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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Jason's LiveJournal:

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    Sunday, November 8th, 2009
    7:58 pm
    Directions
    Here's how I understood how to get from Chester from Birchwood Blvd.
    1) At the second roundabout (rotary, for Americans), I head South to catch the M6.
    2) I stay on that briefly and connect with the M56 heading west to Chester.
    3) Soon enough I'll see signs to some other M road for Chester; it's easy going from there, and before I know it, I'll be enjoying traditional yet modern French cuisine with my wife for a belated anniversary dinner.
    This 30 mile journey should take no more than 40 minutes.

    Here's how I actually from Birchwood Blvd to Chester.
    1) Note sign at second roundabout indicating existence of M6.
    2) Take the exit I consider the direction of the M6.
    3) Express considerable concern at unexpected presence of 3rd roundabout which only gives directions to the local library and a street that is actually called Locking Stumps, because this is England, and people used to be locked in Stumps.
    4) Continue on in a straight direction because surely the M6 is straight ahead, even though I know from considerable experience driving this road that it only leads to Warrington, and chavs (Americans: chav is slang for a Youth Always Dressed In A Track Suit (Usually With A Shaven Head) Despite No Sign of Athletic Tendencies).
    5) Confirmed chav sighting. Definitely in Warrington.
    6) Hit steering wheel several times, as if it's steering wheel's fault.
    7) Drive 2 miles north, which is the complete opposite direction of Chester, to the M62, which I know will connect to the M6.
    8) Succeed in connecting from M62 to M6. Turn on rock music.
    9) ROCK OUT.
    10) Note signs indicating future connection to M56.
    11) ROCK OUT.
    12) Note more signs indicating future connection to M56.
    13) ROCK OUT.
    14) Note that signs no longer mention future existence of M56.
    15) Resume physical abuse of steering wheel.
    16) Issue forth a stream of expletives making my mouth too dirty to kiss my Mom.
    17) Pull over at rest stop and consult with map. Realize that I've zoomed past the exit. Plot a turn around.
    18) Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why!
    19) WHERE IS THE NEXT EXIT? I'M GOING TO DRIVE INTO THE ENGLISH CHANNEL AT THIS RATE. I JUST WANT TO HAVE A NICE ANNIVERSARY DINNER. WHERE IS IT?!
    20) Oh there it is.
    21) Drive all the way back up to the M56, connect to Chester successfully, turn on rock music toward the end.
    22) ROCK OUT.

    I don't know how it happens. Maps lie to me. They make it look so easy. Oh, the green road connects to the blue road which connects to the roundy bit which connects to the undulating bob and you're there! Maps also save me after forces conspiring against me get me lost. But they only save me only after leading me into a false sense of confidence. It's a terrible relationship we're in, this building up only to let me down, to pull away the metaphorical football. Maps and I need couples counselling. Also, someone needs to monitor the road signs. There must be gremlins that are waiting for me to drive by and rotate the signs. There's no way any of this can be my fault and I know this for one simple reason: I am a man. My penis is genetically and divinely designed to be the divining rod of the road.

    Anyway, directions teleport out of my pockets when I put them in there. For instance, last night I printed out a map of Chester showing the clear location of our anniversary dinner and then locations for a music club and the cinema and the interesting Roman Historical Whatsies. I was going to present this to my wife so that she would think that I was spontaneous and romantic and Takechargey and therefore issue me with an extra ration of neck kisses. But once in central Warrington and on my way to the M62, I checked all those pockets and found that it had teleported out. After careful consideration, the only reasonable explanation is that the paper was inhabited by the spirit of a wily djinn who then teleported his paper form out of my pocket, accompanied by a series of tinny giggles. I do not accept the possibility that I pulled the paper out to write a last piece of information and left it there, completely unfolded and in the centre of my desk, this giant sheet of 8X10 white paper easily visible in clear contrast to the blond wood it sits on, which is how I found it this morning.
    Saturday, February 21st, 2009
    12:59 pm
    I saw a job posting today...
    The posting is for a Writer for something called Digital Creative:

    Everyone rips it out of Creatives.​ Scruffy, late, rude, emotional.​ But anyone who’s ever been one, or worked closely with us, knows that a bit of denim and passion can actually change the world.​ We certainly want it to change ours.​ We need people with the ability to have ideas that alter the way people think.​ Sway opinions, switch loyalties, adjust beliefs, reject received wisdom.​

