Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Yesterday, I started my job as an FMP. I also started the JobBlog, which will only be accessible to people I already know outside of GXS, because you KNOW there are things about everyday life at work that you want to tell someone, but you'd rather hide those cards from your co-workers. It's just a fact of life; people are allowed to talk about you when you aren't there and can never find out about it.
Now this could be viewed as talking behind people's backs, but it's not. It's more like you and I standing in front of the people I work with at a party, and I whisper something to you, and you laugh, and when they ask what was so funny, I say, "Oh, Nothing. Inside joke." Really, this is just a way for me to vent without getting into trouble or ailenating myself from the people I work with.
Displaying this so candidly on my webpage, where many of my fellow GXS employees may read it, seems kind of in-your-face-ish, but that's not what it's meant to be. This is a disclaimer of sorts. This is my outlet. You will not be affected.
6:10 AM . . .
Sunday, July 28, 2002
Saturday, July 27, 2002
Thursday, July 25, 2002
The Clam Festival is a way for Yarmouth non-profit and not-for-profit organizations to make money to fund their activities throughout the year. It happens in my hometown, Yarmouth, Maine. I've been to it every year since I knew there was a Clam Festival. Yet another example of good eatin' and clean livin in Hometown, USA.
9:28 AM . . .
Today I leave for the real world.
5:28 AM . . .
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Tuesday, July 23, 2002
If you're a sports fan, read this.Madden, who became head coach of the Oakland Raiders at 33 and retired from the team at 43 with the best winning percentage in N.F.L. history, is a genius masquerading as a meathead. From his perch in the back of the booth, Madden can see what all 22 players are doing on every play, and he has an ex-teacher's ability to make sense of the mayhem. But his far more crucial TV talent is as a populist. When it comes to making the average citizen feel a little better about himself, he's as good as Oprah. Somehow in the course of a football game, Madden lets you know it's O.K. to be fat, even borderline obese, no big deal to be ugly, bearable to be lonely. Madden's every unslick flailing gesture and blurted syllable is a source of comfort to the unsexy, unripped, underpaid and underappreciated lonely American man.I've never heard someone describe Madden's ridiculous babbling with so much love. Aside from his funeral, I doubt we'll ever hear a eulogy like this again.
9:17 AM . . .
Monday, July 22, 2002
Jason hooked me up with this article and it got me to thinking. . . I checked out a couple of sites like this one and wondered if these stupid ads actually had an affect on the psyche of American youth. Personally, I think they would be more effective if they went after a different target audience.
9:57 AM . . .
Top 50 IRC Quotes from the link to the left named Whacked in the Bored section. The quotes are all excerpts from conversations had in Internet Relay Chat rooms. Here's an excerpt:asr: 'fo sheezy.There are a bunch of over-the-top dork quotes, but most of the humor is understandable.
Sabboth: what the fuck does that mean in english? you should understand that having a day job precludes me from 'keeping it real' and as such, I lack a certain familiarity with the language of the 'streets' as it were.
7:33 AM . . .
When I was in China, one of my friends told me she was having a little fun at The Onion's Personals Page. I decided to get into the act with a comical ad. This was my most recent response:hey. i like you. you sound like the kind of guy i could fuck senseless and confess to my hidden dostoevskian yearnings to. to whom. ah, fuck it.This was from a 33 year old California girl with the nickname CreamyThighs. I don't really know what "Dostoevskian yearnings" are; I just emit that existentialist vibe.
I guess when you got it, you got it.
6:03 AM . . .
Saturday, July 20, 2002
I've let her go.
6:20 AM . . .
Friday, July 19, 2002
Go here now and install this application. I can't believe I didn't get this sooner. I love Google.
IT'S FREE! Isn't that great? FREE! This little application will increase the effectiveness of my web browsing; I'll have infinitely more time to waste my life in front of a computer. And the best thing is, it's FREE!
I think we take this for granted far too often. The internet is a complete if-you-build-it-they-will-come kind of world right now. "I've got an idea, how 'bout we build a search engine where we have no annoying banner ads or pop-ups." Huh? I mean, I understand the reasoning behind this, but seriously; have you ever purchased anything as a result of a link you clicked from Google? Me neither.
Google. Free. Google Toolbar. Free. Pop-up ads? Nope. Banners? Nope. Do they actually make money? I don't know; I called the PR manager and left a message asking if they did. Their website says they're profitable, but come on; who wouldn't claim their company didn't make money if they didn't have to post earnings anywhere. I can't find a website (and I am using Google to search) that posts any of Google's statements. They're incorporated and privately held . . . I thought because they are incorporated they had to post financial statements somewhere, but maybe I have to brush up on my business law.
7:31 AM . . .
