Well, I don’t really have much to blog about, but both Tim and Travis have done the meme, so I feel like I can waste 20 minutes listening to music and trying to be clever. Here goes:

Opening Credits: Stan Bowles - The Others. Ah, my movie is going to be fast paced and Anglophilic. Possibly “Velvet Goldmine”-like. Sounds like fun.

Waking up: It’s On - The High Strung. Chiming upbeat anthems about infidelity really set the mood for the day.

Falling in love: Sha-la-la-la-lee - The Small Faces. “I held her close and I asked if she was gonna be my baby. It felt so good when she answered me ‘Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh yeah!’” Apparently love makes me act like a child of the 60’s. Who knew?

Fight song: Gettin’ Hungry - The Beach Boys. So my fights involve “searching for a pretty girl”, start and stop organ lines, and three part harmony.

Break up song: What Do You Do When Love Dies - Dusty Springfield. “What do you do when love dies? Somebody help me, I’m losing my mind!” Perfect choice. Passionate, and still somehow upbeat, leading us to…

Making Up: Love Train - Wolfmother. Make-up sex, 70’s hard rock style. Oh yeah.

Life’s Okay: Teenage Kicks - The Libertines. Apparently things going well still means “I need excitement and I need it bad. Wanna hold you, wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight and get teenage kicks all through the night.” Sounds pretty good, actually.

Mental Breakdown: Fumblin’ with the Blues - Tom Waits. My breakdown is going to involve heavy drinking, prostitutes and shooting pool. I can see the shots of stumbling through the wet city streets at night, neon blinking, a lone Caddy prowling under the bridge.

Driving: G.T. Road - Clinton. Fast-forward to 3 years later, somewhat cleaned up and cruising through the jungles of Southern Asia as a small time arms dealer (or possibly heroin dealer, what do you think?), Thai whore by my side.

Flashbacks: Shooting Stars - Mosquitos. Ah the idyllic days of my youth romping through sunny English meadows and Mediterranean beaches.

Happy Dance: Imperial Attack - John Williams (Star Wars OST). Happiness is having a battle station that’s fully operational.

Regret: Don’t Ask Me Why - The Eurythmics. “You spoiled the best years of your life. You took them all in vain. Now you think that you’re forgiven, but you can’t be born again.” Apparently the arms dealing, the whoring, and heavy drinking took their toll. Who would have thought?

Final Battle: I Got You (At the End of the Century) - Wilco. Alright, apparently I’m only going to make it through 2000, cause I keep talking about how the 70’s were great. But I’m getting my girl back, cause I can’t think of anything but her.

Death Scene: Roadrunner - The Modern Lovers. So this is how I’m going to go… radio on, cranked up, driving down a windy New England highway in the middle of the night, off into the ditch, smashed into a tree at 75, smile on my face, I’m in love with rock and roll! All of this is kind of making me feel like some sort of more Eurocentric Hunter S. Thompson kind of character.

Final Credits: I’m On Standby - Grandaddy. In which the end of life is kind of like being a computer down for maintenance. Once the work order is completed, we can go back online. It’s jut the turn of the century version of reincarnation.

APPEARANCE
I am shorter than 5’4.
I am taller than 5’11”.
I have many scars.
I tan easily.
I don’t shave my legs.(regularly)
I wish my hair was a different color.
I have a tattoo, or more.
I am self-conscious about my appearance.
I have/had braces.
I wear glasses just to read.
I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
I’ve been told I’m attractive by a complete stranger.
I have/had more than 2 piercings.
I have/had piercings in places besides my ears.
I have freckles.
 

FAMILY/HOME LIFE
I’ve sworn at my parents.
I’ve run away from home.
I’ve been kicked out of the house.
My biological parents are together.
I have a sibling less than one year old.
I want to have kids someday.
I have children.
I’ve lost a child.
 

