September 2002

He’s passed out on the couch, and I’m pretty close to it myself. The night was a success seeing as how we have plenty of pictures of hager playing video games drunk, voimiting outside of Delilah’s drunk, and sleeping in the van and on the leather lounge chair durnk. I’m truknk too. As if you couldn’t tell. I can even tell by looking at my typos and I’mdruhnk. Apperently not enough drunk to tag italicas. I’m going back to play Mario Kart soon., just wanted to give everyone a little update on the bachelor party. I’s a shame that Chris couldn’t meet up- with us tonight, but he thought we’d be at Clut Risque for some reason. Well, we weren’t. He did try hard enough to get to us by calling everyone’s cell phones. Thai, some guy I don’t really know, is leaving now. Sean left earlier, as did Chris the other guy Hager knows from somewhere, but everyone else is still here playing Dr. Mario now.

The van worked out really great. We listened to some guy named Richard Cheese the whole way. It’s like lounge music versions of popular songs and it was a riot, pretty much of all of us drunk in th vvan singing along to cheezy lounge songs. Rock!.

Really time to go now. We have plenty of pictures of Hager with writing on his hand, walking — nay, stumbling — around drunk, and with numerous drinks in his hand. Time to go scarf down some more chips and salsa and drink some more. Signing off, Bob.

Oh, and I got a really greeat lap dance from Cleaopatra/Celest as did Ben. Some of the greatest 20 dollars I ever spent.

I have a job. It pays $35,000 a year, but I work on an hourly rate so I can get plenty of overtime if I want it and I definitely do. With an opportunity to do layout, problem solve, and even program a little, I’m rarin’ to go. With a 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. workday, I’ll even avoid traffic.

Goodbye college loan and credit card bill. Hello again, wishlist: computer, car, printer, scanner, DVDs, XBox Live…. And don’t forget that root canal in November. To that list I have to add a gamecube, per Rob’s orders, and subtract everything else, per Dia’s. I also have to buy an extra harddrive, as Alex just reminded me that since I can afford one I no longer have an excuse to put off editing the footage we have into our Summer of ‘96 action/adventure blockbuster. Also, Dave rightly says that I have to get some work clothes as well, which means new khakis and casual collared shirts. (Like collared greens, but with more cotton. And less green.)

As for the job, it’s doing digital pre-press work. From what I was told, that involves taking the raw material from clients who want to produce customized direct mail promotions and getting it ready for the press by any means necessary. They use QuarkXPress, BBEdit, some Photoshop, and any other program needed to get the job done. My new supervisor/boss said that it was a lot of problem solving in a team environment where there isn’t a set way of doing things; he also said that he loves what he does. That probably means I will too, since he was a graphic design major and worked for his college newspaper, that and there were Apple G4s all over the office. In case no one can tell, I’m excited.

I know how this guy feels. He just started his blog in August and he’s really interesting to read. I think I’ll have to start a section of interesting blogs on the left who aren’t my friends, even though I previously swore against it.

The guy also has another post about the lame stuff people post on their blogs. I’m definitely guilty of the first item on his list:

There are a limited number of people in the world who give a shit what kind of bubble bath you use. Maybe you could come up with something to say, rather than regurgitating an exhaustive laundry list of the inane crap you did today.

Hopefully that will change when I have a job and I start posting the list of inance crap I did at work today. Actually, once I have some cash I’ll be going out more, and I’ll have actual experiences to muse about rather than random thoughts.

This guy also inspired me to post my posts about kaiboB yelseL [Edited during 2006 redesign.] up here. That’s right, I’m posting her full name, so that anyone searching for her history will come here and get the full story. I’d probably consider delving into my journal from that time if it wasn’t so pathetic and needy and wrought with tears.

This morning on the way to my interview, I turned right onto Mill Creek Road as usual and proceeded toward the school zone. Apparently, I missed the flashing yellow lights warning me of the special (special as in retarded) school zone speed limit of 15 mph. I wasn’t going terribly fast, but at least more than 25 mph. Either way, I stopped for the crossing guard since I usually pay attention to such things and he was waving his little sign. Not that he gave me much time; he practically ran into the street to stop all traffic even though there was only one kid waiting on the corner and there were still a few approaching. I stopped of course, and the guy proceeded to scream at me. I shouted over to him to ask what the problem was, and he yelled about people always ignoring the yellow lights. “I stopped, didn’t I? What’s your problem?” I asked. He was still muttering to himself as I sped off. He was right, I don’t ever pay attention to blinking yellow lights. Can you blame me? From tow trucks and Drexel security guards to those yellow overhead blinkers at some intersections, yellow warning lights rarely signal anything important anymore. I’ll try to slow down in the future, but people are way too adherent to school speed limits anyway. When was the last time these people obeyed a speed limit anywhere, so why slow down for this one? I can see the little kiddies all along the sidewalk and I’m prepared in case one of them darts in front of my car. Screw everyone for being overprotective.

I should have seen the whole thing as an omen, because I got lost on the way to my interview this morning. I left at 9:00 a.m. for my 10:00 a.m. interview, more than enough time for the half-hour commute. The directions I copied down last night said I should get off at exit 6 then listed some local roads. I thought they were wrong, because I was pretty sure that I got on at that number. I had been to this plant twice before, so I thought I’d recognize it when I got there and follow the rest of the directions. Well I got lost. I got off one exit too soon, exit 8 instead of 8a, and headed east. Then south, then north, then west. I couldn’t even find a damn gas station once I got going at which to stop and buy a map. I found myself driving along small country roads and even stuck behind a huge farm vehicle that took up half of the lane in the opposite direction. By the time I got back to some main roads and was able to find a gas station it was already 10:00 a.m. The gas stations weren’t even any help because they only had shitty little maps for individual townships, and I wasn’t even sure which one I was in. The attendants at each place did point me in the right direction to reach Cranbury, N.J., so I went by that until I could recognize where I was. By some chance I turned onto CR-614; I thought the area looked like the kind of surroundings I had seen on my previous trip, and I had just passed through historic Cranbury, so I played a hunch and there I was. My directions included CR-614 and the subsequent roads, so from there it was easy. I’ll have plenty of time to explore this and other annoying detours after I take the job.

I should be getting an offer from my recent interview in the next day or so, and I’m definitely going to accept. The job sounds exciting and would use my Quark skills, the pay would be pretty good with plenty of opportunities for overtime, and the commute is only a half an hour each way. Yep, things are looking up.

This means the libertarians lost their chance to have me as a full-time editor. By some twist of fate should they call me back, I’ll tell them that I would love to work on the paper but that I’d do it up here in the evenings and weekends for slightly less money. By not taking their job full time it will mean giving up a great opportunity to work from home and put my editing skills to use.

The only forseeable drawback is that it’s a position with my dad’s company. Nathan pointed out that I would indeed be “selling out”. I pointed out to him that it was sort of like saying “I’ll never sell drexel.com” but he claimed that being sued made it a totally different situation. Either way, this job is in a department that my dad has no interaction with. He doesn’t sell the digital press services, and I’d be doing digital pre-press stuff anyway — dealing directly with clients and uploading digital parts of direct mail pieces and laying out what they’ll look like when they’re assembled.

As Yoni and I were leaving the post office, Yoni grabbed for a mint and the postal dude told us, “Don’t forget to read the scripture!” That’s right, a government employee is using candy to spread lies about God, namely that he exists and that he will “meet all [my] needs according to his glorious riches in Christ [Jebus].”

