Stories

I miss writing. Not in a serious way, or a compelling one. Just in a "man I used to really like doing that" sort of way. Kinda how I miss playing badminton. It's a vague and ill-defined itch in the back of my mind. Unlike badminton, though, I can do something about it without getting up off the couch. So let's get on with some stories.

Where I've Been (Sappy Life Update)

So I found a new job. I don't know if I mentioned it on here or not, and I'll be damned if I'll actually go back and read things I've written before. Always forward, never back. But, yeah, so I'm gainfully employed again after a 2 month hiatus. In the end, it worked out ideally - I moved out of a bad job situation and into a really great one in the same field, with very little downtime It's a better situation all around, and I'm actually on a real career path instead of just running in place like before. Combine that with the fact that I took some much needed time during the forced sabbatical to get my head on straight and my body back into shape, and everything seems to be in a really positive place. This sounds queer as hell, but I'm incredibly happy with my life right now. I know, shocking, right?

What I've Been Doing (Technology Whore)

So as a reward for finding a new and better paying job, I finally broke down and bought a new laptop. I know it's an extravagance in the extreme... but just wait for the rest of this post. I can defend it a little bit - my desktop computer has become this Frankenstein Monster of various cobbled-parts that don't even fit into its tower. Wires, cables, random boxes, and fans spill out of it like the remnants of an incendiary explosion gone wrong. And even in its make-shift upgraded state, it continues to run slower and slower. The laptop is sleek, pretty, runs twice as fast as the desktop, and I can do things like type on it while lying on the couch watching football and yelling at my roommate to bring me more turkey while he's up. (Not that I'm necessarily doing that right now, no sir).

But yeah, so if you think it's extravagant to go out and get a laptop right after a two month unemployment stint, you'll love this part - last week as a late birthday present to myself, I bought an iPhone. There's no defending that one - owning an iPhone is equivalent to the worst excesses of the Roman empire. I feel so much like Hedonism Bot from Futurama that it's uncanny ("I regret nothing!").

Seriously, though, it's awesome. Instant access to email, facebook, AIM, grouped texts, decent camera, a 32 gig iPod built in, you might as well just hook it to my veins. When you add in the google maps function so I never get lost anymore and the fact that I can play Katamari Damacy anywhere anytime now, I might as well have died and gone to gay-white-nerd heaven.

What I've Been Listening To (Music Snob Section)

November was a good month for concerts. I went to see Regina Spektor at Nokia as my real birthday present to myself and it was life-affirming as usual. I think it's so crazy how big she's gotten lately - I still remember when she was at the Gypsy Tea Room, and now she's filling up huge venues. But it was an awesome show - she played the best stuff off the new album Far, plus an amazing version of Ode to Divorce, a near show-stopping version of Silly Eye-Color Generalizations and ended the show with her country song Love You're a Whore (something that I've been dying to see in person). Basically, she continues to complete me in ways that are utterly undefinable. Or to put it in terms of Roommate Jim "I have never seen you look gayer than when you're smiling at a Regina Spektor concert." Which, while a hate crime, is technically accurate.

I also went to see Imogen Heap at the Granada approximately 4 days following the Regina concert and it was similarly awesome. It wasn't exactly polished - there were several extended technical delays and her voice (while always awesome) was obviously suffering from multi back-to-back concert nights. That said, there were some amazing bits - a truly awesome rendition of Bad Body Double, an unbelievably chilling version of The Moment I Said It, and a really unique and fun take on Just For Now. And as far as old school ambiance goes, you really can't beat the Granada. Even though the show was sold out, the crowd was super cool and really into the show. Bravo all around.

Short Stories That Make You Wonder (I'm Too Lazy for Proper Posts)

I got a new roommate. Roommate Frank has run off to greener pastures where there are dogs that he can play with, and floors that don't randomly shift their planes for their own amusement. In his stead we introduce Roommate Jim, who's already been heavily featured in stories around here, just not while co-habitating. It's a pretty sweet setup, in that we are basically the straight/gay versions of each other. It's all video games, sports, and minor drinking adventures all the time nowadays. He keeps me honest and less hermit-like than I would normally be in such times, so it's a good thing.

