R.I.P. Scooter Racing and Frogitis 2005-2006
So today, as I'm checking M.O. (short for "My Obsession", which is short for MySpace), I found the following bulletin posted by one of my good friends and former co-workers. It was the biggest compliment I think I've ever gotten, so in an effort to satiate my ego with some self-masturbatory posting, I've posted it for your enjoyment (with personal details censored, since some of you freaks don't know me and might try to contact me if the info is in there). Anyway, on with the show:
It is with extreme regret and deepest sympathies to her family that I announce the passing of KA last Tuesday, April 11th at approximately 5:10 pm. During her time with us KA proved to be an extraordinary coworker, loyal friend, and dedicated wife. May all of us find inspiration in her story: an overworked but underappreciated and underpaid employee who got her priorities straight and took BACK control of her life. Perhaps KA's most outstanding accomplishment in the workplace was her recent promotion to CLO (Chief List-making Officer)*. Her responsibilities in this position included uploading, auto-filtering, pivot-tabling, binder-spine making, ranker-pulling, mapping and (of course) list-making. More than anything, she was a philanthropist, supporting such causes as the Foundation to Fight Chronic Frogitis (FFCF)**, of which she herself was a survivor. In an effort to give back to a community that had continually recognized her, she also dedicated her money, blood, sweat and tears to the World Scooter Federation***. In the wake of the this tragedy, the Company FUN Team**** has made her an honorary member and has retired her name plate and cubicle pod. In the next life, may KA find the perfect balance in life, the man of her dreams, and solace in the arms of the AFLAC***** duck. She is survived by her wife of 1 year, Erica. In lieu of flowers, checks can be sent to LP, Peachtree Street, Atlanta GA 30082. Cash also accepted.*CLO (Chief List-making Officer): the title I insisted on being called instead of my real title when one of the accounts I worked on demanded that I spend at least 80% of my time in Excel.**Frogitis: a disease that my friend claims I have because when I get excited or nervous about something, my already-large eyes widen, causing me to get a "froggy" look about me. My friend claims I have "chronic frogitis".***See Scooter Racing for more info.****This team really existed...it was a team dedicated to morale building and is a great idea but often the butt of jokes because 95% of team members are not "fun", which one would assume is the requirement for such membership.*****New account.
The Tenets of MySpace Forensics
Well guys, it's official: I am addicted to MySpace. Sad, but very true.
My roommate from college got me hooked on it a few months ago, after he refused to call, email, or contact me unless it was through the MySpace channel. And seeing as he is my date to our mutual friend's wedding in June and I have no idea what the plan is - where he's staying, what we're doing, how long he'll be here, if we're buying a joint present - I had no choice but to harass him via comments and messages. Like any other addict, I didn't intend for it to turn into this. I didn't intend to engage in a daily battle for my sanity by logging onto the Internet, fighting the urge to check my profile, and then caving after less than five minutes, but shit happens, and now I am hooked. I always knew I was a quasi-loser, but I think that by virtue of recent admission to being a MySpace addict, I now fall squarely into the category of full-fledged loser. But at least I am having a good time on my way down.
The good news is that despite starting a new job tomorrow (which I am excited and a little nervous about), I have found my true calling. It is a very new, rapidly developing field that holds a lot of promise and very little compensation, and it's called MySpace Forensics.
MySpace forensics goes like this: if you look at people on MySpace carefully enough, you can cipher out their entire personal life. Which makes for hella good gossip. And even if you don't plan on sharing your findings, it's always good to know.
It is through MySpace forensics that I have managed to find out the following:
-My high school boyfriend likes to f*ck with slutty girls who have half-naked profiles and have exotic names like "Inga". "Inga" hails from Poland and loves to leave dirty messages for him, despite the fact that they've never met in person (or maybe they have?).
-One of my best guy friends totally denies the online thing. He is anti-Match, anti-eHarmony, anti-anything Internet related...yet he is totally talking to some girl he met on MySpace. And he's never even admitted this.
