JF :: Brain Farts :: Archive of July, 2002

Archive of July, 2002

Accelerator (n.) The pedal in a car that, when pressed, makes the car move

July 31, 2002:

Apparently there are a large number of people in this city who think they'll sprain their calf muscle if they apply more than the bare minimum amount of pressure to the gas pedal.

Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ with a Chicken Bucket

July 30, 2002:

Because China is full of incompetent webmasters, the Mozilla users of the world are now stuck with the abomination that is <marquee>.

There goes what was left of my faith in the human race. Get your hands off my browser, you damn dirty apes.

Thought McNuggets

July 29, 2002:

· I've officially had it with baseball. In '94 when the players went on strike, I didn't mind too much; I was young and naive. But now I see that the players and owners are all greedy assholes who care more about the bottom line than they do about the fans. The players get most of the blame, but the owners are guilty too. Let 'em strike. I don't care any more.

· Got an e-mail from one of my former co-workers today. He said he likes my site. So now three people have seen it. I'm movin' on up...

· Just a few more days till the move. I've got just about everything I won't need packed away, but I'm still paranoid about forgetting something.

· When I called Verizon on Friday to move my service, the guy told me it would take three weeks from my call date to get the new DSL line hooked up. At the time I didn't think about it because I'd been on hold several times (Verizon, Duquesne Light, Equitable Gas, etc.). But now I'm wondering why it'll take so long. I think I need to call Customer Service and give 'em a big "WTF."

· Kee-rist it's muggy.

· A friend of mine stopped by a couple days ago and noted with some amusement that the last two things to get packed will be the TV and the computer. I think that sums things up pretty well.

· To-do list... August 1: Sign lease. August 2: Move. August 3: Drink, possible trip to titty bar. August 5: Get job.

· "Win a Dream Date with [Man Show] Juggy [Dancer] Vanessa." I wonder if Comedy Central's site is getting hammered by lonely scripting geeks.

· Since I don't want to move a bunch of food, I'm letting the fridge and freezer run close to empty. Current contents: Two TV dinners, a pack of hot dogs, hot dog buns, pierogies, a gallon of milk and two cans of Vanilla Coke. The fridge in Fight Club was better-stocked.

· Last time I moved I was all worried about somebody not getting my change-of-address form in time. Now I couldn't possibly care less. If they want my money, they need to pay attention to the little box that says "check here if new address."

And finally...

· Will code for food.

Random Factoid

July 27, 2002:

Suffice it to say, I watch a lot of TV. So I'll watch just about anything to break up the monotony. Which brings us to this: Hold your hand out in front of you, with your fingers extended. Which is longer, the index or ring finger?

Odds are, if you're male, your ring finger is noticably longer; girls' index fingers are longer. Apparently those two digits react to the presence of hormones (testosterone or estrogen) while a fetus is developing and cause the disparity.

Here's the real kicker, though. In an activity which one gender has a noticable advantage in (say, running for men) a larger disparity in finger lengths tends to mean more natural ability. In other words, among men with similar training and physiques a man with a larger ring-to-index difference will run faster, due to the larger "hit" of testosterone received in the womb. Freaky, huh?

For the record, my ring fingers are less than ¼ inch longer than the index fingers. And I couldn't run fast if my life depended on it.

Geh.

July 26, 2002:

I am suffering from a complete and total lack of motivation.

I have a list of things to do. Five of them are phone calls. Simple things: Set up services, change my mailing address, ask the landlord for another day so the new landlord can put down new carpet. It could all be done in less than an hour.

And I've had them on my list for the last two days. I just can't be bothered. I need to be bothered soon, though, or I won't be able to waste my time on this site -- a lack of phone and electrical service makes operation of a computer rather difficult.

Bleah. Maybe I'm just tired of starting at the same walls day in and day out. Hopefully I'll snap out of it once I move.

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

July 25, 2002:

In honor of getting my new apartment (yes, that's finally out of the way) I've decided to... wait for it... futz with the site some more!

Basically, I'm going to have jasonfleshman.com point to a site specifically for my job hunt, without all the other stuff here getting in the way. As a result, the Work section of the site will go away and I'll juggle the navigation a bit -- probably into "About Me," "Stories" and "Fun Stuff" or something similar -- for the .org and .net addresses to point to.

Hey, some people spend all their time playing with their cars. I spend all my time playing with my Web site. The way I see it, I have the advantage -- I can foul up the site all I want and restore it from backups. Can't do that with a car.

