And I can send you instant beefcake from anywhere!
What's the point of a camera phone? Hours of entertainment for the road warrior at work.
« January 2004 | Main | March 2004 »
February 29, 2004
Career moves.
So it's no secret that I work in the technology community. WHERE I work is a secret, and I intend to keep it that way - at least on this blog. However, I don't mind talking about the nature of my job.
It is also no secret that I am not a fan (understatement of the decade) of our president and his whole administration. And I definitely don't mind talking about THAT on this blog.
I have recently left the biotech business for health care and radiology. I spent the better part of last week in Orlando learning about my new job and new business unit and hearing our new "pitch" to the industry. In the Powerpoint stack presented by my old boss, a hard-core Republican and yet still a very good friend, the very first slide of our pitch featured a photo of our illustrious leader giving his state of the union speech and included quotes from that wretched talk about computerizing health records to avoid medical mistakes and to reduce costs. As much as his comment is representative of my whole industry and subsequently my job, it's VERY difficult for me to take anything this asshat says seriously.
And it's totally impossible for me to sit there and keep my mouth shut.
So I pipe up from the corner of the room, "uh Pete, good thing he didn't mention nuclear medicine in that talk."
The room just fell apart. And Pete gave me that look like I ought to know better. But even he was laughing.
February 27, 2004
Ruby slippers.
So I came home early. I bailed on the prospect of a weekend in the Caribbean for a weekend at home in the rain. Why? This may sound strange to some of you, but after a couple weeks in someone else's bed, all you really want is to sleep in your own.
Unless the bed is hers , but that's something different entirely.
So I'm home and I have a ton of things to do. Those work people are expecting me to do more and more of that whole "work" thing, I just wrote a $3000 check to Citibank, and for the life of me I can't figure out how I ate that much Wahoo's in a month. I think I may need to lay off on the veggie burritos for a while and definitely need to lay off those trips to Macy’s in San Francisco. I still am short one roommate and subsequently losing an extra $700 a month for the fourth month in a row. The fourth person who has given me a verbal has disappeared without so much as a return call.
I wonder if it's me...
I'd better stop wearing the teddy during the interviews.
Regardless, I'm buying an investment property with my climbing partner, I still need to find a roommate, I'm spending way more than I'm earning, and I really gotta begin to focus on the job. When you add all this up and it seemed like a bad time to blow an extra grand just to spend a weekend on a white sand beach with a cold, umbrella decorated drink and a hot bikini clad tourist whose name I won't remember in a week.
Then again, maybe this weekend would have the perfect time for that.
February 25, 2004
Blog stalking is not a crime. Is it?
I'm not sure if this means I'm really geeky, really creepy, or just really desperately addicted and seriously ought to seek immediate professional help, but I have added her and her as hot buttons to my Treo 600 so I can get my daily blog fix even while on the run.
Yeah. I'm voting for creepy too. But honestly now, aside for porn and, well, porn, they really are the best reasons to be online anyway. Thanks you two for helping me get through a solid ten hour meeting today.
Duh.
I think I miss the phrase "no duh." I even miss the more emphatic "no dueeeey" commonly usually used for heightened effect. My days would be much better if I could occasionally toss a good, hearty "no duuuuh" at the all too frequent displays of idiocy around me. It's tragic that the social expectations for professional behavior prevent it. Seriously. What a gyp.
Speaking of, what ever happened to gyps? I think could use a few more gyps too.
February 24, 2004
Trojan Man.
Thanks for protecting me George!
Those damn homosexuals getting hitched is such a threat to my reality and my future and my ability to eventually enjoy the benefits and sanctity of marriage. Please, by all means, let's burn some legislative cycles in an election year during a time of war in a down economy with Osama still taking aim at our citizens.
Seriously, George. That whole gay marriage thing. I need that constitutional condom to protect me from it. It's a load off my mind. Cause really, it's those pesky gay people I need protection from most of all.
One quick question though: Who's gonna protect me from you?
I'll take fries with that breast milk.
I know people who take their kids to McDonalds several times a week. The modern success of that place is based on it's hyper-successful marketing campaign toward children. Maybe I'm off base, but I'm thinking that in a country with more than 50% of it's population overweight and of those people more than 50% are clinically obese, and with heart disease our leading killer, that maybe, MAYBE giving children a running (OK waddling) start on a lifestyle of beef fat and hydrogenated vegetable oil is maybe not in the interest of our public health.
I'm just sayin’.
