:: Phone Conversation ::
FreeBSDGirl: Hi, one of my friends told me ya'll might be looking for an admin. Is the position still open?
Manager at Company: Yes, what's your name?
FreeBSDGirl: Randi Harper.
Manager at Company: Oh, FreeBSDGirl!
...
Bloody Hell.
Blogs are the old meme. Let's face it: just about everyone has had a blog at some point. Even hunchback, grumbling, retired toll booth officers feel the need to project the way they feel on the world. They've got something to say. Don't we all?
It's hard filtering out the crap blogs from the ones worth reading. What really makes a blog worth reading, anyways? I've heard lots of people say that blogs are boring. Who wants to hear about someone elses daily life? I suppose if you go boring places, have boring friends, and are a boring conversationalist, this is true. So how is it that there are so many popular blogs online? What sets them apart?
A lot of the more popular blogs aren't really what I consider blogs, at all. By definition, Gizmodo is a blog - they even won a bloggie, an award given out to noteworthy blogs - but I view it more of a news site. I think of blogs as being more personal than that. They deal with a persons every day life.
In my mind, the phenomenon of blog opposes one of the basic truths I've always held about human behaviour. Next time you're in a conversation with someone you're reasonably close with, someone you can talk with quite a bit about personal things, count how many times you say the words "I" and "me". Pay attention to how much you talk about yourself. When your conversational partner says something about himself or a situation someone else is in, you try to compare it to some part of yourself or your experiences, and you comment based on that. The average person is listening, but they aren't just listening to the words being said, they are listening for a pause in the conversation. They're just waiting for their turn to speak. The average conversation is a casual dual of monologues. It's not that either person is more self centered than average, it's not even that they don't care what the other person is saying; it's just human nature to be more interested in yourself than someone else.
So what's up with the interest in blogs? The act of writing a blog, that I can understand. It soothes our inner ego. Despite how many people may or may not be reading, we feel like we've said something, and it's out there. It's our personal space. We can say what we want, and no one can do anything about it. It's a place to vent without repercussion (not true, but that's how many view it). It feeds our "look at me! look at me!" urges. It can give a misguided feeling of power. In a conversation, someone can interrupt you. On a blog, you just get it all out. You tell your friends, your family, even complete strangers your URL with a feeling of pride. The average Joe Blow blog has very few readers, usually just the author and maybe a few friends and family, but the number of readers doesn't matter to the author. What matters is the feeling of being heard, whether it be by 3 or 300 readers. You've got their attention, you're holding a conversation, but it's all one sided so you don't have to give them that pause so they can insert their two cents. Commenting functionality started appearing on blogs, because although authors liked having that moment of venting their internal monologues without the momentary respites, they still had the egotistical need of knowing that people took time to consider their words, even if the readers comment might be negative.
That explains the motivation of the author, but what of the readers? If it's a natural compulsion to speak rather than listen, why does one person read another person's thoughts? Newspapers, magazines - those are easily explained. It's a different class of writing. When you pick up a newspaper, you expect to learn something, be it of world events or what that crazy Marmaduke does next. Why read about what books Chloe is reading, or how difficult Jacob's mid-terms are? What makes a blog worth sacrificing your side of the conversation?
The question I've posed about blogs reminds me of a DVD I bought on the clearance rack at Target, Being John Malcovich. If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend picking it up. It was never very popular in theatres, despite the fact that it's got a few big names in it. If you hate it, you've only wasted $9.99. It poses an interesting outlook on human behaviour, though. The person that is satisfied with who they are is very rare indeed. People will always want to know what it's like on the other side of the fence. What would it be like if I were <insert name here>? Is there life better than mine? What would it be like to switch lives with that person for a day? It doesn't even just apply to celebrities. Have you ever felt that way about the popular kid at school, or how about your next door neighboor? There's also the Jerry Springer complex. We all hate the show, but we've all watched it at some point. Maybe we even watched it more than once. We pointed and laughed at all of the freaks on the show, smug in our beliefs that it could never be us, we're so much better than them with our SUV's, 2.5 children, golden retriever, and our white picket fence. Sure, we have problems, but at least our children aren't pre-op transvestite prostitutes with stuffed animal fetishes. Maybe we need the constant reassurance that someone else has more problems than we do - or maybe we just want to know that someone else faces the same challenges we do.
