Thursday, December 04, 2008
As I pulled up to the house I had spent many of my high school years in I noticed Liz outside. She was midway through unloading her car, which was filled with the week's groceries. Her face lit up to see me.
She'd tell you it was because she was happy to see her son, but any chump who wasn't born yesterday would tell you she was happy to have someone to chip in on the chore. It's a little known scientific fact that when the doctor cuts the umbilical cord to a woman's first born, she is immediately endowed with the knowledge of how to lay a guilt trip. They don't teach that in high school biology class, but there's a lot they don't teach you in school.
We exchanged pleasantries, and I was soon unloading enough red wine to drop a circus elephant. As the last item was lifted from the trunk of her car I turned and paused. Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed something shiny and white in the back of the garage. Further investigation revealed that it was the umbrella. The umbrella. The one that this woman claimed to have never seen had been resting 3 feet from where she parked her car every night.
A lesser man may have exploded at this revelation, but that's a rookie mistake. Throughout my career I had learned that situations such as this call for a certain finesse.
"Are. You. Kidding me?" I stammered as I put down the box I was holding and picked up the item in question. "Remember last week when I asked you if you'd seen an umbrella?"
"Oh" she said innocently, with a genuine look of surprise, "That umbrella?"
Um yeah. We live in a city where it rains -2 inches a year. How many umbrellas have you seen?
"Uh. Yeah. That's the one. Have you seen the other?"
"Of course!" she replied, suddenly perky and happy to be helpful. She walked to the car and pulled the umbrella's twin from the back seat. "You know... I thought it was odd that it didn't have a handle"
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
"Well, I don't know where they possibly could be" the woman stated without hesitation. If she did know the location of the umbrellas, she wasn't telling me. I had ransacked the entire house and found both the lights and the bulbs, but the umbrellas, the final pieces to the kit, were nowhere to be found.
My only lead was the woman standing in front of me. She was a middle aged dame with a mother's face. It'd seen joy, laughter, good times and bad. Her birth certificate read Elizabeth Ann, but around these parts she was known as Liz, AKA Lizzy, AKA Dizzy, AKA Big L. This broad had more handles than a broom shop, but to me she was known simply as "Mom".
And today "Mom" was fresh out of answers. I had grilled her for a good twenty as to the whereabouts of the umbrellas but she was steadfast in her argument that she hadn't seen them.
She wasn't lying. At least not to her knowledge. I know lying.
Jesse B and the case of the Fortunate Cookie
It was back in aught six when I got an urgent telegram from a Mr. and Mrs. Ying. Their daughter had been missing for a month and they wanted me to find her. Sure, it seemed odd that a well to do Chinese family would offer me a sizable amount to find their daughter, but times were tough and the heat still had to get paid. When you ain't got two pennies to rub together for warmth it's time to get off your ass and make something happen.
I spent two weeks searching Xi'an, the capital of Shaanxi looking for Lai. Turns out the sassy skirt had run away from dad's overbearing discipline and turned up working wangs for a few Yuan at a local gentleman's club. While a decent number of the men in that town had gotten their happy ending, the Yings never did get their's
The trail had run cold. I had given up and gone to price replacements, but with economic times being what they were I wasn't ready to drop 60 clams on a pair of rain shields for a small project about a silly chair.
Dejected, I took the top down on the car and went for a drive. Maybe it was out of habit, or maybe it was 20 years of following my gut, but I ended up back at my parent's house.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
1. A downtown restaurant, particularly one with a trendy or hip style to it.
[ Origin: My coworker Marloue used the word once to describe Switch, a new downtown eatery. ]
1. I'm thinking something light today. Wanna Metro-Grub?
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
The point is, when it's your ass on the line, when push comes to shove, that's when the real detectives are separated from the kids with the Fisher Price action detective play set. It's the time when the Holmes of the world show their stuff. The Columbos. The Magnums.
My first self client case wasn't anything quite so serious as a murder rap, but that didn't make it any easier. Any sleuth worth his salt will tell you that even the smallest mystery carries with it a certain urgency. Every folder you place in the U filing cabinet under "Unsolved" is reminder of your own failings. They weigh you down. They keep you up at night.
This particular case revolved around a unique missing item, or I should say set of missing items. Umbrellas in fact, but not just any umbrellas. These were those special white umbrellas they use when you go to a professional photog.
You see, in my younger days my associate Adam O and I had fancied ourselves pioneers in the independent movie market. We were young and full of dreams. It was a time of innocence, before the real world had chewed me up and spit me out a hardened man. Back then, every day was a new adventure and the world was my oyster. I don't see Adam much anymore. Not like the old days anyhow. He was seduced by a frisky frau from Berlin and has since taken up residency across the pond.
In our youth we'd saved and bought some doodads that we were sure would assist us on our way to our directorial destiny. Adam had a fancy Japanese made microphone, and I had purchased a professional lighting kit complete with umbrellas.
I had all but forgotten that lighting kit until an August afternoon many years later I had need of it once again. With the economy in a downturn and most people turning to Google for their answers, work had been slow. I found myself working key grip on the set of a motion picture titled, "How to Build a Chair". It was a small job, but it filled the space in between cases. Everything was ready to shoot except for the lights. The fluorescent bulbs of the set just weren't cutting the havarti, and we need something a little better. Something a little more professional.
Monday, October 27, 2008
You can see the full set here
Go to www.yearbookyourself.com and make your own. Send me the pics!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
The girl had mentioned that she had tried dating a girl in college, but it wasn't for her.
As we walked back to my car I used the remote to unlock the doors.
"Wow, that has really good range" she commented.
"Oh, well it's RF." I explained to a blank stare. "You know? RF? Radio Frequency"
I wasn't sure if "oh" meant she got it or not so I decided to explain further, "Yeah, the car can send it a message if the alarm goes off. It goes both ways, kind of like you back in college."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Back in late July I flew to Chicago to attend the wedding of Rose and Zach. I've known Rose since I was 20, and while we've had our ups and downs over the years, she's one of my best friends in the world. Zach I've only known for a few years, but if Rose hadn't snatched him up I'd have considered switching teams and making a move. I'm just saying Zach rocks.
The weekend itself was absolutely amazing. It was great to hang out with friends and spend some time relaxing. It was a little weird feeling like the 5th bridesmaid/gay best friend(Especially considering I'm straight), but I got over it quickly.
As there was no major, embarrassing story for the weekend the highlights will be presented in list format, partially because I'm lazy, partially because Rose loves lists.
