HEY GUYS REMEMBER COLLEGE?
I'm offering this photo to the internet as a form of self-mockery since I haven't been keeping track of my life as often as I should be. This is a modern equivalent of Dimmesdale's-magnitude self deprecation. But not really.Life has been very good. Work has been all-consuming -- the days tend to blend together but are spiced with Ms. Kim on the weekends to keep things interesting? I'm continuing to learn a whole lot about our overly complicated network / setup and am attempting to improve everything I touch.
We've had some crazy issues as of late and things have gotten a bit crazy. Things were breaking on OUR end of the system during Europe's peak sales hours. That's all and well, except that my favourite part of the day, the 1am - 5am super-duper sleep window, falls smack dab in the middle of it. I received so many emergency pages that weekend. The ringtone on the blackberry brings a shiver of fear to me.
Kim came up this past weekend as did a U-Haul of her belongings with her Mother and Crystal. They arrived a few hours before Kim, so I did a shit-ton of heavy lifting and unpacked the U-Haul before the lady showed up. I lift the shit out of anything when a fine-ass girl (Ms. Kim) is on the receiving end -- I'm just that kind of guy. She's simply perfect. She made breakfast for dinner and wouldn't let me help. I killed time watching the 'Sandsculpture Super Championship' and making funny Miis on the Wii. I made on that looked a lot like a red-headed Hitler, but both Kim and I decided it was in poor taste. THE HOLOCAUST ISN'T SOMETHING TO TALKIN' JIVE ABOUT.
With a few minor changes, however, I modified irish hitler to look like this:
Meet Mr. Knapson. He doesn't like minorities. He doesn't like kids either -- he tells them to get two things: a job and off his lawn. He doesn't like sugar. Or salt. Or progress. He doesn't really care for anything and is bothered by everything, all the time. He does frequent forums aimed towards 'failed grandparents,' but even on the internet, he is still an asshole.
Over the past few weekends, Kim and I have watched the Trilogy. Yeah, that's right, the Karate Kid Trilogy (The New Karate Kid [with hilary swank!] doesn't count). It hasn't held up over the years as much as I would have hoped. Ralph Machio is a fucking pimp, however. Macking on Elizabeth Shue, kicking the shit out of the Cobra Kai, he's a lanky badass. He's also got he greatest musical montage in film history -- "You're the Best" by Joe Esposito. EPIC.
On a side note, I'd like to direct people to one of the most strange 'happenings' around here: 'THE CAL LANFEAR DEFAMATION LEAGUE, or something like that. I don't get it, but I love it.
As sledg said, the new Big Biz album is out. HANDS UP.
I'm anxiously awaiting my tax return. I plan to invest half and build a new computer. Papa needs a new pair of everything.
can you guess my username?
On a sidenote, I got the latest hot-shit: Nike+. If you don't know, it's a magical contraption you put in your shoe that links with your iPod and records your run. It then syncs through iTunes to the nikeplus website. From there you can view a graph of your runs over time. You can also set up challenges for a group of people. Some guys from work have it and we're currently duking it out. I'm winning. Thank jebus I work with a bunch of people in their mid 30s who have families and mortgages and loans who have no time to do anything but worry and grow older.On a further sidenote, it's fucking hard to come up with a good run-time mixtape. It's all about precision pacing. I do have a moneyshot track, for me, anyway -- Huddle Formation (RJD2 MIX) by The Go! Team. It's not all that hot, but it always jazzes me up.
I just got back from a fun evening. Corey, my parter in crime for the mixtapecollective, and I have been having regular Wii sessions as of late. I must say, once you master Tennis, one-on-one matches get more intense than heated mortal kombat battles back in the day. His fiance definitely thinks we're nerds, flailing around with our 'nerd wand' wiimotes. I don't even care. This fine evening, however, was justly earned, as my earlier day has sucked:
In the time it took me to write this post, I have since gotten word back from the IRS that my birthdate supplied (my correct birthday) doesn't match what's on my social security card. I have to get it changed before I can continue with my eFile taxes. What the shit? How did I not know about this earlier?
Anyway, I wake up, go to work for a few hours, go to the dentist for fun times with Dr. Drill (also known as Dr. Syringe) and Ms. Vacuum-tube. They hummed songs playing on the radio in unison. The highlight of the event was the 'We Are Family' apex. Definitely the tune of the day. Anyway, directly after, all numb-faced, I head down to the Social Security Administration building. That place, oh man, almost too much for me to handle without a stiff drink.
As I walk through the doors, I see a sign that says 'Please take a ticket from the machine on the left'. I walk in and the computer is directly to my left. I don't even look at the rest of the room, I just punch my name into the computer. With that, I take my print-out and turn around to find a seat. It was just like a scene out of a movie -- my head cocked back with surprise -- there wasn't an empty seat in the house. Totally, completely, chock full of people. I turn around and look at the ticket ticker and there's 30 people in front of me. fuck.
I wait for just over an hour. I didn't have a book, my ipod, my phone -- nothing. I had my social security card, a pen, a form and my birth certificate. There were no magazines. And if there were, I probably shouldn't have been touching them. It's was a sad, smelly waiting room comprised of the following ratio: 1/3 poor old people, 1/3 teenage mothers and 1/3 immigrants. Imagine inhabiting an environment, with this ratio, where every single soul wishes to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
I finally make it to a window to see someone to help me. It takes all of four minutes to complete the transaction. I was extra nice to the guy, he looked like he needed some niceness in his life.
I hereby pledge to make enough money to not require a dime of Social Security fundage (this is *assuming* that it'll be around in five decades). I never want to go back.
But yeah, life is wonderful. I love you all. Remember that.
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