SCHOOL/WORK
I’m in school.
I have a job.
I’ve fallen asleep at work/school.
I almost always do my homework.
I’ve missed a week or more of school.
I’ve been on the Honor Roll within the last 2 years (of school)
I failed more than 1 class last year.
I’ve stolen something from my job.
I’ve been fired.
I’ve skipped school.
 

EMBARRASSMENT
I’ve slipped out a “lol” in a spoken conversation.
Disney movies still make me cry.
I’ve peed from laughing.
I’ve snorted while laughing.
I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried.
I’ve glued my hand to something.
I’ve laughed till some kind of beverage came out of my nose.
I’ve had my pants rip in public.
 

HEALTH
I was born with a disease/impairment.
I’ve gotten stitches.
I’ve broken a bone.
I’ve had my tonsils removed.
I’ve sat in a doctor’s office with a friend.
I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed.
I’ve had serious surgery.
I’ve had chicken pox.
My vision is better than 20/20.
 

TRAVELING
I’ve driven over 200 miles in one day.
I’ve been on a plane.
I’ve been to Canada.
I’ve been to Mexico.
I’ve been to Niagara Falls.
I’ve been to Japan
I’ve been down under.
I’ve Celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
I’ve been to Europe.
I’ve been to Africa.
I’ve been to Hell.
 

EXPERIENCES
I’ve gotten lost in my city.
I’ve seen a shooting star.
I’ve wished on a shooting star.
I’ve seen a meteor shower.
I’ve gone out in public in my pajamas.
I’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
I’ve kicked a guy where it hurts.
I’ve been to a casino.
I’ve been skydiving.
I’ve gone skinny dipping.
I’ve played spin the bottle.
I’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.
I’ve crashed a car.
I’ve been skiing.
I’ve been in a play.
I’ve met someone in person from the internet.
I’ve caught a snowflake on my tongue.
I’ve seen the Northern Lights.
I’ve sat on a roof top at night.
I’ve played chicken.
I’ve played a prank on someone.
I’ve ridden in a taxi.
I’ve seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I’ve eaten Sushi.
I’ve been snowboarding.
 

SEXUALITY
I’ve had a crush on more than one person.
I’ve had a crush on someone of the same sex.
I’ve kissed someone of the same sex.
I’ve had a crush on a teacher.
I am a cuddler.
I love to flirt.
I’ve been kissed in the rain.
I’ve hugged a stranger.
I’ve kissed a stranger.
 

HONESTY/CRIME
I am a terrible liar.
I’ve done something I promised someone else I wouldn’t.
I’ve done something I promised myself I wouldn’t.
I’ve snuck out of my house.
I have lied to my parents about where I am.
I am keeping a secret from the world.
I’ve cheated while playing a game.
I’ve cheated on a test.
I’ve run a red light.
I’ve been suspended from school.
I’ve been in a fist fight
I’ve witnessed a crime
I’ve been arrested
I’ve shoplifted
 

DEATH & DYING
I’m afraid of dying.
I’ve fantasized about my own death.
I hate funerals.
I’ve seen someone dying.
Someone close to me has attempted suicide.
Someone close to me has commited suicide.
I’ve planned my own suicide.—In the past—Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal now.
I’ve written a eulogy for myself.
 

MATERIALISM
I own over 5 rap CDs.
I own an iPod or MP3 player.
I have an unhealthy obsession with anime/manga.
I own multiple designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.
I own something from Hot Topic.
I own something from Pac Sun.
I collect comic books.
I own something from The Gap.
I own something I got on e-bay.
I own something from Abercrombie.
 

