happy birthday brother

hope your day went well and at least one person gave you cup cakes.

we suck young blood

I was reading Tim Duncan's bio on a site, and it inspired me to, along with my overwhelming sense of cynicism on this Friday of joy and gladness (only 5 days of work left! Exciting!) write something brutally true and yet over the top exaggerated. and that would be how my institution eats its young.

Not the visiting young, but the new employees. I don't know if this is the case in the real world with real money dollar jobs, but I have seen a lot of super-swift hire-quit actions go down here. Let me explain how somehow, a renowned institution of 400+ employees has built a management system that contrives to suck the souls out of people.

Scenario 1: The impossible situation
There is one senior manager here (and by here, I mean collecting a fat paycheck) who actually lives in New York and is getting her doctorate. I'm not sure how that works. Who okayed this? I mean, what person in there right mind said, 'ah yes Barbie, we should pay her a lot and make her supervisor of 15 people on site, but pay for her to live far away and come to town whenever she wants'? I guess it could work, if she was a stellar manager/communicator, but here no one is a stellar communicator, and Barbie is worst than most.

A testament to this is the way that she can't keep people working for here for any long period of time. New hires are not hired/interviewed by her, so they are never forewarned of her *&*#*&-ness. Barbie will then roll into the scene at her leisure, and about 50% of the time, after the visit we are looking for a new hire. The swiftest hire-quit process I saw was within 24 hours of Barbie's landing at SFO. I am not sure if this is her record. I feel a little bad. The only ones who make it are just like her. It's an impossible situation for people who do not want to become conniving.

Scenario 2: Failure to drink the kool-aid
This is common, when the person hired has been a little lured in by our "mission" and "vision." Then they get in and take a good scope around and see that those were some really awesome pretty-lies we construct in order to not hate ourselves at the end of the day. Many people cut and run at this point. A few stick around, and some get so caught up in the kool-aid that they ask to franchise the stuff so they can peddle it to other unsuspecting folk.

An example of this can be seen, ironically, in our recruiter. He started in October. His last day is Wednesday. Which is too bad for Earnesto, because it means the person he was counting on to find my replacement will not be there. Which kind of means it will be a long time before there is a replacement. Oops!

Scenario 3: They saw behind the curtain
Last year for Camille's birthday, we, plus Renaldo, went to lunch. This was still when Renaldo was having a death-crush on Camille, and as part of his awkward ritual mating dance he had the Hopes & Dreams talk. Way too early in the wooing, buddy. No wonder you failed. But even at the time it was apparent that of the three of us, I was a #2, and they were going to either be lifers or have a #3 moment sometime soon. hopes and dreams don't make it very long here.

Think about it in these terms: Under the guise of 'creative engines,' the place sucks hopes and dreams up and then uses them to power the institution's Project Negative Value. I envision the movement to be similar to that of the beast in Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," slouching towards the target.

When people see past the eyewash and the kool-aid, what they basically see is the machine room of the Hopes & Dreams giant vacuum, and scales fall from eyes quickly. This is how we lose the most promising talent. They go and say, hey, if there is going to be a wizard behind the curtain, it should be something that grants wishes, or at least looks like Cary Grant, and not something that will eventually see me a dried up old bag with no additional training. And then they leave (usually not until I have told them something embarrassing about myself; they have phenomenal interrogation skills).

at this point, pretty much un-smirchable

When I was in high school, I participated in that time honored tradition of mediocrity: zero-period health. nothing says that "this isn't important" like having it start at ridiculously early hours. And the teacher was really the coach of the varsity baseball team, because we believe that it is the duty of academic integrity to suffer in the face of athleticism. This fellow thought, as I have mentioned before, that most of the best health knowledge could be gleaned from made-for-tv movies and very special episodes, and films starring comedians named Bill (What About Bob, I hate that movie, but I am okay with When Harry Met Sally).