- I ended up sharing a hotel room with Sara which was awesome. Sara's pretty low key and easy to get along with. While the rest of the couples were running around doing couple-y type things I pretended Sara and I were dating. She may have been offended or put off, but much like my normal girlfriends, I didn't care what she thought. This is how she looked when she found out I'd be her roommate:
- Wedding Bingo was actually a big hit. Rose ended up winning by bingo-ing first, but I feel like she may have stacked the deck a little. To be fair, Rose is a little like a Wookie in that sense and it's usually best just to let her win. I did however manage to come close to a black out.
- I'm sort of amazing in a suit.
- I kissed the bride before the groom did(Don't tell Zach)
- There were a few spelling snafu's during the pre-wedding which many thought would push Rose over the edge.
During the reception a few of us were outside by the marquee when I commented, "Funny. The Ampersand is backwards"
"The case is open. You could, you know, fix it if it's bothering you so much" someone teased.
"I could... fix it"
- We invented another new game called "Wedding Photo Bomb". The objective of this game is to get yourself in to as many pictures as you can that you're not supposed to be in. You'd have known that if you'd done your homework. While I'd like to say that I did well in this game, it's obvious to anyone that Anthony won hands down. You can view the entire set here, but here are a few to give you a good idea of how the game is played:
- By the end of the weekend I had no less than 4 new man crushes, 2 new games, and almost 1000 wedding pictures(Rose had asked us to take as many pictures as possible since she didn't have a professional photographer). Feel free to browse the collection here.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
For those who don't know, Twitter is the Cousin Oliver to the Facebook Wall and Myspace status. It's the new hotness. It's fresh. All the cool kids are doing it, and to be quite honest, I just don't get it. If I understand it correctly(And I'm quite certain that I don't), the concept behind twitter is that you update it very regularly and write what you're doing. This process is known as "Micro-Blogging".
Each "Tweet" is limited to 140 characters and can be done via text messaging. Now don't get me wrong. I support any form of messaging that doesn't involve me actually having to talk to your dumb ass on the phone, but have we hit the point in our society where we need to know what everyone else is doing at every moment of the day? I promise you that you don't want to know what I'm doing/thinking all the time. My twitter would quickly turn in to an update of my regularity and obscure reference to things that I'm not even sure that I care about.
I guess my question is, "At what point did you become so important that anyone gives a crap what you're doing right now?". I can't convince half the people I know to read the blog that I write once a week, why would they check something I update every hour?
But here's the thing. I've been wrong before. For the sole purpose of this blog entry I invented a phone that lets me call people from the past and here's what I found.
On the subject of myspace, Jesse from early 2005 had this to say:
On the subject of blogging, Jesse from 2006 had this to say:
Myspace? Christ. I'd sign up, but I just checked and it turns out that I'm not 15, and my parents actually do understand me.
I'm just glad someone created a place so that all the emo kids could get together and express their uniqueness and individuality with the exact same crappy 5 themes that everyone else has.
"Wow, you like that band too?!? That's so crazy. I'd go to their concert tonight, but I'm busy setting up a tripod to take profile pictures from the ceiling so it hides my double chin and fat ass."
If I ever sign up for that crap, you have my permission to kick me square in the junk.
I realized two things from my conversations.
Blogging? There are 3 blogs in the entire world.
1) Some hack's crappy photos over and over again.
2) A dork writing about technology that nobody will ever read. Nobody cares about your feelings on USB versus the new 1394 spec, jackass.
3) Stories about someone's family that I've never met.
In the rare case that you find something that's a real written piece, it's generally just someone who finished up that English degree a few years ago and is still clinging to the idea of being a writer while he teaches Sophmore English at a High School. Stop pretending man. There's nothing wrong with being a teacher, but stop being a pretentious ass and selling yourself as a writer. You don't have a couple of things "in the works", and 2 comments(One from your mom) doesn't mean that one of your "pieces" is "in discussion".
If I ever write a blog, it had better be because I lost a bet or something.
A) Old Jesse is sort of an angry jackass
B) The phone had to be destroyed. It could be an instrument of evil if it fell in to the wrong hands.
Anyhow, feel free to follow my twitter. I don't plan on actually using it, but the same could have been said for my myspace, my flickr, my youtube, and my blog.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
"Wow. You're a huge dork. You know that right? Just Wow"
"Did you consider editing yourself out and adding a girl? Maybe a cute one?"
"You seriously need a girlfriend"
"Uh... how long did you spend making that?"
I can't complain too much about my job. The hours are flexible, I spend a lot of time screwing around, and I've got a pretty neat office all to myself. The rub though, is that I don't have any office furniture. There is furniture to be had, but it never seems to end up in my office. Aside from my desk and a crappy old chair, I've got nothin. Sean got a free couch for god's sake, and all I've got is a big wide open office.
It works like this. There is a set amount of furniture. If you have a piece, it's yours forever. When you quit, everyone swarms on your office like kids at fat camp to a Snickers and picks the room clean. I'm non-confrontational in nature, and small, which has hurt me in the furniture gathering process.
One day, in protest, I decided to build a chair out of some old mailer boxes that we had lying around. Jim, a coworker and I spent a while arranging and rearranging boxes until we had what vaguely resembled a chair. At lunch I was showing off the chair and announced my idea of shooting a small stop motion film of it coming together when another coworker, Jeremy Cheek added, "You should set that to the theme from Tetris", and that's when the idea started to spiral out of control.
I ran the idea and some of my thoughts by Adam one night. He lives in Germany now, but growing up, he was the Martin Lawrence to my Will Smith. Adam is sort of a master of taking projects from "Silly Idea" to "Silly Completed Project", so it was good to have him on my side, and the collaboration from around the world was interesting.
After kicking back and forth a few ideas we decided on a Pied Piper sort of idea where I'd play the guitar in a split screen to control the blocks. Adam had a great idea about a top to bottom split(See his storyboard here), but I wasn't sure that I could get that done solo.
There are a bunch of mistakes, but I don't think they're too noticeable any more. The low quality of youtube actually hides most of them, and I did some fancy editing to try to remove as much as I could.
Hopefully people recognize the song that I'm playing (quite horribly), and the reference of the intro.
Edit: You can now watch the video in HD also.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
In this day and age of Geek Chic, many would side with Krol. Everyone is a nerd these days, or at least that's what they'd have you believe. I could write a novel length dissertation about what it takes to be a real nerd, and why most of the Johnny Come Lately's to the scene are not in fact real nerds, but it's sufficient to say that having made a web page once for a class, or having a WoW account do not make you a real nerd.