Needless to say, I will not put the foul thing in my mouth lest it burn my tongue. After all, I’m the person who started a collection of communion wafers that have been turned into the body and blood of Christ on the altar.

We’re supposed to see a movie at the International House right now, but he’s nowhere to be found. Since he knows that these things fill up rather quickly, that can only mean one thing: Chris is dead.

He hasn’t posted anything to his blog today, and Lisa’s not around to spread the bad word. That means it has fallen to me. Dia mentioned that there was trouble with the trains this morning but she didn’t mention anything as bad as this. Poor, poor Mrs. DiPietro; she’ll be heartbroken.

Wait, his blog just loaded in my browser and he did post something after all. He must have died on the way home then. Such a shame.

I’m at The Triangle right now, using their couch and their wireless network until it’s time to see the movie tonight. Geof just asked me if I’m too old for this, but I told him I wasn’t. He’ll never know I lied to him.

Ballistic sucked, but it sucked less than being at home without an Internet connection or television. I suppose I could have read a book, but it was in the car anyway, and once I made it down those 13 steps it was worth it to go to the theater instead of climbing back up. I may never go home.

I’m going to head out to get food with Yoni now since Geof apparently has things under control. Uh oh, Geof’s coming. Time to scram.

Right now I’m jealous of everyone whose cable didn’t just go on the fritz. Goddamn Comcast goes down at least once a month around here. Just when I was getting into my seven sins groove too.

I really need to start hitting the gym. I have been eating a whole lot better recently, but that’s not saying much considering the pit I was in before. My master plan is to start working out again once I have a job and a regular schedule, but if I can’t get motivated now I don’t know what makes me think I’ll be able to make time for it once I’m even busier. Only time will tell, since I’m not about to ditch the only plan I have laid out right now.

My days have gone seriously downhill since A&E stopped carrying Law & Order. Just as I found The Twilight Zone to fill my 12-1 p.m. slot, 1-2 p.m. opens up and there’s not much out there to fill it. Right now I’m flipping between American Gladiators reruns on TNT and Lingo, the latest original game show from the Game Show Network. They’ve always got the stupidest people playing too. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’m able to guess the word before the dolts on the show every single time. Even when the dumbasses get hints for where letters should go and what letters are in the wrong place they ignore them to guess some other word that’s often misspelled or not even the required five-letters long. Makes me sick how dumb these people are, yet I cannot turn away; it’s like watching a train wreck. American Gladiators isn’t much better either. I watched it every Saturday morning when it was on while I was growing up, but it’s definitely way less cool than I remember it. The show’s just so boring it’s sad. I remember some of the contestants, like good ol’ Coz Worthington, and of course the gladiators themselves. Sean was watching it with me a few weeks ago while we were waiting for Ross to settle on his new house, and he commented on how sexy Ice and Storm were. Even if he weren’t completely wrong, it wouldn’t be enough to get me to watch the show regularly.

Alright, it’s official. Interview skipped.

Back to bed.

I’ve pretty much made up my mind to skip my interview with Oxford Marketing. My dad and Matt have pretty much convinced me that it’s a ploy to have me drum up sales or sell door-to-door. At any rate, I don’t want some lame all-day, suit-wearing interview lousing up the day leading up to a free movie screening. I need to be in as good a mood as possible entering The Tuxedo since it will most likely suck.

Adding to my lazy ‘n’ irresponsible streak, I bought five DVDs on credit tonight: The Royal Tenenbaums, Memento (the new, two-disc version with the chronological order cut), Meet the Feebles (one of the first films from Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson), Army of Darkness (the original bootleg version), and Killer Klowns from Outer Space. But shhhhhh, whatever you do, don’t tell Dia.

Also, don’t tell Dia that I’m going to likely spend tomorrow playing XBox live with Matt. That is, if I can get him to bring it over to my place. I know it sounds lazy, but he apparently only has a 13-inch television and that simply won’t do.

That’s me. You see, I posted the three Rudy sound files on the left, but I hadn’t listened to them until now. What a bumbling idiot I am. Those are even the versions I edited to make me sound less bumbling and idiotic. News flash — it didn’t work.

I don’t even want to count the number of times that I say “That’s pretty interesting” and “Really?” Even worse is how I say “I’ll see you later” to poor 12-year-old Crystal Falensky like I’m outside her freakin’ house or something. Not so incriminating but just as stupid is the question about how often Ms. Parmanand drinks milk, like I’m John Stossel or something. What a dweeb.

Teeth are good. And not just in a general it’s-nice-to-have-them sense, I’m talking about mine. I’ve got no cavities at all and only required minor cleaning. Not bad for the boy who brushes his teeth once a week. Don’t worry, I’ve turned over a new leaf since my major toothache of two weeks ago. I still need a root canal for that dead and formerly infected nerve, but an infection under a filling isn’t something brushing could have helped to avoid.

I also performed a site check-up. I added three slightly-contraband audio clips I made in 1996 for my old Rudy site. (I’m not going to link to it until I can strip it of anything not timeless and republish it, but you can get to it from rudderow.com.) I also had to majorly rework the left-hand side in order to keep it pretty, so if my blog looked really strange earlier, that was why.

Never went over Ross’s tonight since he didn’t appear to be on IM; it was probably for the best since he was putting around the house with his dad during the shows. I turned down an invitation for late-night reruns to finish up the space on the left.

I figure I might as well start posting some of my projects since it’ll probably be a while before I get a copy of Flash — and the motivation — to redo my main site. I also thought I’d give Paul a reason to link to my site in return since he’s disillusioned with Blogger already.

Matt has a decent post about the Emmys. I was going to post on the same subject before I got carried away with tweaking my template. I will say a few quick things though. First, Michael Chiklis isn’t as cool as his character on The Commish, which I watched religiously when I was a kid. Also, The West Wing is one of the most boring shows I’ve seen, and it was really sad watching them win a bunch of awards. Lastly, Conan was one of the most interesting hosts I’ve seen, especially the part with Andy Richter even though it was too short.

Time to hit the sack since I have to get up early to make Dia’s lunch and then stay up for my dentist appointment at 9:45.

I added Greg to my list of peeps on the left. I don’t know why I keep adding these people who don’t even link to me in return. At least he updates his, unlike Rob who neither updates regularly nor links to anyone else. It wouldn’t normally be worth mentioning except that Rob sent me an IM a while back specifically asking why I didn’t have a link to his site. Write something! Code a link or post an entry — take your pick.

I also have to find something to fill the huge column on the left, but there are so many things that I don’t know where to start. Any multimedia links I find interesting would only be obsolete in a little bit, I don’t have the pictures of my friends that I’d like to put up there, and posting my really random thoughts or projects I want to start would be too much of a hassle. Maybe once Dave sets up a webdav server or whatever it is, I can post my calendar there. We’ll see I guess.

Ha ha ha! Speaking of blogs, my sister, who is also linked at left, finally posted something to her site. What she posted makes me want to vomit though.

One final thing: The eight people who have rated my blog on Hot or Not? have given me a 9.8 rating. Pretty cool, though it’s sure to drop soon enough.

I was right, Sunday morning saw my blog hit with requests for nude pictures of the stars of my favorite home improvement show.

The oddest request though, by far, was: “photos hardcore ducks in ass hardly”. I’m not sure I even want to figure that one out.