We once watched the cinematic masterpiece of the small-silver-screen that was the movie in the which Fred Savage is a high school wrestler who abused his girlfriend Candace Cameron and then kills her and puts her body in the lake. Come on Fred, couldn't you think of somewhere more creative to put your dead? The lake is soooo cliché.

Anyway, after this one and the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, Mr. Coach then taught us what to say if we are in an abusive relationship.

PAUSE: THIS IS A DISCLAIMER. I am not trying to say abusive relationships are funny, or that what follows is a useful technique is escaping one. I'm trying to point out the stupidity of the technique. Don't get mad and read me lectures about how my insensitive soul will be forever cursed. It is a well-known fact I gambled away my soul in '01. UNPAUSE

As I was saying, Mr. Coach told us we should look the person in the eye and say forcefully, but calmly the following phrase.

"Look, (place name here), It's Over."

Then apparently the abuser will be enlightened and contrite and wish you well for the future and will not be tempted to kill you and put your body in the lake/bay/body of water.

So, as much as I've made fun of this, and I have, I kind of feel like I have said, 'look, workplace and Earnesto, It's Over.' But it worked this time. I feel borderline euphoric. So when I have had to interact with Rusty these last few days, I didn't have the smirched feeling he usually causes. I have become un-smirchable. Awesome. On the chart of awesome-osity that is my life, that rates right up there with my Mr. Popper's Penguins and Thom Yorke Dream. It's a pretty sweet dream. And it's pretty sweet that finally I can thumb my nose at the collective insanity that is this place.

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.

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.

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.

what a blessed relief

That would be basketball, the NBA that started last night with the Spurs receiving their rings and ended with them comfortably defeating the constantly improving Blazers. Well, actually, it ended with the Utah Jazz trouncing the Warriors in a manner cruelly reminiscent of the playoff series last year. In the middle was the Rockets barely squeaking by the Lakers, which is not to say that this is a Kobe sandwich, because if that was the case, I don't think anyone would partake.

Like many other people who decided, or had fate decide for them, that Basketball was their sport of choice, I feel like I have long wandered in the wasteland of Baseball (which cannot even hold a candle to TSE's The Wasteland, and is much more in line with being caught in a storm in the Gobi - a feeling of perpetually impending doom). I have read countless blogs yesterday and today breathing the collective sigh of relief that at long last, October 30th has dawned and we will not have to suffer again until Late June (or the All-Star Break, depending on how much of a purist you are). And to add my voice to this chorus, I will set down my observations for last night's games.

Game 1: Spurs v. Blazers, in San Antonio
This season started as I feel every season should: with the Spurs getting their rings, celebrating, and unveiling the banner that looks (gasp! Spoiler alert!) just like the ones hanging right next to it. I was thrilled to see that Chip Engelland got a ring, because I think his work with the players was instrumental in the success. Also, who didn't love to see how geeked the first time players were, despite attempts to act degagé.

Trivia Time: Which time in the NBA has the longest winning streak of season opening games? Let's not be silly, we know it is the Spurs, with 11 years of victory. For a team that everyone knows is a grower (start slow, and builds into 58 wins of Awesomeness), they know they have to put the right foot forward.

That isn't to say that it was a sure thing, hands-down win. Portland, rapidly improving into a soon-to-be contender, put up a stiff fight, and LaMarcus Aldridge has some skills on him. That team really has a lot of the future greatness for the NBA amongst its ranks. They kept good intensity and pressured the Spurs all the way to the end. I think (I write at work, not in front of my tivo) that they got it to 4 point spread before the Spurs stopped playing and actually got down to business in the last few minutes.

And to you nay-sayers (I don't want to hear about Phoenix, people, not today), it was not a boring game. It had plenty of up-and-down and running, and good passes and "dunks." Well, Portland had dunks that don't have to be in quotes, but San Antonio is not the place to find DUNKS. It's kind of a more than a layup, less than a jam.