My birthday was aging, but super fun. I managed to go out three separate times (in true Birthday Week fashion) and never got overly drunk. Good conversation, good venues, and good drinks. Is it possible that I'm growing up and can actually celebrate in moderation? Let's just assume this is an aberration, not a sign of things to come. We'll see how Gingerbread Party goes next month as the real indicator.

Thanksgiving was short (low-man on the totem pole at the new office means working on the day after) but I still managed to partake in enough of my family's delicious meal in the 10 hours I was home that I will probably never be the same shape again. (Also contributing to that shape: the literal 10 pounds of leftovers that my mom gave to me on the way out the door. Seriously, I'm going to be a pear before the new year). I brought Roommate Jim back with me to the homestead, and I'm pretty sure that no parties were permanently scarred from the event, which is all I was hoping for, frankly. To quote a great man: No one got shot, no one got outed. I'll take it.

Wherein a Jukebox Weekend Happens

How long was I waiting in dramatic anticipation of the Jenny Owen Youngs/ Jukebox the Ghost show last Friday? Because of the advent of Twitter, I can pinpoint it down to the minute: 5:43pm on March 18th. I'm not sure if I like that level of documentation on my mental state, but it is handy for times like this.

Anyways, it's been a while. And especially since there's been a dearth of good live music in Dallas, with that level of focused waiting I was pretty worried that it wouldn't live up to the hype in my mind. But it totally did! And not just for a couple of reasons. More like 16 reasons. Starting from the top:

Jenny Owen Youngs is awesome. No, seriously, so awesome. Even with the terrible sound system at the Prophet Bar (which is so, so terrible, you guys. I have yet to go to a show there that didn't have major sound problems) she rocked the house. Not only did she open with my favorite song of hers in the whole world (Voice on Tape), she played the three best tracks off her new album and still had time for 'Drinking Song.' Plus, she dealt with that absolutely bizarre crowd (more on that later) with aplomb.

Jukebox the Ghost is really impressive live. I'd totally like to lie and pretend that I knew who they were before the show was booked, but let's keep the blog honest. I bought the tickets just because of Youngs and didn't have a clue who they were. Instead, I had to play internet catch-up on their MySpace page to at least hear some of their music before I went to the show so I wouldn't be completely out of the loop, since they were joint-headlining.

But in cool twist of luck, they're firmly in my musical taste wheelhouse: Piano, drums, and guitar with a lot of quirky lyrics and hooks thrown about liberally. Think Ben Folds, only with a more electronic and grandious sound. Plus, lots of talk about the apocalypse and the Antichrist. I actually ended up buying their album before the show, it's so catchy.

And they're even better live - they've got that sort of jam-band type of feel that makes them 100 times cooler in person because the product is similar to what you expect, but they really dig in to every song. They're excellent performers - I'd put them right up there with Regina Spektor and Steel Train in terms of musicians I've seen who are way better live vs. their recorded album.

Oh man, and can I talk for a second about the complete insanity that was the audience? This is broken down into many parts. One: the crowd was way smaller than I expected (which meant we could get an awesome view of the stage despite sitting back at the bar during the opening bands). Two: even though the crowd was small, there were two genuinely crazy people in the audience - a strange man who was full-out dancing right in front of the stage during Jenny's set (doing a modified version of The Twist, even during the slower songs), and a similarly excited girl who shouted during a lull between songs "I love your prose!" Which is one of the stranger things I've heard as far as audience-to-live-band compliments go.

Three: I'm almost sure we were the oldest people in the audience who were there for the show itself, and not there as chaperon/ride home for some of the kids up front. In fact, a pretty thorough examination of the people around us yielded only 6 people who had wristbands allowing them to drink. This in-and-of itself is not crazy, but I'm guessing the lowered age-level removed some of the jaded concert-fiend feel to the show, because these kids were rocking out. I mean, at one point during the combined bands portion of the show, Jenny said something like "Now this is a dance song, so you guys need to be dancing," and oh-my-sweet-lord how they took up that challenge with vigor. I love an audience that does more than just stand there and one that actively dances around crazily is like concentrated joy.

