Dear Jake

My friend found this sad note in the library. I think I’m going to start posting pictures on here — I don’t have much to write, I don’t want to post them on thefacebook.com, I have 3 GB of available space.

Note To Jake

Note:

Dear Jake,
I love you so much. You are my favorite person + you deserve an award for dealing with my princess attitude.
xoxo
Ellie

Rex Translation:
“Dear Jake, I love you so much.  You are the most fun and admirable person I know (but you don’t make me hot and bothered).  Thank you for
letting me run over you on a daily basis (you make a great fallback and will love me even when I cheat on you).”

I Never Left

I have been blogging. The words have been broadcasted over “secure” personal e-mail.

I woke up at a descent hour today.  Rode my bike today, fifeteen miles around the lake.  Played frisbee.  Had a Chinese food for lunch.  Drank a mango smoothie.  Played tennis.  Had the best mussels in Dallas for dinner, accompanied by a tasty beer.

It is quite unfortunate that I am still sad at the end of the day.  Why?

Coat

Due to sheer stupidity, procrastination, laziness, and being frugal, I have not purchased a coat for the winter. December is just around the corner.

I walked around downtown Chicago last week in below freezing weather in a hoody and black windbreaker. Luckily, I did not get sick, but I should have. It would have taught me a lesson. But, my back, neck and shoulders are tense from all the shivering. Lesson not learned. I need a massage.

It is difficult to find clothes in my size. When I do, they are out of my imaginary budget. If I don’t find anything in my size within the first two racks, I give up, and move to the next store. I should spend more time shopping, and less time worrying about how I look like naked. Besides, I’m only naked when I’m drunk or showering – and I don’t spend enough time on either of those activities. I smell terrible, if you can’t tell, you are probably congested (which works out for the both of us).

When I do find something great, there’s a fatal flaw, like a green dragon on the back. I’m afraid I might rationalize buying the green dragon coat as a good decision. (I like the color green. My Mom was born in the year of the dragon. Sold. Another item to add to my inventory.) Two weeks later a friend will muster up the courage to tell me the coat I proudly purchased doesn’t even fit.

“But it looked great in the fitting room” I’ll respond.

“Was it a clown mirror?”

*sigh*

Obama

Yea!

War Room

I overworked my liver last night, and I’ve misplaced the keys to a car I don’t own. I haven’t shaved in three days, my hair is jacked, I stained my white shirt with coffee, and I didn’t shower today. I’m wearing my glasses so I feel even more tired, and these pants put a lot of pressure on my middle area.

Just another day, and now I’m blogging in the “war room.” When things are going wrong, and everyone is in a conference room, it’s called a war room. Why the f*** am I here, I don’t know. But all the important people are in the room, there are conference calls with people all over the world, and I’m just chilling in the corner. For the first time since I’ve been here, I’m sitting up against a wall and no-one can see my laptop screen.

Sometimes a regular person will walk into the room for an update, but the important person won’t respond to his request. The regular person will look at me, the young boy in the corner, and I frown and nod my head slowly in a disapproving manner (to indicate that things are not going so well). But I really have no idea, it just seems that way because people raise their voices once in a while.

The usual problem with these huge projects – “there are too many cooks in the kitchen” and nothing is getting done. More time is spent on updates, and less time on the actual work.

Alright, it’s been an hour since I got here, and now I’ve finally gotten some work. Time to publish.

Voted and Pissed Off (but not about voting)

I lost my voting virginity on Friday. It was okay. My original intent was to dedicate this entry with parallels between voting and making whoopee, but I decided to take a different direction.

Next subject – I hate this guy. http://www.okcupid.com/profile?tuid=6245340650145552898

Click on the link, copy and paste, I’m not going to hide it between HTML brackets, he’s a real person and the website is okcupid. A friend sent me the link (Don’t ask questions). He lives, he eats, he sleeps, consumes valuable oxygen and generates carbon dioxide, drinks water and takes up space on planet earf. Also, he is ruining my life without even knowing it. Even I, the don mega, barely realized it.

