• Listen carefully, my friend

    The other day one of my coworkers approached me with welcome praise. He told me that he appreciated all of the helpful computer advice I had given him over the course of our six year acquaintance. He went so far as to say that he trusted my computer advice more than anyone else.

    Who doesn’t like to be appreciated, as if he were the best thing to come along since Barry first crooned “,Copa Cabana,?” I was sitting there with my Big Gulp serving of caffeine, having a grand ‘ole time, when the moment was spoiled by inspiration.

    Seeing a barn sized opening for the taking, I could not resist temptation.

    “Then why haven’t you taken my MOST IMPORTANT piece of computer advice to date?” I asked.

    “What would that be?” He replied.

    “Get a Mac.”

    The loud groan of skepticism momentarily ruined a perfectly good moment of self-righteousness.

  • On behalf of mankind, we welcome you to Earth

    Alternate title: “Is this blog becoming a treatise on substance addiction?”

    What’s faster than Crash Bandicoot, produces more energy than a stray match at your local propane refilling station, and is more excitable than a cat stuck in the dryer? What if you were a little anxious about going to work this morning, then you proceeded to drink two cups of coffee, two glasses of iced tea, and topped it off with a diet crashing Twix bar? What if your tolerance for such things was lower than a Mormon at his first frat party?

    “I’d like to buy another cup, and live in harmony,”

    Falling from the wagon can hurt so much, but oh it hurts so good.

  • Size matters

    All right, let’s face it, I’d have more street cred as a 14 year old girl with a passion for classical music and a yearning to play the viola. That said, I just can’t get past the street mod, Japanese import, teen sensation, ridiculous sounding automobile. Yes, I drive one of these cars that’s often modified by our misdirected youth. Yes, I’ve discussed this before. There are some things I just can’t put aside. I get behind someone with a muffler the size of a naval artillery piece and my imagination runs in unexpected, sarcastic, unflattering, and somewhat ridiculous directions. “Ensign, load the aft guns with the two liter bottles of Coke. We’ll show those Nutrasweet loving bastards on shore a thing or two!”

    I like my car, but I know there are some things it will never be: a Corvette, Viper, or any other car with a big engine. My car will always be near the bottom of the automobile food chain. Making my car louder will draw more attention, but it won’t necessarily be good or admiring attention. I could strap an eighty pound echoing chamber engineered by Bose to the back of my car, and it’ll still have a four cylinder engine.

    Now that you’ve read this variation on a theme of an entry, you are free to resume your life, already in progress.