-A good girlfriend of mine who has repeatedly claimed she never talks to her ex-boyfriend has him in her "Top 8" (top 8 friends on MySpace...this shows up in the person's friends window when you look at their profile). Suspicious.
And all this can be found without so much as a word being uttered. Not one word, I say!
Now I know many of the people who read this blog, and I know that a shitload of you are on MySpace. So with that being said, I'll distribute some of my nuggets of wisdom in case you're interested in getting into MySpace Forensics. Below are some basic tenets on how to spy on others and get the most out of your MySpace experience. Enjoy.
Tenets of MySpace Forensics(Patent pending, all rights reserved.)Tenet 1: Consistency is key to determining the functions of relationships.Who is posting comments? Do they post often? What kinds of comments are they? Let's assume you just gave me a nickel. In exchange I'll give you a clue. Here's the clue: people who f*ck comment often. People who have secret crushes comment often. People who are still hung up on the person comment often. People who flirt? Comment often. There's a pattern here. So if your boyfriend claims that his ex-girlfriend added him and he never talks to her via MySpace, yet you continue to see comments from her on a semi-regular basis, put your contact lenses in and read the fifth row down. The writing's on the wall.
Tenet 2: Cipher the priorities, and keep a close eye.Most people have a "Top 8". In theory, this would be the 8 most important friends one has on MySpace. Now, while the entire f*cking planet is not on MySpace (although they should be), whoever is in the Top 8 makes a big difference. If he's a dude and his best male friend is not in his Top 8, either they're not really that close, or he is just looking to hook up with some skanky bitch and has sold out his friend for sex. (Which is baaaad. I repeat, Baaaaaaaad!) If, as in my case, your friend swears she is over her ex, and he's still in her Top 8, you might want to hold off on telling her that you just heard he had a threesome with two strippers.
Tenet 3: Note the status. Status is everything. If the person you are dating is on MySpace, and he/she has a profile whose status says, "Single", you probably aren't dating exclusively. Conversely, if you've agreed to see other people, and his/her status says "In a Relationship", you might have to deal with a shitload of crying and hang-up phone calls in your future.
Exception: Anyone who puts in "Swinger". "Swinger" status is like the Wild Card of MySpace. If the person's listed as a Swinger (as I am), they're either intensely private and don't want strangers knowing their status (as I am), or they are probably attempting comedy and "keeping their options open" (which could include their being in a relationship and still looking around). Well, or they're looking to do you, your mom, your extended family, and pretty much anything that walks.I would write some more tenets...perhaps in a later post, but unfortunately I have some errands to run tonight before I start working again tomorrow, so feel free to leave any comments or thoughts as you wish here. Or on MySpace. Because Lord knows I'll be checking again. In 5 minutes.
Happy Passover And A Good Matisyahu To You As Well
Greetings from the land of Cialis.
Being in Florida over the Passover/Easter holiday is similar to being trapped in a giant cultural tornado...homes and people and bits and pieces getting sucked willingly (or unwillingly, as it were) into a mass-moving object full of early bird specials, matzah, Easter egg hunts, and screaming grandchildren. Restless parents, shopping malls, and pool-time activities designed solely with the intent of bothering harmless sunbathers (such as myself). Spring breakers, long lines at the airport, and bottles of aloe flying off the racks of CVS.
And yes, I choose to be a part of this every year. I like the chaos.
This year, throughout various lunches and dinners with my parents and their fellow snowbirds, I've learned that the big topic is Matisyahu. Every meal, every group of people, every time...who is this little Hasidic man and what kind of music is this?
Apparently I'm a little ahead of the Jewish curve (or maybe the music curve), because I've heard about this guy for a couple of years now. According to an old boyfriend, I'd like his music. (Not totally true, but ok.) According to one of my good friends, I'd like his poetic rhyme. (True to an extent.) According to my sister, I should be dating him, since Sister firmly believes that I dislike all types of music that are not made by African American people. (Totally true, and I would consider if Matisyahu wasn't married with a kid.)
