i'm beginning to think the ymca where i work out attracts a bit of an odd crowd.
every gym has their one gross guy, and i figured that's what i found with the lotion guy. but now, just a couple days later, i've already come across someone else doing something totally inappropriate.
near the entrance of the men's locker room, there's a little enclave with an armchair, a loveseat and a little coffee table. ostensibly, you could relax there after a workout and read a magazine while you cool off. not the most hygenic setup, and i'm pretty sure i wouldn't apply the 10-second rule for food i dropped on a cushion there, but it's not soemthing i ever thought twice about.
well that was until today. after finishing a quick workout, i jogged down the stairs and entered the sitting area to find a portly asian man, probably in his late 40's seated in the armchair, apparently having dozed off, one leg propped up onto the armrest of the chair.
doesn't seem so strange, until you take into consideration that he was completely naked -- except for a towel covering his pubic area. but i'm not talking about the kind of towel made of cotton you use to dry yourself off.
no i'm talking about a paper towel, and not even a proper one at that. this was the brown variety that you find at classy locales like truck stops and high school bathrooms, the ones that can't absorb moisture but are pretty useful if you want to spread a liquid out so that it will evaporate more quickly.
yes, a man 50 pounds overweight, legs open as if expecting a delivery, with a single paper towel, so crumpled that he might have stuffed it in the pocket of his missing pants earlier in the day, to cover his genitals.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
make-out tax
this morning, a cab ride from cole valley back to hayes valley cost me $10 (8.25+1.75); certainly nothing out of the ordnary there. what i did find odd was that an almost identical cab ride cost $17 just five hours earlier.
cab drivers have a bit of a reputation for trying to run up the meter on customers, but honestly i don't think it happens all that much. at least in san francisco. this doesn't mean i have a deep belief in the virtuosity of people in this occupation, but just that it's too hard to know who you can take advantage of. since every ethnicity is represented in this city, it's not like you can see a chinese person and think, score, foreigner. and you have to be pretty confident you can get away with it, since the moment someone figures out the driver's taking the great circle route, he not only loses his tip, but maybe the entire fare. so unless you're carrying nine shopping bags in each hand and bust out in japanese, you'll probably get to your destination for a fair price.
of course all this goes out the window when you start to hook up with somebody in the back seat. at this point the cab driver could basically pull over to the side of the road, shut off the engine and take a nap with the meter on, because he knows that all your attention is going toward trying to get the girl's shirt off/pants unbuttoned. and even if you unravel the ruse, there's not exactly a whole bunch of options. what would telling the driver to pull over so you can get out accomplish at this point (except not getting you laid)? besides, even when you reach the destination and realize your fare is twice what it should be, are you really going to haggle for the eight dollar overcharge when only a flight of stairs stands between sex.
plus, chances are good both of you are pretty wet. after all, people who aren't wasted don't start in the back of the cab. which means you won't even know you were screwed until the taxi home the next morning.
cab drivers have a bit of a reputation for trying to run up the meter on customers, but honestly i don't think it happens all that much. at least in san francisco. this doesn't mean i have a deep belief in the virtuosity of people in this occupation, but just that it's too hard to know who you can take advantage of. since every ethnicity is represented in this city, it's not like you can see a chinese person and think, score, foreigner. and you have to be pretty confident you can get away with it, since the moment someone figures out the driver's taking the great circle route, he not only loses his tip, but maybe the entire fare. so unless you're carrying nine shopping bags in each hand and bust out in japanese, you'll probably get to your destination for a fair price.
of course all this goes out the window when you start to hook up with somebody in the back seat. at this point the cab driver could basically pull over to the side of the road, shut off the engine and take a nap with the meter on, because he knows that all your attention is going toward trying to get the girl's shirt off/pants unbuttoned. and even if you unravel the ruse, there's not exactly a whole bunch of options. what would telling the driver to pull over so you can get out accomplish at this point (except not getting you laid)? besides, even when you reach the destination and realize your fare is twice what it should be, are you really going to haggle for the eight dollar overcharge when only a flight of stairs stands between sex.
plus, chances are good both of you are pretty wet. after all, people who aren't wasted don't start in the back of the cab. which means you won't even know you were screwed until the taxi home the next morning.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
freudian slips
as a sometimes film reviewer for sfstation, i spend a fair amount of time at the theater. and having learned that writing a scathing review is more satisfying than writing a nice one, i see my fair share of absolute crap.
