Ancient History and Ice Cream

(Do you ever just feel like writing something even though you know that it's so boring that no one will ever care to read it? Sometimes I do. Why would I bring this up now? No reason. Just keep reading, fool.)

Way back when I was in high school, I was a big big dork.

I know, I know, shocking, but true. You'd think that being shy, unathletic, and both in the marching band and on the mock trial team would would naturally lead to popularity and acclaim, but you'd probably have suffered a recent blow to the head because, come on yo.

Anyway, where was I? Hmm.

For illustration, as a sophomore my friends and I would hold all night study sessions for what we assumed (correctly) to be the most difficult class ever conceived: United States History, as taught by General Rathburn. Now to be fair, it can't be said that all we did was study at these things, there was plenty of goofing off and randomness to be had (more on this later), but the amount of studying was pretty large - commensurate with the level of dorks that we were, which I have previously stated to be 'big big'.

We would hunker down in the little study off Julia's bedroom and quiz each other on the important dates during World War II, or outline every single chapter of the latest tome on depression-era railroad concerns that we'd been assigned. It was not interesting, but it turned out we were pretty good at it. Meaning that even if we were dorks, we were dorks with skills.

Brint could instantly pick up any history fact and assimilate it into his head - it still sort of shocks me at the amount of information he retains from that class. Smart people piss me off. Julia was astonishingly naive about every single thing in the world (again, more on this later) but after the sessions would still manage to have gotten enough out of it that she would regularly trounce us on the actual tests. And I had nothing going for me in that class (I am worthless with dates) but I have what I like to call short term photographic memory: I can stuff anything into my head word-for-word, but it only stays there for 4 days. After that, I remember nothing. Not exactly great for finals, but perfectly fine for a high school environment.

(I swear to God this is going somewhere. I think. I'm in a very strange headspace right now.)

Although we did a whole lot of studying, usually by 1:00 or so we would get a little off-kilter. You can only stuff so much into your brain before you have to blow off some steam. Now in my hometown of Orange, Texas (motto: Petrochemical capital of the USA; come for the plants, stay for the cancer) there ain't a lot to do in the form of fun. Especially when you are big dorks and don't engage in the usual sort of high school...um...revelry?

We usually ended up driving around in Brint's most-awesome classic Mustang convertible and hitting some sort of food establishment, whilst making bad jokes. Yeah, we were rebels. Our cause? History. As mentioned earlier, a majority of these jokes could usually be traced back to Julia's generally un-worldly nature. Nothing in poor taste, you understand, it was just that she didn't necessarily have the most refined common sense, especially at 1:00 in the morning.

So one random, incredibly hot night (In Orange, there are nothing but hot nights. They own the patent on hot.), we have hit the local Dairy Queen for some ice cream, all the while going over the main points of The New Deal.

(Just to make sure everyone is on the same page, let me summarize the important points of the story we need to have gleaned so far so the rest of the story is in focus:

• Brint has a sweet convertible.
• We all have lots of ice cream.
• It is very hot.
• It is very late.
• Julia has no common sense.

(Man, when I lay it out like that, there's just no mystery, is there?))

I'm sitting in the back, content with my frozen hot chocolate and contemplating the mysteries of such an antonymical dessert. Brint is driving, while expounding on his latest idea for an invention that will make us all richer than astronauts. And Julia is trying to eat her Blizzard, only to find that it is melting at an alarming rate. Realizing that her ice cream is about to drip onto the aforementioned sweet, sweet convertible, she panics and runs through all the possible solutions to the problem. The one she settles on? Let us hold the ice cream out the window, where it will fly harmlessly onto the street and not into the car.

Like I said, we were studying History, not Physics.

She shrieks and sticks the Blizzard out the window. Brint goes all into slow motion, very "Noooooo!!!!" and artfully reaching over to stop her. He is unsuccessful. All the dripping ice cream is met with the rushing wind outside the convertible and goes sweeping backwards, directly into my face. It was a very long time ago, and I can totally still picture it perfectly (Apparently somethings I can retain longer than 4 days. They're just completely useless in everyday life) this huge glob of ice cream arcing perfectly for my head. It was incredibly messy, and very dramatic. I still have a general fear of the back seats of convertibles. (There's a joke there, but I'm not going to make it, because I am classy.)

I remember thinking that this sort of thing doesn't happen to just anyone, perhaps I might be a magnet for this sort of out-of-left-field embarrassing incident. But I was young and just shrugged it off. Little did I know this would set up a pattern in my life that still haunts me today.

That happened at one of the very first study sessions we ever held. I had known Brint for some time, but was just meeting Julia. Apparently smashing someone in the face with a cup full of ice cream cements you together in a previously unknown way. All three of us have remained very good friends to this day. And I only bring up this most embarrassing incident for her maybe twice a year. Because I am an excellent friend, of course.

(Note: She's an investment banker now and could totally buy and sell me, which makes it even more fun.)

On How to be a Recluse

The holidays are awesome, y'all. I just spent three straight days during which I always had a plate of something next to me. And there were 6 kinds of pie. And 3 kinds of stuffing. And ye gods, so much turkey. It's a miracle I'm still ambulatory.

I also managed to put up most of the Christmas lights on my parents' house without falling to my death, which was sweet. I was using a rickety ladder, uneven ground, no spotter, and lights that must be at least 10 years old, which would usually signal some sort of wacky antic that would leave me in a full body cast with my hair all frizzed out like some cartoon character. But the holiday luck was upon me and there were no ill effects that are readily apparent.