Holy Shit!

July 24, 2002:

So there I was, surfing the 'Net, minding my own business. I hear a police siren nearby -- very nearby. I look across the living room, through the bedroom, and out the front window just in time to see the light-bars from six cruisers rush by.

My curiosity piqued, I rush outside to question the landlord, who was watching it all from the front porch -- "What the fuck was that?" He gives me the dirt on what he saw -- some black kids in an old Olds went screaming up the street with eight cop cars in hot pursuit. I must've missed the first two.

Several of the neighbors were speculating on what the kids had done to get that many police from multiple departments after them.

Watching the news today, it turns out that three of them broke into a house and threatened the owner. When the owner alerted police, the kids took off. As they passed through various boroughs they acquired more pursuit, and the chase ended in Hazelwood (the neighborhood adjacent to Greenfield) with police from West Homestead, Homestead, Munhall and Pittsburgh apprehending the perpetrators.

And here I'd thought it was just a stolen car.

Dreams

July 23, 2002:

After I wrote out my angst-ridden entry on work, the apartment and everything, I fell asleep pretty quickly. Apparently it was my subconscious's turn to work on things.

I was leaning against a tree, in a formation which was being bitched out by a Marine. Nothing in general, and to be frank it looked more like summer camp than the Parris Island scenes I saw in Full Metal Jacket, but it was boot camp enough I guess.

Anyway, something wasn't pinned onto my uniform correctly (even though a recruit probably wouldn't have anything to pin on his uniform) and I got chewed over it. But the drill instructor moved off as he was letting me have it. I continued to stand at attention, waiting to be allowed to move to fix it, and everyone else started filing into the building. I stood there thinking "they're not gonna trick me that easily," and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

I finally realized that, instead of being clever I'd fouled up again, and realized that this wasn't for me. I picked up my uniform hat and walked to the admin building to tell them I was leaving.

When I got there, everyone was dressed in Navy uniforms, specifically the all-black winter ones, and most of them were wearing midshipman rank insignia. The one officer started yelling at me for not having my hat on outdoors (required) and made me explain myself. I started: "Well, sir, it's one of those things that I don't do on purpose but wind up doing anyway, and it makes me a fuck-up." I'm still addressing the officer but I'm looking at one of the midshipmen, a cute brunette who I've never seen before in my life. "I came here hoping I could learn some self-discipline, but I don't think even this will help me overcome my--" "Your what?" the officer asked me. "My own... laziness." "You came up with that answer pretty quickly," he finished. I was still looking at the girl.

Then I woke up.

The thing that's bugging me is, why now? What's changed recently that wasn't there before? I'm guessing all the midshipmen at the end are because I don't like the way I left ROTC, but why was I at jarhead summer camp? And is all this happening becuase I'm lazy? Should I have a good job and an apartment now, but don't because I wasn't trying hard enough? And why was I focusing on the brunette (well, aside from the obvious -- if it was one of those dreams I wouldn't have reported it) when I was explaining why I'm such a fuck-up?

This must be inportant; I very rarely remember dreams. I just wish I knew the answers. Hell, right now I'd settle for knowing the questions.

Insomnia

July 22, 2002:

I can't sleep.

I'm thinking about the apartment I looked at earlier (the 19th). Thinking about the application sitting on the desk next to me, already filled out. Worrying about the application being rejected even though the rent at the new place would be less than it is here. Trying to think of what will happen if it does get rejected: I can see myself packing up the truck to drive back to Akron, where all my stuff would go into storage. My mother, father, stepfather and stepmother all trying to convince me that it ain't all that bad; that a lot of people move back in with their parents, at least temporarily. I see myself sitting in front of my computer, typing an e-mail for Melman to pass along. Trying to find a nice way of saying, "I couldn't get a job after five months, or even find an apartment in the entire city of Pittsburgh."

Trying not to think about what a total and abject failure it would be.

Then I realize that I probably will get the apartment, and I start thinking about how odd the layout is: The living room is at ground level, with a hallway leading toward the back of the house. Then there's a set of stairs down to the (finished) basement where the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom are, in that order from the stairwell. Something in the back of my brain doesn't like the fact that I'll probably take this apartment just for the sake of having an apartment, even though I'm not terribly thrilled about it. Because I don't want the first thing I was thinking about to happen.