It was good to see Darius Washington get out there and make some mistakes along with some good moves. he looks like he has some potential, and I'm pretty excited that it was him out there, and not the recently departed Beno Udrih. (Side note: Last season my sister and I went to the games when the Spurs came to play the Warriors. One thing we noticed is that when it was the time out with the Warrior Girls, there were two players that were not listening to Pops, but were slack-jawed watching the ladies like they had never seen a cheerleader/dancer before, Udrih and James White. Both are now gone. coincidence? I don't think so. Listen to Pops, he has got 4 rings for a reason)

NEXT: Rockets v. Lakers, in L.A.
I was excited for this game because I had heard big talk about the Rockets, and I wanted to see what they had. What will Rick Adelman do with the talent he has under his tutelage? Because he's a pretty good coach himself. Plus, I wanted to see what the Spurs had given away in Luis Scola (Probably a good player, but definitely a member of the All Not-Good-Hair team). I was not excited for this game because it included the Lakers, who right now have some of my all-time not favorite players (Kobe, Luke Walton). plus, the people of Los Angeles feel a sense of bizarre entitlement - every call and every game should be going their way because they payed ridiculous money for those seats and merchandise. That's what you get for liking a large-market team, a storied franchise You are paying for goods that were delivered 5 years ago. I hope you like the taste of history. MMM, delicious, and past-due.

The game showed me this: the Rockets have potential, but that Angel food cake hasn't set entirely yet. Give it some time, and it will not collapse under its own weight, like the Rockets sort of did in the last 1:30. (The middle of the game was a little lost in a local earthquake, when we had to first figure out if there really was an earthquake, and second, I had to field calls to make sure I and the caller were still alive) Well, thank goodness for Shane Battier, who I have heard is a hated player, but who doesn't like a Blue Devil? And, Kobe, missing 9 free throws. Again, I sort-of quote my roommate when I say, he really f$#%@ his own s$#& up with all this controversy. And Rafer Alston redeemed himself by knocking away the last rebound.

Game 3: Warriors v Jazz, in Oakland.
Curiously, the game I didn't watch was the local one, but this is what I have to say. That box score is sick. My condolences, fellow bay area people. That's no way to start a season. But it's one game. Better luck next time.

Another priceless gem from the vault

So, once again I was sorting through my past emails, and found a wonderful letter that you could either take seriously or as an elaborate joke, take your pick. I will have to cut bits for privacy, and maybe add in some notes to orient the reader, but please, enjoy this offering.

DRAFT OF IMPASSIONED LETTER TO ****** REX

Dearest ****** Rex -

I am not quite sure how to start this letter, there is just so much in my heart to say. I suppose I'll start with this, tucked away in my copy of Wassily Kandinsky's Concerning the Spiritual in Art lays carefully preserved that engagement happy note and ring that you sent to me on that fateful Wednesday that seems so long ago, but remains a constant memory. That may not mean much to you, considering the way I broke things off at dinner group and then became engaged to your roommate, but I implore you to read what I have to say to you.

I my defense, although there is no excuse for my rash actions and callous treatment of your heart, I was young, merely 22, and unprepared for the significant step of becoming betrothed. But as I approach the age of 23, I realize that I was a fool without all the important facts to inform my decisions. Truly, I was short-sighted.

For I hadn't realized that you were in graduate school for electrical engineering. That alone makes you highly attractive. Add in the fact that your middle name is REX and you are nearly irresistible. And furthermore, the absolute coup de gràce, you are both R's cousin, and D G's roommate. What more can I say?

You may have heard the tale of the man who once offered to fill the space in my heart. While he was seriously creepy and caused me to run home and hide in [another apartment] and not answer the phone for days, he was also right. There is a hole in my heart, and I was wondering if you could find it within yourself to forgive me, and try to fill that space. You may also be able to erase the black spot on my soul from the 2000 Sydney Summer Olympics.

I ask that you please disregard any and all information you may have heard recently about my commuter crush. While I do spend ridiculous amounts of time with him, he is just a paltry placeholder; he could never compare to you. The scales have fallen from my eyes, [feather boa blue] hair is now rust colored. His eyes may be the color of a kitchen table, but so are yours.