And ANY of you people even MENTION the word "moderation" in my comments and I'm gonna beat you with a soybean. There is NOTHING "moderate" about the American diet or the American waistline.
February 23, 2004
Potty people.
I think "keep yourself fuckable" is just about the nicest thing anyone has told me in closing a chat conversation. Really. Think about it. It's way more honest than a "take care" or "be good." Sure it's crass, but frankly, so am I. And if you are visiting my dirty little corner of the internet regularly, I'm willing to bet you are too. I may have a potty mouth, but I'll just blame it on the water here in Orlando cause it sure tastes like it comes from the toilet.
I know I haven't had a lot to say in the last few days, but honest, I have been crazy busy. I've been home for maybe three days in ten, I've had to deal with renting the room and buying a house and paying my bills and a new job and two dates and now I'm in the oh-so-lovely city of Orlando for a conference, and honestly the only reason you are getting this right now is because the convention center has wireless access and I needed a break between the sessions.
So I'm sure I'll have something of substance to write about later with all the activity and all the recent changes and all the reasons I still have to bitch about Bush. I still have tales to tell, but, really, for the first time in a long time I have to spend a bit more time "working" than blogging. So bear with me for at least a few more days. Or at least until I have an evening free and a few hours to get to writing again. So until then, keep yourself fuckable too.
February 22, 2004
Orlando's Magic.
You know it's a bad thing when you can actually SMELL the tap water.
This is the only place I know with water so bad that ice cubes ruin a Coke. Coke!
I swear I would rather drink from the toilet in a Mexican bus station.
February 19, 2004
I really must be nuts.
So a buddy of mine from Thailand bought a boat and has been floating around Cuba and the Caribbean for a month or so. He wants to sail it to Thailand as he has a potential buyer there. It would take a couple months. I'm thinking that sounds crazy. Two months on a boat with a bunch of crazy Aussies smack in the middle of the Pacific and Indian Oceans.
I'm also thinking I really ought to try to join that crew.
Choosing your battles.
For the record, I don't care about the record. Not Kerry's. Not Clinton's. Not Bush's. If you were born of intelligence or privilege and had the opportunity to avoid getting killed in Vietnam, I think you would be stupid not to. Besides, I want a leader who is going to be less inclined to send my brother off to battle. I think a guy who knows how to avoid a fight may well be a better candidate for that job.
How bout we focus on their record on education. And the environment. And corporate corruption. Those are the records I want to talk about.
February 18, 2004
Let's overturn some Z3s.
Ya know, I wasn't ready to let go of this whole gay marriage rant. I got plenty more bones to pick with the world. Frankly, I couldn't care less whether gay people get hitched or not. Has zero impact on my life. What I do care about is that a group of people is telling another group of people what they can and can't do, and, more importantly, are preventing them from having equal rights and equal protections under law.
For what it's worth, I understand their religious aversion to homosexuality. I don't understand the intolerance and hatred, but I do understand their aversion. I have read the Bible too. I seem to recall, however, that coveting is a sin too. That being said, let's outlaw Nordstroms. And Porsches. And Victoria's Secret. Anybody screws with Victoria's Secret and they will face the full force of my wrath.
I think if we are gonna make this an issue this year, we should make this a REAL issue. I want to see riots. Gay parades are already the best kind of peaceful public expression. Imagine a gay riot! I want to see Miatas burning in the streets across the nation. I want to see tacky window treatments and ugly, giant, clown shoes finding their way into homes and department stores everywhere.
Why don't we just make a deal? We give you gay marriage if you promise to take back "Will and Grace." And Nathan Lane. And Richard Simmons. Please. Seriously people. Everybody wins.
February 17, 2004
Here's the rub.
Only because I don't think my telling this story will make it any funnier than the transcript. Or more, uh, stimulating.
TMJ: anal sex advice on love line tonight
TMJ: love the love line
TMJ: drew is a personal hero of mine
BMW: haha, "go slow" and "relax"
TMJ: lol
TMJ: so i am told
BMW: mix some Vicks into the lube
TMJ: OMG
BMW: it's like speeding down the slopes at Mammoth! Cool and refreshing!
Ah, the things you learn on the internet.
February 16, 2004
Deep Thoughts and Random Rants.
Isn't buying a two-wheel drive Jeep kinda like drinking a non-alcoholic beer? Really now. What's the point?
Does having "reduced carb" Orowheat bread with my bowl of penne and marinara count as an Atkins friendly meal? And how do you reduce the carbs in BREAD? Ya wanna know? They make the slices smaller. Marketers are all going straight to hell.
