my body has betrayed me

Now watch this drive.

Twenty-seven years old and my body has betrayed me. Honestly guys, taking in a prescription is usually not a big thing to me – I mean, who cares. But taking in a prescription for a “kit” that you should keep on you at all times in case you start dying… that’s a little different. So, great, I’m allergic to cold water – is this even real? Apparently it is but no doctor on earth has any idea how to treat it, other than recommend I “stay out of cold water.” Well duh, but I was looking for something a little more definitive. So, I pressed for a referral to an allergist and got this prescription for something called an ANA-kit. Yeah, it’s an epinephrine shot – which I’m supposed to take if I get to that not-breathing passing-out state again, because otherwise I might actually die.

Really? Twenty-seven years in and my hold on life is now this tenuous? I mean, I realize I’m being dramatic about it – but it really did almost make me want to cry to think about having to carry around a freakin’ shot everywhere I go. My only hope: the allergist will be able to better diagnose whatever this is – and the whole life-support kit will be deemed unnecessary. So, I’m not really worried about dying or anything (at least, no more than I’ve every been) – but this whole mess really does suck balls. Where did it come from? Will it ever go away? And why in the world do I have to be allergic to something that I like? I like cold water, I like swimming. Why not make me allergic to tanning booths or health food stores? How about brussel sprouts or weight-lifting? Maybe clothes-shopping or movies with singing? Stupid allergies.

Anyway, this thing has really de-motivated me (de-motivated?). I think a combination of burnout from work, coming-up-soon vacations, and the whole Saturday episode have made me just want to take some time off. So I used Monday as a “sick day” at work, staying home to go to the doctor and lab, and using the rest of the day to work on the backyard. I just ignored work as much as I could, even when people tried to call me on my cellphone. Work in the backyard is so much more immediately rewarding, seeing stuff happen after a day out there in the sun… I think I needed a day at home to myself. So, I took one.

I mentioned it before, but I was supposed to be in San Francisco yesterday and today, for a big conference where I’m presenting. But, since I’m not actually presenting until Wednesday – I postponed my planned Sunday departure in favor of leaving today. Honestly, I don’t feel like going at all. What I feel like is it being July 13th already and me being off for a week while Sharaun’s folks visit. Anyway, I plan on leaving sometime tomorrow (see guys, I write these the night before – so the today/tomorrow/yesterday thing can sometimes be tricky). Either way, the next entry will come from San Fran – so expect a meat-free, liberal-minded, environmentalist rant. Not really, those are just stereotypes.

With the near-death experience over the weekend, I didn’t get a chance to write about seeing Fahrenheit 9/11 this Friday. Ben and I Fandango’d the tickets earlier in the week, which was good because all showings were sold out. So, what’d I think? As a self-identified liberal-with-a-side-of-conservative, I found the movie really interesting. I’m not so far right that I’d refuse to see Moore’s movie at all for fear of funding the wacky leftist media, but I’m also not so far left that I’d waltz into the theatre ready and willing to accept all that he said as gospel. After it was all over, I liked it. There were some interesting things that I hadn’t known before, and there were some things for which I was thinking “come on Mike… gimme a break.” Overall though, the movie was good. If you’re of voting age, go check it out.

I have nothing more, I’m outta here.

a snickers and a diet coke

I feel so busted, what's wrong?

Saturday sucked.

I had big plans, working in the backyard – and I had the rare motivation to actually see it through. However, we had made tenuous plans the night before to head up into the mountains to go to this out-of-the-way creek which people say has “natural waterslides.” It actually sounded really cool, like you could slide down these waterfalls and into these deep pools below. So around noon the crew amassed: Melissa, Ben, Erik, Sharaun and myself. We had some sketchy directions which led us about an hour and a half up in the hills and instructed us to park by a large gate on the side of the road, at which point we would have to go ahead on foot for about two and a half miles down trails into the woods.

We arrived at the gate at about half past two in the afternoon, and started down the trail. The part of the directions that covered the trails to the falls were not the best, instructing us to walk for about a two miles and parallel a creek for about another quarter mile before looking for a “descending path.” We passed a kid coming up the trail, and he asked us if we’d ever been to the falls before – and gave us a little more information about how to get there. As we went further down the trail, we came to a point where it split and headed off to the right – but chose to stay on the straight path and keep going, as we hadn’t really walked what we thought was two miles yet. We eventually came to a creek, and a path that paralleled it – just like the directions had said. Figuring we were only a quarter mile from the falls at this point, we plodded ahead. It’s worth mentioning now that we had been hiking for hour, and had stupidly neglected to bring anything to drink.