Other things that were very cool:
- That I got to say hi to Jenny Owen Youngs
- That I got to buy a tour poster and a vinyl album from her with recordings of the two combined songs that she and Jukebox did together (the best part of the show)
- That she and her band came out and danced along with the audience during the last couple of Jukebox songs
- That the two supporting guitarists with Jenny did an interpretive tambourine dance during the Jukebox/Jenny combined song (Highlight of the night)
- That the bartender interpreted "SoCo and Coke" to mean "A glassfull of SoCo with a tiny splash of Coke"
- That Devon (the friend I conned into coming with me) managed to endure the crazy dancing guy's awkwardness without having to leave the room

Other things that were not cool:
- (Again) the soundboard at the bar (the worst)

Yeah, so: totally awesome show.

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The rest of the weekend was consumed by a graduation party for the boyfriend's best friend, followed by a whole lot of sleeping. Which was pretty sweet itself, but involved little that was noteworthy. So definitely a good couple of days.

A Week and a Half in Review

Short form posting is the style of the season. Mostly because I'm basically drowning in work, and have less than zero interest in typing on a computer when I'm not being paid to these days.

Last Sunday Night: While out at a bar, was accosted by a drag queen, who attempted to make out with me twice. After derailing said attempts, had to spend close to 30 minutes additionally derailing the boyfriend from defending my honor by attacking the drag queen with a broken and/or rusty beer bottle. Why is my life so complicated? (Also: marks the 4th time in 2 years that a drag queen has propositioned me. Does this just happen to people all the time and I'm just not aware of it? Because I'm never around queens, and yet that's a shockingly high number to me.)

Last Wednesday: While indulging in my one hour of TV a week during the summer (Project Runway), I decided that I should also indulge myself food-wise, since I've brought my lunch to work every day for 2 weeks. I got one of these, and then proceeded to eat the entire thing. I've worked out 3 different times since then, and I can still feel the weight around my waist. Never again, I say. I'm practically sweating out the grease to this day.

Saturday: A successful running of Frank's birthday extravaganza. Which included me making an awesome display of birthday punch, which was full of ingredients, and was delicious. (I also then OD'ed on the stuff the next day, since primarily the ingredients I mentioned were variations on concentrated sugar, and subsequently felt the extraordinary pain that is an epic sugar crash). We also learned that: Jason only needs one margarita and 5 shots of rum to become completely drunk, which is a sad, sad thing, but still very fun. Oh, and I'll say it again: there is no game that is more fun with a group of people than Apples to Apples.

Sunday and also Monday: Refer above to the sugar crash item, which occupied most of my day. But additionally, our hot water disappeared entirely. Apparently I've traded out the Truck of Malfunction (TOM) for the Condo of Malfunction (COM), which is a much less cool acronym. So yeah, two days without a shower, I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am right now about the fact that I work alone in my office. Because seriously, if I can smell myself, you know that it's trouble.

No Good, Terrible, Bad Days

I was in the worst mood.

I had just spent 9 completely unproductive hours in the office and all I had to show for it were three new paper cuts, 2 new bills that I hadn't realized would be due, and a splitting headache to boot.

When I got home and found my apartment smelling terrible due to a lack of kitchen cleaning, I was about ready to lose it. But I was feeling just put-upon enough that my righteous indignation carried me all the way through a really thorough cleaning of the whole apartment.

Afterward I was still in a funk and riding that same wave of adrenaline, so I decided to work out too. I ran through a Tae bo routine (because I live at least 8 years behind the rest of the world at all times) and then powered through a whole bunch of weightlifting until I was just completely exhausted, and just about dripping with sweat.

Finally I sort of felt my anger at the day melting away. All I wanted to do was crash and watch the last new movie I had from Blockbuster - The Assassination Jesse James Blah Blah Etc and Whatnot. I figured if there was ever going to be a time when I was willing to sit through a 3 hour period drama about the Old West, it would be right then - when I could barely raise an arm, let alone turn get off the couch and turn off a DVD player in disgust.