Does ANYONE know what David Lee Roth sings in the chorus of "Ice Cream Man?" Shit, Dave. I've been listening to that song for almost twenty years and I haven't a clue. Neither does the internet as it gives several different options. Good ol' lemonade? Puddin Pie banana? And since when do ice cream men serve Dixie cups?
Can someone please tell me if there is a writer on the internet more deserving of a book contract than her ? This last piece was tender and dirty and nostalgic and hopeful and demure and erotic and just exhibitionistic enough to satisfy the countless digital voyeurs who read her every day. Myself included. Sarah, be mine.
Can someone please explain to me how, while in an election year, in the worst job market in forty years, with the most divided population in decades, while at war, with Osama Bin Laden STILL on the loose, that the most contentious political issue of the day is whether or not gay people can marry? How on Earth can so many people get so upset about this? How does this POSSIBLY impact their lives? How? I want all you moral majority fuckers to email me or post in this blog PRECISELY how the marriage of people you probably don’t know and certainly don’t associate with will change ANYTHING in your day to day life. What? Are you worried that once gay people can marry you will have a harder time finding a decorator? What pisses me off is that half the hypocrites screaming about this are more than likely beating off to lesbian porn on the internet right fucking now. The “sanctity of marriage?” In a country with a 50% divorce rate? I think the sanctity of marriage gets compromised every time one of you right-wing schmucks marries another trophy wife. The “protection of the family?” I think the protection of the family is violated every time a 16 year old girl pumps out an unwanted baby from an abusive, absentee father. God forbid that two adults who love one another and who are not hurting their family or your family or kids or old people or puppies and are contributing members of society should be able to enjoy equal rights under law. God forbid they should be able to publicly commit their lives to the person they love who loves them in return.
Oh. Right. That's your reason. God forbid it. I thought he forbid lying and stealing and killing too. How about we toss a few stones at those people in Washington first before we begin launching boulders at people who love each other. How bout it? Too much to ask?
Thought so.
And for the record, am I the only person who thought Kerry’s support of “civil unions” as opposed to gay “marriage” was the biggest fucking copout since “don’t ask, don’t tell?” His reason is that “marriage” is a religious, spiritual union defined as the joining of a man and a woman. Ok Captain Eggo, if that’s the case, then under separation of church and state the government should have no involvement in marriages whatsoever. Find some balls John, and do the right thing.
February 15, 2004
SERIOUS geeks on parade.
I got these for Christmas in 1988. I used to wear them when I did rounds as an RA in Tinsley Hall. I once walked to a bar in HB in them. AND they roar when I step. If you've got the new AOL Messenger 5.5 that (finally) works with my iSight, I'll show you. Anything else I show you will have to be negotiated.
The best part of living in OC. Besides the weather and the boobs and Dennis Rodman.
For those of you who do not live in Southern California (or Colorado), and do not know the simple, immeasurable joy that is Wahoo's , trust me when I tell you that you don't know what you're missing. I have decided that after years of extensive and often expense account subsedized (sometimes I love my job) research at hundreds of restaurants around the country and around the world that Wahoo's Fish Tacos are dollar for dollar the best restaurants anywhere.
I have been to a half dozen of their restaurants in OC and LA, eaten untold numbers of teriyaki "Banzai" burritos with red sauce, fresh vegetarian tacos with white corn tortillas and guacamole, licked the plates clean after spicy blackened mushroom enchiladas with green sauce, and I have delighted in every four pound vegetarian burrito with black beans that I have inhaled after a three hour visit to the gym. And I'm not including the blackened fish tacos and burritos I was devouring before my occasionally unfortunate but generally enlightened conversion to vegetable killer almost eight years ago.
In ten years of visiting Wahoo's, I have never had a meal that cost me more than $9, never had a meal that took more than four minutes to deliver, never had a meal that didn't leave me totally, completely, blissfully almost cosmically satisfied, usually served with a smile by a remarkably happy older Mexican woman despite the fact she is working in what would under any other restaurant be considered a shitty job, and never once had a meal that made me leave the restaurant thinking anything other than "goodlordallmighty it's a great effing day to be alive!"
Wahoo's is an Orange County institution, and I challenge you to find anyone in this county who does not relish every visit. I also challenge you to find me a better meal, a healthier meal, and as well prepared and served a meal for less than ten dollars ANYWHERE IN THE GODDAM COUNTRY. Anywhere.
