glass

2007-08-08T15:16:00.000-07:00

I think this journal is lacking something, and that something is an overexposed picture of me with arms crossed, smiling broadly, with big hair and maybe some of it teased over my shoulder. I should be standing in front of an old barn or something, although you wouldn't be able to tell that from the picture. Also, I should be wearing something enormously tacky like a blue jean jacket and my head should be tilted at an obviously uncomfortable angle like someone has just whacked me on the head although it won't have affected my smile at all. The picture should be featured prominently. It should look like it was taken in a previous century.

The VP of something or other took me to lunch today, but just ruined it by picking the place and ordering for me. Well, not really ordering for me, but insisting past the point of decency that I order her favorite dish even though I never like what other people like. It wasn't just that the dish was awful, but it had these hard, I don't know whats in it that defied chewing. Somehow she relished their texture but for myself I'm concerned I've lacerated my internal organs. I had just a little taste, and then I set her straight. I'm sorry, but this meal is just awful and no one should have to eat it. Well, they shouldn't. And no, that's not a picture of the vice president I'm making fun of for the purposes of this post. That paragraph's real.

Plans

2007-08-07T15:50:00.000-07:00

Blaise said: "Thus if we are always planning to be happy it is inevitable that it should never be so." which is truer than true and although quoting Mr. Pascal is never a way to impart true knowledge upon the many I know, I allow it to inform my advice and recommendations so very much. The very little bit of truth that I have the privilege to see so clearly in this world is not similarly easy to share with others. This language we have, though it is courage, is grossly imperfect. For example, you might think I was humbly suggesting I only see a very little bit of the total truth, when, in actuality, I am saying that I see very nearly all of it, and you can take it from me that there is precious little of it.

Blaise is also credited with a wager that proposes it is better to live as though there is some omnipotent deity then as if there is none, because one has everything to gain and nothing to lose. Its not like its a new idea or anything. There's some story about the Buddha proposing the very same thing about reincarnation and karma. And there is probably a similar story in every religion about whatever crazy promises that particular belief system makes to true followers.

Its not to hard to conceive of this all powerful thing, after all, I have myself as a model, but it is hard to imagine that this thing, in my image, cares one whit about, well, you. I'm just kidding darling. Of course, I care about you. I'm just saying God probably doesn't.

Now as far as I'm concerned, all of this is somewhat academic, but here's something that's been on my mind lately. We are, right this instant, at some kind of war with a group of people who we denounce for their fanaticism, who we imagine would murder us all if they had the opportunity, but at the same time that we are at war with these people, rightly or wrongly for whatever reasons, we are--at least partly, you must grant me partly--doing so in the name of people who consider it a requirement to kill anyone who ponders the wager and chooses not to believe. Apostasy is a capital offense in Iran, and though there really aren't any laws in place, probably also Iraq, but perhaps more importantly, also Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia.

I've slipped up quite a bit these past few days. I've liberally sprinkled question marks though out my missives despite the fact that I'm not at all interested in what you have to say on the matter.

Lets just not pretend these people are anything like you, and certainly not like me. At some point, a people have to be held responsible for their values.

So Here We Are

2007-08-06T08:15:00.000-07:00

Its the middle of whenever its the middle of and I want you to know I haven't abandoned this, my only real link between you and myself. I've been running and ducking, ducking and running. It seems some brad has been out bradding about. The first definition dear. Please. I wouldn't be writing about anything so vulgar. Anyway, of course I've just been terrified for myself and all my lesser cohorts but it seems the storm has passed. Oh, its as old as Christianity: if they're after you and your world changing ways, be sure to offer up a meaty enough sacrifice, and it will quell their violent appetites. So sorry, little Danny. Its the way it had to be.

