ometimes good karma is blatant and deserved and comes in the form of fortune and luck and is pretty clear to appreciate. Sometimes, however, it is not so obvious and manifests itself in other ways such as good deeds or, let's say... the Christmas Tree parking lot attendant.
Express mail envelope in hand, I rushed out the front door of my office building headed toward the post office - probably the second most frustrating place to be during the week preceding a major holiday. The wind was ripping at my face and I sped-walked to my truck, which I had, for the first time, parked in the side lot instead of the main lot. I was nearing the driver's side door when a man, bundled head to toe in Carhardt started silently flailing his arms in my direction from about 30 yards away.
I looked behind me. No one. I did a slight pan of the parking lot nearby. No one. I deduced that he had to be waving at me. I narrowed my eyes and cocked my head to the side in anticipation of some unexpected dialogue.
By the time he'd gotten over to me, he was breathing heavily and took a second to catch his breath while a weird smile crept across his lips.
"This your car?" he breathed, and uttered the phrase in a way that made it sound like a single word.
"Yeah..."
"Some lady backed into it." He braced for my reaction.
"Huh!" I said and started running my hand alongside the truck, searching for some evidence of a collision.
He reached out his hand toward the bumper and rubbed the salt residue off a small portion of it. "See, right here..."
My chrome bumper had definitely been hit. The image reflection of our faces were distorted due to the indentation.
"Crap," I said, surveying the damage, "Did she leave a note?"
"She wasn't going to," he said carefully, "But I asked her to."
"Oh, ok," I said, walking around to the front of the vehicle, where I saw a strip of paper tucked underneath the windshield wiper. I picked it up and it appeared to have been written on the seal part of an envelope, and written rather quickly. It said:
BUMP YOU CAR. NO DAMAGE. 740-xxx-xxxx
"No damage?!" I said, confrontationally.
"Yeah, well it's not up to her to decide whether there's damage or not, you know," he said reaching into his back pocket.
I just stared down at the paper. He was still figeting with his pocket.
I thought she might have given you a bogus number or something..." he started.
I looked up.
"...So I took down her license plate number when she wasn't looking," he said proudly, and handed me the scrap paper that bore a 7-digit plate number.
"Wow," I said, "Thank you so much, man."
"No problem," he said, "Have a great..." he paused, "Holiday."
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
O-H, Oh, No.
It's that time of year again. That time of year where university officials dutifully soak campus dumpsters with water and pray for rain on Saturday. The time where every radio personality on air from Thursday to the end of Sunday is blatantly and unregrettably drunk butchering away mercilessly at "Hang on Sloopy". Where every other well-known song gets turned into a parody incorporating college football, and every otherwise-unforgivable act can be quickly and effectively patched by screaming, "GO BUCKS!"
"Hey, sorry about that three-way with your sister and your wife last weekend; they were asking for it."
"What the--"
"GO BUCKS!!"
"W00t!"
For when it comes to the Ohio State vs. Michigan game, all bets and rules are forgotten, even forsaken. For on Game Day Saturday, everyone except Ohio State and Ohio State supporters are whores. Put a Michigan jersey on Jesus and even a devout Christian becomes conflicted. Nothing is sacred except for Ohio State football. People become invincible, offensive, bulletproof, and incredibly, incredibly wasted. Buckeyes football is a pass to pretty much any sort of illogical behavior, including but definitely not limited to: wearing the same clothes all week long without washing them (not too shocking, as I do this all the time anyway), body paint being an acceptible substitute for aforementioned clothing, paying more money for hamburgers because they're branded as Brutus-approved, being all right with less pepperoni on your pizza because it's shaped in a Block O (am I allowed to say that without trademark recognition?), and setting unattended furniture, people, vehicles, etc., ablaze and putting out the flames with your own beer-fueled urine. On game day, everyone is 21 and not a goddamn day older. Pagentry can only cover you for the tailgate, not the afterparty.
I asked my friend Jesse what he ended up doing last night (the Thursday preceding the "Big Game"):
Jesse: well, eneded up going to larry's and having some fun
Jesse: watched some absolute retardation all over the campus area
Jesse: people jump in mirror lake
KristineEL: Yeah I heard about that.
KristineEL: fucking idiots.
Jesse: mud, blood, titties
Jesse: hypothermia
Jesse: saw two car accidents
Jesse: and one guy fall out of the back of a truck
Jesse: but he landed pretty much on his feet
Jesse: impressive kind of
Jesse: someone screamed 'O-H' at him
KristineEL: and?
Jesse: he responded appropriately
KristineEL: sigh.
I know every Big Ten town has its traditions -- fine. As I said, the pagentry itself is awesome. I've been to an Ohio State vs. Michigan game in the shoe. I've been to a bowl game in Texas. The script Ohio is nifty and creative; no one is going to challenge its importance to Ohio State football. Moreover, the year that I went to Ohio State/Michigan here at the Horseshoe, I saw a physical fight between an 80-year old man and a 35-year old woman. At the bowl game, people could care less about the Alamo and more about publicly humiliating Oklahoma State fans and their children, all the while sharing the same vacation. There is no love from Ohio State football if you are not part of Ohio State football. Sportsmanship on OSU campus pretty much consists of "playing dumb" when the opposing team's fans ask you if you know who tipped their car over. Don't get me wrong, there is a solid sense of community here. But just for the right people.
The local news is warning incoming (and local) Michigan fans not to wear their branded Michigan gear anywhere near the stadium, and if they are approached by a mob of scarlet and grey to contact the police immediately. Anyone with Michigan plates is advised to park elsewhere or fake Buckeye support. Someone should've warned the Brooklyn-based Blue Man Group that it was game day weekend before they put their show on last night at Nationwide Arena. Before the show, the crowd erupted into a relatively strong O-H-I-O chant, which would've been fine. Once. Anytime throughout the show where a moment of silence befell the crowd, someone else started (and returned) the O-H chant. Tracy Bonham looked confused.
During the intermission between her set and the opening set of the BMG, the crowd of several thousand people simultaneously divided itself from a half-stadium into 4 distinct sections and began a cascading O, H, I, O around the building, which was stronger and louder than any of the applause the BMG got all evening. I wanted to leave out of embarrassment. My sister and I were talking about the evening's several themed chants on our walk back to the car. To elude the high parking fees I parked in "my spot", which although is free, is quite a trek through a sort of desolate, non-desirable, ill lit area. I saw a police car parked in side street up ahead and for once, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hey, there's a cop up there so we'll be fine walking through here," I said to my sister pointing at the white car parked ahead.
"Good."
We approached the vehicle and the cop (who looked about my age) rolled down the window a bit and smiled at us.
"You ladies all right?"
My sister smiled and answered, "Yes, thank you," before I interjected.
"But if you see anyone come out and jump us, if you'd come help us out that'd be awesome."
"Haha," he laughed. "Will do."