This page, is pretty interesting. It's the life of a movie clerk, but she only speaks specifically about the customers who rent porn. Here's an excerpt:We have a new vistor to the porn section. He's been in twice now. Actually, he's been in at least three times, as he is a registered member, but he's only stood out twice. He comes in, goes down to the straight porn section, and whips out a hand mirror. Then he applies makeup for about an hour.She even comments on The Lebowski.
No browsing, no chatting people up, no whacking. In, mirror, makeup and out. And again, he's in the straight section. No one's sure what to do yet.Rocco's Animal Trainer series, I'm told, traditionally ends with Rocco fucking a woman up the ass while he shoves her head into a toilet and flushes.WHERE'S THE MONEY LEBOWSKI? WHERE'S THE MONEY!?
6:25 AM . . .
Thursday, July 18, 2002
This article is laughable. Here's an excerpt:"We receive thousands of cases a year that we need to investigate, and we take every single case seriously," says Coggins. "From someone who writes a rambling love letter, to a person intercepted at an airport with a weapon heading to D.C., to a drunken person at a bar overheard saying ‘I want to kill the president;' we’re worried about all those cases."Huh? They follow up on every drunk, gun totin' redneck that doesn't agree with presidential policy? How many death threats are made each day, anyway? I'm sure at some point in time I've said, "Oh man! I'm gonna kill that asshole," after being cut off on the highway. But would local cops follow up on those kinds of death threats, you know, just to make sure that I'm not a threat to society?
Secret Service staff turn every threat against the president inside out.
There are only thirteen links on google for the search string "I want to kill the president," one being the aforementioned and number one link. There are 23,500 for "I want to kill." More people want to kill guys than girls. Nobody wants to kill George or Dick Cheney, but someone wants to kill me. I hope the secret service is onto these guys. I fear for my life.
So if I made a threat against the president, how quickly would the Office of Homeland Security be breathing down my neck? The guy searching the internet for these threats will be thinking to himself, "Why do I remember this one . . . It seems really familiar, but I can't put my finger on it . . . Oh yeah! School girls fucking teachers!"
Would my site be flagged by the FBI? Would they track my internet usage? Would they delete all my kiddie porn? Would they come to my house? Would they take my DVD collection? Threatening the president probably wouldn't be the smartest thing to do, seeing as the US government could bring a world of hurt on me for all the conspiring I've done. So I'm just going to say unequivocally, no, Mr. President. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill the president. I do not want to kill George W. Bush.
Just as long as his motorcade never cuts me off.
10:35 AM . . .
Wednesday, July 17, 2002
Asian drivers are bad.
It's OK to say this. It's not racist. It's not a genetic trait that makes all Asians poor drivers; it's a cultural phenomena.
See, when you drive in China, if you want to turn left, go ahead! Turn. People in the other lane are expected to slow to a halt if YOU want to turn. I saw a guy on his motorcycle standing in the middle of a six lane street at a green light talking on his cell phone. I was almost hit by a dump truck that was going full bore through a red light. In China, it's OK to blow red lights (and God knows I took advantage of this rule), it's OK to go down the street on the wrong side of the road, it's OK to cross three lanes to take a right, and it's OK to slow to a stop in the middle lane of a road while you decide what route to take.
Asian women drivers? I don't know. They all sucked.
3:10 PM . . .
I went out last night for a few drinks, and I made a concious effort NOT to talk about being in China for the last five months. I think it sounds kind of holier-than-thou sometimes when I speak of my entire experience. I am a pretty confident person most of the time, and I don't need a hook to hang on to hold a person's attention, but talking about China just seems pretentious.
I didnt save the world or anything. Hell, I wasn't even that good at teaching. I did a job, I wasn't completely worthless, I had a good time.
8:48 AM . . .
Mary's permalinks aren't working correctly, but go to her page today and check out the post. She and I were having a conversation about what to make for dinner on the second date. It's good stuff. Click the link.
7:31 AM . . .
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
Date: Thursday, June 27, 2002
Time: 11:35 AM EST
Submitted by: fuck you
Email address: firstname.lastname@example.org
Subject: Whatup, Foo!
fuck you asshole i want my pictures of school girls fucking teachers
and i don't eat fuckin twinkies
-------End Of Message-----
And I believe that's a response to a surfer angrily responding to this. I am now, and will forever be the number one link on Google for the search "School girls fucking teachers."
MOMMA! AIN'T YA PROUD?
7:32 AM . . .
Monday, July 15, 2002
What I did this weekend:Drove to TroyI started watching my DVDs, too. The Ladies' Man was missing a bunch of scenes. A Beautiful Mind was unwatchable because it had so many scratches on it. The rest were good. Donnie Darko is completely ridiculous, but I've read a bunch of different sites and they all say "Watch it again."