Ooh, and I got a kick-ass Christmas tree to spruce up the old apartment. It is mesmerizing in its beauty and mystery. All shall love it, and despair. Some day I plan on getting ornaments for it too. And perhaps some sort of star to go on top. The sky's the limit, y'all.

Of course, besides gorging myself silly and attaching live wires to the outside of my house, we also engaged in the most time honored of American traditions at Thanksgiving: the-post-Thanksgiving-Christmas-shopping spree. And man, did I go to town. We were battling through the crowds, climbing over the backs of the weaker shoppers to get the great deals, field tackling each other to get the last box set in this particular aisle. . . it was completely awesome.

Not only did I get the majority of my shopping done in one day (actually pretty much in one store. God bless Best Buy, all is forgiven, you know it was always you. You had me at my 36'' television.) , I also got to reap the benefits of the early shopping specials that the stores put out there to encourage bloodshed at 9:30am after one day of peace and love. Specifically, I reaped the benefits directly for myself, picking up a slew of TV Show DVD box sets on massive sale so powerful I was completely at their mercy.

Thus, I present to you Jason's Tips on How to Become a Recluse:

• First off, you must be surly. People should get the feeling that you don't like them just by your general demeanor. This will keep people away from your house and deter them from asking you to go places with them. Excessive cursing is helpful but not always necessary.
• Then, build up a complete aura of wonderfulness in your apartment. Keep candy and pies and Christmas cookies on hand at all times. Get a very soft rug and an excellent blanket. Keep the temperature perfect at all times and keep a scented candle going so the house smells inviting.
• The third part usually takes care of itself: ensure that the weather outside is abysmal. Freezing cold, rain, snow, anything that keeps up the inside - good / outside - bad dichotomy.
• You can add to this one by not owning any warm clothing of any sort. This will make sure that even if you wanted to go outside for some insane reason, you would be physically incapable, lest you freeze onto the sidewalk and die a very unfortunate death.
• Finally, pick up 3 or 4 box sets of television shows on DVD. These will comprise literally days and days of continuous entertainment that you can enjoy alone or with friends that requires no movement whatsoever from the couch unless you need more pie. (Jason's recommendations: The O.C., first season, Arrested Development, first season, The Simpsons, fourth season, Home Movies, first season, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, seventh season.)

And that's that. You'll probably never see me again. Not that you've generally seen me a lot before now. It's just a physical impossibility now. God, I love the holidays. Have I mentioned that lately?

Thanksgiving

Today, a Fourth Grade Entry:

I am thankful for:

• The fact that I got to institute Casual Wednesday today, since there would be no one else in the office and there are no meetings. Everything is more fun in a comfortable polo shirt.
• The complete lack of people in my building today. I swear I am the only person on my entire floor. On one hand it is sort of creepy in a scene-from-The-Grudge kind of way but on the other hand it's awesome because without people around I've gotten so much stuff done that next week is gonna be a breeze. Oh, and strike that "only one on my floor" business, because I just went to the bathroom and I turned the corner and almost ran into this guy and I was so sure that I was alone that I let out a little girl yelp. Not my finest moment.
• That guy in the red Saturn that was stopped next to me at the light this morning who was singing along to "Wishing and Hoping." How do I know that he was? Because I was too, and I looked over and we were totally singing in synch. The part that I am thankful for is that when we both looked at each other simultaneously and realized we were singing along to quite possibly the most girly song in the history of the world, he had the decency to just laugh and turn a little red, just like me. It could have been wicked embarrassing.
• The Amazing Race, which is turning out to be an excellent season only two episodes in. And the pre-season stuff made it look like it was gonna be so bland. Included in last night's episode: grand theft auto, a rowing challenge, archery, and about 50 takes of people on roller-skis biting it. Too cool. Also included at no extra charge: Jonathan, the biggest tool that ever tooled. I don't think I've seen someone on TV that makes me yell at the screen more, with the exception of Marissa from The O.C. Shut up, Marissa.
• The new Harry Potter on DVD, which is just as awesome as it was at the theatre. It has such a nice quality that I can't really describe. But it's totally unlike most movies and I just love the storyline. By far the best book and the best movie so far in the series. I just can't get over it. And that blender full of daiquiris last night sure didn't hurt the experience at all.

Hmm, we're gonna end it there. I'll be gone the rest of the week so nothing new until Monday. Back to the homestead for big time Thanksgiving, Christmas decorating, and holiday shopping. Totally one of the best weekends of the year. Here's hoping the TOM can make it all the way there in one piece. Lately I don't trust him as far as I can throw him.

Safe and happy holiday to you all, catch ya later.

Nacho Christmas

This story almost doesn't qualify as a holiday story, but it is linked to the holidays in my mind since it happened in the week leading up to Winter Break a couple of years ago, so it gets to go first.

--------------------

Once upon a time, I was a Computer Science undergrad. And one of my required classes was Operating Systems, a very boring place where you learned about things like semaphores and buffers and memory. It was a pretty straightforward class, though, in that there were only 3 grades for the entire semester: A midterm, an end-of-session test, and a project.

I bombed the first test (something in the low C range if I recall), as I so often do, so I really needed to do well on the last two parts if I wanted to get anything resembling a good grade. The project was a huge program that was mostly already completed. All we had to do was add some functionality to a framework that someone had created a long time ago. We had over a month to work on this thing.

