jack

I bought some new shoes tonight. Exciting! I saw them and wanted them because made me think of sweaters for my feet. Also Exciting!

But in describing them to family and friends, I realized I liked them because they remind me of my high school English teacher, Jack. There are a very few people that I wish came in pocket size so I could keep them around for reference. Jack is one of them. Since people do not come in pocket size, maybe in shoe-representation is the next best thing.



Yes, I know they are not blue,like I talked about before, but they are Jack-ish. Davey G. shoes will have to wait. But he is still my favorite.

i got a dollar (and happy birthday)

In the mail today, someone who wanted our business sent us a dollar. I like to think of it as them sending me a dollar. Either way, I'm keeping it. Want shall I do with my dollar, all crisp and new? Maybe I'll splurge and spend it all at the vending machine. Maybe I'll go to the Dollar Store. Maybe I'll fold it into a ring and propose to the next hot guy I meet.

Or . . .
Maybe I'll use it to start the slush fund to found my crime syndicate
Maybe I'll use it bribe a corrupt official
Maybe I'll keep it as a souvenir of my days here
Maybe use it to give someone a paper cut
Or maybe I'll put it in my purse and use it to tip the next delivery person.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVEY G!!!! YOU"RE MY FAVORITE DAVE EVER!! I hope life and the wife are treating your well in Austin.

Maybe I'll use my dollar to buy awesome blue shoes like the ones that Davey G. used to wear. Yep, maybe that's what I will do.

all you need to know

So I scammed a copy of the latest Kent cd off my brother until I can get my own. I have to say, so far almost everything they have done I end up liking after enough plays. But the last cd was pretty awesome, Du & Jag Dogen (throw an accent or something in there) and even thought the only words of Swedish that I speak are pretty useless and couldn't form a sentence (mostly nouns), I loved it. It even had a few tracks that made it onto my top super-most-coveted playlist. So when my brother said this latest guy had gone in an 80s direction, I had some qualms. Are we talking Early Madonna 80s, The Cure 80s, or U2 80s?, because in my mind, only one of these was truly ever acceptable, even in the 80s, the one in the middle.

But you know, there are just some bands that, unless they launch a hydrogen bomb, you find a way to really get into it. And I did. It's Kent, that's all I need to know.

And Paul, you said you like Ingenting, which is good, but I think my favorite may be Columbus, or maybe Elephanter.

And I still have no idea what they are saying. None whatsoever.

shiny new and technological

What's more exciting: Tim Duncan being officially and correctly listed on the NBA All-Star Ballot, or the fact I actually figured out how to include the link to voting (widgit, whatever) in my blog.? I sure am not-knowing-what-I am-doing really well. So if you care, please vote, and make sure you vote for Tim Duncan.

the things i have learned

As I said before, I am in charge of Marie's farewell, Beer and Oysters on the beach. As I said before, I am not fond of either of these items. But luckily, Pierre is going to manfully step up on the seafood end and order the oysters and assume responsibility when the bill comes to something ridiculous and Earnesto chokes on his redbull when he has to sign the invoice. Way to go Pierre. I deeply appreciate you for this.

Still, this leaves the beer to me, not a beer aficionado. I was told it needed to be a keg. I have definitely never gotten a keg. Unless you are talking about a keg of hot chocolate for cold carolers, that I have done more than once, along with the stocking of one Pink Pam Manner's Silver Samovar with wedding punch. That's just how I roll. But kegs, no, not in my line.

But apparently in my line of duty. I now have to find the most recent male college graduate and find out how one goes about this. Maybe I'll charm someone into taking this one over. If not, I will be sure to add it to my skill set on my resumé: Able to Procure Kegs on appropriate occasions.

Maybe one day I will show you a brief glance at my resumé. It has become something of a joke.

look at you and your awful hair

Someone must have let Hugh know that a person could make an accurate guess at his mental health based on the flop-activity of his flopsome hair, because he has cut it. Now it just looks like hair any guy could have. It's terrible. Looks like someone is getting his game-face on. I don't think your fooling anyone buddy. And you look like you are five.

plotting a karaoke ambush

In my position at this institution, I have been in the position to plan many a going-away "parties." That is put in quotes because sometimes it is a party, sometimes a funeral, sometimes just a going through the motions, and sometimes, like with good-old Battleaxe, it was a chance to kick 'em while they're down/dance on grave. Next up is Marie's farewell: Beer and oysters on the beach. I applaud her simple vision, but can't help but think of the irony that she wants to feed a bunch of people oysters after an oil spill. Neither of the above items really appeals to me, yet I have to plan. It's proving to be a bit sticky, but I will contrive.

But it begs the question: Who will plan my party? Marie will be gone. Earnesto doesn't do details. That is the extent of my lauded department. Conclusion, I will plan my party.

This simultaneously sucks and has it's benefits. Foremost amongst the benefits is that I will allow myself to do whatever is in my imagination. I was talking to the head of HR about it, and she said it sounded pretty awesome. Complete Carte Blanche.

So when I come up with a devilishly good idea(with my creative engines) (and I have) like making it a karaoke party, and asking Earnesto to sing a song for my final request, I will not shoot my idea down. I will say instead, "Self, that sounds like a capital idea, and well within the budget I have established for this party." And Then I will say "Self, thanks for understanding what I am trying to envision." Fabulous. Finally, I get to plot my karaoke ambush.