We walked for about another minute past the cruiser before we heard, out of nowhere, an "O-H!" belted out over some sort of microphone. A second microphone belted out, "I-O!".
My sister and I simultaneously turned around to see that a police paddywagon had stopped in the middle of the street, holding up a few cars, to use the PA system to throw the Ohio chant to the other cruiser who gladly returned it. We shook our heads and continued to walk when we heard a car slowing down to approach us. It was the paddywagon, which we figured had come along to escort us on this rainy, dark evening to our car pretty much located next to an abandoned warehouse.
I heard the power window, then the cackle of the loudspeaker and a small pause enough for us to both look over, before the officer again belted out,
"O-H!"
Oh, God.
"Hey, sorry about that three-way with your sister and your wife last weekend; they were asking for it."
"What the--"
"GO BUCKS!!"
"W00t!"
For when it comes to the Ohio State vs. Michigan game, all bets and rules are forgotten, even forsaken. For on Game Day Saturday, everyone except Ohio State and Ohio State supporters are whores. Put a Michigan jersey on Jesus and even a devout Christian becomes conflicted. Nothing is sacred except for Ohio State football. People become invincible, offensive, bulletproof, and incredibly, incredibly wasted. Buckeyes football is a pass to pretty much any sort of illogical behavior, including but definitely not limited to: wearing the same clothes all week long without washing them (not too shocking, as I do this all the time anyway), body paint being an acceptible substitute for aforementioned clothing, paying more money for hamburgers because they're branded as Brutus-approved, being all right with less pepperoni on your pizza because it's shaped in a Block O (am I allowed to say that without trademark recognition?), and setting unattended furniture, people, vehicles, etc., ablaze and putting out the flames with your own beer-fueled urine. On game day, everyone is 21 and not a goddamn day older. Pagentry can only cover you for the tailgate, not the afterparty.
I asked my friend Jesse what he ended up doing last night (the Thursday preceding the "Big Game"):
Jesse: well, eneded up going to larry's and having some fun
Jesse: watched some absolute retardation all over the campus area
Jesse: people jump in mirror lake
KristineEL: Yeah I heard about that.
KristineEL: fucking idiots.
Jesse: mud, blood, titties
Jesse: hypothermia
Jesse: saw two car accidents
Jesse: and one guy fall out of the back of a truck
Jesse: but he landed pretty much on his feet
Jesse: impressive kind of
Jesse: someone screamed 'O-H' at him
KristineEL: and?
Jesse: he responded appropriately
KristineEL: sigh.
I know every Big Ten town has its traditions -- fine. As I said, the pagentry itself is awesome. I've been to an Ohio State vs. Michigan game in the shoe. I've been to a bowl game in Texas. The script Ohio is nifty and creative; no one is going to challenge its importance to Ohio State football. Moreover, the year that I went to Ohio State/Michigan here at the Horseshoe, I saw a physical fight between an 80-year old man and a 35-year old woman. At the bowl game, people could care less about the Alamo and more about publicly humiliating Oklahoma State fans and their children, all the while sharing the same vacation. There is no love from Ohio State football if you are not part of Ohio State football. Sportsmanship on OSU campus pretty much consists of "playing dumb" when the opposing team's fans ask you if you know who tipped their car over. Don't get me wrong, there is a solid sense of community here. But just for the right people.
The local news is warning incoming (and local) Michigan fans not to wear their branded Michigan gear anywhere near the stadium, and if they are approached by a mob of scarlet and grey to contact the police immediately. Anyone with Michigan plates is advised to park elsewhere or fake Buckeye support. Someone should've warned the Brooklyn-based Blue Man Group that it was game day weekend before they put their show on last night at Nationwide Arena. Before the show, the crowd erupted into a relatively strong O-H-I-O chant, which would've been fine. Once. Anytime throughout the show where a moment of silence befell the crowd, someone else started (and returned) the O-H chant. Tracy Bonham looked confused.
During the intermission between her set and the opening set of the BMG, the crowd of several thousand people simultaneously divided itself from a half-stadium into 4 distinct sections and began a cascading O, H, I, O around the building, which was stronger and louder than any of the applause the BMG got all evening. I wanted to leave out of embarrassment. My sister and I were talking about the evening's several themed chants on our walk back to the car. To elude the high parking fees I parked in "my spot", which although is free, is quite a trek through a sort of desolate, non-desirable, ill lit area. I saw a police car parked in side street up ahead and for once, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hey, there's a cop up there so we'll be fine walking through here," I said to my sister pointing at the white car parked ahead.
"Good."
We approached the vehicle and the cop (who looked about my age) rolled down the window a bit and smiled at us.
"You ladies all right?"
My sister smiled and answered, "Yes, thank you," before I interjected.
"But if you see anyone come out and jump us, if you'd come help us out that'd be awesome."
"Haha," he laughed. "Will do."
We walked for about another minute past the cruiser before we heard, out of nowhere, an "O-H!" belted out over some sort of microphone. A second microphone belted out, "I-O!".
My sister and I simultaneously turned around to see that a police paddywagon had stopped in the middle of the street, holding up a few cars, to use the PA system to throw the Ohio chant to the other cruiser who gladly returned it. We shook our heads and continued to walk when we heard a car slowing down to approach us. It was the paddywagon, which we figured had come along to escort us on this rainy, dark evening to our car pretty much located next to an abandoned warehouse.
I heard the power window, then the cackle of the loudspeaker and a small pause enough for us to both look over, before the officer again belted out,
"O-H!"
Oh, God.
Tuesday, October 3, 2006
More Excellence in Journalism
And more facetiousness in my blog titles.
I think as the days go on, journalists and their respective organizations are less interested in the war, politics, and life and world-changing events and are more interested in bringing us the "down home cookin'" version of the news that borders on bourgeois entertainment. News that would get usually categoried under "News of the Weird' or perhaps used as one of the mandatory alphabetized U.S. state goings-on paragraphs in the USA Today is now in larger font than headlines informing us where our troops are. Whatever happened to boring, saltine, doesn't-affect-me-because-it's-not-on-this-continent news?
Previously, when I wanted to be entertained by the news, I watched the Daily Show. Now, I don't even have to stay up late anymore. My CNN homepage works just as well. I think the newest shift in journalism is pointing out irony and seeing if we can guess it.
This week:
A guy opens fire in an Amish one-room schoolhouse and kills some girls execution-style. Helpfully, the writer paints us the miserable picture of the scene, because none of us could be there:
"Video of the scene showed Amish young men wearing hats and suspenders and women and girls in long dresses sitting outside the small country schoolhouse, surrounded by dirt roads."
Hey, thanks. That is completely the opposite of what I pictured, and that really helps me to bear the burden of sympathy. Whatever happened to the Who, What, Where, When, and How of news reporting? It seems as though the competitive nature of newswriting is the eqivalent of going through your neighbors garbage: to seek the most disturbing details pertinent to the story without seeming directly intrusive. The "reality TV" element is also present, as an unbiased recount of events is a thing of the past. Clever editing now paints us stories of the various characters involved in the daily plots, because as Americans, we are probably unable to decide for ourselves.