Now I am a horrible procrastinator but I knew that I needed a good grade on this thing, for serious, so I got most of it done well before the due date. To get into a little bit of the boring details, we basically had to modify an instructional operating system, named the NACHOS Operating System for some acronymical reason (that will be important later, so remember it), so that it could do a couple of things besides sit there and blink at the user.

I had most of the things implemented in the program by the time finals rolled around. I just hadn't run the completed version all the way through, figuring I had the whole last week after my finals to get it up and running correctly, since my finals schedule had worked out so nicely. I took the end-of-session test in Operating Systems right before finals, so we got our grades back that same week. I had done strangely awesome, despite my complete belief that I had failed, so I was actually on track to get an excellent grade, provided there were no issues with the project.

So I had 8 days to get this program finished. Days 1, 2, and 3 are sort of a blur, but there was no rush and there was a lot of video games and movies going on. Days 4 and 5 were more focused, but still I couldn't get the final details to work. Day 6, suddenly my program stops working all together. Nothing compiles, the program no longer even blinks at the user. Very worried, I start working on this thing non-stop. I get maybe a couple of hours of sleep and suddenly it's Day 7. Still no working.

I seriously spend the entire day, skipping most meals and surviving only on my programming diet (Dr Pepper and Pixi Sticks), asking everyone who might know what is up with the program.
No one can figure out what the deal is. I can't revert back to the older version, because I would have to reload the entire program in, wiping out everything I've done so far (thanks, UNIX) so I keep plugging away at this thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep at all, as you will see from the events in Day 8.

Day 8. I have had 2 hours of sleep in roughly the past 65 or so. I can get nothing to work at all. I try loading in the old program into a magical new directory and plugging some of the things that I know work into it. I get nothing. I am completely freaking out, the project is due in 8 hours and I've got nothing. I run the math, I need a 50% to stay passing in this class. The professor has said that she will grade this strictly by the book, so if there is no executable program, the best I can make is a 40%.

With about two hours left, I abandon all hope of getting anything to run. I now focus on technicalities. In the instructions, it says the final 10% of your grade is meeting the submission requirements: basically turning in all 4 parts - source code, executable, your explanation, and the results file. In my sleep deprived mind I decide that it is now possible to get that 50% that I need, if she gives me full credit on the source code and I turn in all 4 parts to get that extra 10%.

My Addled Brain: Now where can I get an executable program to turn in...I know! I'll make one up. But what to make up? Perhaps something to lighten the mood! Yes! Brilliant!

Thus I began the stupidest adventure of my collegiate career. In the course of 7 minutes, I wrote a program that did the following:

[Begin Program]

[Pop up]
What do you call cheese that isn't yours?

[Press Any Key]
NACHO Cheese!
.
.
.
Please don't fail me.

[End Program]

So, with Devon and all my suitemates watching me, I paced the room, ran up and down the hallway writing strange things on everyone's message boards, and then I ran into the room, clicked send on the submit form to turn in the program, screamed "Dear God what have I done!" and then ran into my bedroom and curled up into a little ball on my bed for several minutes rocking back and forth and muttering to myself.

I then proceeded to get hammered that same night, convinced that I would fail the class completely (my professor was not know for levity of any kind). Thus I went home for break the next morning, hung over in time for my parents' Christmas party, dreading my grades and cursing the world in general, UNIX in specific.

On the second day back home, I got an email from the professor:

------------------------------
Subject: Re: Op Sys Final Project

Notes: Your changes were good, although the executable did not seem to relate to the project.... I was available through the month of November, if you were having problems.

Your final grade for the project: 63

Have a merry Christmas.
------------------------------

And with that grade, I managed a B+, with curve.

A true Christmas miracle if I've ever seen one.

But I will always remember the time that I turned in a nacho cheese joke in place of a program that counted 30% of my final grade.

And a final note: That same professor became my advisor the next semester and stayed until I graduated. It was a good 5 months before I could convince myself to go see her, because I was so embarrassed. She always looked at me funny, but she was pretty cool about everything, overall.

Fast Times and Car Repair

Again, Mondays leave me completely at a loss and bouncing all over the place. No time to get together some cohesive, gotta write write write:

• Saturday I learned that I may officially be over my deep fried food love. When a turkey, ham, and swiss cheese sandwich deep fried and served covered with powdered sugar and raspberry sauce doesn't do it for me, you know something is wrong in the world. I'm a little bit scared, to tell you the truth. Although I think my heart is breathing a sigh of relief. Luckily, we're hitting the holidays soon, which are full of deep fried goodness, so I'll be able to tell if the new Jason has taken hold. Or if it's just a crazy fad, sure to fade away within the week - like the return of all the legwarmers that I keep seeing. Don't make me come over there, I will end you all.
• Also learned on Saturday: A cup and a half of rum split between two people is still not enough alcohol to withstand the pain that is National Treasure. On the way to the theatre, we had a discussion on whether or not a quick shot was in order. It so was. Damn our lateness to the car. It's The OC's fault, as we were hypnotized by all the glamour of the rich and all the cuteness of the Adam Brody, until it was too late. Oh well. It was sort of funny, in an Oh-My-God-Why?-Nicholas-Cage-Why? kind of way. There's always a place in my heart for complete ridiculous fantasy stories. Especially when they involve a funny computer geek.
• Sunday taught me that sometimes it is a bad idea to drink a bunch, go see a movie and then come home and drink some more because the movie was so bad. It wasn't necessarily a hangover, but I felt like I was moving slowly through water all day long. And I needed to give my TOM a thorough going-over, because it is in all kinds of bad shape. Instead, all I managed was to ascertain that my tires are all in trouble and to add a quart of oil to my strangely low engine. I don't take well to car repair, as I so often mention, so I take this as a great victory, but I am incredibly glad that I'll be back at home in a couple of days where my father is waiting with tools and mechanical knowledge. God bless people with common sense and a skill set that extends beyond television and ... well more television.
• On the truly geeky front, I completed my OC Sims neighborhood, so all the drama of the rich and famous can now be played out on my personal computer. There is something way too satisfying about the fact that everyone in the whole neighborhood hates Marissa so much. Shut up, Marissa. Also on the incredibly-uncomfortable-but-awesome-to-watch-it-go-down side of things, the Ryan-Kirsten / Ryan-Seth love triangle makes me hide behind my hands for almost the entire time I play the Big Mansion. And I don't even tell them what to do, these things just happen on their own. I almost feel compelled to add screen captures to share the horror, but I haven't fallen that far yet. Emphasis on the "yet."