I'm also thinking about the cute blonde girl that showed me the place. The insecure part of me wonders whether I'd have any chance at all with her, like she's some kind of frickin' royalty instead of someone who works in a crappy office for a company that rents cheap apartments.

You know, it's probably a good thing I don't have a girlfriend right now, because I'd probably have driven her up the fucking wall weeks ago. On the other hand, maybe I just need to get laid.

"It's now five and a half minutes after two AM, and you're listening to WBMN, the bitching and moaning network." Y'know, I started doing these entries to try to provide some kind of entertainment value for whoever stumbled across them. I never knew they'd turn into therapy.

Well, I've unloaded now. Thanks for letting me vent my frustrations. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Update: As the logical half of my brain was trying to tell me all along, it's going fine. I just gave them the security deposit and rental application. All that's left is the credit check, and since I pay my bills on time, that won't be a problem either. Let's hear it for not moving back to Akron!

I Think I Found An Apartment (Again)

July 20, 2002:

This one's in Friendship, like a lot of the others I've looked at. I should be getting the money from my parents (I have to borrow for the security deposit) this weekend, so I can call them first thing Monday when I wake up to get this application turned in.

Of course, I'll hang on to the classifieds in Sunday's paper, just in case the fates shit on me again.

Ozone Action Days ... Hah!

July 19, 2002:

Due to the extreme mugginess here (What, Pittsburgh in the summer? No!) we've had a few ozone action days. Basically, electrical discharges like those made by a spark plug produce ozone. Just to prove I remember high school chemistry, that's 3O₂ + E -> 2O₃. Normally this isn't bad because the ozone dissipates before it becomes concentrated enough to cause problems. Not when it's muggy though -- it just sits there. So we have Ozone Action Days during which we're supposed to cut back on running combustion engines (cars, lawnmowers, etc.).

What did I do on the last action day? I drove around a few Pittsburgh neighborhoods at not much more than idling speeds, trying to get phone numbers for possible apartment rentals. I was out yesterday for about an hour. So if you know any asthmatics in the Pittsburgh area who had an attack yesterday, it's all my fault.

More On The Pledge

July 18, 2002:

Silly me, I though that this whole pledge of allegiance mess was behind us. Guess I should've known better.

The True Believers are still flogging their dead horse, trying to convince us all that the Pledge of Allegiance is constitutional because... er...

Well, thery're still working on the "because" part. But they're right, goddamnit, and all of us anti-American commie pinko atheistic child-molesting Satanists had better toe the line. Or something.

Anyway, in a rare departure from pandering, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette printed a letter from both an atheist applauding the decision and a hyper-religious Christian who thinks the children's immortal souls will all be doomed to Hell if they aren't forced to ally themselves with the Almighty Superbeing™ every weekday morning, except for vacations.

Here are excerpts from two letters to the editor:

As if we don't have enough to worry about, some narrow-minded patriots want to take "under God" out of the Pledge of Allegiance.

I don't care what your religious beliefs are, they all profess to have a supreme being ....

"Under God" was inserted in the pledge in 1954 after the conflict in Korea, probably giving our servicemen and women a boost in their morale after a conflict that cost us thousands of American lives and injuries.

Now what do we want to do? We say, "Get out of our lives, God, we don't want you around any more." ...

The United States is the most lenient country in the world regarding tolerance of citizens' religious beliefs. I'm sure all that Michael Newdow, who brought the suit, or any other nonbeliever would have to do is send a handwritten note to his child's teachers stating that he did't [sic] want his child to participate in the Pledge of Allegiance and his wishes would be granted. Why take this right away from all our children?

If you want to know about God, ask any combat veteran. God is at his side when he wakes up in the morning. God follows him into combat and God accompanies his remains to his gravesite....

Let us all renew our faith in God, our country and our flag. God bless America!

I have to applaud the atheist who brought the issue of the Pledge of Allegiance and its reference to "under God" into the limelight. I, too, am an atheist, and while I was still in high school I would refuse to stand for the pledge.

Although students are not required to stand for the pledge, it goes without question that the majority do .... Some teachers do find it offensive not to stand for the pledge and will make quite a large deal out of a student who refuses to.

I never stood for the pledge not because I hated America, as students or teachers would say every once in a while, but because I am an atheist ....

Patriotism is a trend now, not an expression of love of your country. Perhaps the United States and its citizens should take a step back and maybe realize that what they have been doing is wrong ....

