I'm not sure if anyone remembers that show about the man on the run from the government agency that trained him to be able to perform any vocation immediately because he was a genius. As the protagonist, Jared, flees the government who raised him only to betray him (or something like that) he would assume some identity and show up to whatever job that character had. It was like Quantum Leap meets the X-files. Two things never really mad sense to me about that show: Why he left little clues for agency to follow (in retrospect it was probably to provide some conflict and continuity to the show and some psychological thing I don't understand at this time) and Why no one ever bothered to check his credentials. He walks onto an Air Force base and flies an F-16 and no one notices that they've never seen this guy before? He just makes up some official sounding bunk about being transfered and no one bothers to check it out? Perhaps we are too far removed from the care-free life of 1996 to understand. Anyways, as I scour the job offerings, their various requirements and salaries, I think, "I could totally b.s. that job." One in particular stood out to me: Elephant Supervisor. I could totally do that! Little reading on captive care of elephants via wikipedia and you're set. If I wasn't so afraid that an elephant would gank me, I'd consider it. I know they don't have any applicants yet, as they've extended the deadline.
Waffling in THREE dimensions.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
I had jury duty on Wednesday; I brought a book. The last chapter decried the internet and emoticons in particular. "What book would spurn those lovable smilies?" you ask. It was a book about punctuation (see title). I was hesitant about checking it out at all, but the brief bit I had read a few weeks ago was enough to sell me. I am now trying very hard to not desecrate the comma and friends in this post (it's much more difficult than I thought!). Did you know there are thirteen acceptable different uses for the comma alone? I bet you didn't! That's why you use it incorrectly. For a book that relied fairly heavily on British culture, I was able to follow it without much trouble- except this one passage about a pun. Basically the English language is falling apart and we shouldn't let it. So use proper punctuation! Periods are called "full stops" over there. Weird. Check it out, it was pretty funny, despite what the topic might connote. I was worried it'd turn me into too much of a stickler, but I don't have the resolve necessary to crusade like that given my time online.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
I dislike Prom. It is an antiquated puzzle of awkward teenagers pretending to be sophisticated adults in their last steps of childhood. I'm somewhat proud of that sentence. The flowers: What in the Hell? Wear them on your wrist? Why not! It is gaudy and an eyesore. Would you like your penis tacked onto a jacket with an enormous needle? If teens were more coordinated they wouldn't need a letteropener to skewer it, coupled with their embaressment at being unable to wield a sword, despite their aptitude at WoW, someone will be stabbed. My mother said that "a little courtship isn't a bad thing" or something similar. However, I maintain that Prom is not courtship! Sadie Hawkins, Winter Formal, and Homecoming could all be called courtship, but by the time Prom rolls around all capable students have well established a date for the event, well in advance, so far back as freshmen year for fear of rejection last minute. They know these people they are going with, the relationship, the expectations, the menu have all be prepared far in advance. By Prom night, Prom has already been worked through each mind several times, each scenario impossibly planned, prefected, and packaged in their minds with the only remaining execution is the enjoyment of the event. Prom is not courtship, it is the final steps of the mating dance, with its culmination in the hotel room that night. Those that will have already decided and those that won't. All relations involved adjusted beforehand. The ritual requires the fancy hair, the fancy clothes, the fancy dinner, and the fancy make-up for the finale, and they deliver. For me, this muligan of tonight has all the pricetags of last year, but with less reimbursement from parents, and again without the union. I don't mind that, but only having forty dollars left in my bank account is very worrying. I'll only have enough to fill the cadi once and search 200 miles to find employment before I'm sunk assuming an even three dollars a gallon, an average of 15mpg, and a fuel tank of 15 gallons. I most likely won't be given that car to drive, but I can't remember the stats for the others and the cadillac makes it all look very dismal. And I do love dismal. Plus I'm always nervous about seeing a different barber.
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