Sure, there's the rare blog that can talk about something as mundane as baby vomit, but say it all in a way that makes even the most jaded of us laugh. That kind of writing talent from a personal blog is rare, indeed. There's also the occassional blog that we read not only for humor, but because we feel like we might actually have something to learn from this person.
I'm not naive enough to think that people read my blog because I'm a good writer. I try, but I know I have a long way to go. There's a few reasons my blog is as popular as it is. It doubtless has little to do with the fact that I'm a female in the technical industry. Fellas, it's not as rare as you think. Most fat girls are smart. How else are we going to land husbands? Just kidding. :) But seriously, breasts with a brain (however abused) are definitely part of the appeal. I know a lot of it also has to do with the controversy that seems to follow me wherever I go. I used to invite it; drama was fun. It kept me from getting bored. If I didn't have something to stress about, life just didn't feel right. Now I've calmed down a lot, no doubt having something to do with Mike, but the talk continues, so I keep racking up hits. I'm not complaining. Being trolled gives me something to laugh about, and it keeps me on my toes. I also seem to be bringing in a lot of weird hits from search engines. "gloryhole movies"? None of that here, ya'll, move along. I wonder though - do any of the people searching for such strange and obscene things see that this site isn't quite what they were looking for, but continue reading? Who knows.
Regardless of hits, I'll always blog. The way I look at it, $100/month for a server is cheaper than $100/hour therapy. Most people have at least one person they dump their shit on, be it a good friend or a therapist. I have a lot of friends now, but I'm not comfortable doing that kind of thing. I don't even do that with people that I'm extremely close to, like Mike and Michelle. I vent a little occassionally, but for the most part, I keep personal things to myself - until I get a chance to put it in my blog. It's good therapy. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
And if I happen to get a small fan club along the way, well, that's not my fault, now is it?
Getting a house is a lot of work. I seriously don't think people in apartments realize how easy they have it. I want an apartment, just so I don't have to deal with this house and all of the money eating I'm sure it's going to do. Ok, not really. Having a house is going to be awesome, but it's still a lot of stuff to consider to where my brain is about to explode.
First, we have to get furniture. Mike is all about getting the cheapest furniture we can get just to get by just for now. I, on the other hand, believe that furniture is a statement of self. Not to the extent of which you see all these art snobs going "Oh my GOD, this table is so ME!" No, none of that. When people come to my house though, they see a place that is supposed to reflect me, at least in some way. No paisley prints here. No velor curtains. No Norman Rockwell paintings. Not here.
So the question du jour: what kind of furniture is my style? I'm so eclectic. I like modern, but not super-modern, to the point at which it's all looks and no function. I like antique, but I don't want a house that looks like it belongs to my AP English teacher from High School. (Jesus, that woman was a raging bitch. She's the one that drilled it into my head that it's either as in "i-ther" not "ee-ther".) I like bright colors, but I'm scared of them and tend to go with dark blue for everything, although I'd like to be brave. I abhor the color red. I can't have white, ecru, off-white, cream, eggshell, or any varient of those colors due to the dogs, the kid, and the boyfriend. Oh, and money is a factor, unless I want to buy it all one piece at a time.
I think I'm just going to buy 40 black pleather bean bag chairs and distribute them throughout the house. Problem solved.
Mike's sister, Rachel, had her high school graduation party Saturday afternoon. There was a bit of confusion - I thought I had Nathan this weekend, Chad thought I didn't. Chad was nice enough to bring Nathan up to the party, for which I am extremely greatful. I know it's a long drive - nearly an hour from where he lives - and it means a lot to me that he'd go to all that effort. I felt a bit out of place around all of her families friends, but they are making an effort to make me a part of everything. Mike's friends Mike and Rhiannon showed up, so I hung out with them and their baby most of the day. I forgot how much fun being around a baby can be. She took to me pretty well, and I spent most of the afternoon bouncing her on my knee, watching Nathan run around the yard with the rest of the kids. He was a player, as usual. He managed to get all of the high school girls following him around at some point. He started picking flowers and putting them in the front pocket of his Osh Kosh overalls so he could pull one out whenever a pretty girl looked his way. With his blue eyes and blonde hair, he's destined to be a heart breaker. Everyone commented on how well behaved he was. He even helped clean the house after the party was over, much to Mike's parents surprise. He didn't get those habits from me, folks. We didn't leave until nearly 10 PM, so he was entering his super-hyper phase, when he fights as much as he can to keep from falling asleep. He stayed in a remarkably good temper all night, and jumped into bed as soon as we got home. Mike's snoring on the couch, and I'm spending a restless night in front of the TV playing Star Wars: KOTOR II again. There's a TV show I'm addicted to now, Family Business.
