38.107.191.88

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.


Call Waiting Policy

November 2nd, 2009

You just received ten digits and her name, either on a piece of paper, your hand, a napkin, or the post-1999 method – directly into your phone.

The known: You are going to call. The unknown: Everything else.

How long dost thou wait to call? Two weeks? Three days? Four hours? Five minutes?

If you answered five minutes then you should get accustomed to disappointment.

I agree that life is too short to ponder ‘what-if?’, so if I let an hour pass by after you pass by without approaching, then I’m either too shy, or taken. That said, I also respect the call waiting policy and if she didn’t ask for your number, then it is your responsibility to interpret her CWP.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, if you disrespect her CWP and call too soon, you’ll end up auditing your phone’s contacts a year later, wondering, “Who the hell is Vanessa?”* – don’t let this happen to you.

*If adult drinks are involved, then it may help to include a note or nickname to differentiate her from everyone else in your phone. Here are some commonly utilized strategies:

  1. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as the establishment or location of the close encounter of the first time.
  2. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as an exceptional feature you immediately recognize and don’t plan to forget.
  3. Save her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as an instruction, such as ‘Call Tuesday’. Obey that rule, or on Saturday, when she screens your premature call, she’ll set your ‘Last Name’ equal to ‘DNA’ (Do Not Answer).
  4. Reduce your intake of alcohol and get to know her. Then, record her ‘Last Name’ in your contacts as her actual last name.

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you the accepted amount of waiting your call policy requires.

In general, don’t rush it, but don’t wait too long.

Weak Ends

September 29th, 2009

I love Sunday’s, but the day after is usually not on my list of favorites. You know going in [to the weekend] that Monday is going to suck.

Some Mondays are a little less painful than others. Usually due to the kind conversations some Sunday evenings can bring.

When you’ve completed the weekend’s work and literally have no [one] thing to do, the most satisfying item you choose to do can be a multi-minute phone call with someone that lives a state or two away and shares the same predicated nothingness as your evening.

Even so, when you wake up the next morning and flick the night’s dust from your eyelids, you are already looking forward to closing them again at the day’s conclusion.

Whistle While You Work

September 15th, 2009

But, please, keep it to yourself. I’m not a white cartooned female and you don’t have an adjective for a name, stand fewer than four feet tall, or carry a pick axe.

It’s bad office etiquette to implant (through whistling) late 80s songs into someone’s head without expressed written or verbal consent.

Earlier today, a co-worker came into my office and began whistling…um, nuh uh. If there’s an ‘a’ before the ‘m’ then the only thing your lips should be blowing is the steaming cup of coffee in your hands.

I pepped up the pipes and belted out a louder whistle. My tune, (a Coldplay song), acted as contraception for the incredibly catchy track from something very Monster Ballad-y. Not gonna get in my head.

I win.

Go blow air in another someone’s office.

Worst Acting Job Ever

September 13th, 2009

I woke up this morning after a horrible dream…I was in someone’s wallet!

After a movie-filled weekend, I’ve seen a fair share of crap. I went in expecting them to be crap though. I mean, if I can honestly say that my favorite from the bunch is Knowing, then what does that tell you?

Friday: Bangkok Dangerous & the first twenty-three minutes of Knowing.

Saturday: Knowing (minus 23 minutes), Crank, and Crank 2: High Voltage.

Sunday: TBD, but hopefully better than the action junk I watched this weekend.

Watching Bangkok Dangerous made me want to buy a gun. That way, when it was over, I could shoot myself in the frontal lobe and never experience that movie again.

Knowing was based on an interesting premise. The world was coming to an end as predicted by a girl in grade school, fifty years earlier. It was up to short-haired Nick Cage (who I really don’t have any bee with) to try and prevent these disasters (fail) and ultimately let his son (spoiler alert) travel to space with another girl (the grand daughter of the grade-school prophet) and four aliens disguised as old men. I don’t know what was more inappropriate – Nick getting in bed with his son, or four presumably intelligent life forms leaving the repopulation of Earth up to a bunch of ten year-olds.

Crank was enjoyable because Jason Statham is a bad ass, but then they (producers, directors and key grips) had to go and make a sequel. During the second film, Jason had to keep his fake heart bearing by “charging” it with a variety of electric currents, ranging from car batteries, tasers and transformers (not like Optimus Prime) to friction…which couldn’t power a prosthetic heart for a fraction of the length of that awful and unconvincing scene in which they (now actors, too) try and convince us that it can.

Tomorrow, I have several on the lineup, but I also have chuuch (not a spelling error), a couple hours of work and football.

Back to my dream…for TV actors, the appeal associated with a role on a long running series would be the steady work, and in films, the paycheck and fame from scoring a major role in a summer blockbuster are the draw, but there’s one thing I haven’t figured out.

And, if I were an actor, this is one part I could never take.

Being the smiling face for a photograph in a prop wallet shot – for either TV or a movie.

Maybe even worse than being a corpse in a Steven Segal flick, because you would get less screen time, and not even (really) be in the movie.

Texas Dresscode

September 10th, 2009

Everyone that lives in Austin claims that it is non-representative of the rest of the lone star state. That may be partially true, but not completely.