POLITICAL/SOCIAL ATTITUDES
In general, I don’t like people. - not completely true, but I figured someone has to bold this one eventually, so why not me?
I’m a feminist.
I’m very outgoing.
I listen to political music
I’m Democratic
I’m Republican.
I’m liberal.
I don’t like Bush because he is dumb.
I don’t like Bush with my own reasons to back it up.
I am for Bush.
I’m religious.
I dress fairly modestly. (but I wouldn’t if I had a better body image)
My attitude is, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
 

RANDOM
I can sing well.
I’ve stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.
I open up to others easily.
I watch the news.
I don’t kill bugs.
I hate hearing songs that sacrifice meaning for the sake of being able to rhyme.
I curse regularly.
I sing in the shower.
I am a morning person.
I paid for my cell phone ring tone.
I’m a snob about grammar.- only a little bit.
I am a sports fanatic.
I twirl my hair.
I have “x”s in my screen name.
I love being neat.
I’ve had Spam.
I’ve copied more than 30 CDs in a day.
I bake well.
My favorite color is blue.
I would wear pajamas to school.
I like Martha Stewart.
I know how to shoot a gun.
I am in love with love.
I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS.
I laugh at my own jokes.
I eat fast food weekly.
I am online 24/7, even as an away message.
I’ve not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
I can’t sleep if there is a spider in the room.
I am really ticklish.
I love white chocolate.
I bite my nails.
I play video games.
I’m good at remembering faces.
I’m good at remembering names.
I’m good at remembering dates.
I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
My answers are totally honest.

So, I was trying to update information on this website just now, and for some reason it didn’t work. I’m going to blame Tim. The site looks great now, though. So I guess I can’t blame him too much. Tim makes things happen. In fact, I wish I could just be incredibly proficient with computer stuff and make things work like he does. But I can’t.

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Comments

Webmaster Tim

2004-09-10T22:17:00.000Z

I (and 4 out of 5 IT managers) recommend using FireFox instead of Internet Explorer. You won’t have problems like these and you’ll have a much smaller chance of downloading viruses, malware, etc. Firefox has gained about 5% of the market share (up to about 10%) in the past year so it’s obviously doing something right.
I fixed it for IE users though. Because they won’t change.

Ian

2004-09-11T15:00:09.000Z

Actually, Tim, I’ve been using Safari, Apple’s proprietary browser. I’ll give FireFox a try, if I can, but the tabbed browsing and robust pop-up control that’s integrated into Safari has made me a very happy camper so far, until the LGT site started telling me that it might not be able to perform the edits I wanted to do because I had less than Mozilla 1.3!

Ian LeClair

2004-09-14T09:08:09.000Z

Ok, so here’s this for you Tim… when I choose “edit page” on the main sites pages and when I choose “add comment” in the diaries I get the same error message: “Mozilla <1.3 beta is not supported! I’ll try, though, but it might not work” It then goes on to give me the editing boxes. In the main page view I get boxes for title, who can view, type, link and summary, whereas in the diary I get “title,’ “posted by,” and most importantly a text box, which the main page thing doesn’t seem to do. When I click “save comment” in the diaries to post my update it takes like normal, but when I do “update” in the main page absolutely nothing seems to happen.

Julie the “Momma Hen”

2004-09-14T14:33:32.000Z

Ian, You should not still be up at 4:09am!  I hope the clock is wrong because you should be sleeping, dreaming of platform wrangling and Rock n’ Roll Groupies.  Get your 40 winks, cause this week is going to be killer!

Tim

2004-09-14T16:33:03.000Z

I tried to make this work with Safari this weekend, but alack, I could not figure out what the heck it’s doing. You’re getting the editor it’s just deciding not to show it for whatever reason. I still recommend Firefox. They released their preview release of 1.0 today so you might try downloading and installing it again. It has all the features that safari has I believe (like tab browsing).

Foxinwater

2005-12-25T22:21:32.000Z

You said it yourself, “Tim makes things happen.”  That’s because Tim is a winner; he hangs out with winners.  You, on the other hand, hang out with losers, like that weird woman who writes Asian plays.  Get a life!