Take in the aforementioned story, the Amish. They wear hats and bonnets and sit around mourning in dirt roads. Hey, they don't seem bad, right? They're victims here (no mention of profits made by handmade furniture and/or cheeses).
The gunman, however, is the Nation's newest sick love interest. I went to the grocery store yesterday and two of the clerks were chatting over their registers about this story. They traded newsbits like schoolyard gossip.
"Well I heard he killed them all execution-style..." The girl said, and raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, and I heard he was like, tooootally mentally crazy and had been in an institution or something."
Was it true? Who cares. It's something to talk about, right?
Today, instead of leaving the news story to local media to attend to, the nation's nose is still in Paradise, Pennyslvania's shit. Through today's quality reporting, I've learned several new twists to the story (and the gunman's character). Hopefully you were watching from the beginning, because if not some of this just won't make as much sense.
Please file the following under "not necessary":
-Gunman "dreamed of molesting". Um, well. He's dead now, so I am not so sure how this is related to the story other than to upset family members.
-KY Jelly found in classroom.. Seriously. See above. Consider the following quote, "It's very possible, when he talks about doing the things and having dreams for the last two years about doing things that he did 20 years ago ... he perhaps planned, with the kind of wood and eyebolts and flex cuffs and KY Jelly and other things, it's very possible that he intended to victimize these children in many ways prior to executing them and killing himself," Miller said." Is this intended to make us thankful that it wasn't worse? Newsworthiness vs. appropriateness. Work on that.
-Quotes from his wife. Not necessary, especially this one: "The man that did this today was not the Charlie I've been married to for almost 10 years. My husband was loving, supportive, thoughtful. All the things you'd always want and more. He was an exceptional father," the statement said." Sorry, but.... I'm going to have to call "bullshit".
Next: How the Mark Foley story is being handled, including awesome inside jokes you can use based on the IM chat transcripts.
I think as the days go on, journalists and their respective organizations are less interested in the war, politics, and life and world-changing events and are more interested in bringing us the "down home cookin'" version of the news that borders on bourgeois entertainment. News that would get usually categoried under "News of the Weird' or perhaps used as one of the mandatory alphabetized U.S. state goings-on paragraphs in the USA Today is now in larger font than headlines informing us where our troops are. Whatever happened to boring, saltine, doesn't-affect-me-because-it's-not-on-this-continent news?
Previously, when I wanted to be entertained by the news, I watched the Daily Show. Now, I don't even have to stay up late anymore. My CNN homepage works just as well. I think the newest shift in journalism is pointing out irony and seeing if we can guess it.
This week:
A guy opens fire in an Amish one-room schoolhouse and kills some girls execution-style. Helpfully, the writer paints us the miserable picture of the scene, because none of us could be there:
"Video of the scene showed Amish young men wearing hats and suspenders and women and girls in long dresses sitting outside the small country schoolhouse, surrounded by dirt roads."
Hey, thanks. That is completely the opposite of what I pictured, and that really helps me to bear the burden of sympathy. Whatever happened to the Who, What, Where, When, and How of news reporting? It seems as though the competitive nature of newswriting is the eqivalent of going through your neighbors garbage: to seek the most disturbing details pertinent to the story without seeming directly intrusive. The "reality TV" element is also present, as an unbiased recount of events is a thing of the past. Clever editing now paints us stories of the various characters involved in the daily plots, because as Americans, we are probably unable to decide for ourselves.
Take in the aforementioned story, the Amish. They wear hats and bonnets and sit around mourning in dirt roads. Hey, they don't seem bad, right? They're victims here (no mention of profits made by handmade furniture and/or cheeses).
The gunman, however, is the Nation's newest sick love interest. I went to the grocery store yesterday and two of the clerks were chatting over their registers about this story. They traded newsbits like schoolyard gossip.
"Well I heard he killed them all execution-style..." The girl said, and raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, and I heard he was like, tooootally mentally crazy and had been in an institution or something."
Was it true? Who cares. It's something to talk about, right?
Today, instead of leaving the news story to local media to attend to, the nation's nose is still in Paradise, Pennyslvania's shit. Through today's quality reporting, I've learned several new twists to the story (and the gunman's character). Hopefully you were watching from the beginning, because if not some of this just won't make as much sense.
Please file the following under "not necessary":
-Gunman "dreamed of molesting". Um, well. He's dead now, so I am not so sure how this is related to the story other than to upset family members.
-KY Jelly found in classroom.. Seriously. See above. Consider the following quote, "It's very possible, when he talks about doing the things and having dreams for the last two years about doing things that he did 20 years ago ... he perhaps planned, with the kind of wood and eyebolts and flex cuffs and KY Jelly and other things, it's very possible that he intended to victimize these children in many ways prior to executing them and killing himself," Miller said." Is this intended to make us thankful that it wasn't worse? Newsworthiness vs. appropriateness. Work on that.
-Quotes from his wife. Not necessary, especially this one: "The man that did this today was not the Charlie I've been married to for almost 10 years. My husband was loving, supportive, thoughtful. All the things you'd always want and more. He was an exceptional father," the statement said." Sorry, but.... I'm going to have to call "bullshit".
Next: How the Mark Foley story is being handled, including awesome inside jokes you can use based on the IM chat transcripts.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Breaking News
I try and avoid the news. It's not only because I'm lazy, but I also like to avoid being held in a constant state of depression, anger, and a general "what the fuck is wrong with people" state of mind. The insistent hammering of murder, shady political ideals, and things gone horribly awry seems to always supercede the ha-ha factor of daily reporting.
Today, however, is one of those days where 'ha-ha' soo wins:
T.O. tried to commit suicide. He tried. T.O. is usually pretty good at garnering attention in the first place, but, I can understand his decision. I mean, he plays for the Cowboys. Everyone outside of Dallas hates him, and he's Black, so most people inside of Dallas hate him, too.
The former CEO of RJ Reynolds gets a new gig as the CEO of Krispie Kreme donuts. Be on the lookout for aggressive product placement and a well-tuned marketing plan directed at minors. Dr. John Pemberton, inventor of Coca-Cola, has refused comment. Mostly because he's dead.
In Georgia, a pregnant teenage girl's mother forced her to drink turpentine to spur her abortion. In other news, turpentine does not abort babies and a condom costs about $0.75.
In North Carolina, a woman was murdered at a domestic violence shelter. I guess she should've stayed home if she knew what was good for her. The police are on the hunt for the woman's husband, who was last seen leaving the shelter with a can of unopened beer.
