Monday, September 30, 2002

"Spam, Eggs and Spam, Spam Bacon and Spam, Spam Spam Cheese Bacon and Spam, Spam..."

To quote Dr. Emmit Brown, "they found me, I don't know how but they've found me."

The "they" being, of course, America Online.

My recent dealings with the Internet version of a New York slumlord ("you'll accept my services at my price, OR ELSE!!!") were humorous, mainly because i wasn't the one being questioned about alleged ties to the adult entertainment industry. For the record, no, she wasn't using her email to solicit porn, someone had hacked into her account.

But now, after changing my preferred email account to avoid the (minimum) thirty to forty unsolicited SPAM emails i received daily, I have now been tracked down by AOL (Always On the Lookout?). They offered me a "free trial offer" of 1025 hours to try their product. Gee, I've passed on all the plethora of CD's that are floating around the world, available in every marketplace and business establishment imaginable. But since you've taken all the trouble to email me personally, Sure, I'll try your 1025 hours of free "service."

Really, 1025 hours. In six weeks. That's 22.8 hours a day, using the internet. Assuming i could conceivably do so, without considering work or, i don't know, sleep, for that matter, I would still have to figure out of every hour or so ten minutes in which i get knocked offline and have to log back on. That's over 170 hours i LOSE because AOL sucketh. That's 3.8 hours every day spent waiting to get back online.

Thanks, AOL, but, um, no thanks. And if you ever email me again, I will make sure you are miserable for the rest of your pathetic lives. You will pray for death, but death will not come to you. You will think you are in hell, but then the tortures i will wreak upon you will increase beyond your darkest imaginings of pain and torment. Because i am SICK AND TIRED of SPAM emails about your STUPID OFFERS.
Kill the pig, slit its throat, spill its blood

So the internet network here at the ol' jobsite has been down for the past four days. As a result, I have been going absolutely nuts. Really, how am I supposed to survive without my daily diet of various blogs and spam email? I couldn't enter grades into the computer, i couldn't check work email, i was adrift, disconnected, lost in a sea of angry parent emails to which i am unable to reply. My co-workers and I were turning positively tribal. If the network had been down any longer, we would have started hunting each other for sport.

But now (joy!) it's back. And I must go back to work. But not after a few comments and anecdotes.

And "sucks to your ass-mar."

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Just When I Came Up with a Sure-Fire Video Idea...

Apparently, it's illegal to pay bums to fight each other and then videotape it. Who knew?

What really gets me is that they named the tape Bumfights, Volume One. Did they honestly think they would make more of these? That it would become a long running series?

Well, on the other hand, if "people" are making millions of dollars on a series of tapes that shows the same part of human anatomy over and over and OVER and OVER... I guess the purveyors of homeless violence would have the same aspirations.

(By the way, if you are one of the alleged 300,000 who bought the tape, remind me to beat the crap out of you sometime.)
Hey Pretty, don't you wanna read a blog with me...

Did my typical blog-cruising during a brief break. Found a entertaining (and on some levels, troubling)website that Bill Barol had linked from the Blather page. It's a multi-media presentation of the life and art of Edward J. Funkunkle, and is curiously reminiscent of the book House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. But fun. Creepy, artsy fun.

By the way, if you don't read Blather, you should. All attractive, intelligent web users do. Well, on second thought, nevermind.

Sunday, September 22, 2002

The People's Republic of Casiotone

While surfing, i stumbled across the website of Five Minute Walk Records, which produces several rad alternative bands. What I found was that the site was under renovations, so in its place, the keen folks at FMW had put a piano keyboard . Not just a graphic, mind you, but an actual keyboard, recalling those beautiful bygone days of the mini-Casio keyboard. Go ahead, peck away at it; the eighties flashback is great.

And if you're skilled, you can reproduce several favorite 8-bit video game theme songs. I've already wasted about twenty minutes trying to play the Super Mario Brothers theme.

Saturday, September 21, 2002

Rah rah sis boom bah

Yes, that's right, kids, football season is well underway. Down here in the Lone Star State, high school sports takes on an almost religious quality, as our school's warriors march up and down the field of battle, giving and receiving punishment. When they succeed, we cheer madly, enraptured; when they are crushed by the evil forces that oppose them, we weep, we cry out in anger, we question all that is good in the universe. Then we go to Denny's for dinner.

Homecoming being an especially event in the spectacle of all that we call high school football, it takes on a life of its own, bestowing ordinary mortals with god-like qualities. New royalty is crowned, and instantly they receive an added aire of grace and beauty. Gridiron heroes join the pantheon of sports icons, by performing legendary acts of skill and bravery. Band members can change their stars for one week, becoming heroes and pals instead of the joke that they are made into by everyone else, all year long.

Ah, football! Ah, humanity!

By the way, we lost 57-6 at Homecoming. We scored first, then they began putting the hurt on us. It was tough to watch, my friends. Really really tough.
Daily Diatribe

You know what i realized the other day? As i was flipping through a catalog for a local "big and tall" retailer, i noticed that all the models used were tall. No big men, just tall men. Even in the _____ big and tall catalog, large men are discriminated against. I realize this issue has been brought up before by other people, mostly overweight comedians, but we at Anything... take this issue very seriously and are calling for a complete boycott of all "big and tall" establishments that perpetuate this practice... at least until late spring, cuz i will need some summer clothes.
Bright and Shiny, Bright and Shiny...

I was accosted by a cult member last Thursday. Okay, she was a college student (maybe) who tried to sell me magazine subscriptions. Really well-trained, really slick. I'll demonstrate.

