you gotta like them air uptempo’s:
i used to wear glasses, but now that i’ve had laser eye surgery (courtesy of my wife), i no longer need them. i think that with or without glasses, i was probably the same – computer nerd.
i heard over the news that chris webber is coming back to the warriors. he’s not the c-webb of 14 years ago, the one that did the behind-the-back-dunk on barkley:
but we’ll take it. i trust nellie’s decision to bring him back. he can’t run like he used to but he’s a good passer and can hang out in the high-post to free up room for everyone else. it would be great to see him back here since he bailed after only 1.5 seasons before being traded to the bullets for tom gugliotta. i think that marked the start of one of the worst downtimes in nba basketball history. here’s a brief recap of the last warriors drafts in case you were living in another country in the last 10 years, or if you are a girl:
1993: chris webber
1994: cliff rozier
1995: joe smith
1996: todd fuller
1997: adonal foyle
1998: vince carter (but then immediately traded for antawn jamison)
1999: jeff foster
2000: no 1st-round draft pick
2001: jason richardson (finally, someone good!)
2002: mike dunleavy
2003: mickael pietrus
2004: andris biedrins (he had 26 boards last night)
2005: ike diogu
2006: patrick o’bryant
2007: marco bellinelli
the guys in the last few years are still too new to tell if they’re going to suck or not.
so, the next few days is going to bring some ‘severe weather’ to the bay area, as bill martin said tonight. of course, some people in other parts of the country laugh at 50 degree highs and a couple inches of rain:
i just don’t want to live where the weather is like this:
look at the size and shape of that cloud formation! you would think it would be darker in color than white?!
it’s nothing short of a miracle considering the team was autodrafted by yahoo because <violins playing> marcos was sick and i fell asleep with him on the couch on draft day </violins playing>.
even young kids don’t like bushie all that much.
If V is for Vendetta, F is for Fartist. The first part of the word is â€œfartâ€ for the act of firing bacteria created air and poo particles at an incredible speed. Everyone one does it, and it has been proven that farts bring joy, yet they are taboo in public. The second part of the word is â€œartistâ€ because that is what I am. Much like Picasso wielded a paint and easel, I have the ability to practically fart on command and have perfected the ventriloquist and ricochet methods which allow me to strike with devastating accuracy from cover much like a highly trained sniper.
My main hunting grounds are the mean streets of BART, which I am forced to endure twice a day for half an hour at a time. Many people from other places tell me that BART is great or some similar shit, but anyone who rides it daily like me knows that it sucks. To pay $10 a day for the right to park and ride to and from work is excruciating, especially on the way home when I think about paying to stand on a packed train with a bunch of self absorbed aholes. But I must give BART some credit, for they launched my career as the most lethal vigilante in history.
Here is a list of some of the victims and the methods with which they were punished:
Mr. Read the newspaper to his wife on speaker phone guy: You are on the top of the list for one reason and one reason only; you are without a doubt the biggest asshole in history. Who sits there and yells on speaker phone and reads stories about an axe murderer to his wife during rush hour (in the elderly and handicapped seat no less)? You do. I fought for almost two minutes, desperately pumping the volume up button on my iPod trying to block out your transgressions. My career as a fartist started then, my ignorant self absorbed friend, and you were treated to turkey chili con queso. Oooooh it was hot and wet when I crop dusted you, how did it smell? Call your wife and tell her about it.
Ms. Lower her shoulder and cram her way on to a way too packed train lady: I could not believe you were actually going to try to cram your way on to our way too packed train, but you sealed the deal when you lowered your shoulder and repeatedly rammed your way into the crowded mass of frustrated passengers. It took me a stop or two, but slowly I was able to back my tight buttocks right up to within 2 feet of your short ugly face. I used the silencer once again but you bathed in it. When you cried, â€œOh god, who farted?â€ I was crying I was laughing so hard.
Two teenage girls talking about sex and two teenage guys talking about taking drugs and driving: You have no idea how stupid you sound talking about subjects like that on a silent BART train during the afternoon commute. I saw one lady actually get up and move away because your conversation was so inane and ignorant. Bonus points for the one girl saying she prefers wine and salmon to a beer and burger now, I canâ€™t tell you how impressed we all were with you. The woman behind you who rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat wanted more of your tips on living the high life for sure. And guys, Iâ€™m not sure what drug exactly you were talking about taking and then driving on the freeway but I just hope you donâ€™t take anyone with you when you earn your Darwin Awards. I approached smiling, appearing to be heading for the exit, utterly forgettable in my everyday Dockers with polar fleece pullover. You were all sitting together in the â€œquadâ€ chairs that face each other and no one else was around you for obvious reasons. The ambient noise from the tunnel meant I was able to really make you shiver when I delivered, I am actually shocked that a burnt hole wasnâ€™t left in the back of my pants. It was one of my fall specials, a preseason pumpkin fart that smells for five minutes. By the time you realized what was happening I was doubled over laughing on the escalator in the station, I hope my gas taught you something valuable. Silence is golden.
Next time, more victims and a discussion over which came first â€“ the need to fart or the elevator.
my mom is doing a lot of craft stuffs while the rain comes down outside. here’s some recent watercolorings
also, some people say marcos looks a lot like me. i think there’s a vague resemblance now, but i hope he turns out a little more attractive when he’s older.
this picture was taken before 1980, so it’s safe to assume that’s not marcos in the picture above although you might think that.
schools and government employees have mlk day off, but most of corporate america has to work. for those of you starting slow this week with the news of impending rain and a busy weekend, here’s some carefully selected web stories to help you pass the time.
america is the new oceania…let’s all move to canada together [nytimes]
cnet’s blog would have been an obvious target for thought police [cnet]
you can’t think of ads like this unless you were high [uaddit.com]
melinda gates wears the pants in her family [money]
fake phone calls to impress people into thinking you’re popular [pdialer]
so i went to the milpitas starbucks this morning to catch some of my french counterparts while they were still at work. by the time i get to palo alto sometimes, they’ve headed home and i have to try and stay up past midnight that night to get something off my chest. it doesn’t look good to some of the other people in the us office that you’re a day late on something.
anyway, im sitting here at the starbucks chatting up my manager and a couple other people from the france office. it takes me a while to get booted up because i’m running windows, i gotta get the sprint card warmed up and then get the vpn going in addition to all the shizz baggage that’s on my laptop.
after about 15 minutes, the lady next to me catches my attention. she’s about 40 and sitting with an older guy, and it sounds like she’s met up with him for a job interview in sales or marketing management position in an enterprise resource planning software company like interwoven, or something like that. in the time that i’m listening, she’s used the word ‘microcosm’ about 20 times – no exaggeration. the first time she used it, my ear kinda piqued over there because it’s not every day you hear that word. and then she used it again. and again. and again. and again. and again. and again x 15.
i was starting to keep a tally with my fingers, then it surpassed 10. i tried to help her out the last few times by looking over there, right in her eye path, to tell her like, ‘dude you’re using that word way too much to get hired there’. she looked over at me and kept yammering away. oh well, your loss, lady. honorable mention for ‘at the end of the day’ which she used maybe only 10 times.