I double dare you.
February 12, 2004
Valentine Treats
The chicks, they dig me.
A romantic repeat . I figure it's apropos.
February 11, 2004
Not that there's anything wrong with that...
A gift from Todd . I think I'm out of the closet. I'm not ashamed. Gotta run. Trading Spaces is on...
Directly Disgusted.
Would someone please explain to me how a president has not been elected running on the platform of NO MORE DIRECT MARKETING. Seriously. Even GWB would earn my vote if he ran on this one.
Ok, so I wouldn't vote for him if he ran on a platform of an openminded supermodel in every home, but maybe I would bitch about him less.
Frankly, I find this the most offensive part of modern American society. I'm getting ten new spam messages a day on my private home email - directed to me by name! I’ve been pimped out! I get dozens more anonymously every day on my public Yahoo account. Instant messages, text messages, phone calls, junk mail (at least my super cool and strangely attractive mail carrier who I would probably consider a gay relationship with if I was even mildly interested in dick tosses all the flyers and coupons for me). I feel like I'm drowning in advertisements I don’t want for things I don’t need in places I don’t expect.
It's promotional bukkake, and I'm the one who has to towel off the mess.
Look, I can totally handle advertisements in magazines and trade rags, on television, and in public spaces. It funds the tools and the information and the entertainment I do desire. But my home and my phone is my space. It’s my time. I am not selling or buying or sharing that time or space with anyone. I don't want your message. I don't want your product. And I don't want to be bothered. Not even for cheap Viagra, discount carpet care, free trips to Disneyland or low, low introductory interest rates.
Have at me the minute I walk out that door. Bludgeon me with influence and information if I invite you into my home, regardless of modality. But until I open that door or flip that switch or push that button or fill in that blank, your unwelcome and uninvited attempts to extract money from my wallet feels dirty and coarse and violating. I love the free market as much as anyone. But shouldn't we expect some ethics in our advertising? Some control to our capitalism? Listen guys, just because you were invited to the orgy doesn't give your permission to fuck everyone in the room.
February 10, 2004
Must be something in the water.
Not to be too insensitive, but when the hottest woman I know messaged me and told me that she is pregnant, I wasn't sure whether I should have been delighted or depressed that the baby isn't mine. I'm certainly not ready to be a dad or anything so profoundly life changing, but it also means that it's not me having sex with her either.
Regardless, I wish her and her baby only the best. Although it's gonna take me a while to get used to maternity lingerie when we chat.
February 09, 2004
Dooce Deuce Dookie.
Yep. I'm NEVER having babies. I want to keep my ass intact. This is why I'm never going to prison, regardless of how hot I look in an orange jumpsuit. But Dooce , please, please keep breeding. I promise to send you a lifetime supply of Tucks if you just keep sharing your stories and subsequently making me laugh so hard that I need some for myself. Seriously. Who else could write about vaginal tears and volcanic hemhorroids and still make you laugh? Nobody. Heather, you rule. Even if you can't actually sit on your throne.
February 08, 2004
I don't however get to wear cool leather pants.
So if everything happens as planned, this February I will:
Spend three days in San Francisco/San Jose.
Followed by three days in Phoenix (the current location as of this writing).
Back to San Francisco.
Then to Denver for a day.
San Francisco again.
And off to Dallas for three days.
Then back to Phoenix for several days more.
On to Orlando for five days.
And with a little luck, onto the Bahamas and (hopefully) to Havana. Hey, if I have to spend a week in friggin' Orlando, I'm gonna make the trip east worthwhile.
Total time spent at home in the month of February? Five days. Admitedly, the Dallas trip seems unlikely, so let's call it eight. Sometimes I think Mad Max had it easier. Only he didn't have as many frequent flier miles.
February 07, 2004
You asked for boobies.
You people asked for boobies, so don't say I didn't listen. I'm not sure
this
is appropriate instant messaging attire, but honestly, are you going to argue with her? I think not. It's one of the (many) advantages of having exhibitionist friends.
Who used to be nude models.
And have brand new boobs .
And like to walk around half-naked. Or somewhat less than half-naked.
In front of a web cam.
And for the record, I'm not pimping her out without permission. It's actually at her request. You think I want to ruin a good thing? I may be a pimp, but I'm not stupid.
February 05, 2004
I'm at least as cute as Andrew McCarthy, aren't I?