If you forgive me, and renew your offer of engagement, I promise that I will consider changing my last name to [yours], but not seriously and only for a short time.

What more can I say? I am not sure I have the words to articulate the things I could say.

Questions or comments? Please feel free to write or phone.

Adoringly and obsessed with your middle name,
E

It's been two years

No, today is not my birthday, but it is sometime in the neighborhood of now, and as I was sifting through my email inbox, I found a note from two years ago that brought me a lot of joy. May all your birthday's be as good as this one.

R-
Thanks so much for the stuff on my doorstep. I didn't have much time to look at it, but i am sure it is wonderful and very profound. and don't worry about breakfast: J made me lemon bars for breakfast last night. She didn't think that ice cream cake was an appropriate breakfast. By the way, if you want some ice cream cake, feel free to stop on by.
I have to go and dance around my office because, hey, it's my birthday. No Karaoke today, though. we can't have it all.
have a good day!
-E

That's right, at that time I had a job that allowed me to dance and do karaoke whenever I wanted, and a roommate who made me lemon bars. That was a good year. and I learned the secret of true love.

The Brothers Gibb or How to Entertain yourself while in a traffic jam of doom!

I promised a story, and I keep my promises (at least when it's as simple as wasting time at work).

Way back when, like seven years ago, but not that long, a select grouping of my familial unit and myself were traveling via auto (imagine it said in a German accent) from San Francisco to Reno on our way to vacationing somewhere (the where is irrelevant to the story). Unfortunately, on this evening, many other people also decided to trek that path, and to add to the horrible traffic, throw in a massive accident. It took hours to travel the last few miles. We were stopped absolutely.

We would have gone mad, not being a patient sort of persons, but luckily, we had a cd player and an inexhaustible supply of Bee Gees classics to keep us rocking. That's right, we had a Mobile Disco.

A Mobile or Car Disco is an easy thing to do, but a few rules are attached to the concept.

1. It should probably only be undertaken when in truth all the people in the car can participate. That's not fair to the driver, who often times knows best how to get down. Don't deny them the joy.
2. It's not a Mobile Disco if the music is not disco. Bee Gees = Disco. Pet Shop Boys = Dance. etc. and so forth with other musical genres. Other Mobile dance parties can be fun, don't get me wrong, but don't put the peas in the spaghetti; or call a spade a spade.
3. As an adjunct to Rule 1, it is best enjoyed when the car is forced to a complete halt. Example: horrendous traffic jam of doom, or a bridge being raised and stopping traffic, or a really long train crossing. That way, the cars around are also stopped, and those passengers will be in complete awe of how exactly is that guy doing the hustle in the back seat (trade secret) and the joy derived from the incident will be that much greater because you shared with others. Or, others may decide to join with you, and that can be pretty awesome too.

Some suggestions on how the occasion can be improved (upon what? you say that what I have outlined above can not possibly get any better? Well My Friends, read and learn):

1. Sing along. Singing along to a Brothers Gibb classic improves everything, and the overall aerobic experience is bettered by singing and dancing. While in most life falsetto is not a great idea, here's your chance to go for it.
2. Make your own strobe light. I don't know if the newfangled cars of today can achieve the effect quite so well, but in the classic we were driving that night, the rapid open/close of a door caused the interior light to strobe. Take turns doing this, because after a while, you get tired. Doors are not light and easy to control. But only one person do it at a time, otherwise, the rhythmic pattern is ruined.
3. Roll down the windows. Ventilation helps. This also allows people around you to participate unobstructed.
   
4. Take this and apply it to your regular life (non-vehicular).

I was concerted, I swear it

Well, sometimes work just acts like the wort sort of bully, and it is times like those I remember something I once saw on one of the Blackboards of my high school calculus class. It went something like this:

Math is what we do, but we do not do it well, that is why we DANCE!