It’s true, I do. I left a message for Dia on Friday asking her to find Rob’s cell phone number and e-mail it to my phone. She sent me a status update first, telling me that she was working on it. The very next message was the number I was looking for, so I replied with a quick message of “Thanks, I love you.” As you can probably guess, the phone number was sent to me directly by Ross. The funny part is I only found out later that night, when I was talking to Dia about something or other, and it just surprised the hell out of me.

In other Ross-love news, Dia and I are heading over to Ross’s later tonight to watch the HBO line-up. We’ll be getting a VCR soon so we can tape Alias when it starts up next week. The only question is whether to get something cheap to hold us over until we can afford a TiVo, to get a nice VCR to last a long time because TiVo isn’t worth the money, or to get a really nice DVD/VCR combo because my old DVD player with the defunct Circuit City divx service sucks ass. Time will tell, since time will also see whether I get a job or not.

I always know when it’s Trading Spacestime! The hits for Paige Davis and Alex McLeod nude were pouring in all night. I only got 34 unique hits today, but they’ll be rolling in tomorrow as well. People want to see that buxom beauty nude, and they’ll stop at nothing. The regulars know not to click on my link from Google, but there are new fans every day that have no idea that you can’t find “paige davis NAKED” or “alex mcleod nude free” on my blog. You also can’t find this new twist either: “Ellen Feiss nude”. Good luck on your search though. If it happens to bear fruit, please do stop back here and e-mail me, I’d love to see what you can dig up.

Every time I forget how cute Paige is, I see her on T.V. again and I fall in love all over again. The second half of this post isn’t about her though, it’s about the newest designer on the block, Kia. She just took out a nine-piece leather sectional sofa/recliners and replaced it with a bench. How can anyone be happy with that change? What kind of idiots agree to redo a room when they’ve already got such great furniture to work with? They can’t possibly be that ignorant in the ways of design and they obviously have the resources to afford to redecorate, so I just don’t get it. Frank finally had a room where he didn’t hand-paint something on the walls, so I’d say it was a good episode. The fatty/hottie wasn’t too harsh on the eyes either. Mmmmm, and she cooks, too.

Screw Barnum and Bailey, this is truly the greatest show on earth. It’s the circus without the smell of elephant dung and the scary clowns. There are clowns alright, but these are actually hilarious. The best part of the circus has always been the death-defying feats, and Cirque du Soleil throws in just the right mix of interpretive dance to allow the acrobatics to punctuate the performance. Then the acts are spaced out with just the right amount of humor to keep it from getting too monotonous.

We had VIP tickets that Lauren bought like five months ago; each one was $170, but included an hour of cocktails and hors d’ouvres, an official program, more cocktails and desserts during intermission, parking right across the street, and totally kick-ass seats in the seventh row or thereabouts. Still pricier than I would have paid for, but it was really a really nice evening. Thanks, dad.

For anyone who hasn’t seen Cirque, this is the one to see. Screw television specials or DVD copies though; you have to see it live, and this would be the one to see. The acts were in order of increasing amazement, and none of the acts seemed to drag like they sometimes tend to do. The music is always amazing, but this time there was something from a variety of genres and it really spiced it up: reggae and salsa added to the usual contemporary and classical French tunes. In fact, the salsa music made the juggling act my favorite part this time, and from what I could tell the audience had fun too since it was one of only two times the audience clapped along to the beat.

The circus isn’t just about animals and freaks, it’s also about women in sexy leotards and borderline homoerotica. But it’s also a tribute to some of the totally unbelievable things that the human body can do.

If I ever hear a homeowner laugh in Paige Davis’s face again, I will hunt her down and kill her, I swear to God. The addresses are listed by street on the show’s Web site, so bitchy Trading Spaces participants beware. You’ve been warned!

It all started when designer Hilda Santo-Tomas wanted to dye her room’s carpet orange and the neighbor who was working on the room with her said absolutely not. So in this room of elegant dark orange and white, there was a gold carpet which totally didn’t match. When Paige defended the idea to the homeowners at the final reveal, the bitch just laughed and thanked her neighbor for not allowing it. Someone should have grabbed a can of paint and ruined the whole room. For recipients of a free renovation, some of these people are mighty anal rententive. In addition, they get to be on television and they get to meet Paige Davis for Christ’s sake. The least they can do is have an open mind. This wasn’t even one of Hildy’s wacko ideas like straw on the wall or anything like that.

I’m hoping to get on the show, since I finally remembered that there’s a neighbor we have in Maryland, the Novickys, that are still friendly to us. I would drive down and be on the show with my mom since she’s the handiest person in our family, besides me of course. (It’s also handy that I’m still unemployed… for now.) Now to get my parents to agree to let me sign us up and to talk the neighbors into agreeing as well. The Rutlandview Drive episode of Trading Spaces might not be too far off!

Right now I’m watching While You Were Out, and while it’s nowhere near as good as TS, it’s got a much greater chance of seeing hotties. Not only is the host a cuter Drew Barrymore lookalike, but the carpenter is prettier than Amy Wynn Pastor (though less talented I think, since she sews more than she builds) and on today’s episode the surpriser/participant is hot as hell. I definitely had a 50-minute crush on her today. Besides the hotties though, they put out some really nice rooms too. I’d definitely say they were nicer looking than TS even if it is less entertaining as a show. But what do you expect? They have a 50 percent greater budget and the chance to win additional pieces for the room, and two carpenters in addition to the host, designer, and the average Joe (or in this case Betty) that arranged the whole thing.

When I mentioned how annoying Paul was the other day, I made one glaring omission. I forgot to mention how damn talented and hardworking he is. He finally came up with the final design of the site, and it is pretty good.

So even though he harassed me a whole bunch and then took down every other version of the site that I had linked to in the post which I used to vent my frustration, I’d have to say it looks pretty snazzy. The only thing I’d question is that the giant GO looks a little blurry, possibly from resizing it to fit? Fix it, Paul! Other than that, good job. Now you just have to work on becoming a little quicker and you’ll do okay. For instance, you’re going to have to do another version in a few weeks when the grand opening is no longer a hot topic, and you don’t want that to take too long.

The happiest time in my life was while serving as editor of The Triangle. I think about this every time I visit campus. I swung by the office on my way home from Narberth today and stopped in to see who was around. I was hoping to see more people, but Geof’s pretty good I guess… yeah, seeing Geof was the highlight of my week (so long as you keep letting me take free movie passes, you shaky freak).

But back on track, it was an absolutely killer time hanging out in the office with all of my friends, each of us working on what we did best to put out a new issue every Friday. It didn’t even matter that we had to start fresh the next week because it was so much fun. I realize that it’ll never be like that again, not just because I’d come off as really freaky if I ever went back, but because there will never, ever be the perfect mix of people that we had before. And all of the same people can get together — at parties, Hager’s wedding, or whereever — but we’ll never be able to recreate a similar setting.

It’ll be my life’s goal to find a similar environment in which to work, but I know how highly unlikely that is. Maybe that’s why I’m so excited about the LP news gig; it would be a great opportunity to work with Chris and Dia, and perhaps other people as (albeit if) the paper grew. Too bad there isn’t a way to bring Pat in to take pictures, Gus to code a website, Lisa and Yoni also to write articles, Al to do Libertarian entertainment, and everyone else to write columns, draw comics, and to run the business department. There’s only enough money to make it a one-man show — for now. But you had better believe that I’ll try to find a way to parlay it into an opportunity to get the whole gang together doing what we loved to do but never got paid for.