Now, you all know which side of the issue I'm on, so I'll skip that part. What I'm going to focus on is how the "true believers" behave towards atheists.

Re-read the first letter. Look at the arrogance of it -- my religious beliefs profess the existance of a supreme being? No they don't: My belief regarding religion is that there is no such thing as a God (or gods). Talk to a Hindu about God, and he's likely to ask you "which one?" Actually, he's more likely to decide that you're an ignorant American and pretend not to speak English. Only three religions -- Judaism, Christianity and Islam -- hold a belief in a single all-powerful God.

Well, the kids can elect not to say the Pledge, the believers say. Well, yes they can. But now look at the atheist's experience -- teachers making a big deal out of it, other students and teachers saying he hates America. In a word, ostracism. Or at least embarrassment. Because his belief system doesn't need a God propping it up. Is not saying the Pledge really an option for a kid who wants to fit in? I don't think so either.

Any veteran will know about God. God is with our warriors. Sounds a lot like what the enemy's saying isn't it? Of course, more people have died because of God than anything else in the history of mankind. Reminds me of a George Carlin routine: "'Do you believe in God?' 'No.' *BLAM* Dead. 'Do you believe in God?' 'Yes.' 'Do you believe in my God?' 'No.' *BLAM* Dead. 'My God has a bigger dick than your God!'"

I wish this debate had taken place 10 years ago, while I was in high school. It would have been nice to know how I would have reacted as a budding atheist -- would I have spoken up and said the Ninth Circuit Court was right? Would I have clammed up? Would I have opposed the court based on a mistaken interpretation of freedom of religion?

God is a hot topic -- in fact, Usenet calls highly-polarized debates "religious" due to the fact that they tend to be argued on emotion instead of logic. I don't think there are many people out there who can discuss the idea of God's (non)existance without taking it personally.

It's a shame, because if people could step back and take a look at the actual decision -- that "under God" is morally equivalent to "under Jesus Christ," "under Allah," "under Vishnu" or "under no God" -- they would see that the court is actually preserving the rights of people to believe in their own personalized interpretation of God, and where it truly belongs: The home or in a church/synagogue/mosque.

As a parting shot, the Senators all standing up to recite the Pledge reminds me of a parable from one of the books of the (Christian) Gospel. The story asked who was really more pious: Those who loudly proclaim their religion for all to hear or those who, confident in their beliefs, rightfully keep their religion between them and God. The parallels are astounding.

Update: Over on the Spinnwebe forums, Zompist posted the actual location in the Bible. It's Matthew 6:1-6.

My Own Brain Hates Me

July 17, 2002:

Backstory: Friday while I was watching TV, there was a commercial featuring Neil Diamond singing "Cracklin' Rosie" as an ad for Rosie O'Donnell's talk show. They bring out Rosie's replacement, Caroline Rhea, and Neil switches over to "Sweet Caroline."

I saw that twice in about an hour.

Then I woke up Saturday morning and the archive section of my brain was playing back -- on loop, mind you -- all the Neil Diamond songs I'd been subjected to as a kid. As I write this Saturday at noon, I've had the truly abysmal song "Forever In Blue Jeans" (or at least the bits I remember) playing in my head for the last half hour.

If there are no posts for a while, it'll be because this damn "music" drove me insane.

Huh-wha?

July 16, 2002:

I'm looking at an apartment at 8:30 this morning. I usually don't wake up until 10:30. Ugh.

Update: Just got back (it's about 9:00 now). Now, I realize that at my price range I shouldn't expect the Taj Mahal. In fact, I shouldn't even expect one of the Taj Mahal's closets. But this apartment bit.

There was a kitchenette, which I can handle, but it was attached to a living room that was half the size of the one I have now, and L-shaped. The bedroom was big enough for the bed, and that's it. The bathroom was friggin' huge, which is just a waste of space that could have been used elsewhere. And there's no storage available.

Geh. I'm not annoyed because it's a bad apartment. Like I said, there are bound to be a few stinkers in the sub-$500-per-month range. I'm just annoyed that I had to wake up at 7:30 to look at it.

Just So You Know

July 15, 2002:

After letting it grow out since last Monday morning, I can say rather definitively: I look stupid in a goatee.