In other news, the holiday season is almost upon us and I cannot wait. I love decorating for Christmas so much. And now that I have an apartment, I get to have a big tree and everything. Ah debt, my old friend, it's good to see you again. In honor of the new time of year, this week will have a retrospective of the coolest holiday stories of my past. And by coolest, I mean sort of dorky and embarrassing.

Can you tell I'm running a bit dry on things to discuss? There's not much one can say about the new Britney Spears CD; it's a greatest hits collection for goodness sake.

Musical Notes

Despite my tendency to be completely immersed in popular culture and my near complete obsession with The OC, here's something that shows exactly how off the radar I have flown in my old age.

So, popular music today is crazy right? All those young kids with their damn hip-hop and the shouting. I have three musical anecdotes to relate. Not that they are musical in form, that they are about music. Y'all know I don't sing right? There are people in the world who have seen me sing (George Michael's "Faith") but they number right around 5 and that number will never increase.

Anyway, the musical points of interest:

• One: I really love the new Greenday album. Two: The single from it that they play on the radio all the time is set at the exact tempo of my turn signal in the Truck of Malfunction. I found this out last week through amazing coincidence and I don't know why, but it amused me so much that I kept the turn signal on all the way down Highway 12 until the song was over. It turns out the reason I'm a bad driver is the radio. As anyone who has ever driven with me while a Britney Spears song is on can attest.
• Incredibly geeky, but I don't care: Every single time that Chingy song about people in the club getting "Tipsy" comes on, I swear that someone set a rap song to the music from Final Fantasy VI - The Magitek Factory. It sounds exactly the same. With all the banging metal in rhythm and the midi techno beat. Crap. This bullet point could also be called: The Perfect Illustration of Why Jason is Alone in the World.
• Last night on MTV2 they had the European Music Awards on. I only watched for about 45 minutes, but for every single person who came on stage I yelled at the screen "What are you Wearing! Nooo!" Most noticeably, the chick who was wearing the see-through maternity dress when she wasn't pregnant, and all the guys who would bring out the cards with the winners on them, who were all dressed in rubber kilts with no shirts on and little man purses attached to their sides. I obviously will never understand Europe. Also, I'm not entirely sure, but I think Usher came out during his acceptance speech for best male performance.

I think this finally proves that I will never again be hip with the young people. Not that I necessarily ever was before.

So Tired

Yesterday I learned there is a very fine line between someone who acts calmly in the face of adversity and someone who is so pessimistic that they react to horrible situations with dull resignation. I thinking I'm more a part of column B, but somehow this story ends up much more positive than a normal Jason Adventure of Woe.

So I'm driving home yesterday night. I had just kicked in another half hour of unpaid overtime, so I was not in the best of moods, but was gonna be home soon and I would get to see Lost and eat a frozen pizza and everything would be better. I pull into the right lane of the highway at my exit when the Truck Of Malfunction begins pulling to the right.

"Well it is the TOM, what do you expect?"

I figured I was less than a mile from my apartment, I'll get home and figure out what's wrong there. No need to stop here, it'd be suicide in rush hour traffic. Maybe 100 feet later, the TOM goes, and I quote "TH-WHUMP!" and suddenly I cannot drive at all. I pull over to the shoulder, get out and survey the damage.

My tire is no longer on the wheel. All I have is a metal hub, no rubber. I crawl down and have a look, sure enough, there is my tire caught under the very back edge of the rim, lying flat on the ground. As any of you know who read religiously, I have no spare tire and my adventures in wheel care are the stuff of painful legend.

I get back in the car and call everyone I know who is within driving distance of me, along with my parents, just because if anyone knows from car troubles, it is them. Apparently 6:25 is a bad time to call people, however, as no one answers their phone. I consider my options and finally land on throwing myself into oncoming traffic.

Then I remember that I have roadside assistance on my cell phone, which I picked up after all the TOM fiascos in the past. These people are awesome. They got me a tow truck within 20 minutes that had a tiny little man inside who managed to get the TOM onto his truck in like 30 seconds despite the fact that, according to him "The tire is gone. Would you like to bring it with you? I can keep it in the back of [the TOM]?"

I was all set to drive back to my apartment and then go driving about through the night looking for a place that could outfit me with a new wheel at 9:00 at night. But the tiny tow truck guy does not settle for second best. He drives me through the ghetto (AKA: The 4 miles past my apartment) to this tiny little auto place full of 4 men who don't necessarily speak English, but do get me a new tire and up and running in under 10 minutes. We then communicate through sign language that the cost will be $20. And then when I only have $19 on me in cash, the price becomes $19.