A middle school custodian is arrested after watching pornography at school and 'removing some of his clothes'. Subsequent studies show that 80% of men that work in middle school education are future sex offenders and 20% of them already are. The best part of this story, however, is the fact that police have a custodian in custody.
Today, however, is one of those days where 'ha-ha' soo wins:
T.O. tried to commit suicide. He tried. T.O. is usually pretty good at garnering attention in the first place, but, I can understand his decision. I mean, he plays for the Cowboys. Everyone outside of Dallas hates him, and he's Black, so most people inside of Dallas hate him, too.
The former CEO of RJ Reynolds gets a new gig as the CEO of Krispie Kreme donuts. Be on the lookout for aggressive product placement and a well-tuned marketing plan directed at minors. Dr. John Pemberton, inventor of Coca-Cola, has refused comment. Mostly because he's dead.
In Georgia, a pregnant teenage girl's mother forced her to drink turpentine to spur her abortion. In other news, turpentine does not abort babies and a condom costs about $0.75.
In North Carolina, a woman was murdered at a domestic violence shelter. I guess she should've stayed home if she knew what was good for her. The police are on the hunt for the woman's husband, who was last seen leaving the shelter with a can of unopened beer.
A middle school custodian is arrested after watching pornography at school and 'removing some of his clothes'. Subsequent studies show that 80% of men that work in middle school education are future sex offenders and 20% of them already are. The best part of this story, however, is the fact that police have a custodian in custody.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Iiii--rooohhh-neeeee
I hope you've never done anything wrong in your entire life. Otherwise, it could be really, really difficult to get a job working in the bars slinging beers to people until 2 in the morning.
Having worked in promotions for several years as a spokesperson for several different brands (think cars, beer, and liquor) I can tell you that promotional work is probably the easiest money that you could ever make by merely selling out. The hiring standards for such jobs are completely infuriating (if you're ugly) and shady at best (if you're into that ethics thing). Either you can look really awesome and have no experience, or look sort of average (but definitely not overweight) and just know the market manager.
When I heard that a friend of mine was the market manager for a very, very well-known beer manufacturer I got in touch with him to get on board. I was really sort of surprised, that even with all of my experience, he said I had to go through corporate. Go through corporate? To be a beer girl? Don't I just have to look good?
I sent 'corporate' an email, the reply to which included a time to meet for a formal interview. Seemed fair -- since the hiring staff was not located within our market --until I got to the end of the email and scanned the 7 attachments, 6 of which were to be filled out and brought to the interview.
The employment application was four pages, and included a salary history and references. The other forms required at the very least my social security number, address, and signature indicating my permission to give said company all rights to look into anything I've ever done, ever. I filled out the application half-seriously (For 'special skills' I put that I was pretty good at Trivial Pursuit), and signed over the rights to check all of my previous court cases, driving records, and run a credit report.
The interview went smoothly, however, the paper trail hadn't been satiated. She handed me two more, for drug testing.
"Why are there two?" I asked, looking down at the forms.
"Well, one of them is for the pee test," she said pointing to one of the forms, before running her finger over the next, "And this one is for the hair test."
I gave her a puzzled look. "Hair test?!"
"Yeah, basically, you can hide narcotic use in urine so they actually take an inch worth of your hair to cross-process the results."
I paused. "And this is to give people beer?"
So. You're allowed to be a beer girl who is supposed to be looked upon by the general public as someone who is informative about the product, and knows how to interact with the crowd populating any sort of bar at any given hour, however, you have to have absolutely no drug history and a perfect record. Jesus, it's a good thing restaurant cooks don't have to endure this abuse; there wouldn't be anyone qualified to work.
I had to take my lunch break to go get my hair cut off by a dude that was easily 6'4" 270 pounds. It was weird having a man of such stature thumbing through my hair, making conversation. I felt like I was at the prison barber shop. It came time for the pee test, and he spoke to me without looking at me, and his request was so odd I asked him to repeat what he'd said.
"So are you a straight shooter?"
"Excuse me?" I had meant for him to clarify, however, he just repeated the same sentence with raised eyebrows.
"Are you a straight shooter?"
I wasn't sure if he was asking me if I had a penis or if I was lying. I tried to pick the most all-encompassing answer I could think of.
"Depends."
This sent him into a full fit of heavy laughter.
"Depends?" he laughed, "On what?"
I was still confused as to how I was supposed to know whether or not I was going to be able to piss in a straight line preemtively.
"I don't know," I said slowly, "Every time is different."
Regardless, by the time I'd fulfilled all of the requirements to work on this particular account (not even having been given a guarantee of employment), I was exhausted.
Below, I've listed the requirements to become a teacher in the State of Ohio:
* Have at least a bachelor's degree, and, in some states, a fifth year or master's degree
* Complete an approved, accredited education program
* Have a major or minor in education
* Have a major in the subject area in which they plan to teach
* Have a strong liberal arts foundation
* Pass either a state test, the widely-used PRAXIS exam, or another exam
As compared with the requirements to hand out beer in a bar:
*Have at least a bachelor's degree
*Complete at least two years experience in the field
*Complete Client training program, generally in an off-site location lasting anywhere from 1-3 days.
*Be attractive, outgoing, fit, and fit a personality profile confidential to the client.
*Have a previous knowledge about said product, and be able to demonstrate that knowledge
*Drug test, urine and hair sample
*Background check: criminal and civil courts
*Background check: driving records
*Complete credit history check
So next time you see that girl in the 3/4" length shorts that looks like a referee, or a shiny silver angel it's okay to go ahead and take her home. She's super cute, disease-free, and parted with locks of her hair just to give you a flashing blinky button.
Having worked in promotions for several years as a spokesperson for several different brands (think cars, beer, and liquor) I can tell you that promotional work is probably the easiest money that you could ever make by merely selling out. The hiring standards for such jobs are completely infuriating (if you're ugly) and shady at best (if you're into that ethics thing). Either you can look really awesome and have no experience, or look sort of average (but definitely not overweight) and just know the market manager.
When I heard that a friend of mine was the market manager for a very, very well-known beer manufacturer I got in touch with him to get on board. I was really sort of surprised, that even with all of my experience, he said I had to go through corporate. Go through corporate? To be a beer girl? Don't I just have to look good?
I sent 'corporate' an email, the reply to which included a time to meet for a formal interview. Seemed fair -- since the hiring staff was not located within our market --until I got to the end of the email and scanned the 7 attachments, 6 of which were to be filled out and brought to the interview.
The employment application was four pages, and included a salary history and references. The other forms required at the very least my social security number, address, and signature indicating my permission to give said company all rights to look into anything I've ever done, ever. I filled out the application half-seriously (For 'special skills' I put that I was pretty good at Trivial Pursuit), and signed over the rights to check all of my previous court cases, driving records, and run a credit report.
The interview went smoothly, however, the paper trail hadn't been satiated. She handed me two more, for drug testing.
"Why are there two?" I asked, looking down at the forms.