Failing that, I’ll have to keep my eyes open for opportunities to put out other publications, or count on my wild card Matt O’Connell to think something up. He’s almost as lazy as I am though so I can’t get my hopes up for that either.

I called Steve Dasbach at the Libertarian Party today to check on the status of the editor position. He said that the people making the decision were meeting this weekend to discuss exactly how the position would be set up (due to campaign finance reform and all that jazz) before they make a decision on a candidate. So it looks like early next week is the new deadline for learning my fate. I hope I find out before I have to make a decision about the printing facility job. I’m starting to get some crazy notions in my head about doing both jobs. Since I wouldn’t have to hold regular hours to put out the LP News, I could do that when I wasn’t working the 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift at the full time gig since it’s a job I could do right from home. I’d probably work myself to death, but even if I did it would be better than being poor. Plus, I’d have Dia and Chris to help me out.

When the people called me yesterday to set up an interview, they said they shared a parking lot witha tennis club. What they didn’t mention was that their run-down shack was connected to a chiropractic clinic, a hair studio, and that same tennis club. In my search for the unlabeled front door I had to step around cars and over gian roots hoping that no-one would be watching me through the windows.

Once inside, it didn’t get much better. There were a shitload of me’s sitting in the waiting room and a secretary, Elizabeth, who was way too bubbly. She asked me what kind of music she should put on next and everyone else what their favorite movies were.

One by one, and in some cases — including mine — two by two, we were led into adjoining rooms and were queried by one of the lead honchos. They were doing them quick and dirty to meet as many candidates as possible and make an initial selection for interviewees deserving of a second interview.

This was going to be a negative post since they were supposed to call the lucky ones between 3:00 and 3:30 p.m. today. However, I just got the call now, so those swell bastards at Oxford Marketing will have me out again on Tuesday, this time for an all-day interview. That’s right: from 9:15 a.m. - 6 p.m. I’ll follow one of their sales and marketing pros around, see what deal is, and ask (and answer) questions. Should be a fun-filled day, as I have a free pass for The Tuxedo that night, too.

I’m still skeptical about just how close this is to a real job since there’s still been no mention about a salary and they’ve used the terms “fast-paced”, “dynamic”, and “go-getter” pretty loosely. I’m also picturing about 25 of us following the salesman around in a big bus, since I can’t imagine I made the cut from a few dozen applicants. I guess I’ll know soon enough.

Today I got more calls than usual, though still nothing from the Libertarian Party. Well, it would be more correct to say that today I got more than just the usual calls. I only got two from my dad and none from Dia, so I got some others that made up for their lack of annoyance.

First phone call was from someone at Oxford Marketing asking me to come in for a job interview. I don’t know why I applied for this job other than I was applying for a shitload at once, and this one seemed to be in my area of interest. Matt said it sounds like one of those lame jobs where I’d be drumming up business for only a commission, and I’m inclined to agree. I guess it’ll at least be interview practice for me, assuming I make it all the way to Narberth without getting fed up with traffic; even with a clear road it’s an hour drive each way. If I find out there’s no salary involved, I’m out of there right then and there. It would make a better story if I walk out than it would a job if I stay. The only really annoying factor is that this interview is tomorrow.

The next call I received was from the digital printing place in Princeton, the backup job which lured us all the way to Levittown in the first place. Well since the VP that initially showed interest was moved out of there and they were laying off people left and right, hiring me was the last thing on their minds. Well I got a call from this guy Paul who wants me to talk with this guy Keith in the pre-press department about a position they have now. They’re looking for someone to work the 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift and in return I’d learn a great many things, much of which would even be in my area of expertise. So I have this interview on Wednesday, though this one should be way more interesting.

The strangest call today was from someone from the Neshaminy school system. She was looking for someone to explain why Tonya wasn’t in school today. I told her that she hadn’t reached 742-8624 and politely hung up, but she called right back. I told Matt he could handle it this time, and he said Hello and “Why no, you didn’t just call here.” After she told Matt that Tonya wasn’t in school today and asked the reason for her absence, Matt told her that Tonya didn’t go all that often because she didn’t like it that much. He probably would have said more but he almost started laughing. No matter, because the lady was sufficently dumbfounded anyway. Matt’s “pimping his daughter” tale will have to wait for another victim.

The most annoying call was from a Mr. Logan, whose recorded message instructs me — three times every week no less — that I must contact him immediately at 1-800-837-1912 or something like that. (I’ll make sure of the number the next time I get his damn call.) Every time I call, they ask me for my phone number and then ask me if I’m Barbara Bacorn; every time I tell them I’m not and they promise to take me off their damn auto-dialing system. Guess what? Two or three days later I get the same call again. Goddamn Barbara Bacorn and whatever financial trouble she got herself into. If I wasn’t so busy being unemployed I’d make it my business to ruin her life.

Tonight was game night, and I didn’t really spend a lot of time preparing. Not that I ever do, but today I feel particularly slothful since I spent all my time since 10 a.m. playing Halo. Sweet, sweet Halo. I really should get a third controller so we can have some true multiplayer action. For now, the cooperative play is still kickass, and like Matt keeps telling everyone, we’ll be the best team out there when Halo 2 comes out.

Game night went pretty well. We only got in two games — one of Apples to Apples and one TransAmerica, but like last week it was more about the get-together itself, the food and conversation. Dia was a little disappointed that no one liked her stir fry since she put a lot of time into picking up the vegetables and even more time cooking it all, but it just means more leftovers for me. It was the best turnout in a while, it’s a shame we couldn’t play longer; next time we’ll do it in the city, probably Chris’s place though he doesn’t know it yet, so we don’t have to wait for the city commuters to get their acts together. Plus, it’s not really fair to make them come all the way out here every week.

What a shitty afternoon. My Drexel e-mail is down, I skipped going to the movie theater on my way home from lunch with Maggie to watch Newsradio and A&E isn’t on for some reason, and now Paul is harassing me again.

Paul’s a good guy, but he loves to complain. It’s cool when he busts on the idiotlog with me, but lately he’s been boring the hell out of me; some of our past “conversations” have included lame questions about foosball tables, postage stamps, the Kids in the Hall, and some guy named Rob Nelson. But recently he’s stepped up his questions to annoying queries/rants about some website he’s designing.

Here’s a pretty good sample of all our other conversations:
22:57:58 PM paul - but i need graphical advice and my digm buddy list has been idle or not on!
22:58:34 PM me - i looked at that site, but you signed off.
22:58:41 PM me - is that something u r doing?
22:58:48 PM paul - www.bigbs.com/p1/test.html
22:58:55 PM paul - its a little diffffffffffferent
22:59:35 PM me - but is it something you’re doing?
22:59:48 PM paul - why is it coooooool?
23:00:03 PM me - it’s alright. i’d have to see how the content worked in too.
23:00:26 PM paul - just alright? what would you do to make it AWESOME!
23:00:36 PM me - put some content in :)
23:00:57 PM paul - well, judging on the color, and design, besides the content
23:01:21 PM me - it’s pretty good.
23:01:35 PM paul - pretty goooood?
23:18:36 PM paul - did you like my color choice?
23:18:42 PM me - fine
23:19:00 PM paul - did you get old 80’s graffiti from it?
23:19:39 PM me - yeah
23:19:45 PM paul - NO!
23:19:52 PM me - eighties day-glo color look too.
23:20:09 PM paul - it was supposed to represent those blackboards that usually have the specials wriiten on it
23:20:44 PM me - ah well.
23:20:56 PM paul - i do not like eighties day-glo color look too.
23:23:12 PM paul - my firend said to try primary colors i do not think that will look good
23:23:24 PM me - black and white.
23:23:34 PM paul - tooo plain
23:30:57 PM paul - somone just said it does not look appetizing.