The show uncovers the naked truth of a family whose business just happens to be adult entertainment. FAMILY BUSINESS centers around Adam, a proud single dad who runs the family business with his sometimes meddling, but well meaning mom, Lila, and cantankerous cousin, Stevie. The series follows Adam as he faces the same problems that many people encounter - running his own company, juggling a hectic schedule and looking for the love of his life.
What's on your Tivo?
It's actually quite cool in here, but my fan is broken. I've had a habit of sleeping with a fan on since I was a little kid. It doesn't matter if my room is 60 degrees (and sometimes, back in the old farm house in the winter, it was!), I must have my fan on. It doesn't even necessarily have to be pointed at me, I just need to know that it is on. If I can't hear it, I can't sleep. I rolled over in bed to put my book down and turn the fan on to prepare for another night of sleepy bliss, but the fan wouldn't work! It's making a bzzzzzzzzzzz noise, but it's not turning the blades. Grrr. Mike is at this moment working on taking apart my beloved fan to see why it won't work, but I don't hold out much hope. It's fan shopping for me this weekend. I think I may go raid my dad's house and see if he has an extra one.
RJ-45 isn't looking so good. I've written before about all of her problems, but here's a quick rundown to you new people. She's got demodectic mange, a crappy immune system, and a heart murmer, among other things. She recently caught poison ivy as well. Although the poison ivy is gone, it seems that it spurred on her other problems even more. She's lost a lot of weight, and her body is covered in oozing sores. Mike and I covered her legs and her shoulders in gauze because she wouldn't stop chewing on them. I'm hoping it'll help. She shivers constantly, and her eyes are almost swollen shut.
Mike talked about putting her to sleep. I know she's in a lot of pain, but I can't think about doing that. It's like I'd be admitting defeat. It'd feel like I failed her somehow. I hate seeing her hurt, but I don't know what to do. She's so miserable. I'm going to wait a few days and see if she gets any better. We gave her a peroxide bath and bandaged all of her wounds. I hope it helps. If not, I've got a tough decision to make.
My uterus hurts.
Also, when the boyfriend is trying to initiate relations, affecting a lisp and nerd voice and saying "spear me with your lightsaber of love" is not considered a turnon.
I'm a moderator on QDB, now. It's a tweaked version of the bash.org code, with a smaller, more select database of quotes. Bash.org's standards have kinda been falling, probably due to all the new moderators. Anyways, read qdb! :)
...the owner opens the bar on a sunday (it's closed normally) and keeps it open well past the legal closing time just for you and two friends. Oh, and doesn't charge for drinks. Bradleys++.
If you have been directed to go to this link, it's because you've posted a picture or profile on a website that needs some help. Here's some tips for creating a profile that has better content then the inside of a septic tank (if big words are hard for you, i'm talking about poopy).
This list is a work in progress and is subject to change. If you have similar bad experiences and would like to include something on the list, please post a comment. Comments are subject to deletion if stupidity is detected.
1. It's Internet. Not "NET". Shortening it to net was ok back when that one movie with Sandra Bullock came out, but it's no longer acceptable, and certainly not in caps. Nor should you refer to it as the "web" ,"www", nor internet. It's a proper noun.
2. When half your profile talks about how you like to chat online, that makes you sound like an antisocial retard that never leaves your computer. This isn't the image you want to project on others. No one wants to date a socially inept cow.
3. Spelling is important. A profile is important enough to warrant you going back over what you've typed to make sure everything is correct. Some typos and spelling errors are so blatant, I doubt the author even looked at the screen while he was typing. I'm sorry, I left my idiot decoder ring at home.
4. Punctuation counts. Don't add multiple exclamation points and question marks to reach the minimum character limit. Also, every sentence doesn't have to end in an exclamation point. It makes you sound permanently perky. Don't have one really long run-on sentence.