Except that, once I had toweled off the majority of my sweat and grabbed the DVD envelope, it turned out that they had sent me the wrong disc. Instead of The Assassination of Brad Pitt by One of those Affleck Boys, I had Disc Two of Ellen DeGeneres Here and Now.

Man, I was so steamed. Not that I really have anything against Ellen, but still, when you're expecting hot guys in cowboy hats and you get a lesbian doing stand-up, it's a tough blow to roll with. Really, it was just the whole day and that was the last straw. But I think I was still really pumped up on all the testosterone from the workout, because rather than just collapsing on the couch for a good cry (as my normal response would be) without thinking, I gathered up all my DVD's and bolted for my car to Blockbuster. I was going to find something there that I really wanted to watch and somehow salvage this terrible day.

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I entered Blockbuster with an air of restrained fury and was determined to find a movie and get out in under 10 minutes. When the guy at the checkout counter faltered in the middle of his routine greeting, I probably should have realized things would never be that smooth:

"Hi! Welcome to Blo-*ahem*"

Instead I assumed that maybe my withering glance in his direction had shocked him into silence. About 3 minutes later, though, I caught a quick glance of myself in the reflection of a window, and understood that it was probably my appearance that had shut him up. It also explained the little twitch of a laughing smile he repressed too.

Because in my mini-fury, I had forgotten that I was still in my workout outfit - super small black running shorts, XXXL muscle tee that hung off my shoulders so far that it revealed better than half my chest, and my hair standing straight into the air about 10 inches, from being held back in a headband for an hour.

Whatever. I didn't care, I've got a fine self body image, and I made peace with my hair months ago. I grab my movie (The Descent - I want to see some cave-dwelling monsters get their skulls crushed in. Still very full of testosterone.) and get in line. There were only two other people ahead of me, and they were both high school girls. At first they were giggling and messing around with the various impulse items in the line. As I came up in line they fell into a hushed series of whispers. I tried to tune out as much of their antics as possible, and focused on the rack of candy to my side.

Just visualizing getting home, watching some mindless horror, and putting this horrible day behind me--

"Hey," says Girl #1. They've both turned to stare at me.
"Uh, me?" I look up from the bag of Pixi Sticks I am reading and trying to talk myself out of buying and look around to make sure I'm not blocking someone they know.
"Yeah, you," she saids giggling, punctuating her 'you' with an index finger to my shoulder.
("Is she picking a fight with me?" I start to wonder.)
"What's your name?" She cocks her head to one side and just her hip to the opposing side.
"Uh, Jason." I start praying in my head that this is not going where I think it's going.
"Oh, cool. Jaaason." She draws my name out and smiles. Maybe she's just drunk. Or high.
"I'm Brie. This is Candice. What'cha renting? The Descent? That looks scary. I really like scary movies. But only if I have someone to hold on to." By the end of this rambling line of thought, she's officially moved into my personal space.
"Ahh, I see," I murmur as quietly as possible, narrowing my eyes and attempting to back up, only then realizing that I had already backed up as far as possible and was pressing by back into the candy rack.
I dart my eyes over to the friend, to see if I can find some hint about what's going on here. Is this an elaborate dare? She's got this appraising look going on, and I suddenly really wish that I had more of a shirt on than I do right at this exact moment. High school girls are not this aggressive, right?
"So, are you here by yourself? Is this your first week off from school too?"

It doesn't matter that I'm still completely sort of pissed off from this day, or that I'm basically half naked and covered in sweat in a Blockbuster - I completely just bust out laughing. I don't mean to, but seriously. Like, uncontrollable laughter, from deep within. The two girls stop and look at each other a little puzzled, but don't join in. I realize right then that they might have actually been serious, but I cannot stop laughing. Luckily, almost simultaneous with my inappropriate bout of laughter the guy up front calls for the next person in line.

The girls tell me to go ahead, since they're still waiting for another friend of theirs, starting to look at me a little funny. I get it down to a mild chuckle and tell them thanks, and that it was nice to meet them.

The checkout guy can obviously tell something strange is going on, but he's not going to get involved.