But I digress. No matter who you side with in this imbecilic argument, you can agree that the intersection of this Venn diagram, the Redheaded Nerd Girl, is quite rare indeed. One could easily argue that this intersection would be so rare that it could very well not exist. In this case, "One" would be wrong because "it" does exist, and "it's" name is Felicia Day.
1. Felicia is the creator, producer, and star of the web based series "The Guild", a show about a bunch of nerds who play a video game together. While it's absolutely hilarious if you're familiar with the subject matter, it's probably still amusing if you're not.
2. Felicia starred in the previously mentioned Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, which, if you haven't watched by now, don't bother. You're already dead to me.
3. On a scale of 1 to 10 I'd say she's absolutely adorable.
website, where she also keeps a blog. Read the following snippet and tell me you're not in love(Ignore the fact that she spelled usability wrong. Felicia is a busy girl, far too busy for what you mere mortals call "spell check"):
If PayPal were a man, I would punch him. I would cold-cock him into tomorrow, even if I had to break my hand. I think this is a perfect example of a monopoly gone wrong. The useability of the site is a nightmare: The documentation, laughable. Combine this with a Brother Q500 label printer that is bundled with software that was created on Fortran, and you have the perfect storm for driving a girl over the edge to a day job, abandoning web video forever
5. She started college at 16 and got a mathematics degree from the University of Texas. Nothing says nerdy like math.
6. She's an honest to goodness nerd. And how's this for a coincidence? She even hangs out on the same Internet that I do! I know, right?
So, like Link with 3 hearts and a wooden sword I've begun my quest to win her heart. I regret to inform everyone that this will be the end of the blog. I've sold my laptop to pay for a ring and as you're reading this I'm probably on my way to L.A. to propose. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
- rating system
1. A way of judging anything
[ Origin: About 12 years ago I started rating random and odd things on a scale from 1 to 10. ]
A to F
1. "On a scale of 1 to 10 I'd call this dinner about a 7"
2. "How was the movie last night?"
"6 with a bonus point because it had Jennifer Connelly in it"
After a certain period of time, the rating practice caught on with many of my friends. At that point it was time to jump ship and change it up. It was time to keep them guessing.
"On a scale from 1 to 10 I'd say Steve Nash is pretty awesome"
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Dr. Horrible is a little web only, 3 episode show
Monday, August 04, 2008
I've got a veritable cornucopia of new blog posts in the chamber, but I need some free time to fix them up before I can pull the trigger. Until that happens though I've got a homework assignment for you, and that is to go here:
Larry Jenkens is sort of a friend of a friend, and his post on photobombing will be required reading for an upcoming entry. There may be a pop quiz, so make sure you read thoroughly. Feel free to check out the rest of his blog too as it's quite amusing.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
With Rose's wedding I've decided to start a new tradition. I've invented a game that I call "Rose Wedding Bingo". The rules are simple.
Rose Wedding Bingo
1. Think of as many humorous things that could happen as possible and write a list.
2. Randomly pick 24 things from the list and lay them out on a 5x5 grid. The middle square is the "Free Square"
3. As the things happen at the wedding, cross them off from your bingo card. The first person to form a line wins.
Sample List(The * indicates ones that I picked for my card):
Jesse hits on a bridesmaid*
Rose calls Zach "Jesse"*
Rose calls Jesse "Zach"*
Jen knocks a flower girl out while the bouquet is being tossed*
Jesse knocks the ring bearer out while trying to catch the garter *
Heidi makes an inappropriate(Albeit hilarious) joke in front of Mr. Halterman*
Rose says Jesse's name during the ceremony
At least two members of Zach's family get drunk and say something inappropriate
Rose throws a fit and leaves for 20 minutes*
Jesse tries to bring her back by telling her her hair looks pretty.*
Rose yells, "FINE" at least twice
Rose yells, "WHATEVER" at least twice
Rose says, "I don't even care anymore"*
Rose tells Jesse to "SHUT UP"*
Zach gets drunk and tells everyone how much he loves them*
Rose gets drunk and tells everyone how much she hates them*
Rose refuses to do the Chicken Dance
Rose cries at the end because she doesn't want everyone to leave.
Rose reminds everyone that it's her day.*
Andy sings a song for the "Love Birds" *
Andy (unintentionally) lands the bridesmaid that Jesse hit on*
Dawn(Rose's mom) says, "RRRROOOOOOOOOOOSSSSEEEE"*
Dawn sings a song for Rose(How do you solve a problem like Rose)*
A member of the bridal party throws up.
Rose gets fed up with her hair before the wedding and does something rash.
Rose wears teal makeup.*
Rose misses the something old, something new or something borrowed, but way over does it on the something blue.*
Sara asks for a new roommate after the first night.*
Jesse wears a tuxedo shirt at some point during the weekend.
Jeff says something so dry it's arid.*
Groomsman shows up drunk or hungover
Someone misplaces the rings
Flower Girl cries
Ring Bearer throws a tantrum.
Jesse quotes wedding crashers
Rose says, "GROSS"
Rose shoves cake in Zach's face as he's saying something nice like, "I could never do something like that to you"
Rose mentions mouth herpes*
Zach accidentally breaks something insignificant and Rose gets very upset.*
Rose considers eloping the night before the wedding.*
Sample Card(Click for full size):
If you'll be attending the wedding feel free to make your own card and/or comment on things to add to my list. I'll update the post if I get any new good ones. If you won't be attending the wedding feel free to make a card up for a wedding that you will be attending in the near future.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Christopher Nolan - Writer, Directory, Producer of Batman Begins and The Dark Knight
First of all. Wow. Just wow. You nailed it. Very very awesome movie. From the bottom of my nerd heart, thanks.
Did it really have to be 2 and a half hours long? Peter Jackson called, he wants his shtick back. There are those of us with small bladders in the audience who have issues with a 150 minute long movie, and in the case of yours there was never a "Man this would be a good time to get up" moment. Considering the entire 150 minutes was like 6 hours worth of awesome I can forgive you, but why not kick it old school and throw an intermission in there? I'm just saying.
Thanks again, and I hope the day is treating you well.
My Future Self,
Sure, that 32 oz slushy at the gas station on the way to the movie seems like it'll be the perfect pick me up to get you through that midnight showing, but you're a little dude. 32 oz is a bit much. We both know you're going to get a drink at the theater too. Let's not over do it next time. Okay?
You're looking good today by the way. Have you been working out?
Erin - The cute girl behind the counter at the AMC 20 concession stand,
Was it really necessary to remind me that I could upgrade to a large soda for only 50 cents more? Of course I knew that going in. I can read and do math in my head. But you were aware of that. You took one look at me and knew that the perky way you asked me with a slight tilt of the head and cute grin would be more than my nerd heart could resist. You'd sold that 44 ouncer before I had even ordered.