5. Everyone likes music. Why not talk about how you like oxygen? Or, how about sunny days? I love sunny days! Walking on the beach is awesome! Hanging with friends is cool, too. I love hanging out with friends.
6. If you're 40+, you shouldn't refer to yourself as a "party animal". It's rare that a 21 year old female hooks up with a 40+ year old man unless he's got money. It's generally best that you try to aim for someone in your own age group, and I seriously doubt an older woman is going to be turned on by the aspect of being with a man that acts half his age.
7. If you're wearing a wife beater and standing in front of the confederate flag in your picture, don't claim you're not a redneck. We all know better.
8. Do not blame your profile on your friends. Your friends did not make you do this, you're just worried that someone will think you are pathetic for joining the meme craze of online personals. This isn't something you need to be ashamed of. Just remember that whoever is looking at your ad is just as pathetic as you are.
9. There's no need to describe aspects of your physical appearance that are apparent in your photos. Example: "I have blonde hair and a goatee."
10. Unless you're built like Vin Diesel, don't post pictures of you topless. Mantits are not attractive. You'll have much better luck scoring with your shirt on and the lights down low. Camwhore it up. If you are Vin Diesel, don't even bother making a profile. Just email me.
11. Don't post a picture of you with your ex. This should be common sense.
12. It's "girl", not "gurl", "grrl", "grrrrl", or any other combination of too many r's and not enough i's. The riot girl scene is dead, move along.
13. Saying that you are picky is asking people not to message you. Being overly critical is not an asset.
14. Do not for any reason provide unrequested pictures of your penis. Penises are ugly. Functional, but ugly. Do not brag about your penis size. In fact, leave your penis out of the conversation altogether.
15. Do not use "net speak", "aol speak", or "leet speak". Examples: lol, rofl, u, r, 2, l33t.
16. Emo sucks. Get over it. Also, don't claim to be goth, especially if you're some angsty teenager. Conform to the norm, I demand you start shopping at the gap. There are a few exceptions to that rule, but for the most part, goth sucks.
17. Don't talk about cutting. If you're emotionally wounded, then don't go to some personals site looking for someone to pity you. If you are a cutter, please email me your cutter porn. hep wants it.
Here's a good example of what not to say. This should go in the profile hall of shame.
urm.. wots there 2 sey look at me lol! jokin urm.. ma hobies urm.. singing.. grade 6 bin singin all mi life love 2 dance n all that lot, urm... bois, shopin n lookin decent is probs main prioritys in life at the mo !! and ma m8s bcuz i love um xx
Last revision of this list was May 21, 2005. Permalink is http://freebsdgirl.com/profile.help.
It's been over 2 weeks since my last update. A lot has happened, I've just been so busy.
Starting off, I got dooced. It happens; such is life. They knew I was looking for a new job, anyways. I felt bad about leaving in the middle of such a busy time, but they wanted to rush it. 3 days later, I had an interview at a new company. Providing I pass the background check - and I don't see any reason why I wouldn't - I'll be employed once again. As toor said, it's 1996 for sektie, 24/7, 365.
Mike left for Networld+Interop in Vegas the day before, so I had to make the call to him letting him know what happened. I wasn't so much upset about being dooced as I was about telling him. He took it about how I thought he would. 2 hours later, I had an interview set up with the company I'm about to go work with. This alleviated his stress a bit.
This was Tuesday. I got home, and what does a bored FreeBSDGirl do? She puts on her party dress and heads to Bradleys. This set the tone of the week. The first night was fairly uneventful. I went with my sidekick2, knowing that I'm not the most social person in the world. I'm not used to going out without Mike, so I liked to have something to fall back on so I'm not just staring into space. I talked on IRC for a bit while enjoying my screwdriver, then got ready to leave when I saw that Adrienne, one of the few people I felt all that comfortable talking to wasn't going to show up. As I was walking out, two guys stopped me and told me to come talk to them and they'd buy me a shot. I told them I wouldn't drink a shot, but they could get me another screwdriver. They both seemed nice enough sober. One of the guys got very drunk very quickly (ick, jaeger), and kept telling me to drop my boyfriend and hook up with his friend, the nice drunk. The nice drunk kept apologizing for the dumbass drunk, and I talked to him most of the night. When Calvin arrived, I went to Churchills with him and some other guy because Bradleys closed early. I think I got home around 3 AM.