And what has been going on with me...I've given Quentin a second chance. I don't really believe in relationships, so long-distance relationships are like the eastern bigfoot to me. Can you imagine? There are a whole group of people who believe that people who believe in an eastern sasquatch are just nutty because they're couldn't possibly be a yeti in the eastern U.S. The mountains are just too low. But a western yeti is perfectly plausible. Really its like some kind of fantasy. Well, you people who believe in stable relationship are just like that. Anyway, Quentin had called on the phone and practically cried to visit me again, and although this weekend was just jam-packed with things to do, I put them all aside to make room for him. Now he's sitting at home at my apartment probably fixing some amazing lunch to bring to me in the hopes that it will somehow ingratiate himself to me as though that is a quality I'm looking for in a man. He'd probably do himself a favor just doing a more thorough job with the insects. My poor little Mexican gardening boy may as well be blind.

I will say this. He's quite a performer. I don't mean in one particular scene he did justice to some true artist's words or that he happens to look the part, like some fiction made reality with makeup. I mean his game is without fault. Honestly, I feel I'm taking advantage, being just a bit indulgent. I couldn't possibly live this way. I'm a lady. Honestly, if that was what it was all about, he'd be enough, by himself. Its kind of amazing actually. One normally imagines the man can't possibly keep up--that's no pun--especially since he has to do all the work. But, my self. Its just too much to even think about. Of course, the credit is likely due in no small part to my own self, with whom it is a pleasure for him to be.

I'm putting him on a plane tonight and saying goodbye forever. Its a bit comforting to know that there is a Quentin out there, but even he isn't good enough for me.

Price of gas

2007-08-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

This is an issue near to my heart because of the amount of time Rocky and I spend together. Sure, she's a refined lady who knows not to guzzle greedily the good gas she grows on, but all of those miles aren't free. There is some cost and while Rockette is a deserving lady, she is certainly not nearly deserving as myself. I think it will be some time before this country divorces itself from gasoline entirely, certainly Rocky never will, but the sooner it does the better, and I'd add that it should be going about it properly not in the money grabbing way it is now.

Corn based ethanol is all the rage in these United States, already the most heavily subsidized crop, it enjoys special status now as the potential savior of America's fuel dependence. Some facts that I won't bother providing references for, because if you haven't learned yet to take me at my word, its time you grew accustomed.

The actual fuel cost is extremely important. People don't necessarily appreciate that a major component of the cost of gasoline is the fuel cost of fetching and processing it. By all accounts the energy ratio is about 1:5. In other words it takes about a gallon of gas worth of energy to process and deliver 5 gallons of gas to you, and more importantly, me.

Does anyone know what the energy cost of corn based ethanol is? Its just awful, really. Some actually report it as a net loser, but likely that is not quite correct. The consensus estimate is 1:1.3, that it takes about a gallon of corn based ethanol to process and deliver 1.3 gallons of ethanol. Can anyone see how this is not the sort of improvement we should be hoping for? That all the effort and expenditure is hardly worth that tiny 30% worth of production. And what really gets me is that our entire food industry is based on corn, so while we're merrily swapping gasoline for ethanol and patting each other on the back for making a meager dent in our oil consumption we are grimacingly forcing everyone to pay increasingly exorbitant prices for nearly every type of food we hold dear.

Meanwhile there is an alternative. There is a fuel that has a 1:8 ratio of energy required to output, and it is a biofuel. Its sugarcane based ehtanol. One might think that with the skyrocketing price of corn and everything that feeds on it, sugarcane based ethanol might be able to find equivalent subsidies, especially when a state that needs the money so badly is the perfect place to produce that sugarcane. Brazil has recently achieved self sufficiency in oil with its own domestic supply and huge sugarcane based ethanol industry. Of course, that ethanol is heavily tarriffed here.

This country's government wouldn't want to do anything that makes any sense after all.

Light Housework

2007-08-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

I have decided that I need to keep a man around for a little light housework. Aside from a small amount of vacumning and a little dusting, said man's main responsibility will be killing bugs. I've decided that I'm quite tired of performing that little task on my own.

This modern love

2007-08-01T15:24:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was so busy it crashed right into this week and has been like a shadow upon it. Usually these vacations of sorts allow me to recharge and attack the daily infringements on my personal life known as work with vigor. I am a damn tiger. A tiger who is brilliant and sexy and all the things that I am while maintaining the aspects of a tiger that are appropriate for this analogy, specifically vicious killing abilities as relates to my job of course, not actual killing abilities, although if I were to find myself in a situation requiring them, I wouldn't be surprised to discover that I have those also. But there was just so much, I hardly got any sleep, which I absolutely must have and I've been struggling to catch up since.