Fun With the Apartment Hunt

July 13, 2002:

I looked at a place on the 8th that I liked, and took the application home with me since I was the last one looking that day, and the guy's wife in in the car with the engine running as we finished. I called the next day to ask how much (if any) money they needed for the credit check. They called me back the day after that (Wednesday) to say that someone had looked Tuesday and filled out the application on the spot. But he'll call me if it falls through.

Fuckers.

So I'm still looking (the only acceptable apartment I saw last week is long-since taken, which I would expect). I really only have this coming Sunday's paper left to me to find a place (unless there are people out there renting apartments on a week's notice) and then I'll have no real choice but to move back to Akron. Which, in a way, makes it a good thing that I haven't been looking for that computer-schlepping job at Best-Circuit-USA.

Sigh. As always, more to follow.

New Look

July 12, 2002:

I'm guessing you noticed already, if you're a regular reader, that I changed up the look of the site again. I like this much better. As always, let me know if you see any problems in your preferred browser -- I've got everything working in Mozilla, so I'm satisfied :)

Baseball

July 11, 2002:

Wow, people are really getting bent out of shape over this thing, aren't they? Everyone's ready to string up Bud Selig by his short-'n'-curlies. My take? Who could possibly care that much?

I mean, this is the All-Star game. It was created as a mid-summer diversion, to let the fans see their favorite players square off against each other for a game. From all accounts (I didn't watch) it was a really good game -- home runs being brought back by a fielder jumping at the wall, plenty of strike-outs, a couple home runs and some stolen bases. But Joe Torre (of the Yankees, managing the American League) and Bob Brenley (of the Diamondbacks, managing the National League) used up all their pitchers in the first nine innings. Actually, they used all of their players, both position players and pitchers, but the other eight guys can play indefinitely. When you run out of pitchers, you're boned.

And Selig made the right decision. It may not have been the most right decision, but it was right: There's no reason to risk injuring a player for a meaningless game just to avoid having a tied game. Someone suggested a penalty-kicks-style home run derby using the batting-practive pitcher, but that seems even sillier to me than "AL 7, NL 7 (F/11)." So get over it already; it just ain't that important.

But the Ted Williams All-Star MVP... that was a world-class cock-up. The MVP doesn't have to come from the winning team; which player did the most to get his team where it was? That guy gets the award. Instead we have an award, freshly renamed after a very famous player who just died, and nobody received it. Sorry, Bud, you deserve to be raked over the coals for that one.

But that's OK, either there's going to be a strike to cancel the World Series this year, or a lockout that wipes out half the season next year. Compared to that, even the most outraged of fans will consider this dust-up small potatoes.

Update: Hmm, maybe some thing don't die as quickly as I would like to think. From ESPN.com:

Not yet spent, the crowd managed to rain some debris down on the field, Dawg Pound-style.

Oops.

One Thing at a Time

July 10, 2002:

Odd... when I was working, I could have four projects going at once and budget my time accordingly to meet all my deadlines. But with only two items on my to-do list (finalizing the apartment stuff and getting my kinda-job), I can't start one until the other is finished. So I spent all day today waiting for the apartment people to call me back and didn't do anything with the job hunt.

I'm sure there's some psycological nonsense at work here.

Found One

July 09, 2002:

I checked out an apartment in Bloomfield today, and I liked it. Now I just have to fill out the application and get it in and that should about handle it. Well, then there's the whole deal with transferring services, setting up an account with Duquesne Light and doing the change-of-address stuff, but it's a start.

On a related note, I've got most of my non-essential stuff packed already. I waited until the last minute last time I did this, and I learned that I hate feeling rushed like that. I'll warn my loyal reader(s) again later, but there may be a missed day or two around August 1st while the move and DSL transfer happen. Stay tuned for details.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

July 08, 2002:

Note to self: Don't go golfing and then work in the yard on a very sunny day without first using sunscreen. My forehead is currently Krylon red, and it ain't fun.

A.k.a.

July 06, 2002:

Again, you can thank the brain cells that were working at 1:30 AM instead of helping me sleep for this update.

I've found that it's very rare for me to be called by my first name. When I was a kid (up to junior-high, I think) I was usually just called "Jay." In Boy Scouts, since there were several Jasons, I was usually called "Flesh." Once my father became an assistant scoutmaster I became "Flesh Jr." even though Dad actually is a Junior. But everybody knew who was who.

Once I got to college I spent most of my time in the fraternity or (for a couple years) getting bitched at in ROTC. ROTC used last names almost as default, and the fraternity had multiple Jasons. So for pretty much all of college I was "Fleshman." People I know from college still tend to call me that. There were a few attempts at hanging nicknames on me (like "Peanut" -- don't ask) but they never stuck.