Wednesday, I went to Bradleys again. I met up with Christie and talked to her most of the night. After the bar closed, I went to some hot blonde chicks apartment with her, and hung out with two hot blonde chicks and Christie. One of the hot blonde chicks gave me a back massage. It was awesome. I got home at 7 AM (ish, not sure).
Thursday, Cinco de mayo. Pics here. Started the night at Tijuana Joes with Christie and Adrienne. Went to Bradleys around midnight, already pretty drunk. Got drunker. Left with Calvin and drove around most of the night, went to some really cute chicks house. She looks just like Pink, even has the same hair and same attitude. She's supposed to be doing my hair as soon as I call her. She is awesome. Calvin drove me home around 9 AM on Friday morning, and I had a job interview later that day. I felt like crap, probably due to food poisoning. Whatever.
Ok, so, funny story. I don't do meth. I did it before, years and years ago, but I'm generally drug free. However, Calvin came over and he had some and he wanted to smoke it. I figured, what the hell, I'll try it once. So we're at my place, and I'm like, Ok, how do we do this. He says, "Well, we need a pipe." I didn't have one. He suggested a lightbulb, so I went and got one. We both sat staring at it for a while, wondering how the hell to get the end off. I left it up to Calvin, but he didn't have much luck. I think he broke 3 lightbulbs before he managed to do it properly. He tried using scissors, knives, breaking it against a table - any number of things. Anyways, the end result is that I didn't smoke any meth. It just seemed like too much effort. Drugs are bad.
I went to the job interview, and the recruiter met me downstairs. Her reaction? "Oh my god, Beth didn't tell you to wear a suit?" So, according to her, I already practically had the job - I had so many internal recommendations that it would be hard for them not to hire me. I wore a skirt and a nice shirt though, and she said the guy interviewing me was the type that would get a bad impression if I didn't wear a skirt. I was feeling like crap from the food poisoning, so we just rescheduled. I had no suit, and I was 3 miles from the mall, so I drove to Bloomingdales and threw myself into the arms of the first gay man I could find. He took one look at me, set me down in the dressing room, brought me water and tissues, and proceeded to find me the best suit ever. I paid $800 for it, but it was totally worth it. Hella Ellen Tracy/DKNY.
Mike came home that weekend and flipped his shit. $800 is too much to spend on a suit? Whatever. I needed it. Everyone needs at least one good suit, right?
Well, that details week one. Week two is a blur of talking to the new company, playing Midnight Club: Dub Edition (which rocks the shit, by the way). I taped together my Powerbook today so I could use it again. Between being kicked down a flight of stairs, being thrown at the wall, falling off the back of the TV, being stepped on by Mike, and dropped on the pavement several times, it is a miracle that this laptop survived. I'm going to take the tape off soon and take some pictures to send to Apple. Maybe I can convince them to give me a new laptop in return for using mine in the Apple museum as testament of how hardcore Apple products are. Apple, I promise I will not talk about how much your devtools suck ass or how you're all trendy faggots anymore if you do this. Love, FreeBSDGirl.
When I think of the ghetto, I think of gunshots and fried chicken.
For your viewing pleasure, here's some fun links.
(CNN) Some crazy white bitch from Duluth decided to run away from her wedding and report herself as kidnapped. She got caught, and she can't figure out what the fuss is all about. Duluth is a fairly rich town, but they blew $60k looking for this ho. That's not chump change. Her dumbass boyfriend she stood up at the alter is defending her, saying that everyone should be allowed to make a mistake. He still plans on marrying her. Haha, sucker.
Randi: Do you have ADD?
Nathan: Yeah! I have Shrek DVD!
(phone conversation)
Randi: Where are you? We've been waiting for you for a while. You were supposed to be home with the groceries half an hour ago.
Mike: Well, I went out to the grocery store and then stopped by Bradleys...
Randi: wtf? Bradleys? Why?
Mike: To drop off that computer.
Randi: So that's what took so long.
Mike: I was only there for a minute.
Randi: Yeah, so you're telling me you didn't have a drink while you were there?
Mike: Only a beer.
Randi: One beer.
Mike: Um, and maybe a shot of jaeger. The guys were all there. They made me do it.
Randi: OK, Homer.