I think I might love you despite your manipulation.
The Manager of the AMC 20 at Westgate,
I applaud you for opening up extra theaters to accommodate all the people wanting to see The Dark Knight on opening day. Here's the deal though... You've got 20 theaters that are normally staggered with show times. When one movie lets out there's a rush to the bathroom, but it's not so bad because there's only one or two movies letting out at a time. When all 20 theaters start playing the same movie at 12:01, then all 20 theaters let out at the same time. When this happens it's a running of the bulls type situation that is only exacerbated when it's a long movie. It's pandemonium. Come on baby, you're better than that.
All I'm saying is you could stagger them just a little. Have your 12:00, but also throw some 12:15's and 12:30's out there. If people didn't buy their tickets ahead of time, then they should be happy with the 12:30.
Thank you for making my S2000 capable of 0 to 60 in under 6 seconds and even bigger thanks for making it able to corner well at 40 miles an hour. Much appreciated.
The Manager of the Mobile on the Run at 91st and Camelback,
Screw you. Who closes a gas station from 1am to 3am? "On the Run" my ass.
This morning you may have noticed what appears to be a tire skid mark where someone e-brake slid their car into your driveway. You may also notice that someone "watered" one of the trees in your back yard in a non-traditional way. I can't imagine who would do such a thing, but I personally suspect one of Miranda's friends. Those kids have no respect.
Thanks for always being there and especially for living close to the theater.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Last year I bumped in to her one day, and then a few months later a bunch of pictures of her in Guatemala showed up on my flickr friend list. The meeting was very short and awkward. We emailed a few times, but that too was somewhat awkward. She asked me what had happened to us, which was odd since she had decided to cut off all contact. She had started dating someone, and to my surprise that meant we could no longer see each other.
Instead of answering the question and playing the game I decided to instead write her the end of our story the way I had wanted to. She was the original inspiration for this blog, so it only seemed fitting to write an end to the story. The first half of this email is complete fact, but it soon takes a few liberties. I'll leave the separation of fact from fiction as an exercise to the reader.
The other day the guys asked me to go to lunch with them. I've had a bit of a falling out with some of the other nerds as of late, so I hadn't been going to lunch with the gang. For some odd reason though, I decided to go.
"What!?! You guys want to drive all the way to In-N-Out? That'll take forever" I protested when told the destination of choice.
"It's all freeway, it'll be quick. Quit your whining"
"Meh, it's not like I was getting any work done anyhow"
There's just something about going back to the old stomping grounds that I spent my young adult life( Tempe ). It seems like I generally run in to someone, and more often than not it's someone I don't want to run in to. As we entered I did a quick glance around and didn't notice anyone familiar. With a sigh of relief I placed my order and like a herded cow moved my way slowly through the people towards the drink dispenser. As I did, the people parted like a wave and from across the room I saw a familiar set of eyes. A dark pair of eyes that I had missed and tried to forget for some time. Her hair had changed. The way she held herself had changed... it had only been six months right? The one thing that hadn't changed was the smile. It was Ana... It was the Chilean princess of yesteryear... And I was... scared?
It had been almost 3 years since this girl had intimidated me, but the feeling was quickly familiar. It had been a while, and things hadn't exactly ended in the most optimal aways. I suppose it was the only way they could have ended, but it still seemed far from perfect.
She got up from her table and we politely exchanged hello's. I asked about her job, and she introduced me to her co-workers, but their names quickly evaded the grasp of my memory as my focus was on her.
After the typical small talk that everyone has and no one
remembers, I got brave.
"Maybe we should do lunch or something sometime. I'll by you Subway" I asked in reference to how we met.
"I'd like that" she said coyly. "You still have my number?"
3 days later we met and had Turkey Breast sandwiches at a Subway in Mesa . The ice quickly melted and it wasn't long before I remembered all the things that had drawn me to her in the first place.
2 years later I proposed on a beach in Hawaii on vacation. She said yes, and we were wed on a Cliff overlooking the ocean in Chile the following year.
We now keep both my condo in Phoenix, and a small house in Guatemala where we spend the majority of our time. We started a website that helps match nerds with girls who need a good man. It provides feedback and helpful hints. She does the content, I do the administration. Luckily, we're able to work abroad and still afford to live happily and care for our five children.
Friday, July 11, 2008
- proper noun
1. A person who fits well in to a (generally negative) stereotype or cliche.
[ Origin: The first time I remember hearing the phrase was Jeremy Piven in PCU(1994) when he says, "What's this? You're wearing the shirt of the band you're going to see? Don't be that guy." I'm sure it was seen much earlier than that though. ]
1. "You were so THAT guy for her. You bought her flowers. You met her mom. You totally played the role just to get in to her pants."
2. "I got totally hammered at the party after my ex showed up and was THAT guy all night"
1. Anyone over 21 who has asked other people to kick in for gas on a trip that was less than 100 miles.
2. Anyone over 24 who has gotten in an argument over who was "more fucked up".
"Hey dude, your anniversary is next week. Don't screw it up this year"
"Hey, isn't it your ex-baby sitter's birthday? You should get her something"
In early March the phone let me know that Max's birthday was approaching. Max is my mother's Silky Terrier, constant companion, and fourth child. I'm not saying she loves the dog more than her children, but I am saying she's one dog sized Gucci handbag and owner-dog matching sweater set away from being that lady.
We hadn't had any fun with mom in a while, so I called my sisters Anna and Miranda and got the plan set in motion. Dad was supposed to distract mom while we decorated the house and prepared.
Miranda Baked a cake and bought small "Doggy Bags". Anna decorated with streamers. I bought party favors and made a mixed CD:
1. Who Let the Dogs Out - Baha Men
2. Who Am I? - Snoop Doggy Dogg
3. Hound Dog - Elvis Presley
Dad's distraction didn't last quite long enough, but asking someone to keep mom from home after work day is like asking a midget to tackle Barry Sanders in the open field. Sure, it might happen, but the odds aren't in your favor.
Eventually she got home and we had our little party. As lame as it was, the dogs really seemed to enjoy themselves, and so did mom.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The wedding is this summer in Chicago. Money has been a little tight, and as I was budgeting for the trip I was coming up a bit short. Rose mentioned that some of her friends were looking to share a room and pointed me to her friend Teresa. Rose sent Teresa an email and at the same time I got one from another mutual friend, Sara. Now I was in a bit of a predicament since I had two possibilities on the table. I decided to go straight to the source and straighten things out with an email to Teresa.