As for songs that I will ask for Earnesto to sing, I will take written submissions. Although I would love to have it be something like "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Or something by Debbie Harry or Madonna. Or Barry Manilow. There are just so many ways to be cruel on this one.

this cupcake's for you

So, near my place of work is a fine establishment, a purveyor of cupcakes. I love these cupcakes. Brilliant and tasty. Today, in celebration of my quitting, me and Camille went to lunch and then to the cupcake store. I had a sweet chocolate cupcake, and I would like to say, this cupcake is for everyone who has ever been in a work situation that is untenable. It represents the sweet and rich creamy goodness of giving that crappy job the proverbial finger as you leave to do anything but that. Including being unemployed.

So, when I announced I was quitting, Earnesto said that I was too ambitious for this job. Since when is asking for some feedback ambitious? Not accepting mediocrity is not ambition, it is sanity.

As I once said to my #2 favorite Dave, this cupcake's for you, all those who know they are for better things than the dust they have shaken from their feet.

ticket to ride

So, my high school prom, which I did not go to because my brain was still nestled firmly in my noggin, had the theme of "Ticket to Ride" and was held in a train station. I hear it was enjoyable.

No Comment.

But now it is my favorite game, which I have used the online version to replace pirate quizzes as my favorite on-the-job timekill.

And, as simultaneously an aside and the purpose of this entry, I quit my job. My last day is January 4.

I actually quit my job last week, during the break of a MEETING OF DOOM, in which Earnesto convinced people to back his plan for Project Negative Value despite the overwhelming evidence that forecasts failure. I had it planned, but I didn't mean to say it than. It was like, "Oops, I quit."

So, you may notice some changes to the format of this page. Because finally, I am doing what I said all along I should do. What I wrote about from entry 1.

And I have no idea what I am going to do next. So please, take a moment and give a recommendation. PLEASE!

not with a bang

Ignore the title of this blog. Every once in a while, I get the urge to quote, and in the absence of having something to truly say relevant to the topic, I will misappropriate and write about other things. Like my weekend.

So, this weekend, my friend and I went to SFMOMA to take advantage of a neat trick I have of getting in free. Unfortunately, this Saturday it was not such a great trick, since, thanks to Oracle, it was a "Free4All" day. So, we spent the day rubbing elbows+ with the outpouring of the cheap and cultured (and that includes me). Still, it was cool to see the art again, and be with a friend. We didn't get to see the special Olafur Eliasson Exhibit, because we are not crazy enough to wait an hour to go up to the 4th floor. I've seen it before, and it's pretty awesome, but not 1 hour of standing in line awesome. To make up for it, we went to the much-acclaimed gift shop of SFMOMA. I admit to being a skeptic of the claims of its amazingness, but, indeed, it did rock my world. Not enough for me to pay insane prices and wait in yet another line of death (Note, lines do seem to be a problem at SFMOMA, we didn't see the BMW art-car either because of the lines).

Then we meandered to MOAD, or the Museum of the African Diaspora. I know what prompted the question, but it opened with the line "When did you find out that you were African?" Fine, whatever, except I am pretty much Wonder-bread white, and so it amuses me when they try to make sweeping statements like this. I know, they are saying all human life came from Africa. I get it. And African Culture permeates everything. But still, I smiled. Also, let me add that though a delightful space, MOAD is not equipped to fit the number of people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.

Finally, we ended it by wandering through the rainy-day streets and shopping. Okay, I spent all the money. But I bought my favorite game, Ticket to Ride, and some music. Then I went home and played the game online for hours with my sisters. Happiness through Technology, people.

Another thing of note of Saturday was the USCv.UCB football game. I used to follow college football with the same fervor you now see exerted towards the NBA, but I was quickly cured of that by going to a college football game. I now find it slightly baffling that as many people from USC should be descending upon Berkeley like a hoard of locusts. Don't you have other responsibilities? They were everywhere. In the museums, in the stores, on BART, walking noisily by my house after they won the game. I tell you, it didn't help endear them to me.

Now I will work, until 3, when I will be playing trains again online with my sisters.

another blog? no one reads this one

Okay, I know three of you do, but really, you probably know that really isn't enough to justify the amount of time, minimal that it is, that I spend on this. Yet, be relieved all those people who pay attention and don't care about basketball etc, I am trying out blogging on the fan part of espn.com. We'll see how this goes. Don't expect me never to bring up sports, but count your blessings, because it spared you a detailed argument about trades. The platform still needs some work, but oh well.

penta-annual faulknerian (near) non-fiction: it'll make you stab your eyeballs out

This is a post for everyone who has ever had to write a scholarly paper in the general field of the humanities, specifically in English. Do you recall the time spent crafting a sentence to say exactly what you mean, pouring through words and phrases until something would click? When there was very little difference to be found between content and style because the two were inextricably linked. Then I recommend that you never have a go at editing the report that is now sitting on my desk.

Usually a visceral reaction to a written work can be considered a good thing. But it has to be for all the best reasons. If the reason is because it is so terrible, so full of errors and inappropriate tone, than no, not awesome.

Granted, this blog is hardly a stylistic achievement of greatness. But it's informal. I don't care, and if you are fretting about my abysmal punctuation, I have to say, get a life. This is something I write on the sly, like when I'm editing papers that make me cry (I wept on the way home last night thinking about how bad this was: truly wretched).

A report that you do five times a year, prepared for your Board of Directors, should not be this bad. It really shouldn't be bad at all, but if it has to be less than stellar, make it M.O.R, or mediocre. It shouldn't be this bad: it could be spread around it leaflets and used as a torture device.

And such a report should have a formal tone. If there is money on the line and it doesn't involve a lotto ticket, you should be formal. You can be conversational without becoming a servant of an Editorial Demon.

Curse you Earnesto, and your report as well.