After much more than a quarter mile down the trail, we saw a “descending path” and headed down. Not too far down, however, the path became overgrown and choked off. Figuring we’d made a wrong turn somewhere, we decided to head back and see if we missed anything. So, summarizing, we walked down every possible combination of trails that you could possibly take. Finally, as it was nearing five in the afternoon and we’d been walking for nearly three hours with no success, we decided the falls had eluded us and we’d better head back. Around 5:30pm we had hiked back to the original fork in the trail where we’d continued on the straight path. Ben decided to poke his head down the right-tending fork, and said he heard voices and people. By now, we were all so frustrated, tired, and thirsty – that we were bound and determined to find this waterfall.

After a brief discussion, we decided to strike out down the other fork. We walked down a couple steep paths, and again came upon a trail that paralleled a creek – just like the directions said. We immediately knew we were on the right path, as there were arrows formed with sticks on the trail, pointing us in the right direction. Walking for what must have been another mile, we found another “descending path,” and were sure we were on the right track this time. Heading down another steep dusty trail, we eventually ended up at the falls. The girls were trailing Erik, Ben and I – as they weren’t quite as motivated as we were at this point. As we came upon the falls, we happened to run right into a friend of mine from work. He was headed back for the day, with a buddy of his. I begged a bottle of water off of him, and shared about half of it between the three of us – saving the remainder for the girls when they finally made it.

Had we got to the falls by the direct path, and hadn’t been walking for 10+ miles, and brought some water and snacks, I think we would’ve had a great time swimming and sliding and relaxing in the sun. But as it was, we were all tired and thirsty and just glad to be there. We knew we didn’t have much time to hang around, as it would be getting dark before too long. All the guys slid down the three cascading falls, the coolest one having a ~5ft drop into a pool below. The water was pretty dang cold, and my dreaded cold-induced-urticaria was beginning to act up. I was red and itchy, but still glad that we had finally made it. After climbing back up to the top of the three falls/slides, I sat on the rock feeling fine, if a little itchy, and talked to the girls. They had decided that they weren’t going to go down, and we were all pretty much ready to go. It was kinda understood that we hadn’t really made the final push down there so we could spend hours sliding and having fun, it was more just to prove a point.

As we all more or less agreed it was time to go, Ben and I decided to go down the slides one last time. He went down all three again, but I started feeling pretty crappy after going over the first one and came back up. As I was hiking back to the top of that first slide, I started having a really hard time catching my breath. I’d experienced the same thing a couple times before, both times also being after getting out of cold water while wakeboarding on the river. By the time I reached where the rest of the crew was sitting, white was creeping in on the edges of my vision and I could feel the color draining from my face. About to pass out, I quickly laid down on the rock with my head propped on Ben’s backpack. Laying down helped the about-to-pass out feeling, so I just stayed that way until Ben made it back up from the bottom of the three falls.

Getting up to head back up the trail, I immediately felt woozy and short of breath, and once again had to lay down. By now, the others were realizing that something wasn’t right, and they were telling me that my face looked blue. I could tell that I was close to falling out, so I just stayed laying down about a five feet from where I’d been laying before. By now I started shivering, which had also happened the two previous times I’d experienced whatever this was. It’s not a shivering because I’m cold, although it’s the same shivers – but it’s more just an uncontrollable shivering for no good reason. We tried to move along up the steep trail, but I couldn’t get more than a few feet before I’d have to sit down for fear of passing out. Half an hour later, and with light fading fast, we’d managed to move only a few feet up the trail. I could hear Ben and Erik discussing what to do, about sending someone back to go get help, etc.

Finally, it was decided that Erik and Melissa should head back to the car, and Sharaun and Ben would stay with me. I told them I didn’t need a stretcher or a doctor or anything like that, and just asked them to bring me a freakin’ Diet Coke and something to munch. After the party split, I continued to try and make my way up the trail – slow and steady, having to stop and lay down several times before we reached more level ground. After what seemed like forever, and now walking in the dark, we could hear cars on the highway and we knew we were close. I was basically on autopilot, just picking up one foot after another, not talking or anything. I hadn’t needed to stop and rest since we hit the level trail, and Sharaun and Ben said I had my color back in my face. All I wanted was a big drink to quench my thirst and to go home and get some rest.