    Take a creative and add in the ‘digital’ moniker and you are suddenly ‘the next big thing’ or ‘the future of the business’.​ You might well be both.​

    We’re looking for ideas that make us uncomfortable.​ Thought processes that may be disjointed and illogical, but that deliver results.​ And deliver them on a digital platform.​ Let me repeat that.​ You need to deliver your creativity on a digital platform.​ We want you to take our industry by the scruff of its neck and give it either a kick up the jacksy or a big sloppy kiss.​ Either will probably do it.​

    You will need to be fully versed on web accessibility and usability principles with proven abilities to work with corporate brand tone-of-voice guidelines .​You’ll be working closely with other creatives, digital art directors and front/​backend developers.​ Ideal core skills will be proven, regular and consistently awarded commercial web writing ability.​ You will be able to take briefs from your own initial concept, working with a digital Art director, right through to digital delivery.​
    ---
    My response:
    Greetings TMP Worldwide,

    You know something? You're right. People do rip it out of us creatives. Just the other day I was here at the computer, creating, and by that I mean subtly changing the world, when my wife comes over to me and says, 'Hey, husband, stop being creative and make us some dinner, yeah?' I try to tell her that she doesn't get it. The world does not revolve around food going into her stomach, or even mine. It revolves around words. Creativity. Art. Digital. Five minutes later, as I made our Quorn Cauldron Burgers with a side salad I stood there thinking, surely there is a company out there who I can be Creative for, a company who will understand me, a company who won't make me cook dinner.

    I've found you. We've found each other. Let's be creative together. Let's kick some goddamn industry jacksies. What is that? An arse? I'm American. I have no idea. But if you want me to kick it, I'm going to kick it as creatively as I can. They might be expecting a straight punt, but I'm coming at them with a roundhouse. Whoa, what? Hold up. Can you even do that? Can you creatively roundhouse kick the industry in the jackey? Answer: ...I will get back to you. Also, I have to stretch out first.

    The point is this, TMP Worldwide. I've been kickin' jackies and punchin' spontags (believe it) since I was 3. (I needed some time to figure out my life direction) Once I got started, I couldn't stop. The kindergarten shows, the recorder festivals, the school theatre groups, the unpaid highly regarded post-university theatre group, the writing of (a) brochure and hilarious fake programs for that group, being published in the Not For Tourists Boston 2007 Travel Guide, winning a Best of Craigslist nod for a post about free sod, and so much more.

    You talked about rejecting received wisdom. Case in point: eggs. Everybody was freaking out about eggs. Not this guy. I'd been eatin' two eggs a day for years. Feelin' great. The protein helps with the kickin' and the punchin' and other creative-type violence. What's in the paper the other day? Crack into an egg, they're good for you. I rejected that no-egg wisdom out of my instinct and, some would say, my obstinacy. My creative, creative obstinacy.

    You mentioned all this stuff about web accessibility and usability. Listen, TMP Worldwide, that's something I just don't know about. But if you stick me in a room with a glass of milk, a large quantity of shortbread, eggs, and a copy of Web Accessibility And Usability Principles For Creative Obstinates - I'll come back to you in two days a complete expert. You'll question how I could have learned so much on what appears to be a completely inadequate diet for learning and I'll say, 'Stick that in your Asynchronous JavaScript and smoke it, or, if you're Creative like me, put it in your bubble bath - and have a relaxing time!!'

    As you can clearly see, I am fit for this job. I eat my breakfast, no matter what science tells me, I pump out cover letters like this while wearing a fleece robe and two pairs of trousers , and I'm drinking water from a mug made for tea. All these things are true. It behooves you to hire me, wouldn't you say?

    Faithfully yours,
    Jason Warner

    Current Mood: creative
    Wednesday, January 28th, 2009
    10:25 pm
    Howdy y'all.

    Here's what's fun about walking around in downtown Boston after 6 inches of snow that's immediately melted by rain:









    ...I'll get back to you.
    Monday, January 19th, 2009
    9:03 pm
    You Are The Problem
    Howdy.

    There was this woman who came into Starbucks this week. I greeted her with a very friendly hello and I was met with this response.

    "Yeah hi, could I get a regular tea?"