For instance, if you were to randomly sample a set of twelve people’s conversations, I guarantee at least seventy-five percent of those conversations would include any, if not all of the following words/phrases:
- y’all
- fixin’ (sometimes with “to” appended)
- ain’t
- a hunderd
- we’ll see you later (even if only one person is going to be seeing you later)

I recently dropped off one of my favorite pairs of jeans to be dry cleaned. No questions, just dropped them off and I was told they would be ready in two days.

Our former President, that claims to be from Texas, once messed up a saying that begins: Fool me once…

Well, they got me this time and it won’t happen again.

I returned two days later to pick up my jeans. A stiff breeze could have picked up my jeans…they were harder than Texas’ regulations on driving. I had to pry open the legs with the credit card I wasn’t paying with.

I haven’t had to work that hard to get into my own pants in a long time. It was an uphill battle…

You can take the dry cleaner out of the rest of Texas, but it’s going to take four more washes to get the heavy starch out of my jeans.

At least they didn’t try to put a crease in the front of them.

Chopped Chit Chat

August 24th, 2009

If your WPM is fewer than, or equal to, your grandfather’s age on your fifth birthday, then please take typing lessons.

I’m not referring to shorthand or txt lessons…no, I’m talking about cue, double you, e, are, tea, why (skills). Especially if you plan to use your keyboard to communicate via IM.

Also, when IM’ing, prudently utilize the backwards L-shaped key – certainly if depressing that key results in a send.

Receiving news in bits doesn’t bother me. Receiving news in broken

bits is what really angers

me.

Respect the amount of time your recipient wastes watching the “Ross Clurman is currently typing” notification only to realize

that you were just finishing

your thought.

And, under no circumstances should you follow the scattered sentence with a visit to their office, or a phone call for verbal translation.

Wait Four Months

August 23rd, 2009

Doing it in a line sucks, but doing it out of line can suck just as bad. I’m talking of course, about waiting.

I do it quite often when I write, but that is because an elipsis sometimes make the word right after so much more…meaningful.

I forgot how much I enjoy exercise. Not just lifting weights, but running, biking, swimming, playing volleyball, even being able to take my cat outside to stare in amazement (both of us) at the courageous families of deer in my complex.

If you love something, try living without it fo[u]r months for. Either length of time can be equally depressing.

Here’s to the elipsis that exists between “now” and “then” and literally having no control over it.

Cheers…

Recycling Bender

August 22nd, 2009

Austin is such a progressive area when it comes to being Earth-conscious. I’ve changed a lot of my habits when it comes to recycling. I recycle everything. Hell, I even got made fun of the other day at work for drinking out of a mason’s jar (actually, it was a once-delicious jar of locally-made salsa).

A new permanent fixture in my apartment (besides a frugally-stocked wine rack) is a recycling bin. Paper, plastic and cans can all be recycled at my apartment complex’s trash areas.

My office also has a recycling bin next to my desk…I guess it helps working for an environmentally conscious employer.

During my first week (following the move) I purchased a domain specifically focused on propegating the ideas for becoming (buzzword in three, two, one) “greener” as a marketing company and encouraging clients and partners to follow suit.

www.be00ff00.com

Those familiar with hex color codes should make the connection right away. Those unfamiliar should at least be intuitive enough to figure it out by now.

Plain White Paste

August 21st, 2009

Plain old Colgate in a tube…ah, the good ol’ days. The .1 ounce blob I put on my toothbrush this morning brought me back.

I remembered standing barefoot on a Smurf blue tiled floor, in front of a white porcelain sink (aka – G.I. Joe’s ocean), barely being able to see my face from the nose up in the mirror and shoving elbows with an older brother and little sister…smetimes even waiting to spit when their hands were in the way.

It was a nice memory.

They say that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory, but I respectfully disagree – for me it’s taste.

Within the first cycle of my SonicCare, the taste of that plain white paste painted a vivid childhood memory which was all but faded.

Unfortunately, that same white paste also painted a lovely spot on my right boob, which I noticed right away, but irreverently decided to do nothing about.

I wanted to remember what I remembered long enough to write it down. Besides, I don’t have to meet with any clients today.

I Love These Eight Es

August 20th, 2009

1. Eggs
Breakfast [food] for any meal is thoroughly enjoyable; however, one of my favorite snack foods is a hard-boiled egg with salt and/or ranch dressing.

2. Exiting
Either I’ve done my job for the day, or I’m on an important errand, or even leaving on a jetplane. Whatever the case may be, I love the feeling I get when I leave.

It’s an unexplainable (which is what I’m trying to do) combination of completion and (for lack of a more appropriate word) happiness.

A new memory and the end of something I survived.

3. Escargot
A small, slow-moving and delicious food: snails. Another favorite that falls in the same category of slow (but, by no means small) foods: beef.

4. Extroverts
In the last week, I’ve made connections with two new family members – my dad’s cousin and his niece. Not even sure how the relations pan out at that level, but they’re in the family tree somewhere.

5. Evenings
Dinner time houses the most relaxing meal of the day. I don’t have to go to work after and there’s usually more food and more time to eat.

6. Embers
The slowly-fading light on the tip of a candle wick as the flame escapes existence. It’s calming and inviting to the night.

7. Expensing
If an employer reads number seven, I hope they choose to continue on through the nine-letter deduction following it.

There’s a sense of accomplishment that goes hand-in-hand with the responsibility of being able to expense expenses. You are getting reimbursed for the revenue (and hopefully profit) your hard work generates.

8. Eight
This one’s for me…