"Well, one of them is for the pee test," she said pointing to one of the forms, before running her finger over the next, "And this one is for the hair test."
I gave her a puzzled look. "Hair test?!"
"Yeah, basically, you can hide narcotic use in urine so they actually take an inch worth of your hair to cross-process the results."
I paused. "And this is to give people beer?"
So. You're allowed to be a beer girl who is supposed to be looked upon by the general public as someone who is informative about the product, and knows how to interact with the crowd populating any sort of bar at any given hour, however, you have to have absolutely no drug history and a perfect record. Jesus, it's a good thing restaurant cooks don't have to endure this abuse; there wouldn't be anyone qualified to work.
I had to take my lunch break to go get my hair cut off by a dude that was easily 6'4" 270 pounds. It was weird having a man of such stature thumbing through my hair, making conversation. I felt like I was at the prison barber shop. It came time for the pee test, and he spoke to me without looking at me, and his request was so odd I asked him to repeat what he'd said.
"So are you a straight shooter?"
"Excuse me?" I had meant for him to clarify, however, he just repeated the same sentence with raised eyebrows.
"Are you a straight shooter?"
I wasn't sure if he was asking me if I had a penis or if I was lying. I tried to pick the most all-encompassing answer I could think of.
"Depends."
This sent him into a full fit of heavy laughter.
"Depends?" he laughed, "On what?"
I was still confused as to how I was supposed to know whether or not I was going to be able to piss in a straight line preemtively.
"I don't know," I said slowly, "Every time is different."
Regardless, by the time I'd fulfilled all of the requirements to work on this particular account (not even having been given a guarantee of employment), I was exhausted.
Below, I've listed the requirements to become a teacher in the State of Ohio:
* Have at least a bachelor's degree, and, in some states, a fifth year or master's degree
* Complete an approved, accredited education program
* Have a major or minor in education
* Have a major in the subject area in which they plan to teach
* Have a strong liberal arts foundation
* Pass either a state test, the widely-used PRAXIS exam, or another exam
As compared with the requirements to hand out beer in a bar:
*Have at least a bachelor's degree
*Complete at least two years experience in the field
*Complete Client training program, generally in an off-site location lasting anywhere from 1-3 days.
*Be attractive, outgoing, fit, and fit a personality profile confidential to the client.
*Have a previous knowledge about said product, and be able to demonstrate that knowledge
*Drug test, urine and hair sample
*Background check: criminal and civil courts
*Background check: driving records
*Complete credit history check
So next time you see that girl in the 3/4" length shorts that looks like a referee, or a shiny silver angel it's okay to go ahead and take her home. She's super cute, disease-free, and parted with locks of her hair just to give you a flashing blinky button.
Wednesday, September 6, 2006
On Second Thought
If you're wondering why everyone around you is suddenly starting to flip the fuck out and is for-real getting on your case, remember that Christmas is just right around the corner. Like keeping your Christmas lights safely tucked away until Thanksgiving Day (and no earlier), September proves to be the first month in which Christmas-like marketing behaviors seem intrusive and appropriate. Somewhere, some company manufactures and packages thousands upon thousands of personalized pens, magnets, coffee mugs or other similar promotional gems, and just waits until the first of September to start dive-bombing your mailbox with it.
Hey. It's September. It's not junk mail; it's a free gift.
Though some fault of my own, I've been red-flagged as the "person who handles your promotional or advertising budget" and all sorts of interesting, personalized tangibles appear in my business mail these days. The first items to roll in were some promotional 2007 calendars with a flimsy paper backing that hung down slightly lower than the calendar itself and read: "Compliments of Your Law Firm, Co." Personally, if I received this from some company I'd be sort of insulted because I'd figure they'd just collected the duplicate free samples and just sent them out without having to actually order anything.
The next thing I got was an 81/2" x 11" sized envelope containing one piece of paper and one pen. The paper was spitting the cliche "Make No Payments Now" game, but the pen had a rainbow on it. I don't know; seems appropriate for a law firm, right? I turned it over in my hands, glad to have a new pen, and saw that it read: Your Law Firm Co. GO WITH THE BEST. "We Do Law and Stuff...". Awesome. I'm keeping it although the fax number is really, really wrong.
The other day, I received an awesome 2007 leather-bound planner. It smells like the inside of a paint can, but it contains several interstate maps in the back for my reference, highlighting mostly the Canadian Provinces. Even though I much would have rather preferred something useful, like conversions or the 50 most-misspelled words, I had to appreciate the sentiment. I mean, who knows the next time I might be forced into driving to Toronto with only my free sample promotional planner, compliments of Your Law Firm Co.? Or, honestly, I might forget that Maine is really a state. Speaking of, from Ohio... how could I possibly get to Quebec if I ever find myself in Maine? Oh, yeah, Route 201. Got it.
But, today, I received the most amazing thing yet. Not only was the item in itself completely badass, but the sales letter made such great points as to why I should buy more of these Precision Laser Beam Pens. Yes, I said Precision Laser Beam Pens. And not only does the pen have a friggin' laser beam attached to it, it came in a wooden box that bore a poorly-screened face of Leonardo Da Vinci on it, beneath which read "da Vinci"; oddly neither the name of our company nor the company that sent us the laser pen. Upon opening the box, I was just blown away by the fine craftsmanship of this laser pen. It came sunken down into foam, cut out to match the shape of the pen. There was a plastic piece hugging the pen that read, "Remove before using". The message on the pen stated our law firm name and city and state of residence, without any helpful information for interested parties to contact us whatsoever. At the top, there was a DANGER! label covering most of the pen that was completely unreadable with the human eye, as DANGER! labels should be. It's a good thing I didn't point the laser on it to read it, because it read, "AVOID EXPOSURE! Laser radiation is emitted from this APERTURE!"
I was so puzzled from getting a free Precision Laser Beam Pen, that I decided to actually read the sales letter instead of immediately filing it away in the trash can. What a treat.
Dear Valued Customer: (Have we ordered from you before?)
As if inspired from the pages of a James Bond novel, the enclosed Brass Pen With Hidden Laser Beam has sold in retail stores for $20 and more!
Ooooh. Now that it's supposed to be hidden, it suddenly seems sexier, doesn't it?
At first glance, this executive pen looks like a fine, solid brass, twist-action writing instument. But look closer (thought that we were specifically not supposed to do this), and you'll discover a push-button under a protective guard (that we are to expressly remove) that activates a concealed laser beam. Go ahead...slip off the guard and try this remarkable invention for yourself.
Um. Is that a dare?
The bright red laser beam can be used as a pointer when making presentations or directed across a room to draw attention to specific items.(Studies show that when you use a laser in your presentations, your points are taken more seriously.)
This all seems legitimate. I mean, this is a business, and we do have meetings here. I began to reconsider my shunning of all of the previous laser pens when I read further:
At night it can be used to send a signal to a distant point. Pet owners with a playful side will provide endless hours of entertainment for their dogs and cats as they chase the laser beam around the house.