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2010-09-16T07:03:27.000Z

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Ok, so since I’m totally incapable of just sticking with one thing, my rambling mind has come up with a new project… I’m going to interview people and find out all about them, just like on reality TV! So here’s a request: Imagine you are a celebrity and are being interviewed by a major magazine. What would you want to be asked? How would the setup be? Who would you want to be the interviewer?

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Comments

Tarv

2004-05-10T20:55:08.000Z

I keep trying to answer this, and, well, this is a hard question.  You sorta have to put yourself in the mindset of “everything I have to say is interesting and/or important and someone should be interested in what I have to say about topics X, Y, and Z, and they should present my words to the public in a professionally polished well glossed widely distributed format.”  And that’s hard.

Julie

2004-05-10T22:40:58.000Z

I think one really good thing is for the interviewer to be naked.  This immediately puts the interviewee at ease, because they may be nervous at being interviewed, but at least they have their clothes.

In the summer of 1977 the boy first found the book.  It was a very distinct looking text.  The cover was plain and unadorned, worn by many hands.  Inside, the pages had originally been stitched in, but the stitches had disintegrated with time, and many of the pages were practically falling out or only held in by staples and yellowing cellophane tape.  It was a most unusual book.

 It had been a beautiful day that July 17th, mild and sunny with a light breeze.  The boy was staying at his grandparents home in suburban Connecticut for two weeks while his parents were in California for their work.  They were in planning and real estate development and the boy was pretty sure they were thinking of moving their business to the West Coast, probably so they could make more money.  George and Margaret had been married young and the boy came along soon after.  He quite often felt that perhaps his parents regretted having a kid, as if the responsibility of caring for him was an unwelcome burden, a cramp in their style. 
 The boy didn’t mind staying with his grandparents, though.  His grandmother, Edith spoiled him just enough, while Frank, his grandfather, was always working on his different machines in the garage and loved to take time to explain them all to the boy.  Frank had been a mechanical engineer starting during the world war at the then very new Sikorsky plant near their home in Bridgeport, CT.  He had helped design the helicopters that the men of the boy’s father’s generation had known well in Korea and Vietnam.  Frank had retired about five years ago but never got used to not having somewhere to go everyday.  Now he spent most of his days in that poorly lit garage.  Tools, boxes of spare parts, and disassembled clocks and gears had long crowded out the possibility of having an actual automobile in there.
 

That day Frank was of course working on something.  A lawnmower, the boy thought.  Edith had gone to the hairdresser’s that morning to have her perm reset and had been by the IGA grocery on the way home.  She was now in the kitchen preparing a meatloaf for their dinner.

 The garage sale was actually being held down the street at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church.  Frank and Edith’s neighbor, Mrs. Parkwood, was organizing it.  The Ladies Auxiliary was raising funds for an orphanage in Ethiopia, “because the poof African children have so little.”  Mrs. Parkwood and the other ladies had collected donations from everyone’s attics and garages in the neighborhood and put prices on them and arrayed them on folding tables in the grange hall and outside on the lawn.  Edith had donated some of her old knitting supplies she wasn’t using anymore and had convinced Frank to part with a couple of radios he’d repaired but they didn’t need littering up the house.  Mrs. Parkwood herself was the cashier and after selecting your purchases you would bring them to her and she would make change.  The Ladies Auxiliary had a sale like this every year, though always for a different cause, and Mrs. Parkwood always took charge of the cash box. 
 

The boy went down to the sale alone that afternoon.  Edith had already been by that morning before her hair appointment, and Frank never went to these sales.  “Why would I want somebody else’s old junk anyways?” he always said.  The boy suspected that Frank just didn’t like Mrs. Parkwood and was rather cheap to boot.  Frank and the boy had been on many expeditions to the town dump where Frank would uncover wonderful finds to bring back to the garage.  Lamps with a broken switch, or chairs with legs missing, he would bring them back and repair them all.
 