As I head out the main door, my principle interrogator calls out "Bye Jason!"

Determined not to bust out laughing, I turn and wave goodbye. As creepy as it was, I suppose one should still take it as a compliment.

And turning back to leave, I manage to misjudge how far the door will open and slam half my body against the frame. And then - reaching back to steady myself from falling - I crunch the little finger on my right hand against the other door handle.

Not daring to look back I virtually sprint back to my car and vow to never leave the house ever again.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Like Scrooge, in a Way

Why yes, Christmas was awesome, thanks for asking.

Took two days of the weekend to unwind, finish shopping, and clean my room (it was really messy) and then spent the next two at my parents' place mostly eating, although occasionally opening gifts, giving away gifts, and moving large appliances up flights of stairs.

Delightfully traditional. Sort of.

Had excellent reception for the gifts I gave (a rarity, so yay) and as per usual was loaded down with awesome things through the generosity of my family. But that is only tangentially related to my reason for posting.

See, I've become a crazy old man, virtually overnight. The night before I left for my parents', I received my electricity bill for the last month and almost had a heart attack. In the middle of winter, we managed to use 3 times the normal wattage that we expend in a month in the summer. No, really, truly, and literally, 3 times my August bill. I immediately declared that we would no longer be using the heater in any significant capacity, as apparently getting the apartment over 70 degrees requires enough power to run a normal city block for a week.

Suddenly Frank is in his room, huddled over his laptop for warmth, shivering. Meanwhile, I've taken to wearing a flannel robe over all my normal clothes while at home to retain as much warmth as possible. Seriously, it's like I've become crazy Scrooge over here with Frank as Cratchet. (With the exception that Frank does not go in for any type of maths, and so far as I know, has not fathered any crippled children.)

Also! As part of my extensive haul from this Christmas, I received the DS video game Geometry Wars, something I've been coveting since it came out earlier this month. It is a most excellent game, as I love things that are simplistic, yet colorful that let me blast things. It's the pure essence of what a video game should be.

Sadly, though, it was not made to originally played on a tiny portable system. In its native state, you control the game using two analogue joysticks on a single controller. In order to make it workable on the DS, they have changed the left joystick to a directional pad (up-down-left-right) and the right joystick to a tiny pencil which you use to draw your direction on the touch screen. It's not the most elegant solution, but it's surprisingly effective.

The issue is, for maximum effectiveness with this setup you must hold the system with one hand, scribble furiously with the other, and have a finger available on the holding hand to hit a button on the top of the system. The only way to accomplish such a maneuver is to bend your wrist at a 90 degree angle, brace the bottom of the system with your pinkie and ring finger, extend your middle finger across the length of the back of the system, use your index finger to trigger the upper button, and have your thumb act as a counter weight/directional button pushing device.

Okay, that probably sounds completely unintelligible. The upshot is: within 15 minutes of starting play, your hands will be cramped up into withered claws, from which there is no respite. It's like carpal tunnel within carpal tunnel.

If you try to outfox the game by laying the DS on a surface, there's no elegant way to reach the upper button, so you're left with limited playability. And if you use both hands to hold the system, you are severely limited in your scribbling ability. Neither of which is an acceptable solution to a proper gaming person.

The end result? Not only am I a crazy old man who wears a flannel robe at all times while yelling about wasted heat, my hands are set in arthritic claws whilst doing so.

Yeah, Merry Freezing Christmas, y'all.

(You have no idea how painful it was to type all that out.)

This Just In - My Soul Crushed. More at 11.

w00t crowned word of the year by dictionary

Massachusetts-based Merriam-Webster Inc. said "w00t" — typically spelled with two zeros — reflects a new direction in the American language led by a generation raised on video games and cell phone text-messaging.

There are no words to express my feelings, you guys.

Wait, that's a lie. I have tons of words. And more importantly, they're actually WORDS. Not a random combination of letters and numbers that some illiterate fool made up. Ugh.