Meeting someone face to face I have a crippling amount of self consciousness, but in a digital medium I overcompensate for that with too much writing. If you haven't figured that out by now, you haven't been paying attention. Any normal human being would sit down and write a short letter explaining the situation.
Rose mentioned you might want a roommate for the weekend of her wedding. I too am interested in sharing a room. Please contact me at: 555-555-5555 if you are interested.
This letter probably would have worked out wonderfully. Unfortunately it's not the one that I sent.
This one is:
T Money Money,
I think Rose may have sent you an email about room sharing on my behalf. This latest economic crunch has finally hit me, and I find myself trying to make a dollar out of a dime and a nickle. Being the good Christian that I am, I wouldn't normally consider sharing a room with a member of the opposite sex (pre-marriage), but times are hard and I'm sure the Gee Oh Double Dizzle will forgive me.
On a (somewhat) serious note... I'm looking for a roommate for the weekend and Rose said you don't snore and might be interested in shacking up with a short nerd for the weekend. I know what you're thinking, "I could probably room with any number of people, why choose this guy?". Well, I'm glad you asked Teresa. We asked 100 people that question and the top 7 answers are on the board.
1. I was a lion tamer in the circus for over 8 years. In the event of a lion attack you can rest assured that you're safe.
2. If I'm not drinking, I'm a perfect gentlemen, so need to worry about some creepy guy hitting on you all night while you're trying to catch your zzz's.
3. I have a top secret security clearance in case the FBI gets involved and you need someone to handle the situation.
4. I always leave the toilet seat down.
5. I only drink at weddings.
6. I know some awesome card tricks that are sure to impress, and unlike most magicians, I'll actually tell you the secret.
7. You already live with Rose and tolerate her. Rose is basically just like me except she's funnier and has prettier hair. On the plus side I'm less cranky.
If you'd like to be my roommate for the weekend all I need is a 300 word essay describing why you'd like to spend a weekend in Chicago sharing a hotel with me. The winner of this contest will be selected based on total whim and is not subject to any rules or laws.
Also.... Rose's friend Sara recently emailed me asking about room sharing. Let me know your status as soon as possible so we can work everything out. I personally wouldn't be opposed to splitting a room 3 ways, but I don't know where you guys would sit on that idea. (The French have a word for that, but I don't remember it off the top of my head).
Feel free to email me back, or call(555-555-5555).
4 of the 7 bullets above are true.. I'm not telling which ones though
Needless to say, Teresa will be staying with Peggy.
Feel free to stop by Rose's blog and say hello, or just give her a congrats on the wedding. It's an okay blog, but I think we can all agree not as good as mine.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
1. A close friend
[ Origin: In the Engineering program at ASU Erik and I had a lot of Indian classmates. One of Erik's classmates always called him, "My Main Man". Erik stole the saying from him, and I stole the saying from Erik. ]
- see also
1. "What is up my main man?"
2. "Erik. My main man. Get over here."
One particular Monday evening we found ourselves walking in to the Pei Wei near my house for some fine Asian Fusion dining. Like a true gentleman I opened the door for Maya and entered behind her. I was surprised when a blond girl from across the restaurant's hand flew up and waved to me. There was a small wall between us, and I must have been tired because I didn't immediately recognize her. I checked the surrounding area for other, better looking guys who would have a cute girl waiving to them, but it was just me. I returned the motion with some hesitation and went to order.
"Who's that?" Maya asked
"Um. I'm not sure" I started, but as we got up to order my brain decided to start working and the answer finally clicked, "Oh, that's Megan. She lives in my building."
Megan was a very cute resident of the fourth floor who always seemed nice and personable. I'd bumped in to her a lot since she was friends with my main man Allen, and due to the fact that she was often seen walking her dog Brownie. She was one of the people in the building I'd always wanted to get to know better, but never had the confidence to initiate more than a friendly hi with. She had a very warm aura that was attractive on a personal level, but for a shy nerd such as myself also somewhat intimidating.
By the time I'd put together who it was a few minutes had past. More importantly the moment had passed, and I found myself unsure if I should walk over or just go about my business. In times past when I've chosen the former I normally end up saying something absolutely brilliant.
"So... uh... what are you doing here?"
"It's a restaurant. I'm eating"
"Uh.... yeah... see ya round"
So in this case I settled on the latter and left it at an uncomfortable wave. An uncomfortable wave is better than saying something uncomfortable and stupid I surmised.
A few months later my extended family was in Phoenix for my brother's wedding and I was showing them my condo. There was a huge moving truck outside being loaded up and I was surprised to see Megan walking towards it carrying a box.
"You... You're moving out?" I asked. It was that last day of school when you find out someone won't be returning next year after Summer break. His or Her dad took a job in upstate New York, but you'll keep in touch. At least that's what you wrote in each other's year books.
You didn't keep in touch.
"Yeah" she replied, "It's been nice, but I just don't think people are very friendly here."
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sesquipedalis Year 2 is drawing to a close, and I find myself in need of a new direction for the blog. The amusing thing about writing a blog is you start off thinking, "Man I've got some funny stuff to write", but then 3 weeks later you've written those 2 stories that were really "money" and you're left winging it for the remainder of the blog, which for most people is about 4 entries in.
Year 1 was all about me and my inability to function socially, especially when relating to members of the opposite sex. Through the significant efforts of a few people, most notably a couple of fantastic neighbors, I've worked through the majority of those issues.
Year 2 I branched out a little and tried to share more of my people(Nerds) culture, and do some more off-topic type pieces like reviews and such.
For Year 3, I'm at a total loss. I could easily turn this in to a day by day status update. There's nothing wrong with those blogs, but it's just not what I want this to be. Others have done that and do it better than I ever could.
I've had a few ideas, but nothing has jumped out and grabbed me.
I considered taking a fast food joint job once every month and seeing how quickly I could get canned. How fun would it be to work at Pizza Hut again, but not care about anything? The issue here is that I'm quite lazy.
I considered turning the blog in to a piece of fiction. Adam had told me to just start making things up. Base them slightly in reality, but never let the audience know. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm that creative.
My last idea was to "get involved" with something, anything. The big stumbling block here is that I'm the least opinionated person you'll ever meet.
In the end so far I've resorted to not writing anything. Maybe I'll put the nose to the grindstone and finish up some other stories and wait for inspiration. This blog has more loose ends than a gay cowboy rodeo at an abandoned tampon factory, and maybe I should tie them up some day.
Hang in there kids, and stick with me. We're gonna get through this together. Feel free to leave suggestions and tell me what sucks/what doesn't.