Now I know what you're thinking. This is a great product, but I can't afford to spend that much on a give-away.
Uh, actually, I was thinking about why it's not okay for humans to look directly into the laser, but subjecting my dog to it shows that I have a 'playful side'. Moreover, I'm wondering whose idea it was to list the second-best reason for buying a laser pen is so that we can send signals to distant points at nighttime, and what the hell da Vinci has to do with anything.
I think I'm sticking with Christmas cards. It's not too early to send those out, is it?
Hey. It's September. It's not junk mail; it's a free gift.
Though some fault of my own, I've been red-flagged as the "person who handles your promotional or advertising budget" and all sorts of interesting, personalized tangibles appear in my business mail these days. The first items to roll in were some promotional 2007 calendars with a flimsy paper backing that hung down slightly lower than the calendar itself and read: "Compliments of Your Law Firm, Co." Personally, if I received this from some company I'd be sort of insulted because I'd figure they'd just collected the duplicate free samples and just sent them out without having to actually order anything.
The next thing I got was an 81/2" x 11" sized envelope containing one piece of paper and one pen. The paper was spitting the cliche "Make No Payments Now" game, but the pen had a rainbow on it. I don't know; seems appropriate for a law firm, right? I turned it over in my hands, glad to have a new pen, and saw that it read: Your Law Firm Co. GO WITH THE BEST. "We Do Law and Stuff...". Awesome. I'm keeping it although the fax number is really, really wrong.
The other day, I received an awesome 2007 leather-bound planner. It smells like the inside of a paint can, but it contains several interstate maps in the back for my reference, highlighting mostly the Canadian Provinces. Even though I much would have rather preferred something useful, like conversions or the 50 most-misspelled words, I had to appreciate the sentiment. I mean, who knows the next time I might be forced into driving to Toronto with only my free sample promotional planner, compliments of Your Law Firm Co.? Or, honestly, I might forget that Maine is really a state. Speaking of, from Ohio... how could I possibly get to Quebec if I ever find myself in Maine? Oh, yeah, Route 201. Got it.
But, today, I received the most amazing thing yet. Not only was the item in itself completely badass, but the sales letter made such great points as to why I should buy more of these Precision Laser Beam Pens. Yes, I said Precision Laser Beam Pens. And not only does the pen have a friggin' laser beam attached to it, it came in a wooden box that bore a poorly-screened face of Leonardo Da Vinci on it, beneath which read "da Vinci"; oddly neither the name of our company nor the company that sent us the laser pen. Upon opening the box, I was just blown away by the fine craftsmanship of this laser pen. It came sunken down into foam, cut out to match the shape of the pen. There was a plastic piece hugging the pen that read, "Remove before using". The message on the pen stated our law firm name and city and state of residence, without any helpful information for interested parties to contact us whatsoever. At the top, there was a DANGER! label covering most of the pen that was completely unreadable with the human eye, as DANGER! labels should be. It's a good thing I didn't point the laser on it to read it, because it read, "AVOID EXPOSURE! Laser radiation is emitted from this APERTURE!"
I was so puzzled from getting a free Precision Laser Beam Pen, that I decided to actually read the sales letter instead of immediately filing it away in the trash can. What a treat.
Dear Valued Customer: (Have we ordered from you before?)
As if inspired from the pages of a James Bond novel, the enclosed Brass Pen With Hidden Laser Beam has sold in retail stores for $20 and more!
Ooooh. Now that it's supposed to be hidden, it suddenly seems sexier, doesn't it?
At first glance, this executive pen looks like a fine, solid brass, twist-action writing instument. But look closer (thought that we were specifically not supposed to do this), and you'll discover a push-button under a protective guard (that we are to expressly remove) that activates a concealed laser beam. Go ahead...slip off the guard and try this remarkable invention for yourself.
Um. Is that a dare?
The bright red laser beam can be used as a pointer when making presentations or directed across a room to draw attention to specific items.(Studies show that when you use a laser in your presentations, your points are taken more seriously.)
This all seems legitimate. I mean, this is a business, and we do have meetings here. I began to reconsider my shunning of all of the previous laser pens when I read further:
At night it can be used to send a signal to a distant point. Pet owners with a playful side will provide endless hours of entertainment for their dogs and cats as they chase the laser beam around the house.
Now I know what you're thinking. This is a great product, but I can't afford to spend that much on a give-away.
Uh, actually, I was thinking about why it's not okay for humans to look directly into the laser, but subjecting my dog to it shows that I have a 'playful side'. Moreover, I'm wondering whose idea it was to list the second-best reason for buying a laser pen is so that we can send signals to distant points at nighttime, and what the hell da Vinci has to do with anything.
I think I'm sticking with Christmas cards. It's not too early to send those out, is it?
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
When the Going Gets Tough
...Give up.
I'm serious. I really don't know where that whole "quitting is for losers" mentality came from, but it really takes a lot less effort to just give up when something is too difficult and time-consuming to really give a shit about.
My friend Skot sent me a Flash animation of frogs on logs. There are three frogs (green) on the left side, on individual logs, and there are three on the right side (some sort of unfortunate purple color). There is one free log in the middle seperating them. The object of the game is to move each set of the frogs to the opposite side, and they can only jump over one frog at a time and can only move toward the opposite direction from which they are being moved.
I'm all for a little challenge, so I tested my brain at the puzzle. I failed the first time. In fact, I failed probably 15 more consecutive times. The kicker is that the explanatory line at the top of the puzzle reads:
Switch the frogs to the opposite sides within 2 minutes. This is a 2nd grade computer test in China.
Oh. Well don't I feel like a fucking genius. Apparently, 8-year old kids in China are smarter than I am. So I quit the stupid game. I didn't get frustrated, I didn't get angry, I didn't even get insulted. I just quit, because I'm okay knowing that moving frogs from one side of the page to the other doesn't have anything to do with how smart I am.
Well, maybe it does, but I'm okay knowing I could square off mentally with a 5-year old Chinese kid and lose. I'm working smarter, not harder, by not letting things such as tricky Internet puzzles put a dent in my high opinion of myself. Hey, works for me.
This philosophy applies to pretty much anything. Don't want to do it? Don't. Who fucking cares? It's your life, and you can do whatever you want. Sure there are consequences, but most of them are pretty navigable. Don't want to pay your bills? Sure, your credit may take one in the ass, but there's always marriage to fix that. Don't want to apply yourself at your job? Meh, there will always be more jobs available, and friends to lie for you on your resume should you need it.
Seriously. Why stress?
No one is going to judge me as a person by whether or not I accomplish X or Y. That's for me to judge myself, and I've already made it pretty clear that I don't really care. See that chick? She's like, all stressed and got headaches and shit because she's too worried about whether she's 'emotionally ready' to deal with some bullshit when she could be worrying about where she's going for lunch instead.