When I started playing Team Fortress Quake I needed a screen name. One of the fraternity brothers my freshman year called me "Flesh-meat." (He was a jarhead, this amused him.) So, when combined with the fake clan a few of us created, the screen name became "FleshMeat[stg]." That's also the username I used for my LiveJournal account.

At work, I actually got to use my first name (for once I was the only Jason around) but since we were all a bunch of weird people, we decided to come up with rapper names for each other (actually, it was all Keith's idea). Mine was "Fleshy J." I thought it was funny. One of the women thought it was disturbing. She was out-voted. In addition to being my LJ "name," it's also my Counter-Strike screen-name: "[pimp]FleshyJ." (Yeah. Clan PIMP, bi-atch.) Of course, the lastest "upgrade" broke my install, so I haven't played lately.

Finally, there's "JJ." When the DFC and IADL were running, I submitted my captions as JJ. When the fora launched, I kept the screen name. Ditto for the IRC channel. One of these days I'll wake up, and won't know what the hell my real name is...

Which of these do I prefer? Well, "Jason" is always a pleasant surprise. "Fleshy J" is always good when you want me to be sure you're talking to me. Yelling "Flesh-meat" will probably cause me to go deer-in-headlights for a couple seconds if you sound enough like Monta. But as I've said elsewhere, it's all good; just don't call me "Jayce."

Little White Ball, Big-ass Club

July 05, 2002:

I've found that I can watch golf on TV for a little while now that I've started golfing from time to time. It's interesting, and almost educational, to watch how the pros play out a hole as compared to how I'd go about it. Of course, they can drive more that 120 yards and do so accurately, while I'm still trying to hit double-par. But it's at least intersting now, compared to the other stuff on Sunday afternoons.

Decisions, Decisions

July 04, 2002:

Lotsa stuff I have to think about. And I'm not exactly a quick-make-a-decision type. Anyway, the meat of it is: I'm still unemployed, I should really get a job to tide me over for a while, and my lease expires in four weeks.

I have a few options with the lease thing. I could get a new apartment here, but I'd possibly have to break the lease at some point. And the only apartment I saw last week that I really liked won't let me break the lease at all during the winter. I could move back in with Mom and Jim, which kind of goes against my whole "Akron's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there" ideal. There's the possibility of moving to DC and getting the hold-me-over job there. Finally, Shields offered to let me "pull a Tristan" and sleep on his sofa while I try to find work in Atlanta.

It took me a while, but I've finally got it figured out. I think. Akron, while being good initially, would suck long-term. There are no computer jobs that I've been able to find in the Cleveland-Akron-Canton corridor, which would leave me stuck in my not-quite-job for a long time, since most people are hiring locally. Atlanta would also be cheaper, but I don't know anyone there except for Shields. And I wouldn't have time to try to set up (what passes for) my social life while working -- probably with overtime -- and looking for work and looking for an apartment. It's a nice offer, but no. Washington DC sounds good -- I know about 10 people there and there's a much larger job market for people like me. It's also a lot more expensive, and I'm not sure I could afford to look for work there.

Which leaves the 'Burgh. I'm staying here. I'll get my not-quite-job, look for work, and try to find a lease that I can break on x days' notice any time of the year. If I don't see anything good in Sunday's paper I'll sign up for the not-during-the-winter place and put my search on hold for a couple months. Worse things have happened.

And all the while I'll just keep in mind the old maxim that "whatever does not kill me makes me stronger."

As always, my loyal reader(s) will be the first to know what's going on.

Count Your Blessings

July 03, 2002:

I realize that I tend to drone on sometimes, and I feel bad about it -- I like to think I'm a better writer than that. But no matter how bad I get, just be glad that I'm not Ben Schumin.

Self-Esteem

July 02, 2002:

Spinn just finished renovating his site, and it looks pretty cool. Now I'm even more dispappointed with my own design abilities.

Damn.

July 01, 2002:

Just got a note from my landlord a couple days ago. They're going to renovate my apartment, so I won't be able to live in it. I was hoping I'd be able to sign a month-by-month deal, so if I got an out-of-town job I could just up and leave. Now I have to decide within the next month whether I stay or go. Or try to break a lease, which I doubt is fun. Eesh.

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