I'm not saying that you can't use the word. In fact, I don't mind the occasional 'woot' in the proper context (the online world). I'm pretty laid back on slang in instant messenger, or in games. Heck even in blogs it's fine (e.g. my liberal and annoying use of "ain't" and "y'all" throughout every entry I've ever posted). The purpose of language is to convey meaning in the clearest way possible. If your audience responds better to something informal and familiar, it's perfectly fine to use.

But Merriam-Webster does not need to be condoning such things, dammit. I don't care if you want publicity. You're dumbing down the actual rules of language for no reason whatsoever.

Merriam-Webster President John Morse said "w00t" reflected the growing use of numeric keyboards to type words. "People look for self-evident numeral-letter substitutions: 0 for O; 3 for E; 7 for T; and 4 for A," he said. "This is simply a different and more efficient way of representing the alphabetical character."

Um hi, Mr. President of Dictionaries? You know what is a more efficient way of representing an alphabetical character than using a number? USING THE ACTUAL CHARACTER.

Look what you just did, you made me write in all caps. I hate caps. Shouting on the Internet is just rude. But I am left with no alternatives. Let's break it down:

woot = four characters
w007 = four characters (that make no sense)

And to top it all off, if you read between the lines of what he's saying, it sounds like he's insinuating that the thing I hate most in the world is becoming acceptable. Namely "4" being the equivalent of "for" and "u" allowable for "you." It will be cold day in hell before I allow this to happen. I will wage war on all the 14 year-olds in the world, by myself if necessary.

Grammar rage, y'all.

God, it's that whole IDK MY BFF JILL? thing all over again.

The Catch Up-ening - Part One

So I got older this month.

I tend to stretch my Birthday Celebration into something more like Birthweek Celebration, or similar. Basically I allow myself a full 7 days to revel in my advancing age, not content to contain my fun to a single 24 hour period. This has many advantages (more fun, less tight planning, more rationalization for slacking off), and since I don't usually go in for an actual party (who wants to go through the hassle of hosting a party on their birthday?) it's good fun for everyone.

This year we did a late birthday week, as my birthday was on a Monday and the following weekend was SMU Homecoming. Eschewing the petty details (like the actual date) I celebrated nothing on Monday, and started up the partying on Thursday (the night of the aforeblogged Regina concert).

We did that first night after the concert out at what I call The Cougar Bar, which we seem to keep going to despite how horrifying the patrons tend to be. An excerpt from that night:

Jim: It is not cold here, I know what cold is like.
Devon: You are crazy, it is freezing out here!
[A cop car pulls up]
Devon: And what's with the po-lice?
[Walking nearby, a drunken barfly spots the squad car and "nonchalantly" wanders over to us]
Drunken Guy: Hey guys, I'm [name forgotten]. I'm gonna sit here with you guys for a while, you seem like some nice guys to hang out with, guys. [Eyes flick to the cops]
Jason, Devon, Jim, Frank: [Awkward Silence]
Drunken Guy: [Puts his arm around Jim] So what are you guys up to?
Jason, Devon, Jim, Frank: [More Awkward Silence]
Drunken Guy: [Looks over at Jim] What's your name, guy?
Jim: [Awkwardly] Jim.
Drunken Guy: Heeey, Jim. I'm [name forgotten].
Jim: Yeah, you already said that.
[More awkward silence, for several minutes, until the police car finally rolls away. Almost immediately after, a bartender comes out.]
Bartender: Okay man, time to go, they're gone now. Get some rest.
Drunken Guy: But-but-but, I'm just hanging with my new friends...
Jason, Devon, Jim, Frank: [Raised eyebrows, concerned/horrified looks all around]
Bartender: Yeah, uh-huh. Go on, now.
Drunken Guy: Well it was nice to meet you, Jim.
[He wanders off, weaving across the busy street. Theoretically to go home, but we actually see him sneak into the bar next door minutes later]
Jason: Well, now that some random guy has hit on Jim, we can properly move on with the night.

It was a nice quietly paced night after that. Primarily because I had to be at the office at 8:00am the next morning for a closing, and I don't do mornings hungover very well.