Anyway, I could just go on and on about the wedding and the reunion, but I hardly have the time to go over every little detail, especially since many of you were at one or the other. I'll do the highlights. The wedding was just beautiful. I'm sure it was even more beautiful for everyone who attended because they got to look at me. The reception was beautiful too. I threw caution to the wind and allowed all the single boys to dance with me until my feet hurt. All the men know I don't need to wear four inch heels to look good, but when I do, watch out! After the wedding we all went out to the Chimes where I drank more and probably would have sneaked a cigarette if they hadn't changed the law there. Some poor boy tried to chat me up, but I couldn't even hear what he was saying. Really. I was out with my friends, I had half a mind to put him in his place and send him home with his tail between his legs, but weddings put me in a good mood, so I just turned my back on him and acted like he wasn't there. Eventually we closed the place, and the day was over.

On to the reunion. It was not how I imagined it would be. Somehow I thought so many would have gone on to the greater things perhaps not equaling, but modestly approaching, that which I have, and that I would be amongst peers, but in truth a small town school has small town students and the lives most seem to be leading remain so very small town. I had to endure repeated--I don't know what else to call them--assaults upon my chastity by undeserving men, who, believing that being in the same room as me had somehow given them a chance with me, pursued me despite whatever obstacles they might have set up for themselves: poverty, marriage, children, poverty, previously claiming to be gay, etcetera. It seems I mentioned poverty twice which really does make me look somewhat shallow, but really, one just doesn't interact below their station. I have people for that. It really was just awful, although there were one or two men who, perhaps in a fit of nostalgia, I didn't quite so mind the attention of.

One, Quentin, confessed, rather haphazardly I thought, that he'd always worried that he'd grow up and fulfill his namesake's destiny and commit suicide, dying a romantic, because of separation anxiety from me and he was so glad I'd come as he might now be able to go on another ten. I'm sure you can imagine it isn't the first time a man has thought a life absent of me isn't worth living, and as silly as it sounds those words perhaps because of there literary basis did not go unrewarded. Of course, it would be entirely inappropriate to say just how those words were rewarded, but to all the men out there, if, and for most of you that is a very unlikely if, the moment ever did come, would you be ready? I don't know what its like to be you in your inferior vessels, but I do know there must be something you can do about them. That's not an insult to poor Quentin, who obviously takes very good care of himself. Its more of a philisophical question.

The truth is poor Quentin's eyes begged and begged for the night to never end, but thats what they do and though his outward expression was one of confidence, as I require, those eyes gave him away. Poor, poor, Quentin. I hope I haven't irreparably spoiled you too much.

We sit and we sigh

2007-07-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

I think tomorrow I'll just be leaving directly from work. I don't have to, but it seems judicious. I'll probably need a full day of proper preening to ensure I look the way I want to look without stealing too much attention away from the beautiful bride. It will be a performance to rival Eddie Caminetti's in the Ryder Cup. Of course, at the reunion, I won't have that problem. I'll be free to be as I am: the center of attention.

Lately, I've been listening to the music that Tony Soprano dies too. Ironic that it contains the lyrics:

Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

But it doesn't, does it? The movie does end. Things do not go on and on and on and on.

Cut to black.

You're just as boring as everyone else

2007-07-24T17:04:00.000-07:00

A not too kind individual had the audacity to assert--to my face no less--that life is boring and that for all the pomp and circumstance in my own, I hold no great distinction from the masses at large, that my great life, quantized, is not truly exorbitant. He tried to make the argument that if I lived a thousand lives, on average, because of my rather humble origins, my life would likely hold no distinction and all the allure of my current one is just a matter of haphazardly catching that rarest of treasures, a brief, but stunning smile from she that bestows them best.