The book caught the boy’s eye at first because it was out of place.  It didn’t belong where it was.  The ladies had a special table for all the books, separated into different sections:  paperback, mystery, romance, non-fiction, etc.  But this book wasn’t on the book table.  It was in amongst a table mostly filled with old tools and kitchen utensils and dishes.  The boy saw it lying there underneath a potato masher that had seen better days and a couple of green glass salt and pepper shakers.  The boy picked it up out of curiosity.  There was no title on the cover or on the spine, and when the boy opened to the first page expecting a title page and the author’s name there were none.  Whether the book originally had a title page that fell out or if there never was one the boy didn’t know.  Either way the text started immediately.  It was printed in this old-fashioned type face, as if the book was like a hundred years old or something, and rather than filling all the pages it seemed to only go halfway through and then stop, to be taken over by various handwritten passages and type or mimeographed sections pasted in. 
 

The boy wasn’t much of a reader, but flipping through the pages he started to become fascinated.  He wasn’t even really reading the text, but more so looking at all the different handwritings, the sections added on, the notes in the margins.  The book had seen lots of different hands before.  Without quite knowing why, the boy decided he wanted the book.  There was no price tag on it, and looking down the row of tables at Mrs. Parkwood perched on her folding chair, the boy knew what he needed to do.  Holding the book nonchalantly at his side he started walking down the row of tables.  He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Mrs. Parkwood was making change for a middle-aged woman buying a slightly used set of juice glasses.  The boy took the book in his left hand, and raising up the hem of his orange T-shirt with his right, he slid the book down the front of his jeans, leaving it pressed in between the waist and his stomach.  It was the first act of theft the boy had ever committed.

I recently discovered a mix tape I made back in high school.  I can remember making it quite well.  A friend of mine used to say that she only liked “happy” songs.  By that I think she meant songs that were upbeat, kind of poppy, and fun to dance or run around to.  So I made her this mix tape.  Side A is labelled “Love Song/Happiness.” Side B is “Happy Songs/(sort of).”  It must have been 1996.  I was a Junior in high school, and was beginning to have inklings of urban, post-modern culture, of style, and irony.  You must remember that this is rural New Hampshire we’re talking about.  Right around this time I had bought some old records at a local garage sale.  Lots of 70’s and early 80’s stuff, disco, etc.  Quite a bit of it ended up on this mix tape:  Gloria Gaynor, Bee Gees, Kool and the Gang “Celebration,” Elton John “Crocodile Rock,” Cyndi Lauper, “Footloose.”  Recorded onto a cheap tape off my dad’s turntable these songs now sound like they’re litterally being broadcast from another age.  Playing that tape today sounds like tinny transmitter radio reception, the type of sound that hasn’t been heard since the early 80s, which I’m beginning to be afraid I’m becoming nostalgic for.  Of course 80s nostalgia has come and is almost gone again and I was highly critical of it, but now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m belatedly getting it or if I was just being stupid and stubborn before now.  Anyways, that tape didn’t have just old stuff on it.  There was neo-hippie shit (remember, this was rural NH!) like Phish, and Rusted Root, and some vaguely cool stuff like the Cardigans, and Violent Femmes.

In the end I never ended up giving this girl the tape I made for her.  I’m not sure why.  I think she probably would have appreciated it.  Maybe I thought that she wouldn’t at the time.  Maybe I just forgot.  Maybe the parts that the record skipped made me think the tape was not good enough to give away.  So anyways, I still have the tape.  Listening to it my toes still tap and I want to dance.  I don’t know why I still like it.  Looking back at our taste from our callow youth should be a vaguely embarrasing, though happy thing to do.  Anytime our taste is captured so completely up in something at any given time it should be somehow shameful to still like it many years later, because obviously that means we haven’t quite moved on and grown as we should.  Not that we ever truly do, hence is born the notion of the “guilty pleasure.”  It’s funny, taste is one of those things that’s constantly evolving, both in terms of what our own taste is, and what society deems is tasteful or in style, but somehow everything that we’ve ever liked we still will.  It becomes a part of us, of who we are, and of course of whomever we might become in the future.  Everything we’ve ever experienced is integrated, internalized, turned around and regurgitated as our life, the adventure of us.