Friday saw a morning of work, an afternoon of delicious food, and a two hour happy hour at the local sports bar involving only one beer, but a very large cookie with ice cream instead. Later that night we hit an independent movie (see sidebar) and learned (well, confirmed) that the idea of a bar in the movie theatre is possibly the best use of modernization this century.

Saturday was the SMU Homecoming, both the game and tailgating Boulevarding. Because there's nothing wrong with starting drinking at 11:00am, provided you are on a rich campus, and it's birthday week. The Engineering School managed to finally pay dividends for me, when I scored some delicious free lunch, free beer, and free tickets to the game. That is, after we were finally able to track down everyone in our motley crew, as united we are invincible, while divided we're just kinda sad.

After a quick tour of the strip, where we visited many old friends and mortal enemies alike, I scored a foldable frisbee (which will be perfect for winging at Frank for years to come) and we moved on to the game. We stayed for two quarters (with the exception of Frank, who lit out from the Boulevard the second we mentioned the game, like they were housing Ebola in the stadium) and then abandoned the Mustangs to their eventual last second loss the second halftime was over. I went off to nap and run as many errands as possible before our planned night of debauchery.

Said planned night of debauchery got off to a very slow start when the piano bar we attempted to visit had a line down the block (damn all the homecomings!). Instead we went down near The Cougar Bar again, this time to a place which served delicious hurricanes, and contained the most cliched band on the planet.

Recipe: Take one part Bono imitator, dark sunglasses while indoors, and ironic Ramones t-shirt. Age for 10 long years. Add one elderly bass guitarist, mix well with black pleather pants until sufficiently horrified. Lightly sprinkle with out-of-place younger guitarist and season with really loud drumming to taste. Serve with as much alcohol as you can stand.

I was able to get drunk on approximately three drinks, because I am malnourished to the point of waif status. We made a quick stop at a local Irish pub so that I could have my traditional Southern Comfort drink to end the night and Devon and Jim could question their reasoning skills on letting me drink in public.

I don't remember Sunday, but I assume nothing too important happened that day, other than the viewing of football and the liberal consumption of chicken fried steak. (You have to wind down the birthday week. That's why you get multiple days.) And just like that, Jim headed back to parts north, and we returned to non-birthday status. Woe.

But it was definitely a solid birthday weekend, and I firmly endorse the concept of applying such an extension to everyone else. Take your time, enjoy yourself. It only happens once a year.

Equal Opportunity for Nephews

If we're gonna make this an old man blog, we might as well go all the way.

(Jason with Eli, the rockin' nephew)

Obligatory self-deprecation: Good Lord, could my jaw be any more massive? And you may want to wear shades, lest my pasty skin blind you.

But dang, isn't that a cute kid?

In Which I Triumph Over Double Cheeseburgers and Technology

Yearly Blood Test - Completed
# of Previous Diseases - 0
# of New Diseases - 0
Previous Cholesterol Score - 310
New Cholesterol Score - 162!

If there was a show call Biggest Cholesterol Loser, I would totally be winning right now.

So can I finally go back to eating McDonalds twice a week?
What do you mean I have to continue the diet to keep the cholesterol where it is?!

Y'all, I am so tired of fat-free milk and no red meat, you have no idea.

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I swore to myself that I wouldn't turn this into an old man blog. But I love this picture with reckless abandon:

(Jason and Julia, the tiniest niece in the world)

Does it worry anyone else that my cheekbone juts out enough in that picture that it looks like I might have a tumor? Or that my skin is so oily you can almost see the reflection of the camera in my pores?

Just me? Okay.

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So, as I alluded to in my last entry, I got home this weekend and decided to rearrange my room.

Or to be way more long-winded about it (naturally), I got home and found the wireless Internet to be in complete disarray. After my normal tinkering did a whole lot of nothing, I decided to finally break down and spring for a new router and wireless card. Preferably ones that were made after the year 2000, in opposition to the coconut-radio/squirrel-powered system I had running right then.

At Best Buy, I was told by the (bastard) helpful salesman that the new router he handed me would not only be faster and have a longer range, it would totally be plug-and-play with our current system, as it was the same brand, just an upgraded model.