You, sir, although you may not deserve the title of a genteel soul, are, as very nearly everyone who disagrees with me is, wrong. I can't possibly be expected to explain in substantial detail why but I know it, as sure as I know anything else: its ingrained in the very fabric of the universe. The truth, sir, is that for you and your supposed misfortunes there are not the infinitely many worlds some would have us believe. There's not some other world out there where everything's gonna be okay. There's just this one, just this rock. So all of these other worlds that might come into being, won't. Only one has, and only one will and that is the same as destiny, and just because you are completely unsure of what that one world will be does not mean that you should exclude the possibility that an, in your own words, exorbitant quantity, is not.

Truly, I weep for you and your lack of imagination. There are kings and queens of this mortal life and discovering in yourself that you are not one is no reason to doubt it, but just evidence of--accurately, I think--low self esteem.

I'm going to use my teeth and my claws

2007-07-23T13:43:00.000-07:00

This is just one of those days. I work all day. All day, mind you, I am a little tornado of productivity. I am a damn supernova, burning bright. I've completed my tasks for the big presentation, I downshift into cruise mode, everything is perfect, just wrapping up the details, making sure everything is just so, the simple details one can only perform when the hard work is completed.

My boss comes in to see how everything is going. Everything is fine. I do the work of ten. Nothing holds me back. Two phone calls and a long unbearable pause in which I say nothing, but want to scream as he strokes his beard and stares at the floor, because I know what's coming. Yes, we need to change everything. I don't really mean everything, just maybe a quarter of everything. The presentation? Its still on for tomorrow.

And really, I'm just left with the decision to make it happen or not. I suppose I will, but pardon me if I'm a bit angry about it.

A heart of stone

2007-07-22T17:40:00.000-07:00

My entourage was a bit light this weekend. It seems everyone was engrossed with the tale of that little boy and too busy to serve as my buffer about town. I suppose I could have provided myself a little relief had I shared my fortune with someone, but that would have required me play favorites, something I try extremely hard not to do. Everyone who is not me is equal in my eyes.

At any rate, I dared not venture into the concrete jungle without adequate protection, so my weekend was quiet. Next weekend promises to be a roller coaster of events. I'll be going to my onetime home of Baton Rouge for the wedding of dear Maureen. Yes, married, Maureen is getting married. I've been silent on the whole affair because I'm just too busy with myself, but really I wish her all the happiness in the world that is humanly possible with what's his face. No, I'm just kidding, of course I know his name is Gregory. I have the invitation right here: Gregory T. LaBorde.

And then with one raucous party behind me, I'll be heading back to my other onetime home for my high school's--the first one, dear--ten year reunion. Its almost too much drama in one weekend to be surrounded by so many I've known for so long, all wanting to know what has become of me and what fortunes lie ahead. Well, gentle readers, if you've been following along let me come right out and tell you that I will not be responding to any calls for the real Tristram Shandy to please stand up.

Oh, its just awful. I'm sitting here seeing it in print and that attempt at humor is just awful. Please excuse it entirely. I'd much rather have said something about Onegin, but the movie, which is just beautiful in its own right, distorts the whole intent. Well, just know if you are googling at home, it isn't meant for you at all.

I hardly know what to do with myself. My excitement for the coming weekend is unbounded.

Like drinking poison

2007-07-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

I had to purchase toothpaste the other day, and as usual was confronted by an overwhelming amount of choices and as usual was practically paralyzed with indecision. You'd think there would be some arrangement where the store would recognize someone of my stature and clear the aisles before my arrival, so I can make my choices in peace, but as yet, they have not hit upon this seemingly obvious service.

At any rate, it seems that toothpaste is one of a few rare products towards which I have no inherent brand loyalty. These little rituals we undertake each day to make our vessels more presentable and preserve them as such, these little chores are the subject of such mass marketing and constant--in this case I use this word exceedingly lightly--innovation the sheer variety available is troubling.

Automatically one might assume that I'd use nothing else than the most expensive product available, but from my vast experience I know quite well that price has nothing to do with performance. I've consulted the tubenets before, and Consumer Reports recommends UltraBrite for its matter of fact performance and price, but I can't even conceive of using the cheapest product no matter how highly it comes recommended.

It seems a big commitment, something I will be cleaning my teeth, my one last set of teeth with for the coming months, which is the larger reason for the indecision. I want something that tastes good, but myself, I want something that promises eternal youth. Where is that toothpaste?

