Wednesday, April 27, 2005

This post's primary purpose is to remove that horribly frightening picture (me hanging upside down with no pants) off of this blog's main page. Secondarily, I figured I would counter that post by listing some blogs that absolutely have not sucked ass, and have earned some attention.

Jen Guerard: from November 16th on is stunning
Ed Grandstaff: the blogging quality staple
Bill Middendorf: reading this blog makes me shit my pants.

While on the topic of good blogs, I have read an inordinate amount of them lately. There is a lot of great writing out there, like intimidatingly great.

  Tuesday, April 26, 2005

It's time once again for everyone's favorite game: What alien does US Senator Arlen Specter from Pennsylvania most resemble. And the winner is...


THIS GUY from Star Wars! Thanks for playing.

  Saturday, April 23, 2005

I just discovered that as of April 11th, I am a great-uncle, for the third time! I was an uncle before I was born, and now at less then a quarter of a century, I've got a nice little stockpile of children two generations under me. Scared that those of my kind are populating the world at the fastest rate?

  Tuesday, April 19, 2005

What the hell is this blog about? The Ongoing Adventures of Rory?!? I think that's the problem: I haven't had any adventures lately. Today was my birthday, let twenty-four be the age that i make due.

  Monday, April 18, 2005

The exit off the interstate to get to work has two lanes. I was not in either of them about 300 yards from the separation point. I put on my right turn signal, checked my mirrors and turned my head. I had about a one and a half lengths to squeeze into. I pulled up as close as possible to the front car and waited, hoping the rear guy might let off and allow me some space. He didn't.

This guy had about 7 to 9 seconds to back off before I forced my way into the slot. It wasn't like I carelessly swung myself into the side of his car while humming the theme to Smokey and the Bandit. Nonetheless, instead of slowing down and staying the course this man slipped (I'm unsure of the expediency of this maneuver) into the other exit lane, which by the way was empty because only assholes ride there since they merge again shortly. As he then sped by he gave me the finger. He didn't just flick me off. This finger was good. It was like a monolith being erected from his fist with thousands of tiny monkeys worshipping at the base. This finger was spectacular.

Now I tend to be a fairly happy driver, despite my lack of a car radio and the ability to groove to its tunes, but I do get angry. Normally this occurs after near death experiences or in unexplainable traffic jams. The former is overshadowed by my sense of relief and the latter is mostly directed at those bureaucrats who mismanage interstate funds. I have never given the finger; I can fathom how one could be motivate to do so, but who wants to start there day getting that pissed at someone who's just trying to get through.

I tried to reason it out. It could have been someone I knew and he was just messing around. Playfully, I'd say, "Haha, Jim, I'll get you back you finger giving cocksucker," but I didn't recognize him. Maybe he was the type of guy who just likes to swear, someone who gives people fingers like they're Christmas presents: "Joyeux Noel to you mother-fucker!" but again, he didn't look very happy. No, this man was pissed off. Already on edge, upset from having to start another shitty day of his shitty life.

I do not have a shitty life, and I want my driving experience to reflect that. Even though my road rage levels are low, I will strive to store less anger. And I will let nobody bring me down with the awesome bitterness of their middle finger.

  Thursday, April 14, 2005

A fortnight ago, at work, I accidentally knocked over a cup of water in a meeting while conducting boredom countermeasures (thumb twiddling, pen clicking, shuffling post-its). Mid spill I proclaimed myself greatest man ever and then had little time to avoid being bombarded as the drink ran off the table and onto my crotch. This was no little drip, it was a full-fledged, soak through to the underwear, running down my leg, totally looked like I pissed myself spill.

Amused, but embarrassed I graciously took my coworkers jabs for the hour of work remaining and drove home in shame. I accounted it to a rookie mistake; I took my licks and figured I just overcame the greatest social obstacle I'd ever be dealt. Then today, about lunch time, I sat on a brownie.