Sometime around 9pm, we finally rounded the last corner. We’d started seven hours earlier, and had been hiking for probably five and a half out of those seven hours. Making that last turn, we could see lights ahead on the trail Sure enough, we trudged up just in time to see an ambulance pulling through the large gate where we’d parked the car off the highway. Feeling pretty stupid, I walked into the fleet of rescue vehicles and just let them take me.

Paramedics, heart monitors, pulse monitors, blood pressure cuffs, and general awareness questions. What year is it? What is today? Who’s the president? (Ugh, that brainless idiot Dubya). Finally someone gives me some water, and I’m feeling much better. I explain the situation, and the whole cold-hives allergy thing. They see that I’m feeling much better, and am alert and conscious – and I’ve got them convinced to let me go. My blood pressure is a little low, so they tell me they’ll let me sit until it gets above 100 on the high side and then I can head home and get some rest. On a whim, the guy checks my blood sugar with a prick on the finger and finds it at 62 when it should be at 80-something. This, apparently, is a “transportable condition,” and now we’re off to the hospital. An hour drive on bumpy country backroads, an IV, oxygen, and finally we get there. They wheel me out on a stretcher and into the emergency room.

I get the same round of questions, but by now I’m in high spirits – having been intravenously re-hydrated and re-sugared. I just want to go home. A little more than two hours and a soap-opera’s cast worth of ER patients later, I’m discharged with no information about what happened. I try to tell them I think the shortness of breath and fainting has something to do with the cold water, since it’s happened exactly like this before but to a lesser degree. A quarter to one in the morning, and we’re headed home from the hospital up the mountain. Feeling embarrassed, tired, and sorry for making everyone hang out so late… I try to make the best of it by joking and making people laugh. Finding out that Melissa and Erik jogged the trail up to go get help, I feel even more stupid.

I have no idea what happened, and I swear I’m not one to overact if something’s really not that bad. I just couldn’t stand up without wanting to pass out. If I could have powered through it without mentioning it, I would have – that’s just some inborn hard-headedness that I have (which I think I get from my dad). I just couldn’t power through this, whatever it was. I did my best, and eventually made it up – taking it real slow and easy… but man. Those guys were thinking about sending in a helicopter and crap, oh jeez how embarrassing.

Yeah, Saturday sucked. Dave out.

GIS for liberal.
You know, I’ve never really read this before. I don’t know who from Osama’s side so eloquently translated this letter, but it’s worded like an intelligent (although somewhat religiously-rabid) rationalization for some of their motivations. It’s long, but it’s an excellent read. Unfortunately, I don’t really see any peaceful resolutions to issues that come down to a difference in religious beliefs. When two peoples each believe that something is due to them or theirs by the grace of their different Gods? I just don’t see a diplomatic fix. God is so big, and certainly doing something in the name of God is right – without fail. And when you run into the blank check that is “the will of God,” there’s no arguing. I mean, God is always right, God told me to do this, this is right – case closed. Scary.

On a semi-related note, Ben and I are going to see Fahrenheit 9/11 tonight. I’m somewhat leery of Moore’s manipulative techniques, but I’m dying to see the film. Apparently it’s only opening in something like 500 screens nationwide, but CA must be extra liberal or something because there are three Sacramento-area theaters alone that are showing it. I’m no raving liberal, more like I flirt with the tamer aspects of both liberal and conservative stances, but I’m always open to checking out someone’s spin on things. Sometimes the spin itself can be interesting even if the meat is junk, but we’ll see.

We were debating the other day about whether or not it’s a moral quandary for vegans to eat non-meat foods which have been shaped/formed to resemble meat-foods. The whole discussion was spurred by Ben’s ordering of “vegan prawns” at a seafood place, partly because he hates seafood and partly to see what the heck a vegan prawn was. Turns out they are carbon-copies of prawns, fashioned from tofu. He said they look just like prawns. That seemed strange to me. I mean, what’s the vegan’s objection to eating animals? I understand it’s the actual “killing” of a living thing for food that they don’t dig – but is it not a tad hypocritical to then eat something that’s been specifically made to look like something that was killed for food? We have tofu hotdogs, tofu turkeys, tofu lunchmeat, really, tofu meat. I guess it’s a social thing, eating prawn-shaped tofu must be better than just horking down a big plate of tofu cubes or something. I guess vegan prawns are to vegans as non-alcoholic beer is to the teetotaler – something that makes them look less nutty in a social situation but doesn’t run afoul of their beliefs. Ahh, the power of the “everyone else is doing it” rationale.

