Baptism Day

Customer Service

Went to a barber shop near my house this morning.  An Asian man named Tony cut my hair with the efficiency and balletic skill like I've never experienced.  I was sad when it was over.  Unfortunately, it only takes five minutes to shave a head.  I didn't have the money to pay him when it was over.  He trusted me to go get some cash and come back.

Music Appreciation: Mumford and Sons

'Puters

Okay fine, "delete" is actually backspace.  I can get used to that.  But what key acts as delete a la PC computers?  Don't tell me I have to hold down a second key while pressing "delete."  Son of a

My transition to Mac is complete.  I can now look down upon all you moronic, drooling PC users with contempt. Just kidding.  Look, it's hard to turn down a cheap PC which essentially does the exact same thing as a Mac, but I've grown accustomed to complication.  I'm not used to an intuitive computing experience.  I'm starting to relish simplicity.

Also, from what I've seen, the future Windows 8 looks like a colossal piece of strange shit.  

Fat Mac

I am finally officially switching to Mac.  For the computer-illiterate, or the computer-I-don't-give-a-crap, I don't know what to compare it to that would illustrate the significance... I suppose if you're comfortable with sports analogies it would be like becoming a White Sox fan after years of rooting for the Cubbies.  Sacrilege! many would exclaim. On the internet, the war between PC users and Mac users rages on.  For years I was a soldier in the PC army.  I dismissed Mac (and most Apple products) as dumbed-down versions of  things adults use in the "real world."  Or, I considered the Mac (and most Apple products) "a computer even my mother could use."

But then I had a dream... In middle school, Lil Jason fell in love with the Apple IIc computer.  I joined Computer Club just to be near it.  I wanted one SOOOO bad.  Ugh, the yearning and eventual pain of never having one left a scar that is still healing.  In my parents defense, they would have had to take out a second mortgage on our house to afford one.  And of course there was that one kid in class who had one: Jim Cook, that little fucker.  Great guy, I'm sure, but I will always hate him because he had an Apple IIc.

Fast forward to college, 1996.  Young, virile, throbbing Jason needs a computer.  As luck would have it, my college years coincided with Steve Jobs' absence from Apple and the "Mac" I got sucked donkey dicks.  (That beige piece of shit currently rots in my parents' basement - the virtual grave yard of half-assed electronics. *Don't get me started on the Commodore Vic20 currently serving a life sentence in that basment.)

And so it was the decade of the 90's that pushed me into the cheap, diseased, virus-riddled arms of the PC.

I don't want to perpetuate the war between PC and Mac, but honestly, it's a no-brainer.  Sure, it costs more, but everyone knows the generic Oreo cookies taste like shit.  If you want an Oreo you pay for Oreos.  Simple.  And then after you bite into that Oreo you say to yourself, "Why the hell are we buying those cheap ass fake Oreos?"  As I often say, You get what you pay for.  Also, I need to lose some weight.

Pop

Day five of The Great Third Floor Flood of 2012...

I'm settling in just fine up here on the lofty ninth floor.  The woman in the cube next to me, Priti (pronounced Prithi) is appreciating my jokes, I'm sure.  She'll miss me when I'm gone.  And my boss is stationed on the eighth floor which is also nice.  Not that I don't like him - he's a fine gentleman - but, you know, he's the boss.  My new, temporary cubicle is fashioned so that my computer screen is visible to all who walk by, so I'm a little bit more aware of my online surroundings as I venture down the alleys and pathways of our glorious internet while at work.

This is my week of trying new things.  For lunch I sauntered into a carry out place whose name I could not pronounce and ordered a meal equally unpronounceable.  And I drank a Pepsi.

Also, we've been issued Blackberry's as a permanent replacement for our desk phones.

Pepsi and Blackberry.  If this flood event goes on any longer I'll be touting the benefits and comfort of wearing women's underwear.  

Carver's Carpet

On Monday I got to work a little earlier than usual. My prize: Being the first person to discover that the third floor was flooded.  Two days later and I'm on the eighth floor in a strange cubicle surrounded by strange people.  They don't take kindly to strangers.  

Nothing like a little excitement to get the rank and file all atwitter.  I'm fond of sudden events.  I like surprises.  This distraction is okay.  Now I have to convince my coworkers that everything is going to be fine.  

