The Market is Rumors Isn’t What it Used to Be
Posted on September 20th, 2004
The GeekMan may make himself known this coming week, so this could be my last chance to hijack his weblog.
First and foremost:
Five-Year Old Goddaughter: Hi Auntie Jill, will you come over today? I’m not really sick.
JadedJu: Not really sick? What does that mean?
Goddaughter: Weeeeeeell, I threw up before, but I’m really okay now! You can come over!
JadedJu: So you’re all better?
Goddaugher: Yes! I’m all better! I’m only…ummmmm…[long pause] 1/8th sick now!
JadedJu: Excellent, because my absolute limit on exposure is 1/4th. I’ll be right over.
Second of all:
There is no second of all. It rained this morning, the first such weather in many months. On a freeway on-ramp, driving slowly in accordance with the conditions, I momentarily lost control of the car, fishtailing right and then left. I’m pleased to report that I had both hands on the steering wheel at the moment of occurence, and was therefore able to regain control without incident. This is only worth reporting because it is so rare for me to have both hands anywhere near the wheel. Just moments earlier I had been holding the newspaper in one hand, reading headlines while driving. Before scanning the paper I had placed a few calls on my cell phone. You might not be surprised to hear that I’m often drinking some iced decaf coffee or diet gingerale while I’m reading, gabbing with friends, and just incidently, driving.* The events this morning chastened me, however. I kept both hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road, and I’m happy to report that the rest of the trip was completed without incident.
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First of All, Where’s the GeeK?
Posted on September 10th, 2004
Dear GeekMan:
Blah blah blah, you’ve got a new place to live. Whatever. Like that makes a speck of difference to me, here in California. The fact is, the internetisphere has slowed nearly to a standstill during your rude abandonment of your site and your readers.
We’ve tried to a. be patient, and b. make meager attempts to keep your site updated in your absence (and I do emphasize the meagerness of our efforts–but hey, I’m not updating my own site at all, so that makes it seem that I’m posting nonstop with yours.) But the truth is, not a single one of your readers (and we seem to be certain that there are at least seven of them) cares one whit about your guest posters. They come here everyday with the desperate hope that you and your past(r)y minions will have returned.
Anywaste, as you would say if you were here (but you’re not, and why is that exactly?), I’ve got a few other things to talk about while I’m logged in. Like the woman I had a work meeting with today who said that she “dibbled” in writing, when what she meant was that she “dabbled”. I proceeded to buy her book (because I’m a sucker like that,) and I can tell you now that she was correct in calling it dibbling. Indeed, it’s dibbling down my chin right now.
Then there was the guy I met with this week who thinks I’m going to kiss his feet and hand him an empire, in order than he be able to build on the empire he already stole. I’m going to pretend to hand him my empire while I simultaneously go about undermining his. I can’t wait to witness his surprise, though my dastardly plan will take some time to execute. There’s never a rush when you wish someone ill, however. Like Tony Soprano, I believe that revenge is like serving coldcuts.
In closing, I would like to say that if I call your house and ask to speak with your five year old daughter, I am not interested in a return phone call from you. I have no interest in you, unless you can prove that yesterday was your first day of kindergarten, and not your daughter’s.
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The Real Reason We’re Here
Posted on September 2nd, 2004
When I was asked to help babysit this slice of heaven in the blogonetisphere, I was told that I should include stories that would enlighten and inspire its readers. You know… stuff like boogers, butts and buggery?
Sadly, I have no such tales of philosophical import or moral significance. My life is an endless parade of hurricane preparations. Thus, the only thing I can come up with is a poem by my daughter. She was 12 at the time it was written, so I apologize if it is a bit too mature for this place.
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Praise the Radio
Posted on August 31st, 2004
Colorado Springs is a city of about half a million people. This week I found the one guy (well, I’m hoping he was the only one) who wanted to sell us his religion.
My three travel mates and I were running late, due to the delayed arrival of our transportation. Relieved when a cab pulled up, we quickly piled in, three in back and me and my fat rear end and long legs in front. As we rolled away from the hotel, our driver autolocked the doors, and our visit to Satan’s den began.
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Sorry we broke your blog, mister!
Posted on August 24th, 2004
Either Geekman really does only have four readers and he asked all of us to guest post, or we’ve completely scared off The Mighty Geek’s regular readership. Either way, unless people start commenting, he’s gonna be one sad puppy when he comes back.
Wait. Maybe this is a nefarious plot to show us how much we suck and he rules… That’s it! Curse you, Geekman. I hope you get eaten by dust bunnies!!
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