Sunday night it’s off to San Francisco for a week, so the next blog will come to you from the city of fruits and nuts. Dave out.

four paragraphs and i’ve said nothing

Foot, mouth.  Mouth, foot.  Make nice..
Me and Keeper are sittin’ right here on the couch, watching some Andy Griffith. Sharaun’s in the kitchen cooking up some grubons for tonight’s dinner. I was gonna work in the yard and do all sorts of productive things and whatnot, turns out all I did was fall asleep for about an hour. In case you were wondering, it’s the one where Andy gets picked as the judge for the Mayberry beauty pageant – and the whole town tries to influence him for one girl or another. Andy wisely picks the helpful older woman who’s spent so much time working on the pageant and gracefully avoids a sticky situation. It’s a non-Barney episode. I’m so done with this paragraph, I already forgot what it was about.

As an update to my freeware conversion entry, I’ve finally found some replacements for those last pieces of bootleg software on my system. Seems like DeepBurner is now working much better with my DVD drive – and is coming much closer to fully replacing Nero. Meanwhile, g4u is working as a Ghost replacement (even get “multicast” functionality by using WarFTP Server on Sharaun’s machine) and Qparted for Partition Magic. If I do take the plunge and fully uninstall Nero and Ghost, only MS Office will remain – and I have no qualms about buying Office or Windows… so I think I’m done here. And man… if only OpenOffice.org would get a solid Access replacement – I’d ditch it too.

Right now it’s about midnight, and I’m still up typing and junk. Actually, I’m perfecting the g4u backup method I was talking about from above. It’s nowhere near as dead-easy as using Ghost – but I think it’ll work out eventually, and the extra effort should be worth the “freeness.” About an hour ago I logged onto my work e-mail and sent a note to my immediate team stating I wouldn’t be in tomorrow morning. The infamous “working from home” message. I typically don’t do the “working from home” thing because I know what a crock it tends to be. But this time I really do need the quiet-time to go over my presentation a few times before presenting it to the masses for review. I’d just like to get it locked a bit more, y’know, a lil’ more polished, before I go in a present it. Anyway, I think I started writing about that to justify my being up so late or something… but I forgot.

I think maybe the Lord of Indie heard my grumblings about no new tunes yesterday. Oh, and Sara was kind enough to mention the Franz… which sadly, I’ve also worn out over the past month (but thanks for the tip). But two potentially good albums fell into my lap last night… the new Killers LP and an LP by the band Viva Voce. Both are now in the evaluation stage, and if I think I’ve got the next big thing here people – I’ll pass the info along.

So four paragraphs and I’ve said nothing. This blog needs some meat, what can I do? I was on my call this morning (oh yeah, it’s Thursday morning now), and I was giving a presentation to some people. I was using my cellphone since I had called into the meeting from home, and during my first few slides I got dropped off the meeting twice – right in the middle of speaking. Frustrated and embarrassed that I had to keep dialing into my own meeting, I moved locations in the house to get a better reception. Now, when the cellphone disconnects you – it gives you two short beeps to let you know your ass has been dropped. However, when the cellphone notifies you of another incoming call on call waiting – it also gives you two short beeps. So, I’m sitting here talking to my material after being dropped twice already and I get another call. Well, I don’t know it’s another call, and all I hear are the dreaded two short beeps. Thinking I’ve yet again been dropped and will have to apologize to my audience for the third time, I bark out a very angry and forceful “fuck!” Yes but remember folks, I really hadn’t been dropped at all. I was very much still on the meeting, in front of my audience, in the middle of a sentence. So, that was kinda cool… ugh.

Dave out.

yuppie vs. hippie

Damage.Dude, could we have an image that portrays sadness any better than this? I mean my God people, did you camp out next to this poor kid’s kin with your finger on the shutter ready to create a graven image the second this man’s heart breaks? You can see the combination of sleepless nights and pure agony in his red-rimmed eyes… and the whole thing comes to us in vivid Chromavision thanks to the well-meaning folks at the AP. I understand the motivation, it just sucks that this poor guy has to mourn his son on the front pages of millions of websites and newspapers. Sorry Mr. Sun-il.