Fittingly Friday

2007-07-20T06:44:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how glad I am its Friday. Ever since I let slip that I had and read a copy of that book, I've been beset on all sides by people wanting and not wanting hints and insights into what they'll own for themselves at midnight tonight. You might think I'd become used to the push and pull of all those around me who want a delectable piece of me, but in truth, its just endlessly tiring.

And sure, the book is a worldwide phenomenon, but in the end its just a book about a scrawny boy. If I had to say one thing about this book that was not in anyway a spoiler, it would be that the language really did pass the boundary of good taste on several occasions. I've always thought of Potter as genial escape, a different world where curses had a unique flavor because of their wizarding origins. Frankly, its not to hard to enjoy a bit of escapism where the author has word replaced 'God' with 'Merlin' in every oath. But more importantly, I've thought of it as an opportunity for young children to be caught up and swept away by a ripple in the majestic ocean that is literature. Sure, Potter is very nearly the lowest grade of literature, but I think Miss Rowling has made an effort to use a thesaurus from time to time, and I've always imagined millions of children with wonder in their eyes asking their hopeful parents what this and that word means, perhaps beginning a love affair with the only common form of expression they will find in this harsh world: words.

So tell me, what are these hopeful parents, who may think these tomes are the tip of the iceberg, supposed to answer when their littlest wizards and witches ask what 'effing' means? Sure, Rowling kept its used down to three times, but I say in a puff of huffle, that it is three times to many.

Your nose is bleeding

2007-07-19T14:18:00.001-07:00

A great many of you have told me over the years what a comfort it is to you to know that I am out here. That whatever this life may hold and bear forth, that I am passing through it as some sort of Black Swan, a shocking and surprising confirmation that life may indeed be worthwhile. Of course, I blush and and wave my hand just so, but it never hurts to be reminded of what my mother assured me from a very early age: I am special. And not just in the sense that unlike so many others, I intrinsically knew not to sample the play-doh, even though they make it edible specifically for, well, you, but in the sense that I am called to some higher purpose.

Its not strictly clear what the purpose is, but we can be assured that enjoying finer pleasures in life is a major part of it. There has been some inquisitiveness if the inner persona I've decided to share here will be reflected in real life, and I was a little put off by that. I don't think of myself as so different from what you read here. Sure, I hold my tongue in person, but out of necessity. If uttered aloud, my unique experience has a quieting affect on people. A young friend of mind analogized it thus. He is a world-class violinist, but he likes to play the street corner sometimes. Yet, though the elite dress in their finest, and spare no expense to hear him play in whole buildings specially designed for the purpose, on the street, he is nobody and most will not dare to make eye contact with him.

Can you imagine what it must be like to be me: to have all this talent and value, bottled up into one petite package constantly stretched and pulled in every direction by many who never consider anything but themselves and go through life not fully appreciated? What I'm saying is, when you see me next, don't pass up the opportunity to tell me in person how deeply I've affected your life, plucked you out of the ocean deep and set you aboard a raft in the wide and powerful wake of the starcruiser that is me.

It's all under control

2007-07-18T13:32:00.000-07:00

Days of work are always so dull. I can see why so many abandon their journals. The drudgery of a single day is like a weight upon one's chest, pressing harder with every exhalation. I'm sure some future will look at our workdays and consider us slaves to our times, the same way we might look at people of the past.

The most amazing thing happened to me today. Yet the story seems almost too convoluted to explain. I'll, just tell you the end. I ended up taking the limousine the whole way. Originally, it appeared on the invoice as the same cost, but it ended up being $400. The accountant didn't even bat an eye, although I had pre-approved it with her beforehand. She said that it was nothing compared to what others have filed for. I'm sure executives file for that in alcoholic beverages.

I'm thinking of starting a new feature: Erin recommends. Of course, my taste is renowned for its flawlessness. The world should benefit from it. Except that its such a drain. I'm sure if the world were so eager to benefit from my experience they'd send over a sharply dressed man to take notes. And really, I can't trust my suggestions with just anybody. I suppose I'll just have to keep them to myself, although, if its not clear, my life is unattainably more enjoyable than yours.

