The bot likes me better than my cousin Derek

If you don't have myspace then you probably won't relate to this one.

I keep getting these friends requests from provocatively dressed vixens. They all say a variation of the same thing: "Hi I'm [hottie]. I'm new in town and I thought you looked cute. You should IM me at [insert IM address]."

I know it's a trick, but part of me can't help feeling flattered that this hot bot spends it's time pursuing me. When I say bot, I mean Internet robot/virus/spam protocol. I think they use them to fish your personal information to rip you off in some way. Here is it's picture. I know that those look like perfectly supple breasts, but underneath lies cold, soulless silicon. I said silicon as in computer chips not silicone as in breast implants. I do admit to finding her "come hither" look compelling.

I started to look forward to our chance encounters and even felt a little empty on the rare occasions when I logged in to my account and didn't see her/it's friends request. That is until X-Mas Eve at my Aunt Cathy's house. My cousin Derek was there, and he was showing me all the bands on his Myspace account. When he logged in, I was surprised to see that he had a friends request from the same bot. My bot. I couldn't help feeling a little gilted. She/it sure does get around. I don't care if it is a bot, I'd still hit it. Shut up, you would too!

Beans don't burn on the grill

I decided to wait a little while before writing about it to let the excitement die down. On Thursday, we had a big company meeting where they announced that we won a very large new client. They also unveiled a new organization structure for the entire company meant to make us more productive. After the meeting, the President of our division met with us individually to tell us where we fit in the new structure. Some people were anxious or worried about this because of the natural fear of change. I had the late shift on Thursday. I told them to put me last on the list for meetings, so that nobody would have to stay late for their meeting. My meeting didn't roll around until about 7:20pm. Needless to say, I was a little curious and anxious by then. The President went through a presentation about the new structure and the thoughts behind it. I probably slowed him down by asking too many questions. When he finally showed me where I fit in the new scheme of things, I noticed that I was a little higher up on the tree than I expected. They had promoted me. Then he pulled out the sheet with my new salary on it. All I had to say was "Hell yeah!" Then I asked about my key to the corporate garage, and he told me to "keep dreaming." Can't blame a guy for asking. For a day or two it was hard to wipe that shit eating grin off my face. The poker face is back now.

Chose your super powers wisely.

It's that time of night where I stop to consider which super power I would rather have if I had the chance to pick one. My top three include teleportation, telekinesis and mind reading. But these are too simplistic. How would my power really work? Tonight I'm gonna go with a form of teleportation.

Issues to consider: Accidentally teleporting into objects or people that stray into your path. How do you know where to teleport? How would you hide it from people? Could you take other people with you? How could you use it to enrich your life? What is the downside of your power? Does a star explode every time you use your power? Does it corrupt the earths orbit or cause electrons to spin the opposite direction around the nucleus or something crazy like that?

Here's what I came up with for my power, and I'm pretty sure it's full proof. It doesn't actually involve teleporting. Instead, the power is to open portals or "doors" of any shape/size. I can move the "doors" and reshape them with my mind. Part of the power is that I'm the only one that can see them, but other people can go through them as long as I am maintaining them with my mind. The cool thing is that, if I want to go to some place that I've never been, I can just keep moving the door while I look through it like a traveling TV, if you will. When I see the place I want to go, I just walk through. I don't know if it would be cheating to add any more conditions.

Things to worry about: Differences of air pressure on each side of the portal. If the portal gets opened in outer space or under water, would air go rushing out or water come rushing in? I might add the condition that the doors can be mentally switched to be one way only, so that differences in pressure don't represent a danger. That's it. May the blog be with you.

My worst nightmare: A reoccuring theme.

When I was growing up, there were two different nightmares that haunted me on a daily/weekly basis. The first one was about going into my parents room to discover that they were turned into zombies. They didn't really do anything scary. I don't even think they moved in the dream, but I knew they were zombies and that scared me. Because zombies are like, supposed to be bad.

The Second is illustrated in the above picture. I came across this online a few months ago and it brought everything back. When I was growing up, there was a family of Mexicans that lived in the house next to me. They always had a lot of people over for parties where they played loud polka music. In the dream, there was a carnival going on in their back yard and everybody was going to this booth where you could get your head cut off and put on a shelf. Nobody died from this. They just removed your head, and in it's place was left a red blinking LED. (a little light bulb) The idea was that it would grow back. Everybody was doing it and getting excited about it. It all made sense in the dream. This was probably the most horrifying dream I've had. I also have to admit that a part of me was strangely drawn to the concept and that creeped me out even more. I'm not even going to touch on interpreting these dreams because it all seems too obvious.

Leave no evidence behind

It's not something you chose to do, but when things get awkward it's a device to shed nervousness. Now I do it when I think. Sometimes I just do it to make things even when incomplete jobs leave things frayed. Chewing the skin off of the inside of my cheek.

At what point in our evolutionary history, did humans develop a need for this skill? I'm sure that somehow it puts me above the rest of the gene pool for survivability. It'd be easier to quit smoking than to stop nibbling. And the best part? There always seems to be a little bit left to chew and tongue. There is this spot in the back of my mouth that is beyond the reach of my teeth no matter how I contort my face. It has taught me to be humble.