Tonight my co-workers from Taiwan were in town, and my boss and I took them out for dinner. After dinner bossman headed home early and I took the boys out for some beers at a local bar. It was actually really cool, being the sole US “host.” Good “face time” and general “team-building.” Man, I sound like just another suit eh? Well whatever, I see that kinda think as a good chance to build up relationships that might get me somewhere someday. The more of the APAC brethren that know my name and enjoy hanging out with me, the more my name gets out as a good US host. Can’t hurt, right?

What’s happened to me?… so career-minded and self-motivated. The yuppie in me is in a constant battle with the hippie in me. Like those old cartoons where there’s a devil on Pluto’s left shoulder telling him to bite Goofy in the ass, and an angel on his right admonishing him to not. Except on my right shoulder there’s a twenty-something in a sweater-vest sitting on an Ikea sofa watching Moneyline with Lou Dobbs, and on my right shoulder there’s a patchouli-drenched, flannel-sporting, dreadlocked and unshaven mod sitting on a yoga mat in the grass at a MM&W or SCI show. Don’t get my Lou Dobbs or acronymed band references? Congrats, you’re neither yuppie nor hippie – and are most likely a square. Now back to your regularly scheduled romance-novel, MTV, and Top 40 radio please. Dang, sorry… got a little harsh there…

There’s been a serious lack of tunage lately… and I’m feeling the pain. I mean, the last stellar albums that graced my stereo are now becoming quite stale. One can only listen to Modest Mouse and Iron & Wine so many times before you just get tired. So lately I’ve been going back in time and revisiting some old favorites, hitting some old Death Cab, Decemberists, and Wrens for good measure. It’s not new, but it’s a constant… and sounds fresh to reminiscent ears. Hopefully someone will come out with a blow-away LP soon, because I’m getting worried that I’ve either lost my knack for finding the rad noise – or the scene is drying up, neither of which are good.

I missed a day of blogging again, I just end up running out of time. With all the recent holes in my one-a-day plan, I’m wondering if I’ll ever get back on task. I tend to do OK when things are slower at work – but as it is I just don’t feel like filling in the days with crappy crap. So I’m gonna keep on writing when I can write, instead of writing just to fill up a day. I mean, I need precious time to come up with stuff like the Ikea and Moneyline gags above… that shit doesn’t just write itself people.

I’m out of words, until whenever… Dave out.

tethered to their haggard bodies

Trendy.
The dismal drive home from my folks’ place… six long hours of cows, brown grass, and barbed-wire fence. I asked Sharaun to drive because I knew this is the only chance I’ll get to write today – barreling homeward down the highway. She’s a pretty good driver, but must be a really poor colorer (’cause she can’t stay in the lines for crap). Intro paragraph: over.

It was a good weekend away, just the two of us. Even though the drive there and back is long and empty, it’s a good chance to sing along to some tunes, talk, and share a #2, animal style, with the other Southern California road warriors. I get pretty liberal with the music choices on the long trip, since it’d just be one six-hour fight if I tried to keep only my ears happy the whole time. Really, it’s my chance to “get with it,” and be relevant with what tunes I know. I mean, where else I’m I gonna learn that Usher has like three “songs” in the top ten right now? Certainly not on my own, that’s for sure. So I let the tonal indiscretion slide, and sorta benefit by at least being able to say “yeah, I’ve heard this song… it blows hard.”

We headed down south Friday night, getting a late start because Sharaun was busy at work preparing sub-plans for her absence today. It’s cool, I hung around the classroom and practiced my rope-skipping skills, which, I might add, are severely terrible. Saturday we all rode out to Los Olivos and did the art gallery thing. We thought maybe we could find some paintings for our house, but it seems local Santa Barbara artists are obsessed with brown-hill landscapes dotted with cows or horses. It’s either that, semi-nude native American women – again riding horses. So, we passed on it. Not that there’s not some talented hill-and-squaw painting artists down there, but it’s just not right for our crib.