I have really phoned this posting in. I apologize sweetly. I look around at all the other journals I'm linked to, though, and I can't help but feel even more stunningly superior than normal. I did get an official request to stop referring to the meeting room as "Davy Jones' locker." Although it brings great amusement to the staff at large the higher ups seem to think it has negative connotations. That and perhaps that people had started decorating it appropriately, and it had consequently acquired a somewhat fishy smell. I suppose I should take some comfort that they recognize me as the ringleader.

We're all scared of the future

2007-07-17T15:49:00.000-07:00

Oh, the gardening boy seemed to be in danger of having his eyeballs fall out of his head whe he saw it, so I suppose it bears mentioning: I have the seventh book. I'll spare you any details, because I'm sure several of you would just about murder me if I let slip the details even though those very same people will demand some sort of proof beyond my own personal excellence that I merit such a coveted thing.

Its just endings are what they are, aren't they? This is it and no more. For you, darling. For people like me, I'm sure Miss Rowling will continue writing.

There will be no exultation

2007-07-17T13:46:00.000-07:00

I'm finally back to a steady internet connection, or really the comfort of my very own computer. Although I made no effort to verify it, the Wyndham claimed to be bathing me in wireless connectivity while I slept.

Frankly, Pittsburgh as a city leaves a great deal to be desired, and will likely never qualify as a desirable destination for me with its ever plummeting population. Oh, Jacob tried his very best. He arranged for a tiny Italian man to chauffeur me about town in a little Porsche 356 Carrera Speedster, but while I could imagine Jackie being ferried around in such a quaint little treasure, the truth is that its just a car and I had to have Jacob repeat all those numbers and names very slowly several times so I'd be sure to remember them as a detail from my trip for you, my gentle reader. There were a thousand other details to remember, and it strikes me that this automotive enthusiasm is just another form of trainspotting. The tiny Italian was an endless supply of humor to me though. He was so serious in everything he did, but when he looked at me, he was quick to smile, and his age had not removed a noticeable spring in his step.

Still, the weather was fine, the catering was to order and I could imagine that it was decades ago, and men were racing for the claim to nothing, but because racing was what they loved. I'll never understand men I think.

There were innumerable other events worth mentioning: I was the lead in this little production, but I'm terribly tired, and have perhaps a half dozen errands to run this evening. I just knew you'd be starved for details. Feel free to prompt me, darling. This is the internet, it can be interactive.

Days replace days

2007-07-13T11:52:00.000-07:00

I'll have to leave a bit early today to catch my flight. I'm not looking forward to that part of the trip at all. It used to be a lady of my breeding could look forward to stepping without looking as everyone rushed to tend to her needs. Now, I have to slog through security with the mouth breathers. Honestly, having to remove my shoes in public is just ridiculous. The solution, of course, is a private jet, but I don't have one. Yet. Perhaps some worthy businessman will see me, and although my exterior will not belie the distress of my commoner experience, he'll see instantly that one of these things (myself) is not like the others, even if I do make reference to Sesame Street in this missive, and offer the services of his own.

I've made Jacob promise me none of the awful food the stereotypical Pittsburgher consumes. He mentioned a lovely sounding little Spanish restaurant, Mallorca, where we can enjoy some paella and get a little tight on sangria but it will have to pass my visual inspection first.

If I don't post at all, I won't be thinking of you, but I know you'll be thinking of me.

Cos I'm on fire

2007-07-12T14:11:00.000-07:00

I put my stamp on today with authority. Earlier in the week, I had this annoying little ferret of a man, Leonard, attempting to do whatever it is that people of absolutely no proper upbringing or status do. I don't even really want to think about what that is, because it is just totally outside the bounds of good taste. In retrospect, I don't even know why I was at all bothered by his attempts to undermine me. My very self, the nature of me, is unassailable. If there is any fault in myself, its that I ever allowed his outburst to annoy me.

I don't care to boast. It's in bad taste, the type of thing a Leonard might try to do. I'll just say that if I were going to boast, I'd probably do so with the same characteristic as everything else I do in this brief sojourn: perfection.