one of the things i've come to notice is how often comedies-that-don't-make-me-laugh and romances-that-make-me-want-to-puke incorporate freudian slips into the dialogue. i'm not sure whether these screenwriters have never seen a movie before and think its clever or if they just want to show off their knowledge of psychoanalysis, but i do know its annoying.
now i'd always thought slips were an old wives' tale like the crust of the bread having more nutrients (i learned this wasn't true a few years ago), but to my surprise and chagrin, i proved this was not the case, and found myself a victim of such a faux pas.
during the disastrous meal that was la suite, i had waited in excess of an hour for my entree to arrive, throwing my body into a bout of hypoglycemia. so when my lamb chops - which tasted like they had been left out of the refrigerator -- finally arrived, i blurted out thank god instead of the customary thank you to the server.
so it appears that the freudian slip is a genuine phenomenon. it still doesn't mean they have to be part of every picture that comes out of southern california.
one of the things i've come to notice is how often comedies-that-don't-make-me-laugh and romances-that-make-me-want-to-puke incorporate freudian slips into the dialogue. i'm not sure whether these screenwriters have never seen a movie before and think its clever or if they just want to show off their knowledge of psychoanalysis, but i do know its annoying.
now i'd always thought slips were an old wives' tale like the crust of the bread having more nutrients (i learned this wasn't true a few years ago), but to my surprise and chagrin, i proved this was not the case, and found myself a victim of such a faux pas.
during the disastrous meal that was la suite, i had waited in excess of an hour for my entree to arrive, throwing my body into a bout of hypoglycemia. so when my lamb chops - which tasted like they had been left out of the refrigerator -- finally arrived, i blurted out thank god instead of the customary thank you to the server.
so it appears that the freudian slip is a genuine phenomenon. it still doesn't mean they have to be part of every picture that comes out of southern california.
thoughts of a food snob
i eat out a lot, both fancy and not so fancy. usually, i'm disappointed, but like all humans i get hungry. and like most americans i'm lazy, so that means excessive amounts of take-out and other cheap faire. it normally tastes about as good as the box it was delivered in, but i'm morally opposed to expecting a reward for wasteful and slothful behavior.
fine dining introduces a whole different set of standards though.
over the last 10 days, i'd patronized three separate expensive restaurants (at least $$$ in the standard pricing system) and for the pittance i must subsist on, this is a signficant expenditure. yet, not once did i leave the restaurant satisfied. was it possible that good food has reached the point of cloying?
for someone practical, this would be a terrific development, like saving a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to geico. instead of clearing out your bank account for an ounce of goose liver, you could take a weekly visit to the grocery store for a 24-pack of top ramen. and with the savings, you could open an ira or something else people approaching their 30s are supposed to start learning about.
but for me, as much as i yearn for financial security, this development would deprive me of one of my true joys in life. when i have a spare evening, i plan the night's events around the restaurant i want to dine at. when i make my way to another country, the first section i turn to in my lonely planet guide is food.
which is why my visit to myth signified much more than just another dinner.
and i'm happy to report that i can now return to my free-spending ways and lavish dinners with a clear conscience. almost everything we ordered ended up delicious, and the buttery richness of the mushroom dusted scallops will be a sensation you still recall many months and hundreds of meals later.
fine dining introduces a whole different set of standards though.
over the last 10 days, i'd patronized three separate expensive restaurants (at least $$$ in the standard pricing system) and for the pittance i must subsist on, this is a signficant expenditure. yet, not once did i leave the restaurant satisfied. was it possible that good food has reached the point of cloying?
for someone practical, this would be a terrific development, like saving a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to geico. instead of clearing out your bank account for an ounce of goose liver, you could take a weekly visit to the grocery store for a 24-pack of top ramen. and with the savings, you could open an ira or something else people approaching their 30s are supposed to start learning about.
but for me, as much as i yearn for financial security, this development would deprive me of one of my true joys in life. when i have a spare evening, i plan the night's events around the restaurant i want to dine at. when i make my way to another country, the first section i turn to in my lonely planet guide is food.
which is why my visit to myth signified much more than just another dinner.
and i'm happy to report that i can now return to my free-spending ways and lavish dinners with a clear conscience. almost everything we ordered ended up delicious, and the buttery richness of the mushroom dusted scallops will be a sensation you still recall many months and hundreds of meals later.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
the ladies of emmy's
on a quiet saturday night, i decided to wander down to the san francisco establishment emmy's spaghetti shack with my roommate for a quick and dirty meal.
