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26 Characters

Below you will find my weblog, or just blog. The name may not strike you right away, but you'll get it after I ask you one question: How many letters are there in the alphabet?

I use these twenty−six letters to share moments I experience, thoughts I come upon or ideas I have that I don't feel like keeping to myself. Writing them gives me the ability to share with you.

Maybe you'll laugh, maybe you'll swallow hard, maybe you will learn something about me that you didn't previous know, or maybe you'll relate the words below to something in your own experiences. You may even know the subjects I allude to between the paragraph tags.

So much that I will often write without proofing. If I offend you, it is nothing personal, simply my opinion. I'll complain about things that bother me, things I find offensive and just random thoughts I hold onto long enought to transfer to my blog.

The only thing you need know is that I love to write.


John Mayer Says “N” Word

February 19th, 2010

So, I read John Mayer’s interview in Playboy. I read it for several reasons; none of which had to do with it being sandwiched between numerous pages of naked women. Besides, my subscription ended in October. I read it free, (and boob-free), online.

I heard about it because of the coverage and controversy it amassed. I read it because I like his music and was curious what he actually said to garner so much negative attention.

By the way, if you haven’t heard about it, or read it, he spoke about some unnecessary details related to his sex life, (name-dropping one particular ex-XX) and was clearly not playing the part of “the guy who sang Daughters“.

Side note: Personally, with the exception of my significant other[1], I could care less about anyone else’s sex life.

I read it with an open mind, because like most of what’s now considered “newsworthy”, you can’t sum up an interview into a 140-character tweet, (i.e. my title).

He said quite a few things that I don’t thing he should have. He said them in a candid way that would offend most people – simply because of the language he used and how forward he was. Most of the words he used didn’t bother me; however, one word did.

I don’t think he intended to use the word in a negative way. It doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he used it bothered me.

It wasn’t my fondest celebrity interview in Playboy, but I did appreciate one thing, and just one thing.

He was honest. That has to count for something, right?

If you would like to read the interview, feel free. Here it is (SFW).

[1] Now accepting applications.

Grandfather Claws

February 4th, 2010

Your parents’ parents are capable of quirks we all can relate to. Birthday checks, being just one of many. Twelve dollars here, nineteen there – maybe a seven or eight dollar check early on in your aging.

Whatever the reason, it’s always a mystery as to how much you’re actually going to get.

The occasional passed-along incentive disguised as a spontaneous gift they received for renewing a membership, transferring a balance, or “calling now to take advantage of this special offer”, usually with “combo” somewhere in the product’s name.

I don’t understand why grandparents write birthday checks for random amounts, or pass along gifts they don’t realize are impractical until they arrive four to six weeks later, (for S&H only), or my favorite and reason for writing, why they rename their dead pet’s successor(s) after their dead pet.

My grandparents had several different dogs…named Mickey.

Emotional Elimination With A Twist Of Dragon

January 18th, 2010

I received a phone call last week from the Travis County District Attorney’s Office regarding the accident I was in last July.

The discussion briefly covered how I healed and the challenges related to recovering damages for the loss I incurred. Then I was asked a serious question. I was asked what I felt should be Greg’s punishment for hitting me with his car.

I was overcome with a feeling that I can only peg as being discomfort. The only reason I know it was discomfort is because, through the process of elimination, I ruled out the other big emotions.

Happy = smile.
Sad = tear.
Bashful = red cheeks.
Angry = scowl.
Overjoyed = the moment you discover what this ninja is hiding behind his head (:40).

Initially, I wanted to lend him my bike and borrow his PT Cruiser (Greg, not the ninja) and invite him to take a trip down Memory, (Brodie), Ln. That fantasy passed.

I don’t reflect on negatives by remembering the people involved. I remember how it, (being the negative situation), changed me. How it improved who I am and how I live. More importantly, I move on.

I opted to let the prosecutor decide.

