The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Thursday, December 18, 2003

Okay, flyonthewall... here you go. (and everyone else that happens to read this...)

The station had its holiday party last week. And by all accounts, it was lame. The barbecue that was provided ran out quickly (my roommate and I got the last of the brisket), it was held in the parking lot (with the lovely ambient sounds of the adjacent highway), and the only real excitement came from someone bringing a "sport and travel" flask of hard liquor. I did get to give my roomie a chance to see the station for a little while. I then met up with some frustrated co-workers at a restaurant for some nouveau chinese food (I had a gin and tonic and some sushi, how hip am I?)

On the other side of holiday parties, the week before, I went to a party hosted by one of the reporters. It was a great friggin' party. Nice people, great food, and sports on the TV. All the ingredients for a good time, in my opinion. I did notice one thing though, and this is a word of advice to anyone that comes across this: don't hang around a group of news people for long, they'll end up talking shop forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for hearing about who did what to whom at work, but the conversation about stuff just kept going and going... It was a good thing that I had to leave (I had to work that night at midnight), or who knows how bored I would have been. It probably didn't help that I was the only station employee sitting at the table where this conversation took place that wasn't in the news/editorial department.

Okay, so hopefully you all read the article from Relevant magazine from the last post. If you didn't, read it before you go on.

As if "Queer Eye" and Men's Health haven't confused me enough about how I should be, now I'm supposed to be a poet AND know it as well?

For the record, I have changed a flat tire (once within the last three weeks), gone to mass (also once within the last three weeks), and sung along to Coldplay, the Roots and 311. I have not camped, climbed, lifted, moisturized, hammered, written, sawed, painted, philosophized, photographed, or boxed though. I just makes me wonder what exactly I ave to go through in order to be noticed by women, short of standing on the side of a busy street wearing a sandwich board saying, "Date Me."

This is a big part of the jealousy I have of my roommate, who is pretty much described as the author's ideal. And yes, he has a girlfriend. I'm not saying I want to totally be like him (I don't want my penis to be THAT small*), but if I could pull even half of the stuff from his bag o' tricks, I think I'd be alright.

Hey Pico! What did I ever do to get thrown off your link list?

As you may know, I'm somewhat of a game show freak. Which is why I L-O-V-E this new site, The Page O' Clips. Clips of game shows from the classic to the recent. I'm just waiting for him to get around to putting up some clip of the old kid's game show, "Fun House."

I'll get to the taco thing later, I think I've ranted long enough.... out.


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