To recap: In under an hour, I had a blow out, a tow, a new tire replaced, and made it back to my apartment for a total cost of $19. I just used up every ounce of good will that I had coming to me, including the karma I had from that donation so that the kids could go to the aquarium.

So look out for me, I'm gonna be doing good deeds all over the place to get the ledger back in order.

This Will Be Exhibit B in my Commitment Papers

Okay, seriously y'all, I'm losing my mind.

Probably. It may just be that the whole butter-moving fiasco is just gotten me all paranoid to the point of no return...actually that's probably what it is. I'm demoting that statement from "Probably Insane," to "Probably Not Insane, Just Overly Sensitive Now That Someone Has Moved My Butter."

God, that looks even more insane. Scratch that one.

-----------

People get wrong number calls all the time, right? No big deal. And sometimes people's cell phones will accidentally dial a number when they forget to hit the key lock. So occasionally you might get a call that is just background noise and it's just someone you know with a cell phone accident.

I've gotten 4 calls like that in the past 3 days. 3 at work, one at home. That were just weird background noise. The first one was a message left overnight at the office. It was really long (like 2 minutes) and was very creepy, because there was a lot of crunching/crinkling sounds. But I figured someone just had their phone in their purse or pocket and it was rattling around. No big deal. The second one was a call I picked up after the secretary had left for the day. It was the tamest of them all, just some very indistinct noise in the background. I hung up after 10 seconds or so. But two in one day, weird right? Could still totally be a coincidence though.

The third one was at home on Tuesday night. It was right before the Amazing Race and I figured it was Devon, because she usually calls around that time on Tuesday nights, saying we need to go out and drink because night class has sapped her will to live. Instead it is the weirdest noise. I would almost say it was someone breathing really loudly, only it totally was not. And so I was all "EEEK" and freaked out and hung up and then wrapped myself in my comforter. Luckily that was when The Amazing Race started, so I was calmed rather quickly.

THEN, so today I'm at work doing, y'know, work stuff when suddenly my voicemail light comes on. Which is weird, because you can't get into voicemail unless the phone rings first, which it didn't, or the Set Busy is on, which it wasn't. So I check the message and it's totally just some creepy raspy breathing with weird background noise. Oh my God, people, I cannot deal.

And then, just to show exactly how paranoid I have become, I remember from last night when I pulled into my parking lot at the apartment complex that there were two different really weird looking guys in big black trenchcoats in different parts of the lot.

I'm thinking it's time to trade in that tinfoil hat for a whole suit. And perhaps a firearm. Living alone has finally gotten to me.

The Day I Sold Out

I'm giving in to an Internet meme. Mostly because I can't think of anything good to write, yet feel compelled to put something out there. When did I become John Grisham?

Anyways (ganked from Whatever):

1. Open up the music player on your computer (if you have one -- the music player, I mean. Clearly you have a computer, because otherwise you couldn't read this).

2. Set it to play your entire music collection.

3. Hit the "shuffle" command.

4. Tell us the title of the next ten songs that show up (with their musicians), no matter how embarrassing. That's right, no skipping that Carpenters tune that will totally destroy your hip credibility. It's time for total musical honesty. You can put the list in the comment thread, or write it up in your blog or Journal and then post a link in the comments.

Here's my list:

1. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Y Control"
2. Aretha Franklin - "Natural Woman"
3. Moonpools and Caterpillars - "Trampling Rose"
4. John Mayer - "Man on the Side"
5. Ben Folds Five - "Magic"
6. Dashboard Confessional - "Several Ways to Die Trying"
7. Count Basie - "St. Louis Blues"
8. The Shins - "When You Notice The Stripes"
9. Beastie Boys - "An Open Letter to NYC"
10. Dead or Alive - "You Spin Me Right Round"

I think it is totally awesome that nothing horrible popped up in there to destroy me. #3 is a little suspect, but I'm sure no one besides me has ever heard it, so I'm fine there.

Although I should probably go ahead and mention that 11. would have been an Ashlee Simpson song.

So what's yours?

Tags

Because no one wants to read about how I spent my weekend (Football, 10 hours of Halo 2, and The OC. Ha! You read about it anyway!) I instead present an old story that illustrates a current feature of my life.

Once upon a time, I was a very quiet person. Truth be told, I am still now, only it seems less likely, because whenever I'm around people that I know I tend to ramble on and on and on. But back as a freshman in college, I didn't know anyone, so I was pretty quiet.

At the same time, I was also incredibly sarcastic, y'know, as you are at 18. The only problem was, I didn't quite have the tone of voice down to indicate that I was, in fact, being sarcastic. So for about 11 months, people would constantly question me: "Are you serious?"

About everything.

Roommate: "Where do you go every night?"
Jason: "Oh you know, I fight crime in Highland Park. Vigilante style."
Roommate: "Seriously?"
Jason: "I go to band, dude."

Other Roommate: "Man, why are you in the band? It looks tiring."
Jason: "Mostly for all the cocaine. It's pretty much everywhere over there."
OR: "No way! Are you serious?"
Jason: "Yeeeeeeah."
OR: "Seriously?"
Jason: "No."
OR [sadly]: "Oh."

Eventually this became a huge problem. So much so that when attempts to correct the issue vocally failed --

(OR: "Sound more sarcastic." Jason: "Like this?" OR: "No, more sarcastic." Jason: "Your words mean nothing to me." OR: "Are you being serious?")

-- we had to move on to visual aids.