At first glance, he seems like a pretty cool character. I actually read his entire profile, and was nodding my head in approval until I got to “The Six Things I Could Never Do Without” section and read “The numbers 1 through 6. Hexadecimal would just not be the same without them.”

Talking about hex-fu**ing-decimals? Numbers ‘one’ through ‘nine’, ‘a’ through ‘f’?! I’m sorry good sir, but based on my limited knowledge of mathematics there isn’t a single numeric system which is viable without the number one. Not even binary. Hexadecimals don’t even make sense in this context.

Regardless, girls will eat this up like Swiss chocolates from Whole Foods. Good for him. I stopped reading the rest of his profile, and was pissed that I went beyond the first couple of lines. I don’t have enough hours in the day to waste reading his profile (which probably took him a month to contrive).

Maybe I’m pissed because I’m jealous?
Nah.
F**k that guy.

My Facebook Marriage is a Sham!

Facts.

“Hey, that’s a cute picture you have on your facebook profile.” That’s the first thing the executive that sits next to me said to me when I walked in on Monday morning, tired from my travels. Not a “hello” or the generic, “how was your weekend.” I was thrown off.

“I see that you are married here” he continued.

“My marriage is a sham!” I dramatically retorted. I had just returned from Austin, I had barely gotten any sleep from the weekend, I was exhausted and out of corporate character.

The executive caught me browsing facebook after lunch earlier in the month, and instead of making the typical “you working hard or hardly working” comment, he asked me to add him. And this wasn’t linkedin, orkut, dopplr, or gmail, this was facebook. Although our relationship did not change, after he accepted my invitation, I felt like he knew me better. That’s a lot of power for a stupid overpriced social network, (I’m conflicted on my feelings about it). My online personas, which none of my co-workers know about, was now accessible to the man who could essentially control my future on the project.

“I showed my wife your picture over the weekend, I thought you were…” the executive said.

“Yeah,” I quickly cut him off, not knowing what he was going to say next. “She hates my job, the distance; she hates my face, my lack of facial hair, every general characteristic about me. Apparently I’m boring.”

He paused in confusion. Employees occupying nearby cubes raised their heads to listen in on the conversation.

I booted up my computer, quickly checked my phone for text messages — no new meessages.

“You don’t need her!”
“But you’re a cute guy?”
“You have money!?”

I looked at each person that made the above comments and simply shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know” I said. The Windows login screen appeared. I sat down. I did not want to continue with the afternoon banter. Another week.

Round One

This post probably falls into the “about me” section, but I’ll count it as an entry because of the lack of my creativity. The following is conversations with my imaginary counselor. She asked me four questions, before we start our session. I would have preferred three or five, because both are better numbers in my opinion.

Her: “What do you plan on doing?”
Me: “Blogging. Posting pictures.. Posting links I find entertaining. Unoriginal material. Etc.”

Her: “Have you done it before?”
Me: “Yea. *Nodding* My first post was on on Saturday, April 5th, 2003 at 9:12 PM on a Xangay. I had written short posts on my AIM profile for years before, but they weren’t official blog material. It’s been done. I’ve done it. I’ll do it again. More zeroes and ones placed on a server farm in Canada. Just another front page on the blogosphere atmosphere. More noise, to a medium which is already clichéd.

Her: “When will you do it?”
Me: “I’d like to do it all the time, but obviously that’s not possible because of my physical distance, lack of time and originality. I’ll plan on once a week, but I’ll probably fail – statistics speak for me. More than ninety percent of non-pornographic blogs don’t go beyond a couple of weeks of monotonous posts. Burnout. Lack of motivation or time. Boring topics. Personal issues. Poor visual design. The list goes on…

Her: “How will you do it?
Me: “Right here, for free. WordPress! I don’t care for the money by AdSense. I’m an Internet lurker (just like you). Comments are always welcome; they can’t get any worse than the ones on youtube.”

It has begun

Starting Again

My original Xanga got hacked. It’s been a while since I last blogged but this will be the start.