I will say here what I think brought this on. I'd just hung up the phone with a dear old friend who called me much too late last night. I was already in bed even, and just as I was going to sleep I was thinking that the human brain may be capable of some rudimentary quantum computing. I know its not a truly original thought, but its not one I've ever heard from anyone before, and somehow thinking that reminded me that whatever I am or may be, it is inarguably superior. If we are all rudimentary quantum computers, I can perceive those quantum states that much longer than the Leonards of the world and if I'd just focus on the problem at hand, and let those states settle down, things will be fine.

And then I slept peacefully, and today after all was said and done, Xiao-Xiao, smiled so brightly at me--it is her namesake--I knew everything had come to pass just as I thought it would.

So James Dean

2007-07-11T14:08:00.000-07:00

After the drama of this week at work, I absolutely need a break. I don't mean a break where I sip wine in a bubble bath with epsom salts, I mean one where I find myself in a kinder gentler era befitting my nature. Of course, one can't simply travel back in time, but some sort of trip is in order.

I've just this moment been absolutely saved by Jacob. He's arranged accomodations this weekend at the Wyndam in...wait, did I hear him correctly...Pittsburgh? Well the very name of the city seems an affront to anyone of any sensibility at all, but he assures me its nothing of the sort, during the summer anyway. He promises cooler weather, and a lovely picnic in a park as we watch the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix. I hardly know the first thing about cars, much less vintage ones, but Jacob promises its the event of its kind, and if I'm in the right mood, I can just imagine that it will be James Dean piloting The Little Bastard around us. Apparently he knows someone with corporate sponsorship, so its all arranged, and all we have to do is show up and have our whims catered to. I suppose I need to add a little note here that Jacob will be imagining James Dean also. Sorry Jacob, I just don't want to answer the usual questions from those who may not know you.

I suppose I am looking forward to it. I expect the picnic will be picture perfect, and if the mood strikes me I may even take a few photos to share with you my gentle readers. Jacob says they have the cutest little antebellum three-wheel formula cars. That means I won't be posting anything this weekend. I'm sure those of you who have become use to this damsel's daily dose will suffer some separation anxiety, but the hardship should not endure.

Oh, Sorry

2007-07-10T16:52:00.001-07:00

I can't tell you what an awful, awful day its been. Just terrible. And its not over. I'd write more, but then I definitely won't get to sleep at a reasonable hour. I'm so sorry. I'm sure you are too. I've just had to suffer so much today. I can tell you this much: if Leonard thinks tomorrow is going to be anything like today, then he is suffering from some kind of pre-tomorrow illness in psychic anticipation of the lack of blood he will have when I drive my stone cold heel spike underneath his right rib cage, through his gall bladder, and into his liver. Its why I buy Jimmy Choos; they can stand up to that sort of abuse.

Are you hoping for a miracle?

2007-07-09T14:22:00.000-07:00

My plea for no more phone calls finally resulted in one of support by one individual who's own unassailable taste may very nearly approximate my own. Sweetheart, he cooed, just carry on doing what you do. There is something about being called sweetheart, really the way he says it, that is deeply reassuring. Of course he's so gay you can see it on the telephone. Apparently I need to clarify this point. People--women and men of all sexual persuasions--take me out all the time. I imagine the Dalai Lama isn't hurting for a lunch date either. That doesn't mean we're dating or anything. People just want to spend time with me and I sometimes allow them to, although an appetizer order of romance, sarcasm, math, and language can be a relationship ender. Also, if presented with an np-complete problem I provide the full solution space. I'm just that kind of girl. Some people think this ability is nothing short of miraculous, to which I just smile in response.

Monday, you and I are done. There is nothing good about you except when you leave.

quick post

2007-07-09T05:06:00.000-07:00

Sunday, this awful boy dragged me to, I am not making this up, Chotchkies restaurant, and put together the most awful order of appetizers that ended up being the sampler plate, mixed fruit, and two plates of hot wings. Yes, it absolutely could have been worse. There could have just been seven orders of mixed fruit.