it's a place i've known about for a while now and a name that arose frequently in those ubiquitous 'what do you feel like eating?' discussions that all groups of friends have time and time again. yet while it always ended made the podium, it never earned the gold, meaning that after almost five years in the city, i'd yet to sample their famed spaghetti and meatballs.
and i'm happy to report that emmy's is the type of restaurant that you reminisce about when you move out of town. i'm not sure of all the ingredients -- definitely garlic, capers, chopped onions -- in those meatballs, but they were tasty.
still, i suspect good meatballs aren't unique to sf, so it's not just the food.
the whole dining area isn't any bigger than your average sf studio, which when you have a small bar and a live dj eating up space, means that the tables are lined up side-by-side with a couple of booths lining each of the walls. the plastic chairs and vinyl-upholstered booths lend no air of sophistication nor does the mystery door that joins the restuarant to a predominantly mexican dive bar that doubles as the waiting room.
but a restaurant can't claim itself as a piece of the neighborhood unless the staff creates that environment of familiarity. whether intentional, or as they claimed, not the hostess and two waitresses clad themselves in spaghetti-insprired garb -- matching red (maybe orange; the lighting is set to mood, making it hard to tell) apparel with white stripes. and as they shuffled between kitchen, table and bar, they broke stride briefly to chat each time they crossed paths, perhaps passing on wait duties as different members of the trio took our order, checked on our food, offered dessert and brought the bill. very communal indeed.
all through dinner, interspersed between bites of pasta, i found myself conjuring a back story for the charming little eatery. the staff, actually, three daughters of a single mother with just a year separating each of them, grew up as best friends, but had drifted apart when they spread out to opposite parts of the country to pursue their various careers. when their mother, emmy of course, fell ill, they returned to sf to sell the family business, but over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, they decided instead to run the restaurant themselves.
i'm certain that i'm romanticizing what took place, but after two mediocre at best and pricey dinners this week, well i just can't help it.
it's a place i've known about for a while now and a name that arose frequently in those ubiquitous 'what do you feel like eating?' discussions that all groups of friends have time and time again. yet while it always ended made the podium, it never earned the gold, meaning that after almost five years in the city, i'd yet to sample their famed spaghetti and meatballs.
and i'm happy to report that emmy's is the type of restaurant that you reminisce about when you move out of town. i'm not sure of all the ingredients -- definitely garlic, capers, chopped onions -- in those meatballs, but they were tasty.
still, i suspect good meatballs aren't unique to sf, so it's not just the food.
the whole dining area isn't any bigger than your average sf studio, which when you have a small bar and a live dj eating up space, means that the tables are lined up side-by-side with a couple of booths lining each of the walls. the plastic chairs and vinyl-upholstered booths lend no air of sophistication nor does the mystery door that joins the restuarant to a predominantly mexican dive bar that doubles as the waiting room.
but a restaurant can't claim itself as a piece of the neighborhood unless the staff creates that environment of familiarity. whether intentional, or as they claimed, not the hostess and two waitresses clad themselves in spaghetti-insprired garb -- matching red (maybe orange; the lighting is set to mood, making it hard to tell) apparel with white stripes. and as they shuffled between kitchen, table and bar, they broke stride briefly to chat each time they crossed paths, perhaps passing on wait duties as different members of the trio took our order, checked on our food, offered dessert and brought the bill. very communal indeed.
all through dinner, interspersed between bites of pasta, i found myself conjuring a back story for the charming little eatery. the staff, actually, three daughters of a single mother with just a year separating each of them, grew up as best friends, but had drifted apart when they spread out to opposite parts of the country to pursue their various careers. when their mother, emmy of course, fell ill, they returned to sf to sell the family business, but over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, they decided instead to run the restaurant themselves.
i'm certain that i'm romanticizing what took place, but after two mediocre at best and pricey dinners this week, well i just can't help it.
it rubs the lotion on its skin
i walked into the men's locker room at the ymca where i work out yesterday and in front of the mirror stood a man, naked as you come, admiring himself as he adopted various bodybuilding poses. while i admit he was quite well built, i couldn't help but chuckle as i watched this unabashed show of vanity.
however, as i sat down on a bench to change into my gym gear. i noticed as the well-muscled man lifted his right leg so that it was parallel to the ground and pressed his foot against the wall to balance himself. from this position he began to apply lotion, first to his calf and then slowly working his way up the leg.