Credit goes to the lovely and talented Kendall for the tampon joke.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
On Saturday I had a date. That's right. Go back and read it again if you want. Double check the spelling. I didn't stutter. Even more amazing is that it was in fact the second date. Oddly enough, the forecast in hell for this week was still "Hot, with a chance of hot"
Longtime readers of the blog should put this day down on their calendar, or at the very least bookmark this post. It wasn't a pretend girlfriend. It wasn't some neighbor twin randomly crawling in to my bed. It wasn't some weird Chilean girl stringing me along. It was an honest to goodness date. And before you ask, yes she even knew it was a date, and no I didn't have to tip her afterwards.
I met Roseann a few months ago when we were both swimming with the dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico. She told me she was there on vacation. I was on a Top Secret mission for CONTROL, a government agency dedicated to stopping KAOS from world domination. It turned out she was actually a KAOS agent, but we realized too late... far too late for our hearts.
Okay, that might not be entirely accurate.
I met Roseann where all good nerds meet, on the Internet. She had a profile picture of herself dressed up as a zombie. What nerd can resist a girl who dresses up as a zombie? We exchanged a few messages and hit it off pretty quickly.
Roseann lives in Tucson which is about a hundred miles from Phoenix. She met me for gelato one Friday while she was on her way to Cali, and then dinner the following Monday on her way back.
She's short, cute, and possibly even nerdier than I am(Read: Awesome, Awesome, Awesome). Things progressed well, and after a few meetings and one official "date", it was my turn to go down to Tucson this past weekend.
When I was 17 I was having some serious stomach issues. Almost every day, first period study hall was spent with a trip to the restroom. It was bad enough that I finally visited the doctor who told me it was stress. I protested the diagnosis and demanded pills, but he stood firm, unlike my stool.
I would later find that two things set it off. First was lack of sleep, and second was being nervous.
I woke up early on Saturday. I hadn't slept well the previous night due to the fact that I was a bit nervous/excited, and also because the guy 2 floors down was having a party until about 4am. I packed a change of clothes and some other things, and set out. 2 hours later I arrived in Tucson, and that's when my stomach fired the first warning shot. It grumbled loudly as if to say, "You got me out of bed at 8am for Tucson? For Tucson?"
After silent pact with God, Allah, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, and a stop off at the CVS restroom, I was back on the road.
Roseann and I had planned to "hike" a trail near her house. I use the quotes because I don't really consider it a hike. It was a paved path, and clocked in at just under 2 miles. She had spent the previous week making fun of me for being a nerd who wouldn't exercise or be in the sun, and I had been playing in to it by complaining about the possibility of a hike and anything that would involve me sweating (Mind out of the gutter, Mom). Due to her incessant teasing I was determined to not show an ounce of weakness, to tackle the hike like a champ.
The hike was quite easy and we soon found ourselves at the end. We relaxed for a moment on a bench before the second warning shot was fired. Like a woman 8 months pregnant my stomach kicked again, "You got me out of bed at 8 am on a Saturday, and made me hike?"
At this point I took a moment to use the restroom that was conveniently located near the bench. Everything again went fairly well, but it was the beginning of the end.
I was a few steps back down the path when I realized I had contracted fire ass.
I've done an opinion survey of several of my friends to discuss this phenomenon in preparation for this story. Over 90% of men surveyed immediately knew what fire ass was. "Oh yeah.... like when you feel like your stomach acid is somehow burning your ass from the outside in? But you know you wiped. You double wiped," one anonymous reader named Sean said. The number of women who were familiar with this term, however, was significantly less.
For those not familiar, and thank your stars that you aren't, The Journal of the American Medical Association describes fire ass as:
An affliction, most often found in men, which arises after a particularly rough trip to the restroom(See Also: Assplosion). Common symptoms include an ass that feels as though it's on fire. There is no known cure for fire ass although some preliminary experimental Australian research has shown a positive reaction to ice cream. No further details are available at this time and it is important to note that this research is still considered highly experimental. If you or someone you know suffers from fire ass, it is best to limit walking as friction is known to aggravate the issue.
The problem for me at this point was that I was still roughly 2 miles from the car, and on a second date. The Emily Post Etiquette guide states that Fire Ass is to be discussed no sooner than the third date, so at this point my hands were tied.
Necessity is the mother of invention, so more accurately, my hands were placed firmly in the back pockets of my pants providing a slight lift and separation that was hopefully unnoticed by my date. I was quite pleased with myself for this maneuver, but more pleased with the relief that it gave. We made it back to the car without too much effort and I was relieved to be heading back to her place.
After we showered (We took turns! I don't give up my flower that easily, Mom), we set off to "Hotel Congress". It's one of Roseann's favorite places to eat, and a nice sit down restaurant seemed like a great idea to me at the time.
The meal was fantastic, and the company better. We soon found ourselves walking around downtown Tucson. I did my best to ignore my ailment and focus on the lovely night, but I must admit that by the time we returned to my car the friction had worked the small burning in to a full blown fire. Luckily it was late and we were returning to her house. I hoped the end of the night would involve hanging out on her couch and some light "conversation". I use quotes because I don't mean conversation.
Just as we sat down and began to talk, her dog Reina threw her toy across the room. "Oh, she probably needs to go out" Roseann told me. "If we take her for a walk she'll leave us alone for the rest of the night." Reina is a lovely little Terrier, but she's also 11 years old. She's none too active, so I assumed a short walk around the block would be easy. Besides, the conversation had rejuvenated me, and I was still trying not to show any weakness.
"So how long of a walk do you normally take her for?" I asked nonchalantly as if I didn't really care.
"About a mile or so through the neighborhood" she replied.
"Oh, that's nice" I said, but deep inside my stomach was laughing, "Ha! I told you not to screw with me. Guess we're getting up at 10 next Saturday, aren't we? AREN'T WE?"
By the time we returned I was doing my best to just walk straight. Things were not going well, and my stomach had made it's point. It had won.
Luckily we spent the remainder of the evening inside, and I had a great time.
A few hours and a hundred mile drive later I was back at my condo. Without the date time nerves deadening the pain, the walk from the elevator to my door was very difficult. "I've got to do something about this" I thought as I searched my bathroom for something, anything to help relieve the issue. I then spotted the bottle of lotion. My very naive and tired mind imagined the cool cool lotion and the light bulb went off.
It's worth noting at this point that I told this story to my friend Sarah over lunch today. Sarah is my sounding board for a lot of things, and I was curious if she thought the story was inappropriate for my blog. It was at this exact moment in the story that she covered her mouth and gasped , "Oh... no". She's a nurse, and apparently knew what was coming. Unfortunately, I did not.