There were others, let me tell you, but they’re all pretty much the same. I usually don’t mind his quick requests for info, but this is getting out of control.

Now Paul, I know you read my blog pretty frequently, so I want to tell you that I mean you no offense. At least, not to the point where you’ll stop reading. You said earlier you wanted to be mentioned on my blog, so this is your big day. For the rest of you, here are the site versions that Paul has come up with, so make sure you instant message him (KAZ1980) and let him know what you think — frequently.
blue
turkey
logos
latest

Last thing, Mr. “Hot Stuff” Zakrzewski: just pick a damn design and stick with it, okay? And don’t take those links down out of spite!

I forgot to describe the smell that was released when the doctor drained the pus and gas from my tooth: buttered popcorn mixed with horse manure. Just thought I should get that out.

I got my speeding ticket from Virginia today, I guess that’s interesting to note. I was found guilty of reckless driving on Sept. 12 by the Sussex County District Court, and now I owe $307. It was only deemed reckless because of technical classification and not because of anything specific I did. When I think of “reckless” I think weaving in and out of traffic and maybe going off the road a little, but there’s no way I could have been doing that at around 90 mph, that’s for sure.

Dia and I both thought it would have been more, and I’ll have to do some research to see if I’ll actually pay it any time soon. It all depends on Pennsylvania’s relationship with Virginia and whether the amount will go up in the near future.

Boy, it’s a real nothing day today; nothing of any real interest to talk about. Hopefully I’ll have some more gossip after game night on Thursday. Still no word from the Libertarian Party on whether or not I have the job, but I did get a positive form letter from a marketing group in Narberth. It’s pretty far away but worth the interview I guess.

The timestamp on that last post is a big fat lie, since I posted it only 15 minutes ago, but it was complete about an hour earlier. I got distracted by the Mac section of Wired.com which is chock full of interesting articles. The funniest one by far is the article about the questionably stoned girl (the lovely Ellen Feiss) doing a Switch ad for Apple. Besides being a hottie, there are clips of her at the Mac Expo looking equally stoned, trance remixes of the commercial’s audio track, and drooling fan sites devoted to her — all on Internet. Most of it really sucks, but the whole 15 minutes of fame thing is fun to follow along for, well about 15 minutes.

Now I’m off to pick Dia up at Tacony station on the R7 line at 4:48 p.m. so we can visit my grandparents for dinner. (Let’s hear it for prepositions!) I also have to figure out what happened to their internet connection because they can’t check their e-mail anymore and I can’t show them my blog.

I mailed a sweater to Kari in Germany, the textbook to some guy named Yulian in California, and my cell phone rebate forms to Amazon.com and Verizon.

I also picked up 30 drink boxes for $7.50 to put in Dia’s lunch. I pack her a lunch every day since it’s the least I can do for my sugar mama.

Yes, it’s a gem of a day. (Alright, that one was pretty bad and I deserve to be shot, I know.) Today I have so very little to do since I had a productive yesterday. They can’t all be more productive than the day before, because no matter what my crapguide says about ENERGY INCREASING in the universe, nothing can perpetually increase forever, and that sure as hell includes productivity levels, and that sure as hell especially applies to me.

Today I do have a small amount to get done, but it’s just mailing out the rebate packets for my cell phone ($250 here I come!) and my Complete Typographer textbook which Dia sold on Half.com for $10 more than I paid for it new. So in a way I’ll be earning some cash today, oh yeah. And here’s an hour free to mail the stuff at 1 p.m. since A&E no longer shows Law & Order at all. My television schedule is not as neat anymore, but I guess it’s okay since I’m not really missing any shows and I’m a little more productive besides.

My tooth is feeling much better than it was yesterday and I even had a hoagie for dinner — on a hard roll no less. It’s still tender, but there’s absolutely no throbbing and I can even chew a little on that side.

I may take a little nap now despite what I told Hager last night. Junior stays over about two nights a week so he can avoid his hellish commute. He said that he feels guilty about imposing that often but that’s nonsense. It’s nice having company to spice things up during the week and I like helping out. Not sure if Ross would like the company more, since he’s sometimes alone in that huge house of his, but he doesn’t seem like the lonely type and has Lara to keep him company a lot so I’ll probably keep Hager for myself.

Today I also have to schedule a driving test for Dia on Saturday at the Driver’s License Center (the DMV for you cooler folks). Yes, she’s finally going to be a driver, which finally makes her slightly more civilized than Tomas, and perhaps even Chris and Lisa since they’re licensed but don’t drive at all. Yes, I feel comfortable making generalizations about civility based on motor vehicle mobility because of my hospital example from a while ago. It’s going to be a real shame to see Lisa take the Parktowne Shuttle when she gets pregnant with little Zoltan Bobby Puzak, because now that I’m up in Levittown I can’t even offer to drive her. But this is all if Dia passes her test, which means that first I have to legalize the inside of my van for the occasion, but that can wait until the morning of the test.

So, time for my nap now. Maybe I’ll hear about the LP News job today, because if I get it I’ll have absolutely nothing to do until Cirque du Soleil with the family on Saturday (courtesy of Lauren), except search for jobs if the news is bad news. But on Ruby Tuesday I’m thinking positive.

I got back from the dentist a few minutes ago and the verdict is in. I need a root canal.

I had an abscessed tooth, meaning the tooth that my last dentist filled in got infected. When he drilled the filling out today, I could smell the gas that was released by the uncapping of the infected nerve. Nasty.

It still hurts like a son of a bitch when I bite down, just like it did before I got it “fixed”. The difference now is that the left side of my face is numb, I can’t eat for the next half an hour, and when I do I have to worry about the temporary filling falling out. Actually, it hurts more than it did this morning, at least then I could eat; now it hurts so much I think I’ll be living on milkshakes until my exam appointment next Monday. Even after that I have to go back again for the root canal, which is going to cost upwards of $500. What’s worse is now my other teeth are starting to hurt either out of sympathy or because my mind’s playing tricks on me. Either way I’m going to cry tonight.

I don’t know what’s more disturbing, this story or the fact that they say “left cheek” when it’s clearly the girl’s right.

Like most British newspapers I’ve read online, there are a lot of questions left unanswered, lots of stupid British spellings, punctuation errors, and the worst part: people continue to read this jibberish simply because they think that overseas newspapers are less biased as a group. Even if that was the case, and I don’t even grant that much, I can’t imagine all the news organizations are involved in some mass conspiracy with the government and private enterprise to the extent where they would let it interfere with the opportunity to boost readership. Look at the way the watergate scandal went down and helped the Washington Post gain its reputation, and how quick the papers were to publish information on the attack on Iraq despite how it made the CIA look (or that’s what they all want us to think, right?). Not to mention how any boost in credibility these British papers get is offset by the glaring errors and omissions of the everyday reporting.

I don’t think I’ll actually go through with it, but I had heretofore been misquoting The Big Lebowski. The line is, “You know, Walter, you’re right, there is an unspoken message here; it’s fuck you — leave me the fuck alone!”

Now I’m intrigued that there was someone who got it in their head the same way that I had. Pretty spooky. Also, for future reference, IMDB and online scripts are a horrible way to get movie quotes. The script I found for The Big Lebowski is wrong in so many places. People tend to forget in their laziness that a script is just a basis from which to work.