Yeah - that was a (fucking) lie of the highest order. I'm not even remotely kidding. The two systems were so far apart that just booting up the new router to accept signals meant rigging up an elaborate system of hardwired Ethernet cords that stretched the length of the house, setting up about four different trip-wire type booby traps at various doorways. And that installing the controlling drivers for the card and router somehow disabled my DVD drive.

And that once I got that fixed, and the router was up and running, it turned out that "backwards compatible" didn't so much mean that it would work with older standards of wireless. Instead it meant that you could configure the router to run the old standard or the new standard. Not both. So since I had a new wireless card and Frank had an old one, only one of us would be getting to use the Internet at any given time.

And on top of that, my "faster, wider-range connection" was actually running at 35% of the strength of my old coconut/squirrel connection. Plus, did I mention that for the router to set up a wireless connection with a computer, the computer had to first be physically connected to the router? Is that not the most insane thing you've ever heard?

But whatever. After, literally, 4 hours of brute force hacking away at the network, rather than A) go all Sophie's Choice between Frank's and my Internet, or B) destroy the new non-working devices with an axe (my favorite option), we decide for secret option C) take back the $200+ system and go buy a $30 length of Ethernet cable and just hardwire both of our rooms to the Internet.

This process took all of 5 minutes to set up, used the old reliable router, and the only drawback was one long cord that ran the length of the living room and hallway, along the wall. I will take the decorating hit to save my sanity. And new direct connections mean delicious Internet with absolutely no waiting, signal loss, or devious neighbors sucking my bandwidth dry like hungry mosquitoes at a 4th of July picnic.

Anyways, the result of this (horrifyingly boring) story is that running the line into my bedroom was much easier if my desk was on the opposite wall from my normal room configuration. And being the obliging person that I am (along with my deep-seated compulsion to rearrange furniture all the time - thanks dad!) I did a full reorg of the room.

I think the result is an even better layout than the original one, and I loved the original. It makes the room look bigger and draws your eye immediately to my fancy bookshelf, rather than my unmade bed like before. Plus this time there's no awkward wasted section of the room - one that I had previously filled with a single trash can and an unplugged standing lamp.

The only downside to the new setup comes in my morning routine. Before, I used to roll out of bed to my left, hit the alarm, and then walk to the shower, all in one fluid motion. Now I have to hit the alarm first, and then roll out to the right, and walk around the bed to the shower. Because if I forget and do it the old way, I get a facefull of wall. And I apparently roll out of bed really forcefully.

Because, OW.

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Behold all my triumphs and despair, you's guys.

Stupid Things I Did On My Birthday

Happy Birthday to Me!

• Forgot that I rearranged my room last night and as a result ran into a wall headfirst as I climbed out of bed
• Sliced open three parallel gashes on my left index finger while shaving with my new 5-bladed vibrating razor of death
• Got caught lip synching to The 88 on the elevator going into the office
• Dropped an entire carton of legal sized bond paper on my foot from a height of 7 feet
• Sliced open a single huge gash in the palm of my left hand while handling the heavy cardstock (the ultimate paper cut)
• Almost missed my chair when sitting down while simultaneously answering the phone, and in the process hit myself in the face with the phone handset
• Got caught lip synching to The Hush Sound on the elevator going to lunch
• Poked myself in the eye with a rogue paperclip
• Almost ran over a small child riding his scooter in the middle of my apartment complex
• Ate a gigantic spoonful of rainbow chip frosting by itself, suffering through the resulting sugar high
• Somehow strained my back while sleeping off the further-resulting sugar crash

Woo, getting older!

The Worst Conversation to Start a Friday On

Receptionist: So, got any big plans for this weekend?

Jason: Nothing too special - going out to dinner with my family on Saturday; it's my birthday this Monday.

Receptionist: Really?! How old will you be? Wait, don't tell me, I'm really good at guessing.

[She eyes Jason up and down carefully.]

Receptionist: 32!

Jason: Uh, 26 actually.

Receptionist: Ohhh... Well, I probably estimated high because... you seem so mature.

[Jason nods, with a tight smile.]

Jason: Of course.

Fin