So for a period of over a year and a half, any time that I said something that was meant in a sarcastic way I would make the peace sign with both hands and then turn them 90 degrees towards my chest. These were known as Sarcasm Tags.

(Because the peace signs were intended to look like HTML tags, only in finger form:

My hands = "<" ">"
Because I am a dork.
...
...
...
Shut up, you don't know me!)

In any case, these became a staple of my everyday life. Anyone who was around me for an extended period of time was aware of them and it made conversations much easier. Phone calls were a whole other issue, but things were okay. Eventually I grew out of the tags, as I developed something of a reasonable approximation of a sarcastic tone. But it was an unconscious part of my life for a long time.

Why bring this up now, you ask? Because all of a sudden, lately I've been using them again, without realizing it. Like, I'll be talking to some random person who doesn't even know me at all, and they'll be all "What's with the gang signs?" Or in the case at work "You waving in airplanes there, buddy?"

I'm really not sure how to stop, because it's a completely unconscious action, but I better figure it out soon, before I'm carted off to the mental facility. Or shot by a rival gang.

Conspiracy Theories

Okay, I know I sound like I'm wearing a tinfoil hat when I say this, but I think someone broke into my apartment yesterday and rearraged my refridgerator.

God! That sounds so crazy. I'm crazy. You're leaving, aren't you? Wait, just hear me out.

So I got home from work yesterday at 6:00, like normal. I haven't gone shopping this week yet, so I didn't have a lot of choice in the dinner department. I decided on some buttered tortillas and Dr Pepper, since those were the only two things that I definitely had in the kitchen.

I toss the tortillas in the oven and then start looking for the butter. I totally can't find it. Now, I do not have a large refridgerator and it is pretty much completely empty. I am mystified beause I have a damn huge tub of butter, and it cannot be hiding anywhere. I look all over the kitchen with no luck.

But you know what I do find? My half gallon of milk wedged up on top of the fridge, next to the cabinets. Which is very, very weird because why is the milk out of the refridgerator, and why is it way back up against the wall? Creepy, but I figure I must have just left it out yesterday and it got pushed back randomly. I throw out the milk. Still no butter.

Feeling completely insane, I check: the trash room, the bathroom, the living room, and my bedroom. No butter. This is so weird.

I decide to take a loss on the whole thing and just eat the tortillas sans butter. I put them on a plate and go to sit at the dining room table. I pull out the chair, and my tub of butter is sitting right there on the chair.

[Right here is where the ominous music would swell on the soundtrack of my life.]

What the Hell is going on?!

There is no way I would have ever put my butter 1) in the dining room, 2) on a chair under the dining room table and 3) completely forgotten this fact. Couple that with the milk on top of the refridgerator and I'm getting a huge "the calls are coming from inside the house" sort of vibe. Y'know, with butter.

So I ran around and checked; there is nothing else amiss in the house. I don't really have any valuables per se (except my TV of the gods) so I wasn't too worried. Although for a moment there I thought I was robbed, until I remembered I had let Frank borrow my 3rd season Will & Grace and it wasn't actually stolen from me by some insane butter-mover.

I feel like this should go somewhere, but really that's all I got. I have no proof, but I totally think someone snuck into my house and moved the perishables in my refridgerator around.

What more is there to say?

Hey, where are you goin'?

Cable Guy

Wherein Jason learns the importance of not being a complete moron.

[Scene: Jason's office]

Jason's Boss: Hey Jason. The cable has been out since yesterday.
Jason: Oh dang.
Jason's Boss: Will you see if anyone else is having problems?
Jason: Sure.

[Jason wanders around to all the different offices like a vagrant, and ascertains that no one else is having any problems. He returns.]

Jason: No one else is having problems, I'll call the cable company.

[Forshadowing: Key scene not found here -- Jason actually checking the cable himself.]

[Jason calls the cable company, they will send someone out as soon as possible, since they have no reported problems in the area.]

------

[Next Day]

Secretary: The cable people are here.
Jason: Come on back. I haven't actually checked the cable today, so I don't know if it's working or not... [Jason turns on the TV. Static abounds.] Yeah, it's been like this for over a day.
Cable Guy: Hmm, [looks behind the TV] well everything looks fine here. [grabs the remote. Changes the channel. Perfect picture. Changes the channel again. Also, perfect picture.]
Jason: [realizes that the problem with the cable was not so much that the cable was out and more that no one in the office thought of checking to see if the TV was set to channel 92, which we do not get. Embarrassment is not really the word.] Uhhhh...
Cable Guy [conflicting emotions across his face - some pretty extreme annoyance right up against some serious humor, since he knows that he'll get some big laughs when he gets back to the office. He settles on a big smile]: Well, yeah, I think we're done here. If you could sign this...
Jason: [Dies.]

[/Scene]


Am I not the sexiest person you know right now?

Hi, I'm Jason and I am officially the stupidest cable customer on the planet. My trophy should arrive any day now.

Damage Report

BWEoD Final Tallies:
Days of Drinking: 5 of 6
Days of Drunk: 4 of 6
Days of Awesomness: 6 of 6

For all future reference, everyone should always have a birthday week. None of that one day garbage. I may officially be old, but I got there in style, by damn.