Well, according to my extreme tracker, the hits to my site are soaring thanks to the number of people that want nude pictures of the Olsen twins and Paige Davis. I can even see the hits start pouring in when Trading Spaces are being aired. Pretty sweet.

Today is one of the rare times when I caught the list of search queries when a non-nudity related link slipped into the list, and it’s one of my proudest moments.

I am the sole match for “There is an unspoken message here Walter.” How can this be? How can I be the only one quoting that line from the Big Lebowski in Google’s database? That’s even only half of the quote, though I did write out the whole thing originally. There’s also more amiss if there isn’t someone searching for that line at least three times every day. What are these schools misteaching our children if not the value of a good flim like The Big Lebowski I ask you? Well, screw the children anyway, I’m ecstatic to be the authority on a Lebowski quote.

Unless, of course, I’m a dumbass and misquoted that script of the gods. I’ll have to find out right away from the source, I just hope I don’t have to kill myself now.

That’s what I could be if I land this job as editor of the LP News. I had two one-hour interviews today (yeah, Saturday) for the job, and they went better than I could have hoped.

The first hour was with the outgoing editor and I thought that was going to be the easiest part. This was the technical aspect discussion: Do I have the skills? Could I handle such and such? Can I handle the amount of work required? Or at least that’s what I thought the questions were going to be. They ended up being much harder, and I found myself struggling a lot. He asked, “Okay, so you’re the editor, do you run this ad?” for six different scenarios. He asked what I thought the job of the paper was (my rushed answer of “to present all sides of Libertarian cases so that readers can make decisions” was incorrect, obviously so for a Party newsletter), and how I’d start finding news to fill 36 blank pages each and every month (on this I fared a little better, saying that I’d find out about Libertarian news from press releases and conferences, but only after I said I’d sort through wire services for relevant topics first. I did get some questions right on the money, like if I would publish a recent incident where a Libertarian candidate spit on an interviewer; the answer was yes, since it was part of a larger story where the Libertarian party as a whole handle the incident well by publicly denoucing the candidate (they’re endorsing a write-in campaign in the California race in question now).

After the first hour I felt pretty bad since I had all the skills and had hoped to sail on through. I really had to think more than I expected to and my inexperience probably showed pretty clearly. The next interview with the Executive Director and the National Chairman of the Libertarian Party went pretty well. I’d even say excellently, in fact. I made them aware of how excited I was to be given an opportunity that would utilize all my skills, despite the fact that I was naturally a little nervous. When giving them my background I told them about how my beliefs came around after agreeing with the Democrats on personal freedoms but realizing after taking economics that a free market economy was a good thing; basically a Republican that doesn’t go for all the restrictions on personal freedoms and the God crap.

One of the highlights of the interview was when they asked me what I could do to improve the paper, what my vision was. I told them honestly that I’d have to lay hands on the nuts and bolts of the thing first before I could have a vision. The immediate follow-up question was this: Let’s get specific then, and talk about how you would make it more friendly or enjoyable to read. I gave them an anecdote about how there was this one friend of mine who was such a Libertarian that he referred to himself as an Objectivist, and that every time he had a discussion with someone he came across as pretty pompous almost all the time; I used that as a segue to say that when discussing politics and philosophy, it was necessary to realize that there is an emotional aspect that can’t be ignored, lest you alienate your audience, and that was an important part of writing something intended for non-Party members’ eyes. I think I put it pretty well, because the National Chairman immediately said that he would like to see the paper start reaching out to non-Party members (something that the outgoing editor didn’t indicate at all; he kept pushing the fact that the audience is all hardcore on liberty stuff). He even said that a good example of what I was talking about is how that because of a lot of pushy christians, he has the feeling that if heaven is full of people like them he wants no part of it. So after that I felt like I had at the very least made a good personal impression, especially since they referred to my “pushy Libertarian” phrase two more times later on.

The nitty-gritty of the position would have to be worked out later since, well, there is a lot to work out. Because of campaign finance reform, they have to make the position a contract thing. So they’d give a lump sum to the chosen candidate, and that person would report to the Chairman (and the Board) and basically run the whole damn thing. The salary would basically be the difference between ad revenue and the cost of printing (but get this: the printing is donated at cost by a Party member). So depending on whether ad revenues go up or down, I could potentially work my ass off and see a pretty good chunk of change. And since it is a contract position, there are no set hours at all. In the Nat. Chairman’s words: “If you can bang the thing out in 60 hours a month, you’d be getting a pretty darn decent hourly rate.” (Or something to that effect, but definitely with a laugh.) I could even start to hire a staff if I saw fit.

So it looks like it would be a lot of work, but something that I could definitely handle after a few weeks of getting used to. Not only that, but it could pay really well, too. I’ll definitely be disappointed if I don’t get the job, but I won’t be crushed though. I’m definitely a good candidate, and seeing how I was one of four chosen to interview for this one I’m rarin’ to apply to all sorts of other jobs now should this one fall through. Hot damn I’m good!

My sister is pretty upset that I was so mean to her boyfriend in my last post, and presumably the one that it links to as well. I will correct the fact that he’s not a girl. I think. Yeah, okay — I’ll go on the record as saying he’s not a girl. He’s just one of those “look at me I’m in touch with my feelings” guys; not that there’s anything wrong with that. I must not understand someone so enlightened, that’s all.

I will also say that I’m probably out of line being so mean, especially since I haven’t even met the guy before. What do you expect me to do though, when Lauren showed me a copy of an IM conversation he had with her in which he called her a hollow shell of a person? I’m not going to even debate the merits of that comment or any of several others made, it’s the fact that he only met her once before he started making such judgements that speaks volumes about him.

So kiss it, psychic energy boy.

Check out fruitcake over here. I wonder if this guy knows if I poisoned his water the last time I was at my sister’s place.

For those of you who don’t know, this is the girl that is dating my sister.

Most people I know save their old e-mail and with good reason. While I doubt any of us will go back and read over much of what we saved there is always that chance, and so it is nice to just have — sitting there in a safe place on our hard drives and at the back of our minds. That’s as philosophical as this post gets.

What follows stems from that same notion of nostalgia. Maybe some day I’ll root through these old archives and come across the day I was in my wacky Libertarian phase, or maybe I’ll need to refer to it when I’m nominated press secretary for the first Libertarian president. While all of my conversations are saved automatically by Fire, the messaging client I use, this one is interesting enough (at least I think so) to keep in a safer and even more public space.

Either way, here’s a conversation I had with Rob earlier today mainly about politics. This one is reproduced per my usual IM-conversation-posting netiquette with the exception that this one was posted with his permission. My formatting changes are thus: I have corrected only small punctuation and typing errors, deleted expletives, and rearranged the order of some sentences where the conversation gets confusing when they’re re-read. Editing IM coversations is a whole new ballgame, since there are often multiple threads and unspoken conversation traits that develop between the people talking. (For example, after one person mistypes “ello”, the other person corrects by typing “Hello, even” as in “The word you’re trying to type could even be written as ‘hello’, you dumb twit.” I deleted two of these.) The time stamps will show where I moved sentences around and the interlude but the only place where it might even matter.