i turned my face away in time, before he could reach the nether region between his legs, but despite my best efforts, i still caught glimpses of him as he moved from on the leg to the next and then to his torso. he may have continued to other sections of the body, but i sped up my changing time significantly to escape this exhibition without further harm.
it made me wonder if this sort of thing would be deemed inappropriate by the rest of the guys in the locker room. i don't consider myself homophobic but every guy must draw the line somewhere. and to me if the line is drawn at a guy massaging lotion on to his testicles in front of a mirror in a public place, i'd consider that pretty reasonable.
however, as i sat down on a bench to change into my gym gear. i noticed as the well-muscled man lifted his right leg so that it was parallel to the ground and pressed his foot against the wall to balance himself. from this position he began to apply lotion, first to his calf and then slowly working his way up the leg.
i turned my face away in time, before he could reach the nether region between his legs, but despite my best efforts, i still caught glimpses of him as he moved from on the leg to the next and then to his torso. he may have continued to other sections of the body, but i sped up my changing time significantly to escape this exhibition without further harm.
it made me wonder if this sort of thing would be deemed inappropriate by the rest of the guys in the locker room. i don't consider myself homophobic but every guy must draw the line somewhere. and to me if the line is drawn at a guy massaging lotion on to his testicles in front of a mirror in a public place, i'd consider that pretty reasonable.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
i'll call you
acquaintances has to be the weirdest state of a relationship.
meetings are never planned and everytime they take place, you have to start completely over getting to know each other. the last chance encounter is too far removed to remember what the other person said they were doing with their life, and in all honesty neither person cares all that much -- otherwise you wouldn't be acquaintances to start with.
yet no matter how the conversation goes, it inevitably involves the exchange of phone numbers. one person asks, probably because there was a lull in the conversation after each of you reminds the other of what they do for a living, and it would be rude to say no, so it happens.
really, why's it so hard to admit there's no connection between the two of you? well at least it's an easy way to end the conversation. after all, now that you know how to get in touch, the two of you will just pick it up next time.
meetings are never planned and everytime they take place, you have to start completely over getting to know each other. the last chance encounter is too far removed to remember what the other person said they were doing with their life, and in all honesty neither person cares all that much -- otherwise you wouldn't be acquaintances to start with.
yet no matter how the conversation goes, it inevitably involves the exchange of phone numbers. one person asks, probably because there was a lull in the conversation after each of you reminds the other of what they do for a living, and it would be rude to say no, so it happens.
really, why's it so hard to admit there's no connection between the two of you? well at least it's an easy way to end the conversation. after all, now that you know how to get in touch, the two of you will just pick it up next time.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
kiss kiss
as a 13-year old, my presence constituted 50% of the asian population in my 8th grade class. that was a bad thing, because middle school isn't one of the places in the world that values diversity.
fortunately, my asian counterpart had the misfortune of being named duong. and if you didn't know, pretty much every mocking chinese sound that kids make rhymes with that, jing jong wong bong gong, etc. it kept a little heat off me, but when your name rhymes with a popular video game featuring an orange ball with legs that hops around, you're not exactly exempt.
this all changed when i moved towns for high school, as i entered a virtual beijing, with 10%(!) asian folks. but more importantly, i was first introduced to a filipino family and their particularly, for asian, odd customs, most notably kissing on the cheek as a greeting. it was affection that would be totally misplaced in the culture that i grew up with. plus i had a serious crush on one of the three filipino sisters and that was as close as i ever came to consolidating that crush.
nowadays though, i see the cheek kiss employed everywhere and my feelings toward it have taken the proverbial full turn. people lean in, their cheeks come maybe an inch from each other, and they make a smooch sound with their lips. what used to be a sign of closeness now is the epitome of affected acquaintance.
to me that's a bad trade.
fortunately, my asian counterpart had the misfortune of being named duong. and if you didn't know, pretty much every mocking chinese sound that kids make rhymes with that, jing jong wong bong gong, etc. it kept a little heat off me, but when your name rhymes with a popular video game featuring an orange ball with legs that hops around, you're not exactly exempt.
this all changed when i moved towns for high school, as i entered a virtual beijing, with 10%(!) asian folks. but more importantly, i was first introduced to a filipino family and their particularly, for asian, odd customs, most notably kissing on the cheek as a greeting. it was affection that would be totally misplaced in the culture that i grew up with. plus i had a serious crush on one of the three filipino sisters and that was as close as i ever came to consolidating that crush.