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Comments

Your elder music-lover

2004-04-19T15:10:08.000Z

I do not remember when the Cardigans were “vaguely cool”.  How did I miss this?  I still remember that damn, “lovaly lovame” song they contributed to the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember when they were cool, can’t even vaguely remember it.  I DO remember the Darling Buds, who were just an earlier version of the Cardigans, but with more jingle-jangle & therefore better music.  I also remember when the Violent Femmes were cool because they were, dammit.  Shame on you for mentioning them in the same sentence as the Cardigans!  Two demerits for Ian, you will have to sit in the back of hipster class this week.  Tsk Tsk.

The Author

2004-04-22T00:43:42.000Z

Ok, Miss Hipsterer than thou, I know the Cardigans weren’t *Really* cool.  However, I will reiterate again (is that redundant, and if so, I meant to do that):  we are talking about rural New Hampshire.  The music cognescenti where the two guys who had a whole bunch of Grateful Dead shows on tape.  In the early 90’s we still were in the late 80’s and not the good part! 

Furthermore, in the Cardigans defense:  1) they’re from Scandinavia and met in art school, automatically making them cooler than most other people,  2) they had catchy, very upbeat pop songs that could almost instantly be taken ironically, actually putting them ahead of their time, avant-garde so to speak  3) they were on an indie label  4) the AllMusic.com online rock snob compendium still gives their second and third albums 4 and half stars and describes the band as “One of the most pleasing pop groups of the ’90s.”

So There!

Anonymous

2004-05-10T17:43:53.000Z

I’m from Kansas, I never heard of the cardigans:)  Things take an extra 10 years to hit Kansas.

So I was sitting at a coffee shop yesterday (God, how many stories start out like that!) and was just having an iced coffee, doing some reading and writing, etc. It was nice and peaceful, there was a dog, everyone was very Austin chill, and then these kids showed up. They were probably middle-schoolers, around that 12-14 year-old range. They were loud, they were energetic, they were really happy to be hanging out on a Friday afternoon. They started playing Truth or Dare. I think somebody had to strip down to their underwear behind the building at one point, and at another this sweet 13 year old had to come up and ask one of the guys at the table next to me out on a date. Anyways, the point of this is that it was very Amusing, and fun, and made me wish that I was a kid again. Damn that happens way too often. Sigh. Anyways, I was doing some writing and I’ll be posting some of it up here. Read it if you want, make comments if you want.

so… Last night I spent like an hour typing up this long theoretical essay based around the fact that Beck represents the Zeitgeist of the last 10 years, as exemplified by the fact that he performs the theme song to the new movie “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” whose almost old-fashioned and romantic themes of humanism and authenticity overwhelm it’s gimmicry, much like Beck’s new found sincerity is the new pose that isn’t quite as much fun as the old one, but seems more appropriate in this currently very serious world.

But then something went wrong… I attempted to post the update, and rather than it all working everything dissappeared.  I couldn’t get back into the website, everything was messed up and the long essay I wrote was gone.

You know that feeling… even if it isn’t something you’ve put lots of time into, having something you’ve created just disappear really fucking sucks, almost as if someone in a very minor way killed one of your children.

The question I have, though is this… Was God trying to punish me for my hubris and lack of faith?  Or in his infinite mercy, was he preventing me from allowing something to get out there that would have made me look like some sort of pretentious, post-modern, half-baked Greil Marcus wannabe?  Not that such an impression wouldn’t have been accurate…

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Comments

Jeff

2004-04-06T16:25:30.000Z

I’m curious about how someone kills one of your children in a minor way… Does this mean they leave your child just slightly dead? Barely deceased at all. Or does it mean they’ve killed them when they’re still quite young, thus mitigating the damage? It makes sense, I suppose. Far better someone were to kill my two month old, who I’ve barely gotten started with, than to kill my sixteen year old, wasting all the time and resources invested there. Maybe it’s a less serious crime to kill an infant—the parents haven’t had so long to get emotionally attached, and babies are easily replaced. The replacement process is generally regarded to be quite enjoyable, even. But to answer your question, yes god was punishing you, but not for your hubris or lack of faith. It was for cutting off that little old lady while driving to work last week. You remember, the one going 45mph on the lower deck of I-35? God might have let it go, but flipping her the bird through the rear window was just too much.