I was supposed to spend today reading selections from The Libertarian Reader, instead of just the introduction, but this conversation was probably just as helpful as reading snippets from that book. Not only has it gotten me into a political mindset, but it just provide me a chance to do some editing as well, something at (in, for, of?) which I’m probably a little out of practice. Before this short introduction gets any longer, here it is:

prelude

interlude: xbox

part one: drug laws

part two: border removal

coming over the coffee table

bachelor party plans

This is probably the longest post in a long time for me. Only half of it’s technically mine, but it took an hour or so to produce and I think it’s pretty interesting. And there you have it.

Saw that Chris got some more interesting hits on his site, and I’m jealous. I’ve gotten 20 hits from search engines since Sunday afternoon, and they fall into only three damn categories. Half of them are for some variation on naked Olsen twin pics, and about the other half are for nude images of Paige Davis of Trading Spaces.

I did get some that fall into a miscellaneous category, but only three or four. Here they are:
Brian Poile
public urinating gallery
funniest voicemail messages wall street journal, and
amsterdam gay brothel.
(The Brian Poile search is the interesting one, I hope they liked what they read.)

Today I had an interview in Bristol for a programming job. It’s not so much programming as data manipulation, though; the programs written are only used for one two-day job then thrown away. And if I took the job and stayed there for a while the things I learned wouldn’t carry over to another job at all, unless it was another direct mail position. I hope the Libertarian newsletter thing goes as well as today’s interview did so I can take that job. If I don’t, Dia’s recommending that I still not take the Bristol offer since it would only be a money maker and not really satisfying.

I did get to piss into a cup today though, that was fun.

Perhaps not totally lazy, since I showered and took care of the van today, but the majority of today was spent hanging out with Matt and that never equals productivity.

I dropped off the van around 11:30 a.m. for state inspection after finishing Neuromancer, and Matt was supposed to pick me up shortly thereafter but he got slightly lost. By the time he picked me up from under the tree where I was reading (I’m finishing up Age and Guile now, too) and we picked up an extra controller for his XBox and we got to my place, it was 1:30 p.m. and the van was ready. We didn’t pick it up right away though, since it was Halo time, baby. XBox might be a new addition to my list, since it’s the best thing since Marathon on the Mac. So we sat back, ate pizza, and played Halo all afternoon.

We had to take a break at 5:30 p.m. to pick Dia up at the train station and the Van up from Firestone; then we got right back to playing some more, if only for a little while longer. Matt had class, which he apparently still missed anyway, and now his console is staring at me from my floor while Dia watches Law & Order. Not to worry: She goes to bed soon and I’ll be back on cloud nine.

Tomorrow I have an interview with a company for a programming position at their Bristol plant. I can’t quite program, but I’m smarter than the average joe and I’ve got a pretty good fountation on which to be trained. I don’t know why they’d hire me instead of someone more experienced, especially in this job market, but for the fact that I’m my father’s son. Still, I’d rather take it than be unemployed any longer and it’ll give me some more skills for my resume.

So anyhow, tomorrow it’s up at dawn with Dia, a little Newsradio to calm my nerves, then shower and a shave and off for the five-minute drive that could turn out to be my daily commute. I just hope I get enough sleep what with hours of video games ahead.

One last thing before I hit the sack. My sister is dating some schlub of a guy who resides in his mom’s basement and calls himself a massage therapist or something. I have a friend who does that, but she’s at least independent, not a pothead, and doesn’t insult my mom after meeting her once.

Yeah, the guy sounds like a real loser even though I haven’t met him yet, and I think I hope I never do. From what I’ve been told, he thinks he’s some kind of mystic or something, and pretends to be all psychic and shit. Sounds like he’s been hitting the doobie a little too hard. I would say that it was something in the water, but he “doesn’t drink tap water” or anything with artificial flavors and lame shit like that. Or at least he doesn’t think he does…. Since he spends quite a bit of time at my sister’s place, I took it upon myself to fill the spring water jug with tap water. I hope to hear soon whether he knew the difference or not, his being a psychic an all. If I do have to meet him some day, I hope to explain to him that there isn’t any chemical difference between “artificial flavors” and “natural flavors” either.

Peace out.

Dia’s hobbling around on her bad foot, bad because she got a blister and that got infected. She took off from work today because she could barely walk, and after a morning of fumbling around with doctors and health insurance and stuff she got a prescription and we had it filled at CVS.

I’m hobbling around on my bad knee, knee because I jumped out of a boat in shallow water about five summers ago and sprained my right ankle; then I hobbled around on my left leg with my duck cane at an awkward angle for weeks and permanently messed it up. Now it only acts up when I put a lot of pressure on it, like the kind that comes from wearing a giant pack of food, water, clothes and other assorted gear. There really isn’t any way to fix my knee other than play the waiting game, which I plan to supplement with some weight loss.

The third player in this sad trio is the RVan2, which was torn asunder this weekend. The spare tire and jack are back in their respective places, but that’s about it. It’s still filled with trash, there are leaves still stuck to the side where Chris tore off the siding by rubbing against the iron gate at the old place, and the seats haven’t been rearranged back to their old limo-style positions yet. It still has trouble starting, it’s been welded, plugged and scratched, and I have yet to get it inspected. I do love driving it though. Maybe Al and I will use the only thing the van’s got going for it right now, the betabrite, tonight after we see One Hour Photo at the Ritz.

Monday will be Van Day and hopefully I’ll have it inspected, washed, Jiffy Lubed, and aligned. If not on Monday, I just hope the Philly fuzz doesn’t get me before I do get a chance.

Even though the Wall Street Journal and Vertis interviews resulted in nothing, it looks as if that may have been a good thing. Along comes an interview which could result in an opportunity to write, edit, shoot pictures, and do layout, only the latter of which could I have done at the Journal, and none of which I would have done in a programming job at Vertis.

I got two calls and an e-mail while I was camping, and boy was it good news: I was invited to interview for the position of editor for the Libertarian Party newsletter. When I returned their call yesterday, the guy I spoke with recognized my name immediately — a pretty good sign. I’m on their short list of people who are being considered for the position. They guy also said that my only weakness was my lack of experience, but that my package was impressive enough to warrant an interview. (The articles, commentaries, and layouts were good enough to pass inspection, too, I guesss….)

And so it begins. I’ve got to read up on my party’s politics next week in preparation of my talks with the Party’s National Chairman and the outgoing editor on Saturday. While I’m home I think Dia and I are going to the Maryland Renaissance Festival since she hasn’t been before, though my Dad won’t be around. But the main event will be my interview, and I’m mighty nervous. I can’t imagine the position pays all that well, but I would take it no matter what it paid. The request for applications listed a lot of required skills, but the people who have them all wouldn’t seem to be the type that would take the position of editor for a newsletter. Not to downplay the position, not at all, but it doesn’t sound like a glamorous job, though it would certainly be tons of fun for me.

Just checked out my tracker, and even though I never thought I’d be the type of person to frequently post about what kind of searches were hitting my site, this stuff is way too good to pass up. Long live eXTReMe Tracking! Here’s what this blog o’ mine has been turning up for the horny bastards that use the web:

free dad and son sex pics on a camping trip
free pics of naked girls on jetskis
fake olsen twins nude
paige davis nude trading spaces
alex mcleod nude
t68i sex pics
pimp college dorm room decorations
“paige davis” naked

Some weren’t so sexual, like these:

interracial college blog
“amanda bearse” +”high school” +attended OR graduated
forum posts sister in law pics

As for those last three, how would you know if the pictures that turned up were of sisters-in-law? And who the hell cares about Amanda Bearse anyway? And most of all, why are people looking for Chris Duffy’s blog on my site? However, I am absolutely thrilled to be yet another non-source for nude Olsen twin photos, and an apparent authority on naked Trading Spaces hosts.