Ya know, when it's the week before Valentines Day and you are staying in a hotel with a large Victoria's Secret in the lobby, and several times a day you have to walk past those mannequins in fancy little panties and those displays filled with fancy little panties and those pictures of models (goodlordallmighty those models) in fancy little panties, and it's been positively eons since the last time you actually saw a pair of fancy little panties in your bedroom or more importantly on the floor of your bedroom, it can make you really fucking depressed that you don't have someone to buy those fancy little panties for on Valentines Day.
Speaking of Victoria's Secret, I'm not sure just who is modeling for mannequins these days, but seriously, if you know her, give her my number. I remember when a mannequin was a basic, plastic representation of the human shape. Not to sound TOO creepy, but today, they have abs. And curves. And cute little butt dimples. And nipples. Nipples! Oddly enough they have no heads, but they have nipples. Heh. There are a number of men reading this thinking, “at least they got their priorities straight.” Really now, even the mannequins in Old Navy are hotter than any of the women I've ever been lucky enough to go out with. Frankly, the mannequins in Old Navy are so hot that if they were actually real women they sure as hell wouldn't be shopping in Old Navy.
Where is a 1980s version of Kim Catrall when I need her?
I'm going to bed.
February 04, 2004
Calling all Bay Area Bloggers!
By the way, I'm in the city and not leaving till Friday. Any Bay Area blogging types who want to meet up with The Occasionally Mighty One, by all means, ping me here or IM me at:
Yahoo: themightyjimbo
AOL: TMJimbo
Yahoo is the preferred method of reaching out and touching this particular someone.
New Views.
So I have a new job with my employer who shall continue to remain nameless at least on the pages of this site, so my days of commuting up to the Bay Area may soon be coming to an end. But I’m here today and the sun is shining and the wind has died and I have an unobstructed view of the city from the 26th floor of the Westin St. Francis and I have a big king-sized Heavenly Bed and they had a sale on socks and undershirts at Old Navy and simple things like that make me happy and there was a shockingly attractive girl with burgundy suede shoes and a big smile talking to me in the lobby and I just finished a fresh apple and almond tart from the café and with all that in mind, life is in general pretty fucking grand.
I’m going to miss this part of my job.
I’m not going to miss the delayed flights and the long lines and the wretched San Jose International Airport that exists only to torment the lives of road warriors the world over, and I won’t miss customers who have no resources and coworkers that don’t need me and feeling fraudulent about my life and my skills and my usefulness and the general state of melancholy that comes from hating what you do.
But despite the fact that I have a new gig, and it may be a great gig (this remains to be seen), I am still keeping my options wide open and my eyes fixed on the horizon and not on my feet. In fact, I am having lunch with an VERY senior executive at a VERY exciting company that will also remain nameless but should there happen to be an opportunity there I just might wet myself with excitement right there at the table. I’ll wear my Depends just in case of employment induced temporary urinary incontinence.
Should all of this fall apart, and I end up deep in another rut and tearing out what’s left of my hair, I promise I have a way out along with the means and an end in mind. I have a plan, an exciting plan, a scary plan, a plan I have eluded to before. I have a dream and an adventure in the back of my head and finally the resources (for the most part) to fulfill it, and all I need is the right time and the right motivation and maybe a pretty girl to give me just the right nudge (Lord knows I could use a good nudge) to tip that scale and flip that switch and turn those wheels to transform this dream from possibility to reality. Those of you who know the biologic Jimbo in addition to the electronic Jimbo probably already know of this plan, but for the rest of you, for the time being I’m keeping it under wraps.
It’s the big scary door with the bright neon sign that says “what if.” For years I’ve been staring at that door and looking for that key. Well I finally have the key in hand, and all I need to do is unlock that door and push. I’m not afraid to do it, ok so maybe I’m a little afraid to do it, but really I wish I had someone, someone special and pretty and athletic and bold, someone who laughs easily and rests easily and doesn’t mind a shiny head and a desperate, overcompensating need for validation.
Someone who would take my hand and step through that door with me.
February 03, 2004
I'm shameless.
Kids! Puppies! My sure-fire recipe for blogging success! Well, that or be really damn funny or just post lots of boobie pics.
I guess I don't have to worry about having any more "ex's" living there.
Why Jimbo will never live in Texas:
1. The “mild” climate. 110 degree summers at 90% humidity and 25 degree winters, complete with ice storms. I accept that most places in the world, short of the Mediterranean Europe, Western Australia, Central South America, and Southern California, all have three months a year that suck. Texas usually has six.