There's no sense in trying to work hard to have people respect you for your accomplishments, because the only people who are going to truly respect you for your accomplishments are those that want to boast about their own. Frankly, the only pissing contests in which I'm interested happen in the privacy of my own home. The people with which I choose to associate are more interested in my ability to make them laugh, and not whether I'm bright enough to move fucking frogs around.
Frogs are stupid, yo.
I'm serious. I really don't know where that whole "quitting is for losers" mentality came from, but it really takes a lot less effort to just give up when something is too difficult and time-consuming to really give a shit about.
My friend Skot sent me a Flash animation of frogs on logs. There are three frogs (green) on the left side, on individual logs, and there are three on the right side (some sort of unfortunate purple color). There is one free log in the middle seperating them. The object of the game is to move each set of the frogs to the opposite side, and they can only jump over one frog at a time and can only move toward the opposite direction from which they are being moved.
I'm all for a little challenge, so I tested my brain at the puzzle. I failed the first time. In fact, I failed probably 15 more consecutive times. The kicker is that the explanatory line at the top of the puzzle reads:
Switch the frogs to the opposite sides within 2 minutes. This is a 2nd grade computer test in China.
Oh. Well don't I feel like a fucking genius. Apparently, 8-year old kids in China are smarter than I am. So I quit the stupid game. I didn't get frustrated, I didn't get angry, I didn't even get insulted. I just quit, because I'm okay knowing that moving frogs from one side of the page to the other doesn't have anything to do with how smart I am.
Well, maybe it does, but I'm okay knowing I could square off mentally with a 5-year old Chinese kid and lose. I'm working smarter, not harder, by not letting things such as tricky Internet puzzles put a dent in my high opinion of myself. Hey, works for me.
This philosophy applies to pretty much anything. Don't want to do it? Don't. Who fucking cares? It's your life, and you can do whatever you want. Sure there are consequences, but most of them are pretty navigable. Don't want to pay your bills? Sure, your credit may take one in the ass, but there's always marriage to fix that. Don't want to apply yourself at your job? Meh, there will always be more jobs available, and friends to lie for you on your resume should you need it.
Seriously. Why stress?
No one is going to judge me as a person by whether or not I accomplish X or Y. That's for me to judge myself, and I've already made it pretty clear that I don't really care. See that chick? She's like, all stressed and got headaches and shit because she's too worried about whether she's 'emotionally ready' to deal with some bullshit when she could be worrying about where she's going for lunch instead.
There's no sense in trying to work hard to have people respect you for your accomplishments, because the only people who are going to truly respect you for your accomplishments are those that want to boast about their own. Frankly, the only pissing contests in which I'm interested happen in the privacy of my own home. The people with which I choose to associate are more interested in my ability to make them laugh, and not whether I'm bright enough to move fucking frogs around.
Frogs are stupid, yo.
Tuesday, August 8, 2006
Internet Dates Heart Skinned Cats
So, I was thinking. You know why most of us don't commit crimes? I doubt it's because we're not vengeful enough; I've definitely been broken up with and coupled with the fact that I'm a Scorpio, I'm surprised I haven't burned down something (post 6th grade). Likewise, I've done some things to some people that I'm sure have warranted some sort of revenge toward me for being an asshole. I doubt it is due to lack of resources; if I was mad enough I'm pretty sure I could summon to the surface enough rage to bludgeon someone to death with any object within 3 feet of my reach. I'm also throwing out guilt, since guilt is manufactured and thus can be avoided with clever mind manipulation (see: Catholicism). Instead, I'm offering up some rather selfish motivation for not acting out on our most hateful desires to destroy other people: because we know we will get caught.
The underlying theme of every horror or crime movie remains the same: someone alwayssees something. And, yeah, sometimes those people are capped off, too, but the fact remains the same. And, yes, the world would be better off without a lot of ignorant, lazy, welfare-sucking lowlifes, but I mean, I'm not going to kill them since a) I kind of like my life the way it is, and b) Texas is still around.
However. It is amazing what we will do when we think no one is looking. Enter: The Internet.
Now, I know next-to-nothing about network security other than having dated some guy for two-and-a-half years that was obsessed with it. Things that most of us wouldn't second guess: filling out forms with our real names, uploading pictures, entering passwords into seemingly secure sites -- he was paranoid of it all. He gave me reasons to be 'careful', which seemed to make sense, and then continued to build his digital fortress protecting him from other people, well, like himself. I mean, we all know when to be 'careful' and we're constantly reminded that no site worth any sort of authenticity is going to ask us for our password, etc., but I think sometimes we fail to put in perspective that the reason we don't do that is because someone, a digital burglar of sorts, is just waiting for us to leave our e-doors open so he (or a very miserable 'she') can sneak in and go through our proverbial underwear drawer and steal our goodies.
On a more local level, there are always things we can do to second-guess our boyfriend's or children's Internet browsing habits, from checking the "History" tab on the browser itself to the stored AutoComplete entries, and then the most sneaky: browsing for nudie art in the Windows Temporary Internet Files cache. Hey. I said I was a Scorpio.
So what if somehow we had access to what everyone was looking for?
Whoops. In what seems to be a blatant privacy compromise, AOL (in the name of research, of course) assigned a unique ID to its users and then plastered everything they had searched for within a three-month period into some database. I mean, the good news is that Angel4567374 is now generic user 4834. The bad news is: Google maps. So much for anonymity.
I definitely don't need to point out that people are weird and scary. But people are reallyweird and scary when they don't know that they are being watched. For instance:
AOL user 311045 wants to change the brake pads on his Scion (hey, he's clearly a thrifty dude). However, in the back of his brain, he is worried about more than brake pads judging by his search history:
how to change brake pads on scion xb
2005 us open cup florida state champions
how to get revenge on a ex
how to get revenge on a ex girlfriend
how to get revenge on a friend who fucked you over
replacement bumper for scion xb
florida department of law enforcement
crime stoppers florida
We'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe just some bathroom reading?
User 1515830, however, is a complete psycho. Like 'I was afraid to break up with her because I was afraid she might drink Clorox' psycho. I mean, she is a Raiders fan.
Her search string:
chai tea calories
calories in bananas
aftermath of incest
how to tell your family you're a victim of incest
pottery barn
curtains
surgical help for depression
oakland raiders comforter set
can you adopt after a suicide attempt
who is not allowed to adopt
i hate men
medication to enhance female desire
jobs in denver colorado
teaching positions in denver colorado
how long will the swelling last after my tummy tuck
divorce laws in ohio
free remote keyloggers
baked macaroni and cheese with sour cream
how to deal with anger
teaching jobs with the denver school system
marriage counseling tips
anti psychotic drugs
Naturally, she's from Ohio, as she's trying to lose weight by eating baked macaroni and cheese with sour cream. On the other hand, she sounds like a perfect candidate for a teacher. She apparently doesn't have a sex drive and she already knew she was psychotic before wasting her money on a Bachelor's in Elementary Education. Have fun in Denver!