Don’t Worry, Be Colon + (closed parenthesis)

January 14th, 2010

Fortunately, I will never [ever] be the person to my three-o’clock.

Walking into the grocery store this evening, I was reminded just how lucky I am. I looked to my immediate right, (almost hurt my non-pierced ear). Plus, I realized an obvious difference…I was wearing shoes that required tying. Lucky, or awesome? I vote both. Jealousy ensued…VELCRO™ is easy as hell to pull apart, and it’s kind-a-awesome.

Tangent: over….back to the .

The glow from above and below McDonald’s newest venture lit up a scene I will never star in, (or stare into (first-person))…now, or ten years from now [hopefully], I won’t be the unfortunate and lonely soul, upon two soles, (in VELCRO™ shoes nonetheless), balancing a tub of Chunky Monkey on top of a frozen Totino’s pizza in front of a Redbox wondering what movie I want to watch tonight – by. my. self.

I’ll order in. And, I have Netflix.

Here’s to sustainability.

Twelve to One

January 10th, 2010

I woke up on last year’s first feeling refreshed, because I won the fight I was in the night before [with a bottle of NyQuil].

My last [KC] New Year’s was spent with some of my closest friends, and sixteen days later I put 735 miles in between myself and most of those individuals. We did have a pretty epic going away party (several).

I lost a handful of other friends, rather acquaintances, between there and here, and even more between January 17th and yesterday.

Several other friendships were strengthened – my night and weekend minutes are proof of that.

So, what else did I realize between one-seventeen and one-one?

  1. You can’t put a price on friendship, but when there are zero direct flights between the city you live in and the city they do, maintaining friendships becomes quite pricey. Worth it.
  2. Shit happens. It did to me this year, to excess; but, in between those moments, I managed to meet some good people and have some good times.
  3. The people you grow up closest to are more susceptible to the unstoppable expansion of space and time.
  4. The key to self-preservation lies in listening more, talking less and knowing when to walk away.
  5. When I get stressed, my stomach takes the blame – my appetite waves goodbye, my nights get longer and my pillows fill the emptiness.
  6. I cannot lose at the alphabet game.

It’s only the tenth and it’s already been quite a year. A lot of firsts…had Whataburger and Jack in the box, meh. Listened to Insane Clown Posse, still not a fan. Won twice at foosball, that’s right. Wore a t-shirt on January 1st, nice. Saw an ad for “awesome restrooms”, false. And, I will be getting my wisdom teeth removed soon, so I have four less dents to brosse.

Here’s to the best one yet, and hopefully many more.

Sixty-two Point Five Percent

January 7th, 2010

So, I’m currently in day three of a four-day training session for a new marketing tool we will be using and a colleague asked a question about the provider’s uptime (related to their servers). The woman leading the session responded with something similar to: “Ninety-nine dot, I don’t know…nine, nine”

I didn’t end her statement (above) with a . or ?, because I’m not sure if it was a . or a ?.

Our Web Developer piped up and said, “I believe the standard is five nines. Nine, nine, dot, nine, nine, nine.”

I had a momentary relapse to high school and ad-libbed a short scene from Inglourious Basterds.

Five out of eight people in the session laughed (o.l.).[1]

[1]: Not including the instructor (similar to high school). She must have left her sense of humor in her other khakis.

Alma by Rodrigo Blaas

December 29th, 2009

This five-minute animated short is clever, cute and creepy. It is perfect for the holiday season and definitely worth watching.[1]

Makes me wonder what I could have created had I continued enrolling in 3D animation classes after high school.


[1]: If you are not partial to dolls, or vintage toy stores.

Alma from Rodrigo Blaas on Vimeo.

In Between Dings

December 27th, 2009

I left a warmer climate on an empty stomach – anxious and eager – and touched down in Denver only to sit on the runway like a lazy model until close to 8:30.