When we finally made it into the woods on Sunday, it was a beautifully clear day. Not exactly sunny, but it was a nice enough afternoon. We hiked a pretty light hike with full canteens, and stopped at this nice ledge near a place called Miles Notch for lunch. We hiked a half an hour up the trail to see if there was a nicer spot at which to camp, but that was pretty much it. There weren’t many good spots for most of the trip as it later turned out. We headed back to out packs at the spot along the ledge where we left them and set up camp, chilling on the rocks for most of the afternoon. I read the National Enquirer, my guilty pleasure I only indulge while camping; definitely should have gotten the Weekly World News instead, it’s much jucier. We talked and read and dodged bees for a while when two Canadians came along the path and wandered right over to our campsite. They said Hello and such, but they never exactly asked for permission to start wandering among our tents and personal posessiosn. I know it’s the wilderness and all, but once we staked out our land etiquette dictates that they should have said a little more to us instead of assuming we wouldn’t mind their presence. They went on, saying that “This is where we stayed last time,” and “We could have put our tents right over here, but maybe there’s a spot over this way instead.” Cheeky bastards. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the next morning after a satisfying night of s’mores and Swisher Sweets, we awoke to the sound of the same two dolts on the path saying the same crap about how they could have squeezed in next to our tents instead. Assholes.

The next day we hiked about three miles or so to the junction of the next trail, then along said trail for about a mile without packs just to fill up on water. It was pretty steep going at times, and we had hike back uphill to get to where we started. The two-hour sidestrack was nothing compared to the rest of that day’s hike to the top of Speckled Mountain, but once we were there it was one of the nicest mountain-top spots we’ve had in a long time.

The day after that we made the pretty easy hike down to the road then hiked along that for a while until we reached the next trail heading back to our starting point. It rained from the moment we woke up, though, so it was pretty slippery at times. And Steve didn’t want to wait around while I packed up my tent so he hiked to the road alone and waited for us in a parking lot under a small shelter there. We stopped for water again under a bridge, then hiked almost the whole way out until we found a pretty sweet spot not quite next to a river but close enough so we could hear it. Two hours before we reached our campsite, I got stung on both ankles and my wrist by something that was quite capable of stinging multiple times. Never before had I been able to run full speed with a 70-pound pack and a bum knee, but I sure as hell did that time. I’ve since scratched the welts until the point of bleeding on countless occasions and they still itch dammit. That night was pretty clear, though it rained during the night again and our stuff was still damn wet.

The next morning was only about an hour hike to the car, and there were raspberries galore along the path. There were berries at one spot on the path during the second day’s hike as well, but nothing like we found this time. While we waited for the tow truck, Steve and Alex were able to get enough to take some home to Gosia and Rebecca.

The rest of the story has already been told, and that’s that.

Our drive back to Boston yesterday can only be told with a description of the ride in. The one detail I forgot to mention was that the trailhead was set back in the woods about a mile and a half along one of the worst dirt road I’ve seen north of the Mason-Dixon line.

There were branches scraping both sides of the car at all times… except when there was an eight-foot drop down to a stream on our right. There were sink holes and a rickety old bridge that was patched together so my tires just reached the minimum width to cross. The two dirt/rock tire paths were so low at some points that the reeds in the middle hump were giving the underside of the van a pretty good scrubbing most of the time — except when there were large stumps or rocks, because then they puncturing a hole in my oil pan. Trouble is, we didn’t know that until after we had hiked out four days later when the little engine light came on telling me that I was out of oil. Actually that little hole was a damn good thing, because I made it about 20 feet before I had to stop and look for an oil spot on the grass where we were parked. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten out and seen that my back left tire was flat. The ground was so soggy that it wasn’t noticeable just driving along, and I still wouldn’t have noticed once I hit the rock road either.

I could have ended up with a decagon for a rim, a bent axle, and a melted mess for an engine all stranded in some sink hole in the backwoods of New Hampshire. Instead I was lucky and just had to put on a spare, call a tow truck from Steve’s cell for enough oil to get us to a garage two miles away, and get the car fixed for $136. They plugged the hole in the tire (there was a screw in it that probably came from that damn bridge) and welded the oil pan to fix the hole. I could have easily been charged for a new one, but this way they got to charge me for the hour and a half of labor and I didn’t have to pay for a whole new part.

The trip to Boston should have taken no more than five hours, but instead took us nine since we had to wait for the tow truck, then wait for them to get around to fixing the van, then wait even longer for them to fix it. We still took some time for the ritual first meal out of the woods at least, but no way in hell should a vacation log 1,410 miles — and 26 hours, ten minutes — on a vehicle. The distance to Boston from Levittown is only 300 miles, so that’s over 800 miles of extra driving through Maine, and the time spent in the car didn’t even count the 10 hours we spent sleeping in it.

I was worried on the way up to Boston that I wouldn’t have enough to blog about. I knew I’d have some good camping details for myself in my journal, but other than traffic in every major city on the way up there wasn’t much to write home about — until I picked up EZ and Lex that is. We left left for Baxter State Park in Maine pretty early Saturday morning and no sooner had New Hampshire welcomed us when I got pulled over for speeding. The Trooper walked right out into the middle lane and signaled for me to get over to the shoulder. If the $115 fine was the only problem of the weekend I’d have gladly paid it twice.

Alex chose our camping spot and we all signed off on it, but we didn’t think about whether or not we’d need something as silly as reservations. We’re used to camping in the designated Wilderness areas and figured that even though this was a park we wouldn’t need to call ahead since we weren’t staying at a campground or anything. Well the trailheads themselves were closed, so we had to change our plans; normally it wouldn’t have been a problem but we were way the hell up in Northern Maine and needed to backtrack to the White Mountains all the way over on the New Hampshire border. It took us five more hours to get to our new destination and by then it was too late to start hiking.

After swinging by a local dive for dinner, we parked the van at the campground nearest to our trailhead and made one of the biggest mistakes in a long time: we decide to sleep in the van. Steve said it was a lot easier sleeping in a vehicle when he was a kid and I couldn’t put it any better myself. Alex slept on the long seat we had moved to the second row in the van (having one person in the back facing backwards sucks on a roadtrip, so we moved it before we left Boston), and Steve slept on the floor in front of that. I slept on the seatback of the old RVan seat that was tipped backwards and thrown in the trunk. We stacked our packs across the front two seats, and moved as much junk as we could underneath the seats and otherwise out of the way — no easy task as there is a shitload of random objects in my van. Two in particular came in handy though; the jumbo stuffed fish that I borrowed a while ago from Rudderow Manor that belongs to one of Dana’s friend was a damn fine pillow for me, and the No Trespassing sign that I stole from my high school served as a floor extender for Steve’s legs since they hung out the door. Leaving the door open was a point of contention at first since it didn’t really feel safe, but comfort won out over security at least until around 3 a.m. when it was so cold I could barely move. Not only that, but I had to roll out of the hatchback in bare feet, hopping over the puddle of urine I made when I went out the back before I went to bed, get my sleeping bag out of the my pack in the front seat, piss again, and hop back over the puddle to shiver myself back to sleep again.

The next morning we were all pretty sore but at least ready to face the day early. We threw our shit back in the trunk, got parking info from the ranger station, bought a parking pass from a local campground, drove back to the trailhead, and finally got to start hiking only one full day later than we had hoped.