I take no credit for this. It was a notice for some sort of dance club that I was far too geeky to participate in. But the line stuck with me, and this was my philosophy today at work (substitute work for math). So when Earnesto left the office unexpectedly for the second time today, throwing his schedule into absolute shambles, I turned on the tunes and indulged in a little chair dancing. You know, when you groove around without actually moving the chair.

I think I was inspired by the exhibition opening/ concert I went to on Wednesday. It was a dreadful combination of rich snobby people sneering at my dress, and then indie rock kids sneering at my dress, but at least it had a rocking soundtrack. Why all the sneering? Perhaps it is because my outfit was a tiny bit prom-night-revisited, not chic enough for SFMOMA, but too dressy for the Independent and the Okkervil River crowd.

My dear friend was kind enough to bring me less painful shoes, meaning I checked my 4-inch black patent leather heels. Admittedly, the skirt, knee-length, benefitted from the tall shoes, but my comfort level did not. So I went to the coat check area, and turned over my shoes (my stockings were filled-in-fishnet, but irretrievably laddered, so I took them off and binned them in the bathroom). Following is the exchange between me and the Coat Check Men:

Me: I'd like to check these shoes.
Them: You have to wear shoes.
Me: I am wearing shoes, just different shoes.
Them: But you would look better in these shoes.
Me: I've already been wearing them for 4 hours, and my feet hurt, so I'll wear these other ones, thanks.
Them: That will be 2 dollars.
Me (paying them): Thank you.

Oh the crazy coat checking fashion police!

It was a great show. I really enjoyed it. I was concerted by the whole experience.


very similar to my shoes

So it was written, so it was put on the free table

Thinking about that last incident, I was pining a bit for cake, but all I had was apples and peanut butter. I went to wash my apple, and my coworker was just dropping a chocolate cake off on the free table. I had a slice and it was delicious - whipped cream, strawberries. Delightful! Score that one to Team Positivity. Now, maybe next week I will write about the man of my dreams and see if this trend continues.

A Moment I've been waiting for

The NBA Schedule was released today!!! For those of you who know me, you know this is exciting beyond belief. It also means that I can buy tickets to when the Warriors play the Spurs. I miss my boys so. Will I be able to breathe before the day I buy those tickets to heaven? That I cannot say.

Let's hear it for a repeat!!!



UPDATE:

A Moment of genius insanity had me buy courtside seats to one of the games on Friday. My life is so good. My bank balance, not so good.

Top Hats off to you

I was in the train under the maze area by West Oakland Station when I swear I saw a top hat drifting along, falling from one of the overpasses. It was all the sudden like I was in some sort of Mary Poppins-esque film and I expected Dick van Dyck to pop out and start singing. Luckily, I would have been protected by my trusty ipod.

My Favorite Dave, and other names

I just found out that my Favorite Dave is getting married to some girl named Sarah. That's right ladies, Davey G. is officially off the market (Unless you act really fast). This is after finding out (although I've known for months) that my Second-Favorite Dave is also getting married, to a Sarah. My Third-Favorite Dave is David Robinson, who really isn't a Dave at all, and he is also married. I don't thing numbers 4, 5, and 6 on my favorites list are married yet, but it looks like my single-friend-Dave may becoming an endangered species. (Update, I just realized #6 is married! Oh, tragic!)

This is concerning because Dave is one of those names where I actually did like a lot of them an awful lot. It's rare that I find a name where I know and like enough people to require a list ranking. And It's not just because there are a lot of Daves. there are also a lot of Chris' and Mikes, but I haven't had to list yet. I could probably hammer out a Chris list in ten minutes, but it wouldn't be perfect and wouldn't compare to my list of Daves. Daves just tend to be of a higher quality than other men. And also inexplicably attracted to girls named Sarah, which is upsetting because that's not my name (but that is a song).

I am resigned. I will just have to get to know more Andys, Zachs, and Steves, because I need to find a name that I can list as my favorite, bumping Daves. Daves #1-29, watch out.