    No. No you can't.

    First of all, I didn't hear a please.

    Second of all, this is Starbucks, not your Uncle Barry's where he can only half remember where the tea is kept, and, when you find it behind the expired Chef Boyardee and next to the stale Double Stufs, it's essentially ground up pine nettles. No, we don't serve regular tea. We serve Tazo tea. It is harvested by nomadic Nomads from the tip top of mountainous mountains in far flung corners of the (earthy) earth where it's not only their living but their sole source of entertainment. Also, Tazo tea is fair trade, so a percentage of every cup sold goes to providing the Nomads with a better life in the form of a subscription to The New Yorker.

    Third of all, we have 12 different kinds of tea. There's green, black, herbal, chipotle-flavored. She might as well have come up to me and said, "Yeah hi can I have a beverage?"

    In the Starbucks handbook, it is required that we provide service that will result in an "enthusiastically satisfied" customer every time. So I didn't say - "I'm so sorry, we're all out of regular tea, but if you had your heart set on being an adult at some point today I can show you our tea menu."

    No, instead I very reasonably asked, "What kind of tea would you like?"

    She gave me a look. A look that said, "Did you HEAR what I said?"
    Then she said, not missing the opportunity to sigh dramatically, "You know, like black tea."

    We have, like, three kinds of black tea but I could see that heading down that conversational path was fraught with the possibility of a vein in my head exploding. Arterial spray is frowned upon in the Starbucks handbook, so I chose a tea and smiled through the stupidity.

    Two days later, a woman comes up and asks me, "Yeah hi could I get a regular tea?"

    As the words, "What kind of tea would you like?" automatically issued from my mouth I realized it was the same woman.

    And it was this same woman who said, on the verge of an eyeroll...

    "We go through this every time."
    Monday, January 5th, 2009
    10:19 pm
    Howdy, y'all.

    Starbucks has infiltrated my mind so completely that I even had a very regimented sleep last night. I would wake from one dream long enough to feel like, "Right. That dream's over. Let's move on to the next one. And when that one's done, I'll change position, take off my top and adjust my leg with a grunt. No. I'll just grunt. Yes, that'll be better."

    I work at Starbucks at Faneuil Hall in Boston. I am back from New Zealand. Did you know I was there? I was there all last year until November. Over the last 18 months I've gone from North Carolina to Medford to Auckland to Wellington to Queenstown to Las Vegas (where I was married to Sara and you can click digital photos to see us) and now I'm living at home with my parents while I await my marriage visa to go to England. I am your well-traveled, modestly-bearded, happily-married, green-aproned barista. I'm sorry, was that soy milk with your vanilla latte?

    I've been working at Starbucks for about four weeks. It was the first job I could get. I work there for twenty hours a week, 17.25 of them very stressful. The rest of the time I hide in the bathroom.

    I've worked for stressful periods at other customer service jobs. In Queenstown, New Zealand, I worked the winter season at Novotel Hotel as a concierge. That concierge role encompasses many duties. Among them: valet, area information guide, restaurant service, ski/snowboard retrieval, lightbulb repair, toilet roll restocker, American Election Expert. There would be infrequent instances where I'd have to do many of these at once, like the time this guy wanted his car brought around but it was blocked by four other cars and a few people wanted their snowboard but also directions to the mountain at the same time that someone wanted to know where they could see the bloody Lord of the Rings film locations as if they're really going to recognize the place that Aragorn was pushed over a cliff by an orc during the 400th minute of Return of the King at the same time as the restaurant needed a hand dealing with the two bus loads of hungry Americans who weren't scheduled to eat there but now very much were at the same as Ms. Haversham wants her bags down and so I moved one of the five cars and told the person that the cliffside from Lord of the Rings is SO COOL and I clear three breakfast dishes and I give people their snowboards and tell them not to break any bones because hey this one person in room 119 broke their arm getting off the lift of all places but hey don't worry I'm sure you'll be fine and then I go up to Ms. Haversham's room to get down the apparently heavy bags only to discover they weigh about 3 Celsius each or whatever (you have to speak Metric over there) and she totally could have brought them down herself but noooooo she wants to get the bag treatment because she can.

    Generally speaking.

