It rubs the lotion on its skin...

Well, my new job's been going OK. I've gotta learn about their products though, and to give you an idea of what that's like, imagine having to learn about the car, but first having to learn what gas, oil, and the road are. It's cool though, I just stay focused. The name of the company is Harris and they handle microwave communications such as communication between cell phone towers and other stuff I forgot as soon as they mentioned it.

On my second day there I was shocked to discover that there actually more than two women working at my job. A little investigation revealed they worked in the Finance division (whatever the hell that does). The chicks were refreshingly lacking in the homely/old/fat department too. No real hotties (although the Human Resources lead is pretty close), but nice looking girls nonetheless. They must segregate them on the other side of the building to protect them from all the pathetic nerds in my department.

Meanwhile at college, on the surface everything is fine. I just owned a test earlier this week and today I received a 99 on a project. However, underneath this glossy optimism lurks an escalating problem in the form of a research project. I have to somehow come up with a good solution to a problem that's already more or less solved but I'm drawing a _______ no matter what.

Ah well, if I keep playing video games and partying, the problem will take of itself. Right?

Meh

OK, this is my second try after hitting 'Back' from preview page lost my info. Let that be a warning for the rest of you.

First, a slight apology. My little rant about Stephen's choice of spelling yesterday came off more mean-spirited than I would've liked. In my attempts to poke fun I occasionally (and far too often) venture into a-holish territory. Stephen knew I was joking*, but I think it's necessary to make my regrets publicly known. If nothing else, Stephen can feel satisfied knowing that he has something I desperately want: talent, unless you consider knowing the squares of every number between 1 and 20 "talent" (I think in the past that would be grounds for a witch burning).

The Internet is a beautiful, yet evil creature. I can find information for every class I take on it. That includes course notes, message boards support, or even research papers via Google. However, therein lies the rub as I am constantly, and easily distracted by an evil entity known as

THE WOLF WEB

You can visit it here in case you desire to be sucked in yourself. It's always two clicks away when I'm on the Internet (in other words all the time). It's a crazy place where you can learn about local events as they happen (i.e. car accidents, school events), ask questions about matters you have no knowledge about, or read funny articles from websites you might not otherwise visit. Slowly but surely it overtakes you and you're constantly looking for two idiots arguing back and forth about nothing or some decent porn pics (there are several threads dedicated to that very thing) or some funny photoshopped image of a guy in a ninja turtle costume fisting a cheerleader while holding her upside down. Before you know it, it's midnight and not only have you not studied for the test later this week, you wasted time that you would've spent goofing off and playing video games by goofing off and browsing one freaking website! Then you go right back to it and browse for another hour. *sigh*

*except about the Superman-Batman thing.

Progress

Kudos to my pal Stephen (http://theatremarine.blogspot.com) for the musical he recently appeared in. "The Dead" is interesting play with a little social commentary hidden just beneath the surface. I showed up to said play a little late, hoping to sneak in unnoticed. The usher opened the door and I saw that the stage is directly in front of the audience, and they're on the same level as the actors. Consequently, in order to reach my seat I had to cross in front of half the audience, right by the stage, and no less than five feet from the actors themselves. The usher told me not to worry about disturbing the actors. How could I not? I'm sure some actor noticed me out of the corner of their eyes and cursed me violently before under their breath.

Once I reached my seat, which I had to climb to by stepping on a stool that was actually a prop they used later, I had to figure out why everybody was singing so much. Then it occurred to me: this is a musical.

You'll notice that Stephen spelled "theatre" with an "re" at the end instead of an "er", a clear indication that his talent and extensive acting experience (approximately five to ten productions) has gone straight to his head. He'll probably point out that the "re" and "er" traditionally specify different meanings or worse "that's how [he's] always spelled it". Make no mistake, the space between his ears is 98% narcissism and ego and 2% imagining Batman and Superman having gay sex.

In other news, I finally purchased a vehicle worthy of precision steering and braking. Ironically, upon driving the car at night I noticed about 10 things wrong with it that I wouldn't have caught in the daytime. However, the car doesn't shake violently when I attempt to accelerate beyond 35 mph (this is how a car shows reverence for Satan btw), which is a definite improvement over the previous vehicle.

Everybody's doing it...

I'm jumping on the bandwagon. I read a few blogs and said "Might as well." They actually seem pretty interesting, so hopefully I can give you (the three people* reading this) the same level of entertainment that I have enjoyed reading other people's blogs. So welcome to my blog. Shut up and pay attention.

Growing up is a strange and wondrous thing. I recently accepted an internship with a company, and it looks like that the pay will be good enough where I can be completely self-reliant without turning to my mom for help every once in a while. First thing I gotta do is drop that piece of crap car I've been driving. Call me spoiled, but I don't believe a car that leaks oil and antifreeze, shakes violently around 35 mph until you reach about 45 mph, and has steam rising out of the hood every time you stop somewhere is the ideal way to commute to telecommunication company. It ain't impressing the ladies either.

Buying a used car is it's own little adventure. You have to browse guides, check out websites, call different places, take test drives, bring out mechanics, apply for a loan and pray no one scoops up your first choice before you do. Then check out insurance companies and go to the DMV for plates. But I'm not complaining. When you've spent over a year working in Sears having your life force drained by old people who haven't bought a TV since 1975, going through a credit check isn't that bad.

If nothing else, a test drive reminded me what a normal sedan feels like (side note: until Saturday I didn't really know what a sedan is. I'm not making that up.). Accelerating to 45 mph in less than 20 seconds is refreshing in and of itself.

*two of you need to get a life.