I'm sure it's been studied before countless times by "top men," but soak the carpet of a city government worker's cubicle and watch the circus unfold.  I'd like to see the spreadsheets and baseline data showing the variant levels of freak-out people exhibit when they're suddenly uprooted from their routine and plopped down into the thick of stink-eyes and hand me down office chairs.  I think one woman hyperventilated.  And another went home because the wet carpet allegedly triggered an asthma attack.  

There's a reason traffic comes to a stand still when it rains.  The panic and fear of unusual occurrences turns us into stark raving lunatics.  The true nature of our character is not showcased on how we live our lives on a day to day basis, but rather how we react to a flood on the third floor.  Or how we receive bad news.  Or how we find a new path to the waterfall.    

Goals

The goals we pursue are always veiled. A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about. The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is totally unknown to us.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera

Snot Me

I have a runny nose.  Woke up with it.  At this moment I'm having difficulty coming up with a worse experience than being on a quiet, crowded, morning train with a nose that wants to drain.

Tits

Listen up fellow television lovers,

Breaking Bad is back this weekend.  Sunday night.  Watch it or throw your TV out the window, because if you're not watching that show your boob tube is useless.  Also, Louie is back.  That's on tonight.  Seriously, you cannot claim to be an owner of a television and not watch Louie.  It's important for the survival of the human race that you watch Louie.  (Or at least the survival of the cool people.)

Speaking of boobs,

Truth

He was drunk most of the time, and he was right most of the time. You don't have to like the man to be changed by his poetry. I think he was a dirty old man, but I cannot deny his prophetic beauty. Or am I merely confusing honesty with beauty? Rare is the day I interact with a truly honest person. Myself included.

Bye Bye Birdie

Here's James watching Bye Bye Birdie. We both agree that young Ann-Margaret is hot. But cheese and crackers is that movie awful!

Dreams of Crooked Streams

This heat.  Am I right?  Yeah.  Anyway.  I still prefer the summer over the winter.  Sweating is such a reaffirmation of life, like getting winded on a long set of stairs or waking up with a boner.  We can't barricade ourselves in an air conditioned cubicle forever.  Eventually, we're going to have to get in our car that's been baking in a parking lot all day.  If those first few minutes waiting for the a/c to kick in don't remind you who's in charge then why even have a cock? Why bother stopping off on the side of the road for sweet corn when you can just buy it at the grocery store?  Because it tastes good, that's why.  Every hot, sweaty day is a beautiful ear of corn.  Slather it with butter before it gets cold and bland.

I know there's parts of my life that could use more butter.  I let my corn get cold.  Epic changes in life often start with the realization that my dinner sucks.  Don't let your dinner suck, man.  And if it does, it's okay.  You can make another dinner.

Metaphors.  Where would we be without 'em?  All this talk of corn dinners and sweating in the summer heat will most likely waft right over your head.  Unless you're privy to the metaphor.  Fortunately, I caught your attention back at the mention of morning wood.  Let that metaphorical erection be your guide.  Follow it down your road of seasons. And don't forget to laugh when you realize we all pee funny first thing in the morning.

Don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Our family is at a crossroads.  We're trying to decide where to live.  We can get more house for our money the further out of DC we travel.  But then the commute to work would suck ass.  Or stay close and overpay for a townhouse that we'll most likely grow out of in the near future.  One part of me relishes the thought of never having to mow a lawn.  But the dad part of me worries that James will grow up not learning the basic skill of trying to start an old, gasoline powered push mower in 95 degree heat.  (Learning how to stay calm is the lesson - I know that now.)  And it's very important to me that James learns how to wash a car by hand and change a tire.  These are difficult things to do in an urban setting.

On the subject of James' life, it's important that he gets a job early in his life.  I started working when I was 15 years old and saved up $500 to buy my first car, the 1979 Buick LeSabre.  Then I had to maintain a job to pay for the car insurance and gas.  On top of learning how to be self-sufficient and responsible, the job itself taught me a lot.  I was short order cook in a small-town drive in. Every skill a person needs to succeed in life can be learned in the trenches of a busy restaurant:  Time management, organization, cleanliness, efficiency, and customer service.  When James is ready I will push him toward the food service industry.  Unless he becomes a classical violinist or Olympic bound athlete.

Heck, if we move far enough out of the city maybe we can get a horse!