    Something like that would go on for an hour or two and then I'd spend most of the day reading the latest update about the aforementioned American Election or trying to figure out what the hell a Collapsing Ruck means in RugbySpeak.

    Starbucks Faneuil Hall is a different beast. On the weekends, it's like that all day. The demand for caffeine is intense and unceasing. I have tried several times now to hold my own at the bar. I've made it for about ten minutes on my own before I suffer a nervous breakdown and am gently cradled by my coworkers and placed back at the cash register where I shake off the glassy look of terror in my eyes and have a much better time. The multitasking at the bar, and multilooking at the multitude of cups, and the increasing multitude of multiplypissed off people wondering where the hell their 5 shot soy vanilla no foam latte is because it's been more than 2 minutes - this is what freaks me out, and causes me to tell my sleep, hey, One Thing at A Time.
    --
    That Single Ladies song from Beyonce is so catchy, isn't it?
    Tuesday, September 25th, 2007
    9:22 pm
    Concerning the matter of the dining room table that we no longer wish to have occupying space here
    http://greensboro.craigslist.org/fur/432202388.html

    Hi there.

    Sadly, we must part with this dining room set. It's been in our lives for two months and since we are leaving for places other than Greensboro, we can't fit it into our carry on luggage. No, I can't say that would be practical.

    This dining room table and accompanying chairs will seat you and three friends quite comfortably, even those friends of yours with ample bottoms. For, as you can see in the picture, the seats are wide and accommodating. And should your ample-bottomed friend slip and strike himself against the table, do not fear - the table will not move. For the table weighs so, so very much. It is not going anywhere. In a situation where you are facing high winds, perhaps a situation where a tornado is about to suck you into its gaping maw, grab onto this table (sacrifice the chairs), and you will be saved.

    Although this is listed as a dining room table, you do not have to use it exclusively for that purpose. Live, as they say, outside the box(y dining-room table). With four feet (4') of surface area, there is ample room for all sorts of purposes. Here, allow me to list some for you.
    - Monopoly games with messy people who like to leave their money and deeds in several messy piles

    This is actually the only other purpose I can think of. Clearly I am trapped inside the box(y dining room table). I hope that you are not as restrained.

    The table is 28 inches high, sitting on a base of what may possibly be solid gold. There can not be any other explanation as to why it's heavy. If times are tough, try to melt it down and see what happens. At the very least, you can claim that you tried to melt your dining room table. Finally, you will have a mark of distinction with your friends. Even those with ample bottoms.

    Do you think that $100 is too much for this table? I can not imagine this possibility, but perhaps you are not as impressed with its many potential roles as I've laid out in this advertisement. If you are not, make me an offer.
    Wednesday, September 5th, 2007
    11:03 pm
    Life in Greensboro 1
    Howdy.

    "My ex girlfriend is very attractive."

    This non sequitur start to a conversation was delivered to me by Adam, coworker at Muse Restaurant, where I'm currently employed. Located at Friendly Center near central Greensboro, it's one of the few upscale restaurants around, a menu packed with French terms helmed by an award winning chef with a prominent brow and equally prominent gut.

    Adam though, is from some other strange planet. Mostly bald, with pricks of hair trying to break through, he's just graduated from somewhere and speaks mostly in a near-monotone, or in a silly servile accent that he recognizes he's helpless to stop doing. He also likes to sing songs to himself or to us.

    He slept in his girlfriend's bed last night, his EX girlfriend's bed. They dated for eight months. They met and moved in her quickly; she was staying in a bad neighborhood at the time and he had an extra room. And now, three months and drunken kissing later - her being the drunk one - he was on her bed last night. Nothing happened. But he was pleased to be there. I've been in that situation before, and I don't think any good can come of it, but good luck to him.

    Adam will drop things like this. My first day working with him, Adam strode across the floor and pronounced, "I think it's pretty safe to say that that croissant was off the chain." As deadpan as can be. And while he stands there at the Squirrel ordering system - why a squirrel? - when he can't think of what his next move is supposed to be, he twirls his arm in the air like he's in his own private, very slow rave.
    ---
    At home, I've gotten about an hour of nonwork Sara time over the last two nights. The poor thing has been waking up at 5am, meaning I also wake up at 5am. I assure her that it's going to be an okay day and that she shouldn't worry about the Test in March. Like so many other teachers in the No Child Left Behind era, she's teaching to this test that will determine if these kids pass fourth grade. It's an incredible amount of pressure, and just one of the several sources pressing down on her.