I submit this as a way to cheat those pesky DNA tests. If TV has served me right, they usually take the sample from swabbing your cheek. I chew so much, they'd be lucky to find a single helix.

I don't smile in pictures

Say cheese! Do you have find yourself in that perfect photo moment only to later discover that you didn't smile? Sure, you were smiling on the inside, but what the camera caught was a look of disgust. I looked so cool in my head. I was giving the look and everything. Aparently what always felt like a smile in my head is in reality a weak grimace. No wonder nobody returns my chearful smiles in the morning in the hallway. Maybe this discovery will help my social life.

Also, why don't cat's ever hold still when you try to take their picture?

Chris vs. The Volcano

I remember reading one of the robot novels by Asimov where some people discover these giant machines in orbit around their planet. The machines had been there for eons, but went un-noticed until they started to break down. The machines were put in place by the robots in an effort to safeguard the people by subtly controlling the peoples aggression. The people were oblivious to the brain wave machines because they had feature that made them impossible to detect. They weren't invisible or camouflaged. It's just that if you tried to look at one directly, you would become confused and instinctively look away. Even if you were looking right at the machine, your brain wouldn't register it.

I'm that way with important things (Ex: the future, relationships, etc.). Like all good moms, my mother has been collecting the paraphernalia of my life. Example: childhood drawings, report cards, pictures, journals, ribbons, newspaper clippings, etc. She made my brother and I a plastic rubbermaid bin each of our stuff. She felt that it was time for us to have our history in a bucket. This kind of creeped me out. I liked the thought that she was still keeping everything safe. After Christmas, she asked me to look through everything with her. It gave me this fight or flight response. I didn't want to consider my mortality so soon after a lonely holiday weekend. Long story short, I ended up ignoring the instinct and looking through everything with my mom. It was okay. In fact it gave me some peace for about an hour.

Okay, so I think I conquered the whole looking back thing. Now I gotta get comfortable staring the future in the face. I mean making deliberate actions seriously, not going balls out and hoping for the best. I got my own machine in the sky distracting me from making progress. Call it procrastination. I know what I need to do. Something about it scares me or makes me uncomfortable, so I do something meaningless and things don't change. I've been like the underpants gnomes. Phase 1: Collect Underpants. Phase 3: Huge Profits.

We all know that Phase 2 is going to have to be dealt with soon. You can't pay rent with underpants. But don't worry, I'll get to Phase 2 as soon as I'm done writing the blog after this one. -BlogEnd

The Almost Ghetto USO show w/ John Stamos's brother.

Teachers are everywhere. Look at yahoo personals. 75% of the girls on there are teachers. I know because I got a friend who is single and voyeuristic. I recently attended a house party that had been over-run by a bunch of said teachers. The group speak was nausiating, but that goes for group-speak in general. Consider that you have a child. You will think that said child is the cutest and best child. In your mind, your child can do no wrong just like shit doesn't stink. Other people will help you to maintain this dillusion as long as your kid doesn't fuck up their shit. But honestly, their feelings for your kid resemble at best, apathy. Teachers are the exception to this rule. They actually get geeked about other people's kids. *chuckle*

Don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-teacher. Some of my best friends are teachers. Back to topic.

So I was at a party with teachers and I met this dude who is in a branch of the US military. His weapon of choice is his voice, since he is in the band for this un-named segment of the military. Aparently they are doing a rock albumn that is mostly cover songs. But they are looking for a few original songs. I told him that about my music and gave him a CD. A few days ago I got a call from him asking for the lyrics to my song "Salvation Army." He also asked me about the story behind it. For those of you who haven't heard it. It's basically about missing my ex girlfriend who used to get dressed up in my clothes with her old tennis shoes and a coat that she bought from the Salvation Army. That was actually part of the song.

He was geeked about the song, and he is going to introduce it to his band. If the military likes it, I should get a healthy check, which would be great because I have invested a lot of Chase bank's money in my recording equipment. *wink* Even if it doesn't make the record, they still might start playing it at shows. That would put me right up there with Winona Ryder and her famous ping pong ball trick. Of course this could be all talk because everyone knows how flaky music people can be. I'm the only exception. I'm not flaky...unless I promise you something or you need me to do something for you.

I'm going to try to find a teacher to hug now. If that fails, I've got a white russian with my name on it...end blog.

So you can read the back issues

A friend of mine's mother recently completed her first book. She never planned on writing a novel, but apparently God decided anyway that he would send her a chapter telepathically every day. I'll spare you plot details. The idea behind the book was that it wouldn't have any action, sex, drama, or bad things, (ie. nothing cool) ...because like, you know, too many books already have too much of that kind of stuff.

This got me to thinking that nobody has ever done that with a blog before. Every time I do a blog on myspace, I always waste too much effort trying to make it interesting for other people. Everybody does that. Being interesting is so cliche. I started this blog is to let myself cut loose and occasionally be more honest about things with the secret hope that strangers will read it and still be jealous of how interesting I still sound when I'm not trying to be interesting. Oops. I just did it again...tried to be intersting.