nowadays though, i see the cheek kiss employed everywhere and my feelings toward it have taken the proverbial full turn. people lean in, their cheeks come maybe an inch from each other, and they make a smooch sound with their lips. what used to be a sign of closeness now is the epitome of affected acquaintance.
to me that's a bad trade.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
the time has arrived
at some point -- for me it was post #5 -- one has to decide if their blog is going to just be g-rated musings that includes people's names or if the intimate details of those around the blogger will be exposed to the unforgiving judgements of the tiny subset of the world who stumbles to the site.
i've never been much for general audience material, that sort of stuff is to be reserved for cross-country flights on us based carriers.
plus, i suspect my life is not so fascinating that i have the option to censor the embarrassing stuff and still have enough material to entertain even the least discerning of readers.
i've never been much for general audience material, that sort of stuff is to be reserved for cross-country flights on us based carriers.
plus, i suspect my life is not so fascinating that i have the option to censor the embarrassing stuff and still have enough material to entertain even the least discerning of readers.
Monday, August 15, 2005
singing lessons for fat chicks
well if i ever get any female readers, this post should pretty much guarantee they'll never come back. oh well; it's my blog.
i've met girls who have lost weight. they started pilates, or more frequently these days training for a triathlon, and dropped a few pounds. but i've never met a really fat chick -- one who has to wear pants with elastic waistbands to deal with the normal 5% weight fluctuation in people, which for her is 22 pounds -- who managed to get skinny. except on reality tv, it doesn't happen; their metabolism is just too slow and too many stores carry hostess products.
which is why these rotund ladies should stop spending their money on south beach diet books and get themselves a voice teacher. cause a girl can have ankles so swollen she can't zip up a pair of boots, but if she can sing on a stage, she's instantly attractive.
this is really just a roundabout way of admitting that i'm completely infatuated with feist. from the pictures on her website, she's on the opposite side of the weight spectrum, but by celebrity infatuation standards, she falls far short in the looks department.
however, her unspectacular appearance hasn't stopped me from visiting her site a dozen times in the last week, checking to see if any new photos have been posted. it hasn't stopped me from googling her name and actually scroling to the second and third pages of search results to make sure i wasn't missing out on some good feist content.
in just over a month, miss feist will be making a stop in my home town, but in a cruel twist of fate, i'll be on the other coast to play the wpt borgata in atlantic city. perhaps it's best though; seeing her perform in person might take my groupie love to unhealthy levels.
as for the fat girls stuff, i like them as much as the next guy (not very much). blame society.
i've met girls who have lost weight. they started pilates, or more frequently these days training for a triathlon, and dropped a few pounds. but i've never met a really fat chick -- one who has to wear pants with elastic waistbands to deal with the normal 5% weight fluctuation in people, which for her is 22 pounds -- who managed to get skinny. except on reality tv, it doesn't happen; their metabolism is just too slow and too many stores carry hostess products.
which is why these rotund ladies should stop spending their money on south beach diet books and get themselves a voice teacher. cause a girl can have ankles so swollen she can't zip up a pair of boots, but if she can sing on a stage, she's instantly attractive.
this is really just a roundabout way of admitting that i'm completely infatuated with feist. from the pictures on her website, she's on the opposite side of the weight spectrum, but by celebrity infatuation standards, she falls far short in the looks department.
however, her unspectacular appearance hasn't stopped me from visiting her site a dozen times in the last week, checking to see if any new photos have been posted. it hasn't stopped me from googling her name and actually scroling to the second and third pages of search results to make sure i wasn't missing out on some good feist content.
in just over a month, miss feist will be making a stop in my home town, but in a cruel twist of fate, i'll be on the other coast to play the wpt borgata in atlantic city. perhaps it's best though; seeing her perform in person might take my groupie love to unhealthy levels.
as for the fat girls stuff, i like them as much as the next guy (not very much). blame society.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
god damn it windows
not unlike many of you out there, i spend the hours between 9am and 6pm behind a desk, eyes fixed on the screen of my laptop.
basically, this means that my computer is my best and only friend for the majority of my waking hours. so when i call it a day and get to move my mouse clicker to the bottom left of the screen to start->turn off computer, it's all i can do to stop myself from hurling my laptop to the ground, leaping over my desk and sprinting out of the office, never to return again. what i'm saying is that i'm happy to leave work.