Drank some beer
Sat by the pool
Had some ice cream
It's quite obvious that I need some excitement in my life . . . Tomorrow, I think I'll pack for D.C.
9:08 PM . . .
Thursday, July 11, 2002
The box of my gold cat says:FORTUNE CAT BRINGS YOU VERY BEST WISHES MAY HAPPITY & HAPPY HOCKS BE WITH YOU FOREVERLeslie thinks this may be the direct Chinese re-translation of "May the force be with you." I think she's onto something.
11:18 AM . . .
Shaolin Soccer is the most hilarious movie I've seen this year. You can't buy it in America because the Disney Corporation has the rights to the movie and has not published it yet, so there is a moratorium on sale from within the US. Of course, you can always buy it overseas.
Pick it up and thank me later.
4:50 AM . . .
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
One thing I was excited about on my trip back to America was that I would be able to hear other people's conversations and understand what they were talking about. This novelty quickly grew old when I arrived at Newark International Airport and sat down near a woman with a thick Longuyland accent. Here are some excerpts from the conversation that she was having with a relative on her cell phone:You'll neva guess what hapened to me today, OK . . . Yeah, I'm at the airport. In the place where you wait . . . Anyway, so we're going through security, OK, and they TOOK MY SHOOS . . . Yeah, they took my shoos off . . . I was barefoot . . . It was because of security . . . No, no one else . . . Yeah, and they made me put my arms out like this (puts one arm out while holding the cell phone to her ear) and they frisked me . . . Yeah, they patted me down. They almost touched my ANUS (sic) . . . It was a she . . . And they made me take off my shoos. They left me there barefoot . . . Into some other room . . . I don't know what they were doing with them . . . They took my shoos into another room . . . The new ones, you know? The ones I just bought . . . The ones with the buckle . . . Tell daddy they took my shoos . . . The new ones with the buckle. They took the shoos into another room . . . I don't know . . . No one else, just me . . . No, she didn't have to take her shoos off, just me . . . yeah, I was the only one.The woman sounded like Rain Man. "Yeah, they took my shoos, yeah. Took my shoos. K-Mart Sucks." Some people should not be allowed to have cell phones.
6:57 AM . . .
The grand total comes to 186 DVDs (of mine) and about 20 for gifts.
They're finally home; safe and sound. They had shifted during the handling of my bag, and I thought they'd been stolen.
Now if only I had a DVD player . . .
5:58 AM . . .
Saturday, July 06, 2002
OK, I am reading this Hong Kong Magazine and I'm in the love advice column. This is the link I found to the column on the internet. I'm not ultra-conservative or anything, but the article was a bit out there. Here's an excerpt:" . . . there's nothing abnormal about people who didn't engage in childhood sex play with their siblings."WHEW!! I was beginning to think I was the weird one for a second there.
12:19 AM . . .
Thursday, July 04, 2002
One time when I was about 12 or so, I came home from a soccer practice one night and I was beat. I took my dirty stuff off and threw it down the stairs and jumped in the shower. It was a particularly long shower for one reason or another, and when I went down to dinner, this was the dialogue between my parents and I:Mom: That was quite a long shower, Patrick.I didn't think it was so funny.
Me: Yeah, I guess it was. I'd say about fifteen minutes.
Dad: Heh. Fifteen minute shower . . .
12:59 AM . . .
Tuesday, July 02, 2002
OK. I just went to one of the nicest Chinese restaurants in HK and it was pretty damn good. I walk down stairs, and there's the picture of the chef of the place standing next to the IRON CHEF. The picture didn't say if he was victorious or not, so I assume he lost, but come on; everyone loses to the Iron Chef.
1:10 AM . . .
Monday, July 01, 2002
Today, I went into an arcade and saw a couple of really interesting video games. There was one where you played some sort of bongo drums and this Japanese drum-dog barked and grunted along with you. These are the real popular ones over here. They're the ones with music that you have to supply some sort of beat to, and being white, I am no good at any of these games. I don't know why they're so popular . . . When I look at these machines, all I see is a glammed up vesion of "Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing." You're just reacting to things on the screen and nothing seems to be happening otherwise. The other versions of these things have you play guitar, keyboards, entire drum sets, or hit few buttons on the console like a high spped version of Simon. Some make you dance along to them, but we have those in the US.
This one game that incorporated the Simon aspect was a race game where you went faster by pressing the buttons in the right combination, but you also would lose your balance if you missed many button presses. In the beginning of the race, a dog took a dump and it flew up in the air and landed on a stick that you were balancing. You had to race to be the first to drop it in the toilet. When the first playerr made it to the toilet, the remaining players were left covered in dog doo.
Dog DOOOOOOOOOO. Gonna PUT IT ON YOOOOOOU!
4:11 AM . . .