Thursday, August 11, 2005

I've been using this awesome chick percentage a lot lately. It serves well when someone is complaining to me about women. I'm spoiled though, because I feel like I've met more then my fair share of awesome chicks. I attended high school with folks ranging from the class of '96 to the class of '02, that's seven years of students. Let's assume my class, '99, had the mean number of students, 330, and take half of that to get girls. That gives me:

330 x 7 x ½ x 0.16% = 1.86 awesome chicks

We'll round that up for this analysis which means I went to high school with only two awesome girls. Not only was I friends with both of them, but now they both have blogs.

Tai Wischerth needs no introduction, but she gets one anyway. Mostly everyone knows her from XUS (I'll recap that one day, I promise). I could write endlessly about how cool she is, which is to say, very cool. What makes her extremely cool is she thinks I'm cool. Bonus! Her writing is random and loosely tied to a point, but transcends the gap between story telling and writing a story enough to be entertained while being informed of what she's up to.

Jenna Nigro (left) made famous here by my excessive use of this picture, has steadily climbed the ranks of friend and into the family category. Her writing so far shows intelligence, abstract references, and caters to her known audience. Three posts don't seal the deal yet, but there's promise; however, her fiancee, Ryan Murphy, is now my new source of news. I had an idea Ryan was sort of cool since Jenna first started telling me about him, but like anyone watching Bill Nye, NOW I KNOW! He's witty and topical, quick to the gun and high on content, and puts on a good display of the kind of power that couple will wield.

Also, Edmonson and Byrne have blogs, and Bill has a new place. I basically had a blogroll housecleaning. Blog navigation rarely occurs through blogrolls anymore, so I figured what appears there ought to reflect more on who I am and less on what I want to remember to read, at least until I figure out my unique new sorting system. If you're mad that you aren't there, it may be because your blogging lacks consistency, you haven't written in months or your blog sucks. I'll add you as these qualities change. It may also be that you have some music or something embedded in your site that likes to notify computing that I'm doing something I'm not supposed to. Please change this, it'll be hard to get fired for negligence two years from now if I'm fired for conduct next Tuesday.

  Tuesday, August 09, 2005

It's hard to find the right words when someone you love gets married. I struggled for a while with Buck and Lauren before punting the tribute idea. However, Jim Goodman kind of falls into his own category.

I talk and send emails back and forth to many people whom I consider friends, but there are only a handful of people in my life that are my best friends: the type I exchange Christmas cards with and whose children will call me uncle. Jim's not one of those. But there's an even smaller number of people who I consider role-models, and he's one.

There was a time when things got me down and I worried a lot. Being surrounded by people with his attitude got me through that. I'm as worryless as I am now because I know him and people like him. Then when I'm out in the world on my own, he's the one calling me to find out what I'm up to. Class act. Laura Kleinke just landed herself the best catch in the sea.


I cried at the ceremony. Bad. Like I was watching Beaches. Some people call that sweet, I call it being a woman. Either way, that's how much I love this guy. Good luck to you and Laura dude, and thanks.

On tap: I spend way too much money to fly home for the Becky-Brad Wedding this weekend. Becky was the first friend I met in high school. Brad is the only person I know to profess his love to a woman and have it work. Although I have emailed Brad and been to Becky's house within the last three years, I don't think I've seen them since my Sixth Annual Softball Game. Ought to be interesting.