After snow delay number one, I quickly ate half of a red-white-and-yellow sacked dinner, re-packing the remainder for the brief moment prior to takeoff in which I am allowed to have my tray table not in its upright and locked position.

Dinner: done. Delay number two: underway.

My departure soundtrack was starting to repeat tracks and could have gotten me into trouble had I not been more clever about how I skip tracks. I think flight attendants are aware that clicking the remote below your ear is a dead giveaway that your electronic device is not in the “off” position.

The two hour delay did not upset my row. In flight, I relaxed, knowing that I would make it home without too severe of a delay. The mother and daughter next to me just cuddled and watched the silent version of Pirate Radio, because I cuddled with myself and the only pair of earbuds I happened to have.

Eight movies, shopping, some delicious food, a few fun games later and here I sit…back at my gate, waiting to depart. On the opposite side of the window to my right the entire landscape is slowly illuminating – a combination of falling snow and rising sun.

Now boarding.

I find an open seat, stow my baggage and watch as the rest of the passengers (most of them half-awake) find their unassigned seats. I lean my head against the window anxiously awaiting the first announcement – signifying ten thousand feet between me and my next choice, and four inches of declined “comfort”.

Snow was present at my departure, so it only seemed fitting to be at my arrival in Chicago. Twenty minutes to my next gate, no time to eat or sit – just straight to gate A 11 with boarding pass B 7. Bingo.

The brisk walk only wakes me up enough to again find an unoccupied window seat. Resume the position. No in-flight drink. No complimentary snack. No small talk with my neighbor. Just rest.

Ding!

My eyes open. I am home.

Seniõr Sprite

November 14th, 2009

[Business-related] road trip! / :(

During our three-hour route to Brownwood, TX, my superior and I stopped at McDonald’s to have lunch. Under normal conditions, fast food is never a consideration; on the way to Brownwood, it’s the only consideration.

Tangent: Surprisingly, I enjoyed the burger. Not surprisingly, I didn’t eat many fries or touch the handle exiting the bathroom.

Leaving, I refilled my Sprite. My boss left with what remained in his.

INTERIOR: BOSS’ CAR EARLY AFTERNOON

ROSS places his lidded cup next to his manager’s open cup in the center console.

The danger doesn’t exist in having the two Sprites (not to be confused with small winged fairies) that close to each other. The danger exists because the seniõr driving is not a citizen of Mexico, but a citizen of the senior community.

He may have saved 50% on the price of his Sprite, but if he forgets (as seniors tend to do) that his container is lidless, then I get senior spit on 50% of my straw.

It happened the other day at lunch. He was was across from me and decided to drink from both glasses in front of him. One being my water glass. Yet, he still proclaims “I don’t need glasses” (the optical ones).

He now has two – obviously a false proclimation.

I really hope he keeps his eyes on the road and his mouth off my drink. To be continued…

Soft-Core Sounds

November 11th, 2009

It’s difficult to take the operators on the other end of a customer service call seriously when between the two, three, sometimes four outsourced representatives, are tunes reminiscent of late-night shows that funded sub-par acting and weak screenwriting with the savings from utilizing fewer props – like wardrobes, (id est, shows that are the etymology of Cinemax’s nickname).

I was on hold with Sprint yesterday, four separate times, and during each forty-second separation, I … wait. I think I just figured it out.

They use, (or, I suppose “re-use”), those particular sounds in order to reduce the pressure upon releasing the stress, anger and frustration they know you are bottling up.

Psssshhhhhhhh and repeat

Psssshhhhhhhh and repeat

It makes sense…The ha-ha hold music misleads our minds in a direction opposite the realization that they are becoming less and less helpful (and coherent), so when (insert name I cannot pronounce) picks up the transferred call, I don’t yell.

I, in a suppressed and explicative-light diatribe, explain that my service was supposed to be discontinued two months ago and I’m being charged for a phone that I returned to them. They, (the subject of this post) repress our rage.

Probably not healthy, but neither is (insert something unhealthy).