I mused for a moment as I oiled up my buttocks that I was finally fitting in at my condo building which sits right in the middle of the gay section of Phoenix.. There was a moment of cool relief that was everything I thought it could be. It was heaven. It was joyous. This was replaced quickly by some form of chemical reaction that, much like the Sarlacc Pit gave me a new definition for pain.
When I was 20 I had a kidney stone. The doctor asked me to measure my pain from 1 to 10. "I don't know. I've never felt this bad, but I've got a feeling it could be worse, so I'm going to give it a 7." He responded with a snort, "7? I would think that if it was a 7 you wouldn't be able to talk"
I had found 8.
I stumbled to the shower and threw the water on full blast. In my haste I had forgotten one important piece of information about living in a condo. The position that you set the dial for "warm" water in the morning, when I and most of the tenants normally shower, is quite different from the position of "warm" at 3am.
I kicked the water off with my left foot and jumped out of the shower in pain. I had now achieved 3 very distinct levels of burning, and at this point gave up and went to bed. I laid in silence in the fetal position for a good while before finally sleeping.
Yes, there's a Johnny Cash joke in there somewhere, but like a sixteen year old nerd after prom, I just couldn't figure out where to put it in.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Class would come screeching to a halt as the boys, with hormones running wild, would watch intently and completely ignore the teacher. At that age, I doubt half of the kids knew why it was exciting, it just was. It didn't really matter though, most of us still watched.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
So it came as a surprise today when I accidentally checked it and saw this new "rating" system. How long have these little stars been on my blog? I'm not sure how I feel about them. Feedback is good, but only when it's positive.
Let me know what you think. I spent a good 10 minutes trying to figure out how to turn them off if I decide to.
This message will self destruct.
Edit: Since JMNLMAN asked, here's how you remove them, if anyone is curious:
Click on the pictures for full size.
First, click the "Layout" tab of your blog on the dashboard.
Second, click the "Edit" button on "Blog Posts"
Third, deselect the ratings. I think that should do it
Edit Again: They appear to be gone again. Maybe blogger is just acting up today? Who knows. I'll leave this post here for a while at the very least.
Monday, May 05, 2008
"OH.... MY..... GOD" Miranda yelled as I walked in the door. It was 1997 and I was at home from college visiting on the weekend. "Did you hear? Will Smith is trying to rap now!"
"Will Smith? The Fresh Prince? Trying to rap?" I sarcastically replied.
"I know! He should seriously stick to acting" she bit.
"It's not even the Summa Summa Summa Time" I continued.
She was used to me saying things nobody understood and gave me that, "God you're lame" look that every 13 year old female has etched in to her DNA. She dismissed me with a final roll of the eyes and took off down the hall.
"I've gotta go call Katrina and tell her about this."
Sunday, May 04, 2008
I've received a few comments about "that girl Misty". The only Misty I've ever known was a girl I worked with at Pizza Hut, and that was 10 years ago. In case you're wondering, she was cute, red-headed, and I was in love. I struck out with her too. Enough about that though...
Apparently my series of "How To Sesquipedalify Your Life" entries were a bit confusing, and in need of explanation.
One of the biggest issues with the way blogger works is that the older posts are lower on the page, so if you don't read them as they're published, and instead read from the top down(The more intuitive way), then you read them out of order. So, I apologize for the confusing nature of the story. I try to break them down sometimes to make them easier to read, and easier for me to write, but on a number of occasions it gets a little confusing.
That said, I'll go back and try to make it more clear of what I was getting at, but for the time being(This post may self-destruct eventually), I'll go ahead and explain it here too.
I had the idea to write a post about how I write a post. It was supposed to be a story about how I take something very small in my life and turn it in to an entire entry. A "How To Make Your Life Sound Exciting" even though it's not so to speak. As an example, I wanted to use a story from someone else's life. I'd had the idea a long time ago, and once J.R. told me about this girl Misty he had met, I thought I'd found the perfect opportunity. I would take his story, and present it as he did to me. Then I'd take the same story and present it how I would present it on this blog.
I've gone ahead and reordered the blog entries so that they're all in the order that they should be read now, from top to bottom, but you can also find the proper order here.
1. Nerd Words: Reset the Timer - A "Nerd Word" accompanying the introductory entry, "Sesquipedalify your life"
2. How To's: Sequipedalify Your Life - What was supposed to be an introduction.
3. J.R.'s Weekend: The J.R. Version - J.R.'s version of the story
4. Nerd Words: E-Flirting - A "Nerd Word" accompanying the Sesquipedalis version of the story
5. J.R.'s Weekend: The Sesquipedalis Version - The Sesquipedalis version of he story.
Friday, April 25, 2008
When he was younger he wrote SkateboardSpots, and then the now infamous BallersUseTide.
"Man," he commented over IM a few weeks ago. Sean always starts deep and insightful conversations with the word Man. "I should make a flip book of the standings in the West this year where they all switch places as it happened."
I almost feel bad for the guy. I pulled him back in to the exciting and inevitably disappointing world of being a Sun's fan about 2 years ago. Since then he's watched most every game with the enthusiasm of a 5 year old who thinks that Steve Nash is a superhero.
But he was right. If you paid attention to the NBA this year you know the top 8 spots flipped and flopped more than Ginobili and Bowen combined. Every day someone different was in first place, and a loss could easily take you from 3rd to 6th, and a win could take you back again.
"Maybe you should make a website?" I asked. He is a web developer after all.
2 weeks later he was done:
I'd like to say I helped, but truth be told, about 99.5% of the work was done by Sean.
"Tony Parker Cheating" and "Ginobili Sucks" - I couldn't have said it better myself Google.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Now, I'm normally not one for thrusting my opinions on people like a drunk guy with his libido at a bar, but in this case I'm actually right. It's hands down the funniest TV show ever made. If you've already seen it, don't you think it's time you brushed up a little? Did you really catch everything last time you watched it? Everything? Come on, don't fool yourself. And if you haven't seen it then open your mouth baby bird, because mama's got a tasty treat for you.
"I would, but I'm not running out and buying some DVDs just because some nerd on a blog told me to" a great number of you are thinking.
Well, put the kids to bed, grab a soda and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave because you're pulling an all nighter on the Internet tonight, which for once doesn't involve surfing for naked ladies or googling your crush from High School and dreaming of "what could have been" while your current, less desirable significant other lies passed out in a drunken stupor as reruns of Mash play on TV and you try to hold back the tears. (Oops, maybe I'm projecting again)
There are other TV shows on there, and some movies too, but going there and watching anything other than Arrested D would be getting the golden ticket, going to the Willy Wonka factory and then telling him, "Nah, no chocolate for me. I think I'll just have a hamburger or something."