Here's my take on it - this is a pretty exciting thing for Jews. Let them enjoy it. I mean, let's put stereotypes aside for one moment and look at facts - how many Jewish professional athletes can you name off the top of your head? (And no, "Roethlisberger" is not a Jewish name, as I had to point out to my mother the other day.) How many great Jewish musicians can you name? (I can only really think of three artists/groups as of this posting - The Beastie Boys, Simon & Garfunkel, and Marvin Hamlisch. Well, and Barbra. Okay, maybe 4.) While it's true that we do have the market cornered on Hollywood agents, writers, PR people, and directors (and most "behind-the-scenes" people), name one progressive, modern, cool Jewish rapper under the age of 30. Are you stumped? Yeah, me too.
So here's my bottom line: if Matisyahu can garner enough popularity to rap about Judaism and gather a mainstream fan base, I say good for him. I just felt that I had to put in my .02 and address it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am headed to the sushi buffet to fight over the last piece of salmon maki with some 80 year old man named Harold with sun spots and chronic hemorrhoids.
Spring Cleaning Is In Order!
March Madness is over. Good thing, because I don't know about you, but there pretty much wasn't a single thing left for me that could have gone topsy-turvy.
You thought I was done, right?
Suckers.
Okay, so I've had an interesting month. Not a bad one, mind you, but an interesting one. Tomorrow is my last day of work. In a pleasant and unexpected twist of fate, I took a job with another agency and - although quite sad to leave behind Disneyland - am looking forward to a new opportunity. A higher position. Different accounts. And more money.
So tomorrow is my last day. It's time to pack up the portable water cooler, the clock-CD player, and the designated coffee mug, and say my goodbyes. Temporarily, mind you, since due to the Passover/Easter holidays, my official goodbye happy hour has been postponed until well after I start my new job.
By tomorrow night I will be on a plane to Ft. Lauderdale to see my parents and fry the living hell out of myself in a shamless attempt to convince anyone and everyone that I have been exposed to sunlight in the last five years. I love vacations. I sure hope this one involves true relaxation and not the knots in my stomach that I used to get in anticipation of checking my work email from the Web and wondering how many people are cursing the fact that I'm not returning their phone calls.
And all of this fascinating career news is not for lack of anything else interesting in my life, mind you.
I met a guy I really liked. We danced the little dance of phone calls and text messages and whatnot. I got sick of him. I met another guy. I drank a beer with him at St. Patty's Day. I started wondering what our children might look like if we procreated. He wandered off due to copious imbibing of alcohol and I haven't seen him since. (Although lucky me, I know him through mutual friends. "Coincidental" encounters just might happen again.) So I went back to my single ways and anxiously anticipated the yearly visit from my friend Chris, who dropped by this weekend on his way to moving to Tampa. Goodtimes. And now, through a series of odd circumstances and much to my chagrin, I kind of had the epiphany tonight that I think I am kind of falling in love with someone. I am a little hesitant to discuss it for many, many, many, many, many reasons, but mostly because I am still pretty uncomfortable with the idea and not quite sure how the f*ck to get myself out of this mess.
There is something about spring that convinces (or at least foolishly convinces) everyone to start anew. To embark on new adventures, to take chances on life, to hastily hump anything in sight that looks remotely attractive. And I fall into that shit every single spring. It is definitely the time of year where I evaluate everything that goes on in my life and figure out what's working and what's not. The only thing I can't reconcile is when life throws me a curveball and I realize that, like it or not, I am a victim of my own feelings toward someone else and in the words of Whitesnake, "Here I Go Again". Although hopefully not on my own. And also hopefully not with Tawny Kitaen dancing on the hood of my car because I paid good money for that vehicle and I'm guessing that her saggy, middle-aged, washed up ass would put a sweet dent in the hood. Not good.