Walks up to me, backing me up until i'm pinned against the truck, breaking the three-foot personal space buffer-zone, and begins: "Hi! My name is Brandi** how are you doing that's great I'm doing a project for my communications class and was wondering if you could help me out can you do that aw thanks so much High Five! [we did] so what's your name [Dave] hi dave how are you doing lemme tell you what the project is all about i'm trying to earn 70,000 personality points so i can win a thousand dollars [at this point she holds up the card to show me the gimmick, while still crowding me] have you ever had a thousand dollars all at once i sure haven't and if i win that i could also win a trip to London Paris or Cancun now tell me dave do you drink be honest [nope] never?[nope, never] wow well are you in school not in school working non-working [out of school, graduated, working as a teacher] wow that's great what school did ya go to [i tell her] oh well that makes sense [no, i was just the designated driver all the time] oh okay gotcha so what i want you to do for me now if you can is take a look at this card here [holds up second card] now you see all those words there they are magazine titles now what are you into dave cars music cute girls in their underwear no playboys not on the list but i get 50 points for these titles and 30 points for..."

And thus, the penny drops. She was making a sale. Pathetic. I turned her down. Made a bit more small talk, blah blah blah, then she thanked me [handshake for good luck?] and was on her way.

Swear to god, she sounded just like that. The only time she used recognizable punctuation was when i told her i didn't drink.

You know what? I hate sales people. Even more than cult members. Because cult members make it clear what they're trying to sell you. Sales people want you to think they're doing you a favor, instead of the other way around. Argh.

**Not her real name, but god it could have been. Something ending with an "i", at any rate. With a heart instead of a dot above it. Those people... anyway.

Friday, September 20, 2002

Quote of the day

"Don't become a Nazi just to please Hitler..."
--my intended, via email, in reference to--well, that's classified...

For the record, I publicly denounce all forms of fascism or far-right-wing nationalist parties... except ours... Go GOP.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Paranoid, part II ...

Wanna create your own conspiracy theory? It's fun and entertaining...and just killed the last ten minutes of my time. Ahhhh, procrastination.
I think I'm paranoid...

A dear friend reminded me that one must be careful with internet posting. That people have been fired for ragging on their work situation online. This is a legitimate concern, and one that has left me paranoid for the past fifteen minutes. What if they see the page? Did i delete the web history on the network comp? Should I have? What if they--? Ah! AH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! (Horse head, anyone?)

Did anyone see Conspiracy Theory? Yeah. You're not paranoid if they really are out to get you.

And if they are, I'd like to say for the record, "I love my job! It's the best job in the world! My employers are wonderful! There isn't a job in the world i'd rather do than this one! My tenth graders are wonderful! I love them all, and am always happy to have them in class!"

There, that should do it.
"I got love for my thugs..."

When i was first trying to break into the whole blogging "scene", I asked my friend Will if he could hook me up with some LiveJournal action, since he has a very spiffy LiveJournal site. But alas, he said he couldn't help me out, regrettably. However, I will give my bruthah the promised Name-Drop, even if he can't hook me up. Go check out his page--wit and merriment abounds.
It's not like I'm asking them to do brain surgery...

Tenth graders and their complaints. Geez. I give them the first test of the year (Parts of Speech!!! Hello fifth grade) and they lose their minds. This is an honors class, mind you. I just can't wait until the regular class sees it. I expect to have to call the riot squad. Again.

Monday, September 16, 2002

Enthusiasm Tempered with Realization, or, "Dave gots no skills"

After eagerly emailing my fiancee and fellow blogger that I was "part of the club" or somesuch phrasing, I realized that I am writing no code myself, nor am i taking the countless hours it must to maintain all the html and whatnot involved with web design. That I, in fact, am what we in the old school used to call a "Poser." (Or poseur, for all you technical people.)

I am prepared to acknowledge and accept the fact that I have no web skills, that my ostensible code prowess is mere smoke and mirrors, and that the real magic comes from the fun folks at (BLATANT PLUG). So thank (2nd BLATANT PLUG) and think of them for all your internet weblogging needs.

Why am i blatantly plugging (3rd BLATANT PLUG)? Why not Coke or Microsoft? Because I truly care about (SEND CASH) and I'm not trying to namedrop big corporations like Hewlett Packard and Nike in the hopes of monetary compensation or free merchandise (shoe size=15.5)!!! My motives are pure. Shame on all of you.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah, no skills. I fully deny ever having web-skills and now and forever doff the hat to those that do, like my illustrious and incredibly hot fiancee. So there.

Please give me money. Thanks.
Sometimes I just have to shake my head at myself...

Is it pathetic and sad that I feel absolutely giddy after seeing my blog up and running for the first time? I think so. But who cares!!!
Dateline--Houston, 4:18 p.m. Instead of grading papers or creating a cruel grammar test for my abundantly lazy tenth grade classes, I sit here, adding one more shovel-full of personal opinion to the rotting rubbish pile that the kids call the Web. I'm hoping that this blog will be moderately interesting for the three of you who read it regularly. If it's not, humor me. At any rate, it's better than working.

I have high standards to live up to, you know. I've been cruising around, checking out other people's blogs, and I have gotten more and more convinced that I will never be as witty as some of you. But I press on, tongue firmly planted in cheek, hoping that amusement will result from my many labors.

For you who are visiting for the first time, welcome and thank you. I promise that I'll be more inspiring or entertaining next time. So to make up for my less-than-impressive first showing, I suggest you check out Feeling is Mutual and Blather. I enjoy them quite a bit. FiM, I'm a bit more partial to, however. That's what happens when you're engaged to the person blogging.

Anywho, thanks for stopping by, come again.