so nothing irks me more than when windows tells me that windows needs to make system updates before it shuts down. would it really have been so difficult to perform these updates in the last ten hours instead of forcing me to spend my free time staring blankly at the screen while seven more patches get installed.
i swear to god that windows is the electronic version of duct tape. yes, i am a microsoft hater, and it's stupid design like this which is why.
basically, this means that my computer is my best and only friend for the majority of my waking hours. so when i call it a day and get to move my mouse clicker to the bottom left of the screen to start->turn off computer, it's all i can do to stop myself from hurling my laptop to the ground, leaping over my desk and sprinting out of the office, never to return again. what i'm saying is that i'm happy to leave work.
so nothing irks me more than when windows tells me that windows needs to make system updates before it shuts down. would it really have been so difficult to perform these updates in the last ten hours instead of forcing me to spend my free time staring blankly at the screen while seven more patches get installed.
i swear to god that windows is the electronic version of duct tape. yes, i am a microsoft hater, and it's stupid design like this which is why.
take my money
for those of you who don't know, care is a really great charity and i encourage you to donate to them frequently and in high dollar amounts.
but today they pissed me off.
well one of their lawyers did. i tried to give care 10000 dollars and they said they didn' t want it. i understand why my money wasn't good enough, since it's coming from an online poker company but still.
yes, there's legal issues. yes, the us hates online gambling. at one point, the rumor was that online poker was funding international terrorist organizations. now we know it's funding greedy businessmen, the same kind that line the streets of financial districts in cities everywhere.
2/3 of the rest of the world lives on less than $2 a day though, and that makes $10000 a lot of money to a lot of people. i know care's budget is almost a billion dollars but clearly they need more.
hey, there's greedy suits at my company (check out pokerfantasy after Sept. 1) too. some people might even call me one, though i wear jeans and a hoodie to work every day and have to walk down the sleazy sixth street in san francisco to get to my office (which i'm 99% sure used to be a garment factory (read:sweatshop).
the difference is that i got these suits to part with some of their so-called hard-earned cash. and while i sold them on charity as a marketing ploy -- and it is -- it's also something i believe in, even if they don't.
as someone with a strong math background (800 on gre math to prove it), i understand risking $1 billion for $10000 makes no sense. but in a better world, care's lawyers would have said take the money, and if the department of justice ever comes asking for it back, tell them we decided to feed 5000 starving children in niger who have no food because of a locust invasion instead.
but today they pissed me off.
well one of their lawyers did. i tried to give care 10000 dollars and they said they didn' t want it. i understand why my money wasn't good enough, since it's coming from an online poker company but still.
yes, there's legal issues. yes, the us hates online gambling. at one point, the rumor was that online poker was funding international terrorist organizations. now we know it's funding greedy businessmen, the same kind that line the streets of financial districts in cities everywhere.
2/3 of the rest of the world lives on less than $2 a day though, and that makes $10000 a lot of money to a lot of people. i know care's budget is almost a billion dollars but clearly they need more.
hey, there's greedy suits at my company (check out pokerfantasy after Sept. 1) too. some people might even call me one, though i wear jeans and a hoodie to work every day and have to walk down the sleazy sixth street in san francisco to get to my office (which i'm 99% sure used to be a garment factory (read:sweatshop).
the difference is that i got these suits to part with some of their so-called hard-earned cash. and while i sold them on charity as a marketing ploy -- and it is -- it's also something i believe in, even if they don't.
as someone with a strong math background (800 on gre math to prove it), i understand risking $1 billion for $10000 makes no sense. but in a better world, care's lawyers would have said take the money, and if the department of justice ever comes asking for it back, tell them we decided to feed 5000 starving children in niger who have no food because of a locust invasion instead.
Friday, August 12, 2005
so unorginal
it's august of 2005, and i've finally decided to start writing my blog. normally, new things get me excited -- lasting upward of a week -- but being that there's probably 570 million people in china alone who have a head start on me, well you know the rest. oh well, i used instant messenger for the first time about a month ago too. pretty sad considering i'm a computer geek, at least according to my diploma.
i feel like the girl who found the diesel section at macys for the first time, bought one pair of jeans and suddenly feels high fashion.
but that doesn't stop stupid girls from buying diesel jeans, and it's not going to stop me from posting boring slop every day for my personal gratification.
i feel like the girl who found the diesel section at macys for the first time, bought one pair of jeans and suddenly feels high fashion.
but that doesn't stop stupid girls from buying diesel jeans, and it's not going to stop me from posting boring slop every day for my personal gratification.
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