It was a very dramatic weekend, filled with musical numbers, old people, astonishing football victories, inappropriate dances, and lots and lots of drinking. So you'd think there would be a thousand stories. Oddly enough, all I seem to be able to pull from my mind:

• Frat guys dress even worse now than when I went to school, which seems like a long time ago but was actually less than 6 months. How did things go so wrong so fast? Blazer over a polo shirt, with the polo collar flipped up? No no no no no. At least 200 guys at the football game were incredibly lucky that I didn't have some sort of blunt object with me 'cause I was in a hitting-people-with-bad-fashion-choices mood.
• Man, SMU never does things the easy way, do they? Got to ratchet up the tension as much as humanly possible. Ahead by a few points? Let's go for 2! Rich people do love the dramatic reversals, right? Oy.
• For all my bravado, I still couldn't convince myself to get drunk in front of both my parents and a table full of old people on my birthday. The old people were very irreverent, but some sort of repressive character trait from the past reared its ugly head. In other news from that night, Kim Greene rules the world.
• Surprising fact I learned this weekend: if you get continually drunk over a week, you are less likely to realize when you become drunk as the week progresses. When you can slam through three drinks and still think you are sober, you are totally deluding yourself and should probably check your speech for inappropriateness. Ah, hindsight.

Other news: I got a rug for my birthday, to add color and life to my living room. It is awesome. Sadly I'm already over it. I wonder if there is a return policy on things you lay on the floor and walk across.

I swear I remember when I used to write amusing things. Maybe once the alcoholic haze clears I'll be in better form. I apologize.

Hot Damn

BWEoD is rolling right along in grand fashion. Today I am old. But what a way to go. Friday is here and the culmination of Birthday Week is ready to commence.

NaNoWriMo is not going anywhere, mostly due to BWEoD. Word total is just around 2,000, pretty much 6,000 behind schedule. Maybe I'll catch up next week.

I hate to bring down the awesomeness that is this week, but y'all, I feel soooo sick right now. Is it possible to contract dysentery from bacon-covered cheese fries? I wouldn't think so, especially when I only ate the bacon, and yet I feel two steps from death's door. This could definitely crimp tonight's plans.

I had no idea exactly how much higher a degree of difficulty my morning routine is when I'm not feeling great. I already don't have that great of a morning routine. Anyone who knew me in college knows that I do not do mornings. At all. I would estimate my wake up time for the last two years of college to be somewhere around 12:30 pm. On a good day. And that's factoring in some wicked 8:00am labs and ethics classes that popped up every once in a while. I cherish my sleep above all else, you can be sure.

So in order to make sure I'm not late for work, I have a very complicated morning procedure:

• First Line of Defense: Cell phone alarm clock. This goes off at 6:45 am. It is scheduled to then keep going off every 15 minutes until I clear it off of snooze. This is a weak line, because it is insanely fickle and only goes off about 3/4ths of the time. Also, the snooze gets tired easily and usually only goes off once before going on break like the Teamster it is.
• Second Line: The alarm clock. This is the clock I have used since high school and it is uniquely able to rouse me from sleep, no matter what. Its shriek pierces my brain and I must silence it as soon as possible. So it is excellent. However, it does have an easy to hit snooze button as well. Thus we institute:
• Third Line: The alarm clock is situated in the next room over on the bookshelf. At first this was just convenience; I had only one clock and I needed it in the living room where I could see it during the day. Now though, placing the clock in the next room ensures that I must physically get up and turn it off. Yeah sure, I usually get up, stumble over to the door, run into it, open it, swing my arm wildly until the snooze is hit and then collapse back into the bed or onto the floor, but the extra effort does get me up earlier than usual.

But this morning, trying to work all that sick? Was like concentrated Hell. My dizziness made me fall over even more than usual getting to the alarm clock, the chills that I had gotten during the night ensured that my blanket was firmly wrapped around my legs so completely that I fell off the bed, and...well...everything else just made the morning quite the Olympic event. I eventually forewent shaving 'cause the dizziness was just asking for more trouble than I cared for. Happy Birthday to Me, Indeed.

I am however rocking work despite it all, so maybe I'll make it through today. Can't let the BWEoD down now, after all we've worked for.

Oh Man

Nothing saps my will to badly write a novel like a failed coup of the White House.

That being said, yesterday was interesting. I used my mad driving skilz to get home through the rain before 6:00 so I could pay my rent and hit the polls. Sadly the complex office closed early for voting, so I imagine it's only a matter of time before I get evicted and all my beautiful possessions are strewn across downtown Dallas.

I did make it to the polls, though. This may not have been the best thing, since I totally broke the scantron machine of magic voting elves that counts the ballots. Apparently I lack the ability to feed paper into a machine without disasterous results. I am a pox on Democracy. But they got it up and running within 10 minutes or so, so there was no lasting harm that I could see.

BWEoD continued unabated. I hit the grocery store for daiquiri mixers around 8:00 and found a whole crowd of people debating the age old question "What drink best washes away the pain of an election?" Me and this tall girl with spiky hair decided that strawberry margarita mix was definitely the sophisticated choice, because nothing says "informed voter" better than being drunk with really red lips. Unless you count drinking wine straight from a box, which ran a close second in our estimation.

I also picked up what I do believe was the worst Chinese food I have ever eaten in my entire life. Which I then proceeded to spill all over my kitchen floor. Egg drop soup does not clean well, believe you me. I think my apartment will forever smell like Calcutta now.

Anyways.

Our three person extravaganza got started in earnest with some light Daily Show which was wonderfully lovely (Al Sharpton is too awesome for words. And Samantha Bee actually made me laugh consistently throughout all of her bits. Will wonders never cease?) but surprisingly poignant ("This is just like a dream I had. Where I woke up crying." You and me both, Jon.).

