We are moving once again on the first. Tam has been packing all week, and every time I try to grab something out of a draw or closet it's gone. Slowly, all the items I am used to having at an arms reach are disappearing. You'd think I'd be glad she's doing all the packing while I'm at work, but how can I be happy when I can't find my crazy straw?

I was trying to find an old 70s song last night on audiogalaxy.com, when I came across the 60s theme song for Spider Man...How is it that the little things can bring such happiness.

Spider-man, Spider-man
Friendly neighborhood Spider-man
Wealth and fame, he's ignored
Action is his reward


To him, life is a great big bang-up
Wherever there's a hang-up
You'll find the Spider-man!

lyrics courtesy of http://friends.cgnet.com/hhhh/misc/spidermansong.html
(beware of cheesy midi)

I am with you always

And for all you Truck Drivers out there...

Do you think he is with me when I'm flippin' some old lady the bird on I94...

On a related note:

Why is Jesus always portrayed by some white dude that looks like Ted Nugent. I mean Christ (sorry), it was freakin' Jerusalem. He probably looked more like Billy Crystal. I know it's been said before, but come on...really...

I was listening to the news the other morning on NPR regarding a suicide bomber, and I started thinking about what it would take for me give up my own life for a cause. It reminded me of thoughts I had about death as a child. Somewhere along the line I must of asked a parent or adult figure about death, and they told me I was too young to die. I took this to mean it was impossible for me to die.

I had a dream a few years later, and in the dream I had died. A few houses down the street from me there was a house that had no sidewalk. I lived in a neighborhood where every house had a sidewalk, but this house did not. The sidewalk just ended. There was grass for fifty or sixty feet, and then the sidewalk started again. In this dream that patch of grass was a cemetery, and it was where I was buried. I was both dead and alive, and I was viewing my own gravestone. Maybe I was a ghost. I don't remember for sure. When I woke up I realized the truth about what I was told, and that I too could die. I can still remember the dread I felt, and how desperately I wanted to hold on to life.

"We've been doubling sales every 18 months. However, when you start from zero, it takes a long while." -- Stephen Yeo, a marketing director at Windows-terminal manufacturer Wyse, explaining his company's less-than-meteoric rise, to ZDNet UK

The 101 Dumbest Moments in Business (sigstop)

I'm driving home with Brain...err Brian, and we got to talking about the slot machine link I posted the other day. The link just said "pull".

Brian: I think this reflects badly on the both of us. When I saw the link, I paused, looked around to make sure no one was around, and then clicked.

My mom always said that people should expect the best from me. I imagine it depends on your point of view here, but I think this applies.

I just wanted to mention that the slot machine was really Ben's idea. Well, really it was Ben bitching about not knowing what those stupid lemons meant, and how he thought they were some kind of slot machine, and when he clicked on them and they did nothing he was annoyed. So, kinda Ben's idea.

Thanx Ben...

I was looking at the lemons on the top of the site today, and it made me think of that saying that goes, "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." I started thinking about myself as a teenager, and if life gave me lemons then, we would go down to the turnpike and hurl them at cars.

If life gives you lemons, hurl them at cars

I think I like that better...

what me? bored?

pull

I was watching Doctor Zhivago last night with Tamara. During one of the many scenes where it is winter in Russia, I turned to her and said in all seriousness, "Wouldn't it be horrible to live in a place so desolate and cold?" I paused, and then we both started laughing, that sad if I wasn't laughing I'd be crying kind of laughter.

Today I tried in vain to foist some of my cleaning duties on Tamara. I tried to convince her that cleaning the bathroom held so much weight that It seemed unfair and unjust that I would have to clean any other part of our apartment. The simple and yet horrible task of scrubbing the toilet should absolve me of any vacuuming that was needed. Sadly, this ploy failed miserably. It turns out Tamara despises cleaning even more that I do, and she's willing to back it up with fists.

The other guy I met with had a lot of sharp edges and was basically the stereotype of the software developer: arrogant, condescending, sort of dismissive and asexual. It was so familiar and comforting, I wanted to hug him and buy him drinks. It was much like meeting Mark and Brian for the first time.

Ouch....

Safety videos...disturbing, and yet sadly, it makes me laugh out loud. Life is for Living is my favorite I think...

I think its time to address an age old issue. Who is your favorite Beatle? Up until the last Superbowl, Paul was up there in my list, but he readily knocked himself down by singing with Terry Bradshaw.

This would probably make a good anti drug commercial. Cut to The Beatles on Ed Sullivan, "This is your Brain", then to Paul singing with Terry Bradshaw, "This is your Brain after 30 years of smoking Pot."

In the end, for me its always been John, and secretly George...

And you?

Every Sunday morning (this is the day of the week we have allotted to cleaning) we get up and pull out all our cleaning supplies and accoutrements, and spend the morning cleaning our apartment. This is a weekly chore that I disdain. I just plain hate cleaning. This morning I started doing a little math in my head. How badly do I hate cleaning as apposed to how much I hate a messy apartment. I realized that I am on the fence on this issue. As much as I hate clutter and dirt, I equally despise the process of cleaning it up. It seems I have a reached a critical point in my life, but I have come to no resolve.