January 30th, 2003

(no subject)

Last night after work we had a "Website Kickoff Party" downtown at the Hyatt. This is something that had been planned for a while. I really didn't know what it was supposed to be. Turned out to be a big ole schmooze-fest. It sucks because I hate that kind of crap, but at the same time I feel drawn to it. I feel like I should perfect my schmoozability techniques in order to circulate myself, raise my profile, network, you know, lay the groundwork for potentially advancing my career.

But christ, I was in a cigar bar called Leathers that was filled with dark wood, leather, mirrors, sconces, meatballs, and guys drinking brandy and chewing on cigars. I'm so out of my element in a place like that. I need to move to somewhere where a work party has laser light shows and DJs. I don't like golf, I don't smoke cigars, I guess I'm never going to get anywhere in this town.

It was interesting to watch the groups of people, the circles of people that formed. I would have liked to have just sat down and watched, but I felt too obligated to participate. It was interesting to watch who was networking and who wasn't. Some people came in and worked the room, lingering with those who had higher status, chatting about who knows what and laughing at the appropriate volume. Other people formed little circles of familiarity and almost hid. If you're a part of that group, you go find someone you already know and are somewhat comfortable with, you drink a lot and you chat with them. You don't drink for fun so much though, more so you have something to do with your hands.

My natural inclination is to be one of those, one of the "hiders". Not a "schmoozer". Actually my inclination was to leave after ten minutes, but again, I felt this weird compulsion to at least be seen for a while, to talk to whomever I could.

I've become everything I swore I never would.

I wish there were a job that paid about twice what I'm making now, that would pay for me to go to school, that would have me doing the same thing I'm doing now, living somewhere with geographical features. Then I could buy a zippy cornery car and afford to remodel my house and stuff.
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(no subject)

You're going to see this coming a mile away. I'm going to start typing and as you read you're going to say to yourself "why would he be posting about this, unless...ah ha! I know what's going to happen!" Well, keep it to yourself. Let me tell the story. I am imparting a tale of my moronitude for your entertainment, so shut the fuck up and appreciate it.

So Tandra's been in bed the last few days since she had her appendix out. I haven't been able to keep up with the dishes as much as I would like. I want to make jello for her, but all the saucepans are dirty. So I start looking around and I find this nice piece of Pyrex. My mom bought this round pyrex thingy for me when I first moved out into my own apartment. She said "you can cook with this on the stove, you can put it in the microwave (I didn't have one at the time), you can put it in the dishwasher, and it has this plastic lid so you can store stuff in the refrigerator." So I'm thinking to myself "Hey, Pyrex is freaking invincible, I'll use that."

So I boil up some water, dump the jello powder in, stir it up, put in the cold water. Very good. Now I'm supposed to let it chill, right? So I pick it up with an oven mitt and I put it in the fridge.


Uhhh... what was that?

Right, so apparently you can do all that stuff with Pyrex, just not in rapid succession. The temperature change fractured the Pyrex. Fortunately it just broke into a few large pieces instead of shattering into millions of tiny glass slivers inside my refrigerator.

*tink* *sound of a bubbling brook*

Aw, FUCK! Not only did it break, but (as you might imagine) the hot, sticky, unsolidified jello-water ran all down the inside of my refrigerator into the crisper drawer and underneath the drawers.

Thirty minutes, 1.5 rolls of paper towels, 1 semi-warm refrigerator and 1 refrigerator disassembly/cleaning/re-assembly later, I was right back where I had started, minus one box of jello and one nice piece of Pyrex.

All right, NOW you may talk smack. ("Smithers, release the hounds.")

(no subject)

Because this is such a great shot, I'm posting it outside an lj-cut for you guys. Tandra took it. It was in the previous post as well. This picture just keeps growing on me.

I love penguins. I have loved penguins ever since I saw a National Geographic special on them on PBS. I saw it on PBS and not on Discovery or something because as a child my parents (father mostly) were too cheap to buy cable television. The second part of my adolescence was defined by the emerging internet, and boy was I ever a part of that. But the first part was the MTV generation, and I grew up completely without it. I was socially retarded for a while. Seriously.

Anyhow, I was watching this special on penguins and I was moderately interested until I saw some shots of them swimming. Then I saw some shots of them waddling around on the iceberg or whatever it was they were hanging out on. And I started wondering to myself, how the heck do they get up on that ice thingy from being in the water?

They do it by getting a running (swimming?) start, SHOOTING up out of the water, and landing on their bellies, coming to a sliding stop on the ice. How freaking cool is that? Penguins know how to have fun. And that's why I like penguins.

Tandra has magical fingernails. I am convinced of this. All my life since I was a little kid, I like to have my back tickled. My mom used to do it when I was little. She would just lightly run her fingernails across my back, shoulders, and arms. It's so relaxing. Anyhow, I'd always tried to get my girlfriends to do that. Some of them would, but none of them were ever as good at it as my mother.

Then came Tandra. She tickles my back as good as or better than my mom. But that's not the kicker. The kicker is that one time my back itched and I asked her to scratch it. She did, to her unending dismay, I'm sure. Having someone else scratch me has never really done anything for me aside from scratching an itch I can't reach, but when she scratches my back I'm in heaven. She scratches my back so good that other parts of my body start to itch out of nowhere, as if they are crying out for her fingernails, "don't leave me out!" Her fingernails are incredibly strong. Tandra says all her boyfriends have enjoyed it as much as I do. And the coolest part is that they work on her too. She can get as much satisfaction out of scratching herself as I get out of being scratched by her.

mmmm, scratches :-)

(I swear, I was a dog in my last life)
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(no subject)

Oh yeah, oh yeah, rally Monte Carlo is on tonight, and the President of Speed is going to send me a free t-shirt :-)

It's not much to be excited about, just a cheap-ass t-shirt, but it's still pretty damn cool that the PRESIDENT and CEO is sending it to me :-)
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