I'll be expecting a two page, single spaced report on how much you love Arrested D on my desk in two weeks. No excuses.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
1. Sexual relations, especially after a long period of no sexual relations
[ Origin: While I'm sure that the saying has been around for a while, I was introduced to it by my friend J.R. ]
- see also
1. "How'd your date go on Friday?"
"Somebody reset the timer"
2. "It's been over a year since I reset the timer"
This is a continuation of the "How to Sesquipedalify Your Life" entry. If you haven't read it yet, I recommend you do so now.
Please note that this is a story from his life, not mine. I'm just posting it here for reference.
I could tell you the whole story, but there's no way I come out looking anything other than the chump.
I met this girl... Misty through a mutual friend, Chris. He had known her for months, but never really got anywhere with her, either due to lack of effort or her not being interested.
I met her one night when we all went out. Chris told me he was done trying with her and that by all means I should go for it if I wanted to.
Well, after that she was really flirty with me, Myspace, text messages, etc. Last weekend was the first night we all went out again, and basically she was all over Chris(And he all over her). I think she was just being flirty with me to make him jealous.
So, while they went home together, I went home alone. It just sucked after having my hopes up.
J.R. is basically a cooler me with better stories. Better in this case meaning slightly less self-deprecating. For example, in the two or so years that I've known him he's been in a major motion picture, owned an Acura NSX, and learned to fly an airplane. It doesn't take a panel of judges and a network TV reality show to tell you that he soundly beats my resume of being in a home made move(Developer Trap), owning an S2000, and working on flight simulators for a living. Apparently this hasn't translated in to success with the ladies and J.R. often states that he could give me a run for my money in the "who's worse with women" contest.
"Just some girl I met. Nothing there yet, but we're going out on Saturday with a group of friends."
"Awesome dude. Maybe you'll get to reset the timer." I joked.
"We'll see how it goes."
Monday rolled around and since there wasn't a 3 page novel waiting on my IM I assumed the worst. "I'm going to retain my last shred of dignity and just say that it didn't really pan out" he said, letting me know that he didn't really want to discuss it. Unfortunately for J.R. I'd had nothing to write about in months, and I needed a story. Like Lois Lane on speed I continued to ask questions.
"You should blog about it dude! Guest blog for me!"
I have a habit of trying to get people to write for me. They make the funny, I get the credit. As of yet I've only had one taker. My job would be a lot easier if people would help me out, and the stories would probably be more amusing.
"It really wasn't that exciting" he replied.
"I've had 2 exciting moments in my entire life and I've still managed to come up with a hundred and twenty entries. If I can do it, you can." I pleaded, but J.R. wasn't budging.
Part of the point of the blog has always been that I'm the biggest dork on the planet, and aside from a gift from god in the form of two gorgeous twins living beside me I have a fairly boring life. While the stories contained here are 90-100% fact, they do tend to be slightly sensationalized for the public.
With that in mind I thought I'd point out the few easy steps to "Sesquipedalify Your Life"
1. Start with a small story. It works best if it's a story where you do something stupid, but usually any story will do. Bonus points if it involves a member of the opposite sex(Or same sex if that's your persuasion, not that there's anything wrong with that)
2. Pick a tone and stick with it. You either think you're a bad ass, or you're a complete dork. There's not much room to be both.
3. Write the story out to the best of your memory. It doesn't need to be accurate. Nobody is fact checking. People will accept anything that is on the Internet as fact. On the off chance that some jackass calls you out on an error, that's what the edit button is for. Change the story, and then tell him "It never said that! Learn to read dummy!"
4. Have at least one tangential point. If it's not a strong point, feel free to put it in the middle of the story. The average reader just skims that part anyhow.
5. Throw in a few similes. In a pinch, a metaphor will do.
6. Use at least one pop culture reference. Bonus points if it's embarrassing that you're making it(ie a 31 year old man who knows the names of both of Britney's kids)
7. Spell Check. Or don't, I don't care.
8. Remember, the average reader likes a short entry, and enjoys pictures. In general, be long winded, and forgo the pictures. Screw the reader this is your blog!
9. Hit the publish button and watch the hits roll in.
10. Bug your friends, "Hey, did you see that awesome shit I just posted?"
1. To flirt via an electronic form of communication, especially via myspace.
1. Someone who partakes in E-Flirting
[ Origin: I originally used the term to describe a series of myspace messages that I had with someone who was probably too young for me to be seriously consiering anything more than a myspace friendship with(10 years my junior) ]
1. "So is this something serious?"
"Nah, it's just a little harmless E-Flirting"
2. "Dude, this girl has 342 myspace friends, she's a huge E-Flirt"
A couple of weeks ago I met this super cute girl Misty through a mutual friend of ours, Chris. We were all hanging out at a bar one night and her and I hit it off pretty well. We had a little back and forth going that night, and she immediately told me that she wanted to be number one on my myspace.
This was a tough one because, as anyone who knows me will attest, I've got about as much ability to say no to a cute girl as Eddie Murphy does for turning down a crappy movie roll. For once I played it pretty cool and did the hard to get bit with her. She's a nice girl, but like Jenna Jameson and Hulk Hogan both learned early on in their careers, if you wanna finish on top, you gotta work for it. The same rules apply to my myspace.
Eventually, after a little prodding, I bumped her up to #1. I pretended that I forgot about it, but between you and me you don't catch a fish by immediately jerking it into the boat. You gotta slowly reel it in. Within a week or two the myspace comments and messages were rolling in. I was looking for an opening since I only sort of knew her, and if anything she was still Chris's friend more than mine.
I bided my time until suddenly things fell in to place. One weekend she asked if I wanted to go hang out with her and bunch of friends. I had a talk with Chris, and he said he's not interested and gave me the bro thumb's up. Alcohol, flirting, and a green light from the closest competition... Even Jesse, my very handsome and awesome friend(seriously ladies, ask him to be your myspace friend) couldn't screw this one up... or so I thought.
The night started off well enough. I met everyone, and everything looked good. I had just started talking to her and was having an inner monologue argument with myself over what kind of eggs I should make her in the morning when Chris arrived. That's when the night took a toilet bowl swirl in the wrong direction. Misty was all over him like Britney Spears on the last doughnut at a Circle K.
That's when reality sunk in. Had I been a decoy? Was I the stool pigeon this entire time? A couple of drinks later it didn't really matter.
I actually ended up having a pretty good night, but it wasn't at all what I had dreamed up. At the end of the day I guess it's better to have E-Flirted and gone home alone than to have never E-flirted at all.