After hitting the galleries we took a trip to the Chumash reservation casino. Casinos are always a mixed-bag for me. I enjoy gambling, and there’s something about the draw of a casino that I like. But there’s also a really depressing side to the whole thing. To see these old women rooted in front of a slot machine, smoking cigarette after cigarette. It makes me sad, especially since so many of them have those little “frequent gambling” cards – where you just store money on them and insert them into the slot on the front of the machines. They’ve got them tethered to their haggard bodies with stretchy cords, clipped to their lapels or blouses – like some life-giving umbilical cord to the mechanical entertainment that sucks them dry. Between the “greatest generation” chipping away at their social security pull for pull, and the white-trash couples in neon spandex and oversized Eminem t-shirts – casinos can be a real bummer. Anyway, we dropped $10 each and called it quits. Too bad I’m always too intimidated to actually sit down at the blackjack tables, I know how to play.

Sunday was my buddy Shaine’s wedding, and the whole reason for the trip (although spending Father’s day with dad was a worthy aside). Shaine was my best friend in the 5th grade, my first real best friend I’d say. It was really surreal to be at his wedding nearly 15 years later. Taking place aboard a yacht on Marina del Rey, the whole affair was awesome. And being that he was getting hitched into an Armenian family – there was plenty of Armenian dancing and music. It was a total blast, and I always love watching people of other cultures. The customs and dancing and music, all fascinating and enjoyable. Anyway, it seems like he found a great one in his new wife – and were really happy to be able to be there. Not only that, I got to listen to Death Cab’s “405” and “Los Angeles” while I was actually in LA and on the 405. Neat.

I guess I’m outta here, don’t wanna burn out the writing in me – I still have to do another one of these tonight, for Tuesday. Because we all know, if I don’t write at night – I don’t write. And I’ve been told lately that my blog sucks and that I need to work on being funny on demand more. So yeah, I’ll give that a go.

Until then, Dave out.

my illustrious career history

Oh man, those were the days... check out that hair!
Basketball, in high-def, a non-party party at Anthony’s. Got new tires on the truck today, six-hundred dollars of rubbery goodness. Shaine’s post about yesterday’s entry being my 200th got me thinking, it’s halfway through June now and the there’s only a couple more months before I mark a solid year of doing this site.

Sounds like I’ll have a rather long overseas trip this August, spending about three weeks in Taiwan and China both. More customer visits, speaking at some seminars, and then heading to Shanghai to train our “offshore” team members. I need to train ’em good, but not too good since I wanna maintain some job security. I’m excited about going again, mainly because I love the experience – but I’m bummed that Sharaun’s birthday falls right smack in the middle of the trip. We’ve talked about maybe using my sky miles to fly her out for a while, to hang out and experience the APAC (Asia-Pacific geography for those not in into abbreviation). I think I’ll have some spurts of down time that we could use to see some of the island I’ve yet had the chance to check out. Who knows.

I was thinking back on my illustrious career history, trying, nay, stretching, for something to write about. Anyway, it all started when I got my very first job as a sandwich artist at Subway. I was barely sixteen. We locked people in the walk-in freezer, ate all the food we wanted, and set fire to the joint twice. From there I moved on to Arby’s, where I worked as a cashier and fast-food jockey. We stole 10lbs bags of curly fries. I quit the job at Arby’s to take a position as a “go boy” for a local CPA office. I made copies, did data entry, fetched files, took out the trash, etc. I worked there for over a year, moonlighting over the summer as a bagger at the local Winn Dixie. Eventually, I quit both the bagboy and gopher job for my dream job – record store clerk at the local mall. I pushed music for nigh on two years, eventually winding up as the lowest paid “assistant manager” ever. It’s OK though, the steady stream of nubile female clerks hired by the owner more than made up the difference.

Omni Music in the Merritt Square Mall, I used to alphabetize those shelves
with the quickness. And who’s that in the background?

I only quit the record store gig because I was moving. After that I didn’t work for a few years, just used my scholarship money and student loans to live. Took the bus around town after my car broke down, and finally found gainful employment again sometime later as an ADA programmer for Raytheon. Since it was only an internship thing through school, the job only lasted about four months. A time later I actually managed to matriculate, and landed my current job of four years. Back in the tech industry, working on something that I actually earned a degree in. There were other spotty jobs in there, making funnel cakes at craft shows for a few hundred a weekend, tutoring a high-school friend’s mother in college Algebra, etc. – but nothing meaningful. I think it’s a pretty varied employment history – and what’s better, it filled up nearly two paragraphs so as to make today’s entry look all the more beefy.

I’m outta here, time to give the leaked Beastie Boys album a test-spin. Nite.