Friday, July 30, 2004

You see that blue 1983 Honda Accord over there with the crumbled back-right corner... That's right, it's mine baby.


I failed to mention this earlier because It's been a total b trying to find the cord that connects the computer to this households digital camera. I've actually had this baby for over a week now and crossed it off my checklist before the job.

Interesting Side Story: My brother-in-law drags me down to Santa Cruz for unknown reasons one day after he gets back from work. On the way he won some coolness points with this little tale. He was researching some guy online who jipped him out of 50 bucks for a microwave that they sold in the Pennysaver. Turns out this guy is an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church, and evidently you can be too. By simply filling out their online application with only the details of your name and address, you can instantly be directed to a printable version of your credentials. Todd showed me his and it's phat. If you don't like being called minister, for an extra $5 you can have it changed to Priestess or High Summoner or whatever other religious title tickles your fancy. The church itself is under scrutiny by the IRS. If two of your friends ordain themselves you can start a church and then make tax exempt church expenses. The general information FAQ is definitely worth a look. The first line reads, "The IRS is your friend."

Back to the car. So anyway, we pull into some driveway in Santa Cruz and he points to my new automobile and says, you're driving that home. He bought it on eBay for less then I've paid to rent a car for a weekend. It was definitely a cool surprise. One could argue that a year ago I had the mind-set of an nine year old. If that's true then over that last year I've grown up about eight years because I had the feeling of being about seventeen and getting my first car. At this rate my mind will be out of college by Christmas.

Point of all of this is that my new car rocks, and it rocks because it sucks, and because it sucks it's awesome. So what if the back is punched in and it makes a funny noise when it starts, all first cars need a good story. The coolest thing of all: the exhaust pipe goes right back up into the rear of the car so I have to drive with the windows down, or else I'll die.

  Thursday, July 29, 2004

My California checklist reads something like this:

1) Job
2) Car
3) Pay Debts
4) Computer
5) Apartment
6) Digital Camera

After I finish 1 and 2 it will be an ongoing goal to get a better job and a better car, but without getting too far ahead of myself right now, I can check off number one.

It's nothing special and it's only part-time, but until I can find something more permanent and regular (even then I'll probably stick around on weekends) I'm teaching middle and highschool kids math at a nearby learning center. It pays well enough, the people are nice, and the younger female instructors there are pretty decent looking.

  Monday, July 19, 2004

Sam has got to be the luckiest three year old boy in existence. All last week he went in the morning to these swimming lessons at a private high school nearby. There were a few other kids there getting lessons and the instructors were all members of the school's women's swim team. I'm not ashamed to say that these sixteen year old girls were hot! Then my nephew, who can't touch the bottom of the pool and is deathly afraid of the water, gets to have this sweet little thing hold him and carry him around the pool for twenty-five minutes. His teacher in particular had to be the most gorgeous one of the bunch. I later found out from the other mothers there (who evidently have some psycho mom culture thing going on) that she is also the sweetest, most polite, and caring person ever. I'm jealous.

  Saturday, July 17, 2004

One of the neat things about California is that everyone has the nicest lawns. They may only have 7 square feet of them, but they are the best 7 square feet ever! I have developed this odd obsession with sitting as close to the ground as possible; I make it a point to when I'm outside (to take advantage of the nice lawns), but this has to transcended to my indoor dwellings as well, giving the impression that I suffer from some mild form of schizophrenia.

My nephew Sam has been pretty cool; we play this game where we see who can jump further, he kicks my ass every time. At what age though do you stop talking to kids with a baby voice? I would imagine that when the day comes that I have my own kids, I would give baby talk about four minutes... tops. My sister seems to think it should last at least 3+ years. At this point, after five days, it's getting on my nerves; I can imagine what it's doing to my brother-in-law.

  Friday, July 16, 2004

So I'm here, San Jose, my new home.  There is a lot I want to post about the trip out here, but I'll wait until I get the pictures and video, which may take a while. So far, these first couple days have been uneventful. My sister is a trip though: she tries to be as least Sant as possible, but probably is more Sant then the rest of us. I'll get more into that later, but from now on I'm referring to this place as the Everhart household, which is her married name.

I'm looking at this change of scenery as a move, which is scary to me. I'm changing my address and no longer paying taxes back home. I've never gone anywhere before without knowing I would be back, and the fact that I don't know really is frightening. Without getting into it, it's what I need, commitment to a new idea. Let's all hope it works.

More along some traditional Rory lines, I had my first not so big decision to make today. My California haircut. Being that I am in the land of the stars, I was thinking I'd go movie star style on the hair. I boiled it down to either a Jake Gyllenhaal or a Josh Hartnett, which you can compare below.


My logic was that I would land a chick similar to the ones that the two hair role models are dating. This means that my haircut is basically a decision between Kirsten Dunst and Julia Stiles. Unfortunately, in part to my sister's prodding, my eventual haircut most resembles a classic Rory; meaning (and I take this from a summation of the last five years) that my girl prospects will be restricted to eighteen year olds that are very self conscious.

  Saturday, July 03, 2004

Go to xus.perenic.us to sate your needs of Rory until July 14th.