2. Mosquitoes straight from an Anne Rice novel, capable of carrying off small livestock.
3. What the hell is "Frito Pie?" Doesn't ANYBODY else find that even remotely disturbing?
4. A night out at the “Olive Garden” constitutes a cultural experience.
5. Attempts to order a vegetarian meal usually result in looks of disdain, disgust, dismay, or comments like, “would like white meat or dark meat?”
6. Two-lane highways designed for horse-drawn wagons now shared by 70 million full-size Ford F series pickups.
7. I hate the Cowboys on principle alone. The hole in the roof isn’t there so that God can watch his favorite team. It’s there because the engineer was too busy finishing off that sixer of Bud to finish the job.
8. The famous hospitality shown toward people with a last name that ends in a vowel.
9. The size of the ozone hole can be directly linked to the height of the average Texan hairstyle.
10. Plaid shirts and baggy jeans went out of style in 1996.
11. Mullets are still very much in fashion. This can be said of Arizona as well, but at least Arizona has…well…ah…at least it’s closer to California.
12. “Tolerance.” Put down the Bible and pick up a dictionary. Look it up.
13. My family lives there, and no matter how much I love them, that’s reason enough for me to stay the hell away.
14. Miles and miles and endless miles of suburban hell. It takes two full hours to drive across Dallas. And I swear you couldn’t tell the difference from one end to the other.
15. BIG state. Little mountains. Little waves. Little minds.
16. I look gay in Wranglers.
17. Driving across Texas takes at least seven days. You will not turn your steering wheel more than twice. At least it sure as hell seems that way.
18. If you stand on your roof in Houston you can see Oklahoma.
19. George W. Bush lives there, and really, that’s all the excuse I need.
20. Did I mention George W. Bush? I did? Good.
On the other hand, Texas does have Melly (who is probably never gonna speak to me again), Austin , Berke Breathed , Hueco Tanks , armadillos , and some of the prettiest girls on the planet. So it’s not all bad. And before all you Texans get your American Eagle jeans all in a twist and start tossing empty Bud Light bottles at me for being ignorant of your glorious state, let me state that my whole family has lived there since 1989 and my opinions are based on years of extensive research. I’ve been to El Paso, San Antonio, Austin, Houston, Dallas, Fort Worth, Longview, Pittsburg, and McKinney, and I’ve even had sex with a few Texan girls. My opinion is my own, well researched, and I totally accept that you don’t want my bleeding heart-vegetarian-Yankee ass there anyway.
I can totally live with that.
She will be a lot less interested in poop, real, real soon.
I haven't been this excited about an imminent birth since Robin's alien baby on "V." Dooce, thank you so much for sharing so much of your pregnancy . I can't wait for the digital introduction to Fawnzelle.
PS: I haven't forgotten about you. Congrats to Jen , resting at home with her new little Canadian.
February 02, 2004
Geek chic.
Look, I know everyone is all aghast about how MTV defiled the honor and sanctity of the Super Bowl, a game where drug-addicted, steroid-fueled, undereducated and overpaid millionaires beat the crap out of each other and then give praise to God all for the viewing pleasure of billions of viewers and more importantly thousands of advertisers, by showing *gasp* a breast, a breast with a piercing no less, but what I'm more concerned about is the negative image Justin Timberlake is giving to rock stars and wannabe rock stars the world over. It’s the Super Bowl (I mean "Big Game"), a billion viewers, he’s on stage with a cultural icon like Janet, and he shows up wearing a pair of Dockers and a t-shirt?
Christ, Justin. Put at least a LITTLE effort into it. You're still a rock star last time I checked. I'm not asking for a codpiece or a sequined glove or anything, but how about some designer jeans or leather pants or a jump suit or a strategically placed band-aid or something? You're a rock star! You are allowed, no, EXPECTED to be flamboyant and eccentric. But then again, by that logic, maybe Dockers ARE rebellious. Maybe Dockers are the new punk rock.
Maybe next year we will have rock stars parading around in bad polo shirts with their band logo embroidered on the breast. Maybe they will wear their cell phones on their belts and will mismatch their socks too. Maybe geek is the new chic.
I better get to that sale at Mervyns today.
February 01, 2004
Boys and toys.
I can post from my cell phone! And this is far more exciting than the Super Bowl - I mean "big game." Don't want to piss off the NFL.
I am Jedi geek. Fear me.
Addendum: Then again, this did turn out to be a decent game. And we even got a little boob action.