Julie

2004-04-06T16:38:00.000Z

You were punished because New Beck is not as much fun as Old Beck, and that’s not okay.  You lied, and you know deep in your soul that you lied.  Because even if two planes flew into a couple of buildings, you still like to have fun, you still like to laugh, you still like to groove.  And even in the good parts of Sea Change, you never shake your ass.  Shake your ass and love it!

tim thomas

2004-04-07T14:49:36.000Z

you people need to shut up.

by the way, i wax my bikini area with napalm.

Tim

2004-04-07T17:48:38.000Z

What’s up Brandon! I can’t believe you’re forging my name! And so badly. Everyone knows I sign my name Tim! I’m not talking to you anymore.

And I don’t shave my bikini area.

With napalm or otherwise.

Guess who

2004-04-07T19:05:35.000Z

I am most relieved to find out people can forge each other’s names.  Because I thought Tim had a lobotomy there for a second.  Because he would never say anything about waxing his bikini line with Napalm, whereas I can definitely see Brandon saying that.

Ian

2004-04-07T21:10:48.000Z

Stop talking about Tim and Brandon! Talk about me! IAN!

I am so sad. You guys suck.

Le Easter

2004-04-07T22:48:17.000Z

The reason I don’t write journal entries is because I am afraid this would happen to me. Thank you Ian, I owe you a dollar from my trauma jar.

Real Ian

2004-04-08T04:44:25.000Z

Gee thanks Le, except one problem… I didn’t write that… you see someone out there wants to make me look like some attention-starved neurotic self-centered actory type… which obviously I’m not… It’s just that I’m so cool that everyone feels they must make some comment on my blog, even if it is just serving their own twisted ends and has nothing to do with any natural topic of discussion! On a side note, if one was to bikini wax with napalm, would you be able to bathe afterwards? Just as a practical question…

Tara

2004-04-08T07:23:30.000Z

In order to say something remotely concerning the original blog, I’m not a Beck fan. I haven’t been able to get into any of it that I’ve heard, but I am not anti-Beck or anything.

All you peeps should have received your e-vites by now, in fact I know that most of you have seen it. (I can tell these things.) I just want to make sure that everyone knows that I desperately want you all to come over, and being an attention-starved neurotic ego-centric bloggy type I will most certainly cry if I don’t get a decent crowd.

So please do come to my party, and don’t flame me.

bps

2004-04-08T15:30:53.000Z

Hm? What’s going on here? I just woke up.

Who are you people?

So, a missive from this Brilliant Mind… nah, brilliant minds do not slog through corporatese day in, day out in order to have champagne money. What would be brilliant would be to get out now while the getting’s good before the entire country is subsumed to PC Timeclocks and personalized performance spreadsheets, Individual Development plans and “coaching opportunities,” etc., etc. Sorry, should have been accompanied by a bitterness alert…

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Comments

Barry Levitson, Regional Sales Manager, Zone 11-A

2004-04-02T17:56:28.000Z

Wow!  Individual development plans and coaching opportunities?!  I had to bust my behind for years before I had such great opportunities put in front of me!  Sure hope you can maximize such valuable tools to their maximum potential!

PC Timeclocks?  Good night nurse, what will they come up with next.

Take Care,
Barry Levitson
Regional Sales Manager
Zone 11-A

Watch this space for future missives from this brilliant mind.