If you've ever seen the movie Gummo, then, maybe this next dude isn't so weird:
cats skinned in fort lupton co
cats killed in fort lupton co
jonbenets autopsy photos
crime scene photos of the crawl space and duffle bag in ramseys house
sexy bathing suits
what a neck looks like after its been strangled
pictures what a neck looks like after it was strangled
pictures of murder victims that have been strangled
pictures of murder by strangulation
knitting stitches
what jonbenet would look like today
new jersey park police
jonbenet in her casket
ransom note in the movie obsession what did it read
movie ransom notes
scouting knots
manila rope and its uses
brown paper bags cops use for evidence
rope to use to hog tie someone
body transport boulder colorado
Masturbation : Arousal
Skinned cats : Jonbenet's Corpse
Awesome.
My favorite, though, is AOL user 2708. I used to think New Hamshire was sort of boring. But I know differently, now that I know this woman is trolling around the mountains:
revenge tactics
the woman's book of revenge
dirty tricks for chicks
voice changer
how to humiliate someone
bill me pay later for cd's
scams to play on people
how to get revenge on an old lover
i hate my ex boyfriend
how to really make someone hurt for the pain they caused to someone else
columbia house
advice from women who have seeked revenge on old lovers
makehimsuffer.com
how to say goodbye hurtfully
how to report child neglect in the state of new hampshire
free articles on gay life that can be mailed to me
free christian things
free gay magazines
free angry stuff to send to an ex lover
how to permanently delete information from your hard drive
makehimpay.net
women's harley davidson boots
I'm okay with this so far. The next entry, however, is the most disturbing:
www.match.com
Yeah. Be 'careful'. I've met some of these people.
The underlying theme of every horror or crime movie remains the same: someone alwayssees something. And, yeah, sometimes those people are capped off, too, but the fact remains the same. And, yes, the world would be better off without a lot of ignorant, lazy, welfare-sucking lowlifes, but I mean, I'm not going to kill them since a) I kind of like my life the way it is, and b) Texas is still around.
However. It is amazing what we will do when we think no one is looking. Enter: The Internet.
Now, I know next-to-nothing about network security other than having dated some guy for two-and-a-half years that was obsessed with it. Things that most of us wouldn't second guess: filling out forms with our real names, uploading pictures, entering passwords into seemingly secure sites -- he was paranoid of it all. He gave me reasons to be 'careful', which seemed to make sense, and then continued to build his digital fortress protecting him from other people, well, like himself. I mean, we all know when to be 'careful' and we're constantly reminded that no site worth any sort of authenticity is going to ask us for our password, etc., but I think sometimes we fail to put in perspective that the reason we don't do that is because someone, a digital burglar of sorts, is just waiting for us to leave our e-doors open so he (or a very miserable 'she') can sneak in and go through our proverbial underwear drawer and steal our goodies.
On a more local level, there are always things we can do to second-guess our boyfriend's or children's Internet browsing habits, from checking the "History" tab on the browser itself to the stored AutoComplete entries, and then the most sneaky: browsing for nudie art in the Windows Temporary Internet Files cache. Hey. I said I was a Scorpio.
So what if somehow we had access to what everyone was looking for?
Whoops. In what seems to be a blatant privacy compromise, AOL (in the name of research, of course) assigned a unique ID to its users and then plastered everything they had searched for within a three-month period into some database. I mean, the good news is that Angel4567374 is now generic user 4834. The bad news is: Google maps. So much for anonymity.
I definitely don't need to point out that people are weird and scary. But people are reallyweird and scary when they don't know that they are being watched. For instance:
AOL user 311045 wants to change the brake pads on his Scion (hey, he's clearly a thrifty dude). However, in the back of his brain, he is worried about more than brake pads judging by his search history:
how to change brake pads on scion xb
2005 us open cup florida state champions
how to get revenge on a ex
how to get revenge on a ex girlfriend
how to get revenge on a friend who fucked you over
replacement bumper for scion xb
florida department of law enforcement
crime stoppers florida
We'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe just some bathroom reading?
User 1515830, however, is a complete psycho. Like 'I was afraid to break up with her because I was afraid she might drink Clorox' psycho. I mean, she is a Raiders fan.
Her search string:
chai tea calories
calories in bananas
aftermath of incest
how to tell your family you're a victim of incest
pottery barn
curtains
surgical help for depression
oakland raiders comforter set
can you adopt after a suicide attempt
who is not allowed to adopt
i hate men
medication to enhance female desire
jobs in denver colorado
teaching positions in denver colorado
how long will the swelling last after my tummy tuck
divorce laws in ohio
free remote keyloggers
baked macaroni and cheese with sour cream
how to deal with anger
teaching jobs with the denver school system
marriage counseling tips
anti psychotic drugs
Naturally, she's from Ohio, as she's trying to lose weight by eating baked macaroni and cheese with sour cream. On the other hand, she sounds like a perfect candidate for a teacher. She apparently doesn't have a sex drive and she already knew she was psychotic before wasting her money on a Bachelor's in Elementary Education. Have fun in Denver!
If you've ever seen the movie Gummo, then, maybe this next dude isn't so weird:
cats skinned in fort lupton co
cats killed in fort lupton co
jonbenets autopsy photos
crime scene photos of the crawl space and duffle bag in ramseys house
sexy bathing suits
what a neck looks like after its been strangled
pictures what a neck looks like after it was strangled
pictures of murder victims that have been strangled
pictures of murder by strangulation
knitting stitches
what jonbenet would look like today
new jersey park police
jonbenet in her casket
ransom note in the movie obsession what did it read
movie ransom notes
scouting knots
manila rope and its uses
brown paper bags cops use for evidence
rope to use to hog tie someone
body transport boulder colorado
Masturbation : Arousal
Skinned cats : Jonbenet's Corpse
Awesome.
My favorite, though, is AOL user 2708. I used to think New Hamshire was sort of boring. But I know differently, now that I know this woman is trolling around the mountains:
revenge tactics
the woman's book of revenge
dirty tricks for chicks
voice changer
how to humiliate someone
bill me pay later for cd's
scams to play on people
how to get revenge on an old lover
i hate my ex boyfriend
how to really make someone hurt for the pain they caused to someone else
columbia house
advice from women who have seeked revenge on old lovers
makehimsuffer.com
how to say goodbye hurtfully
how to report child neglect in the state of new hampshire
free articles on gay life that can be mailed to me
free christian things
free gay magazines
free angry stuff to send to an ex lover
how to permanently delete information from your hard drive
makehimpay.net
women's harley davidson boots
I'm okay with this so far. The next entry, however, is the most disturbing:
www.match.com
Yeah. Be 'careful'. I've met some of these people.
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