I then spent the rest of the night watching Gilmore Girls, Mean Girls, and Center Stage -- otherwise known as the thoughtful homosexual's rebuttal to the easy passage of eleven anti-gay-marriage ballot initiatives. Sigh. And Damn.

Oh, and watching Sean compulsively refresh all the news websites for 2 consecutive hours with increasing horror.

"I think that county just got pinker."
"No, it's still white."
"No, it's totally pink. I see pink. How is it pink? It's surrounded on 4 sides by blue."
"I don't know."
"There's still hope though. He's only behind by 23,000. No wait, 27,000.
How did that even happen? Who do these New Mexicans think they are?"
"I dunno. I didn't even know there were 27,000 people in New Mexico."

I seriously need a nap.

Finally, the one important thing we learned from last night: Dance What You Feel!

Time's a Wastin'

Okay so maybe Off the Face of the Earth was a bit of an overstatement yesterday. Because I totally still have tons of time to write here.

Running Word Total: 773 (Only 1227 words behind. On Day Two. Shit.)

Running Birthday Week Extravaganza of Drunkeness (BWEoD) Total: 1 for 1 (At least I'm excelling where it counts.)

I knew empirically that there are not enough hours in the day, but up until yesterday I hadn't really experienced it in a while. Because, like I said, I ain't been doing crap for the last month or so. I stopped going to the gym and started watching a lot of TV and eating cake. Thus my time after work seemed limitless, there was always room for a little relaxation and messing around. If there was something important that needed to be done, I could knock it out no problem.

Now with the advent of needing to write 2,000 words a day and the need to go out and get drunk every night for a week, I have lost all ability to get things done in an efficient manner. (Although I did get sloshed quickly. Again, I succeed where it counts!) After work yesterday I needed to:

• Go buy a belt to replace the old one, sigh. This was accomplished but took over an hour, as I had to also wander around the store, buy some oil for the Truck of Malfunction, and dig through the clearanced Halloween candy. (Important aside, I think I function entirely on sugar nowadays. I've eschewed protein and carbs for straight refined sugar. And I love it. Remaindered candy rocks my world.)
• Clean up the house since I refrained from doing so after the Half-Party of Scary Movies on Halloween. This did not happen at all and when I got home from BWEoD I managed to step on three glasses, knock over two cans of Dr Pepper, and ran headlong into a wall. That last one did not have anything to do with cleaning, but I felt it should be included, for accuracy's sake.
• Cook dinner. Also did not happen, unless you count unwrapping fun-sized candy bars as cooking. Like I said, vive la sugar.
• Write my 2000 words. Actually did start, but yeah only got to 773 before BWE0D was scheduled to start, and really if you don't set priorities it sets a horrible example for the children. Won't someone please think of the children?
• BWEoD. The only truly accomplished thing of the night, although it did run a bit longer than I had scheduled. Kudos to Devon's mad drink making skilz and to VH1 for ensuring that I needed something alcoholic to cleanse my mind, in the form of the 100 Biggest Red Carpet Moments. (Although to be fair, that Madonna/Courtney Love moment was so frickin awesome. I had totally forgotten about that. "Access to a lot of drugs." Madonna was such a bad-ass.)
• Iron all my clothes. To cover this one: Right now it's a toss up as to whether I look like I slept in my clothes on a park bench and then showed up for work (which is not necessarily ruled out, I was in a right state yesterday), or had been storing my clothes in Pringles cans before getting dressed.

But today I'm totally set up for proper time management. I already have my voter registration card and the map to the poll location so I can go straight from work. And BWEoD is at my place tonight, so there's a good chance I'll clean up the apartment, and I'll have to provide food so dinner will definitely be served. That whole writing thing might be an issue though, a good host never runs off to work on a novel during an event.

So huzzah. Go vote. Everyone who votes gets a free daquiri at the BWEoD tonight. If alcohol won't convince you to vote, I don't know what will.

Off the Face of the Earth

Man. So in preparation for the month ahead, (wherein I'm supposed to write 2,000 words a day, everyday and oh dear God what have I gotten myself into) I took this weekend off to catch up on all my reading, finishing off the 3 books I currently had going.

And because I already had the momentum going, I knocked off a 4th on Sunday, slamming all the way through A Home at the End of the World in about 6 hours. It takes a pretty good book for that to happen. But man, talk about depressing. Like someone took a knife and stuck in in my chest and started rooting around. "Does that hurt? How about now?"

Other than that, I watched a steady stream of football and movies all weekend long, pretty much as background noise. Had a slew of people over for ice cream sundaes on Friday and scary movies on Halloween. Luckily no small children came a'knocking at the door, so I got to give away all the fruit roll ups to my guests, rather than whiny children. We also learned: John Carpenter's Vampires is incredibly-over-the-top-trashy bad, but what did we really expect with James Woods and Daniel Baldwin as the headliners. Plus: The Ring still freaks me out far more than it has any right too.

Other things of interest:

• The voting plan is all worked out, I researched all the candidates and have my ballot ready for tomorrow. I even have a map to the voting place. I am totally ready for this thing tomorrow. Let us hope I can make it home before 7:00 to actually get to Rock the Vote properly.
• This week is Birthday Week for me, so in addition to all the writing all the time, I plan to be more drunk than usual, and have outings planned for much of the week. 23, people! I only hope the two bottles I have in my house will be enough. And I totally apologize in advance for anything I do or say on Friday, the apex of birthday celebration.

So that's that. If you hear from me much less this month, trust that I'm slaving away on a long, crazy, poorly-written-and-plotted story and pray for my safe return.