    Up at 5am, snooze alarm and spooning for a half hour. Before half of my body is on the bed her hand is zeroing in on my arm and dragging it around her like a life jacket. I curl up next to her, kiss her shoulder and neck. When she gets out of bed at 5:30, I get out too. I make her lunch for the day - two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, nuts, assorted fruit - and then breakfast - toast and jam, with an orange to combat whatever infection she's picked up. I carry her crate of stuff out to the car, kiss her (mouth, side of neck, other side of neck, ear, ear, mouth again), and I nod as she gazes dreamily into a future that doesn't involve teaching. She's thinking librarian. She drives off and I wave like she's leaving on a transatlantic voyage. I go back to sleep for two hours. I don't see her again until past 6. Last night it was 6:30, tonight it was 7:45. If it's not planning and/or homework, it's some meeting.

    I make dinner, I clean up from dinner, then I help her with homework. Tonight it was correcting spelling and reading comprehension. My part alone took 90 minutes. She was working on the other side of the table the entire time. How one person can manage to do this job alone, WHY one person would do this job alone boggles both of us. As she said tonight, "I was only at work 12 and a half hours, why shouldn't I do more work when I get home?" An experienced teacher at her school is working the same hours.

    She read some of her trashy magazine - Owen Wilson is doing much better, she reports - and I read to her from an adult choose-your-own-adventure book.

    "I'm sorry that all you get is scraps from me," she muttered, barely awake, smothered bed sheets and my arms.
    "That's okay."
    "Are you sure?"
    "I'm sure."
    "Really?"
    "Really."
    "Luh u."
    "I love you, too Sara."
    ---
    I have pictures up at Flickr.
    http://www.flickr.com/photos/24418921@N00/
    Saturday, June 16th, 2007
    7:00 pm
    #1409
    Howdy.

    I'm pretty scared about the move to North Carolina. I've never lived out of the state for more than 6 weeks, and that was when I was 12. I got to play Final Fantasy II in my Grandma's house in San Diego all day. When that got too taxing, I went to the pool.

    It won't go that way in North Carolina. Unless we have a pool. But the point I'm making is that even though it's a scary thing way out of my comfort zone and my Super Nintendo is on the fritz: I have love in my life. I have Sara. And Sara writes me things like this:

    "I am just back from Kate's and ready for reading and bed. We have an early start in the morn. I know Boudica [fierce Celtic warrior] and her army marched all the way to Colchester but we are going in a camper van. She would have gone in a camper van if she had been clever enough to invent one. In the end, no one successfully made one until the Viking era. Eric Bloodaxe Campervanssssen eventually made one in 1203."

    Stop packing your things to North Carolina, only *I* can move there to be with her.

    When we were in North Carolina last year, right around this time, we watched a sunrise over the ocean. We picked the one morning it wasn't beautifully sunny. Crazy people were out running or chasing after their running dogs. On the beach was a large round piece of cardboard, and to me, it looked like it had once been the resting place of a giant pizza. Sara noticed it too and asked what it was. I said it was a sea pizza. "A sea pizza?"
    "Yeah. Poor little guy. Must have beached himself here."
    And we spent the next 15 minutes riffing on the precise origins of the sea pizza, its natural predators, what it liked to eat, how it procreated, and then continued on when we got back to Boston! She'd ask me a question, I'd give a ridiculous answer, and then she'd turn away, her mind racing to find something else to ask me.
    "Are there sea calzones?"
    "Of course not, don't be ridiculous."
    "Are you sure? Because I was watching the BBC - "
    "Not everything the BBC says is true."
    "How *very* dare you insult the world's *finest* news organization."
    "Maybe one day your country will get something we call Fox News."

    We have a lovely time together.
    Saturday, May 26th, 2007
    12:27 am
    I had two desserts today, and one was after breakfast
    Howdy,

    A restaurant in Charlestown is looking for a food busser, runner, whatever they call it and I need me some money to afford things like a Sara visit and an Israel visit and, oh yeah, my move to North Carolina at the end of this summer. I'm moving to Greensboro. Do you know people there? Do you know a good place for ice cream? Please pass on your knowledge in the comments section.

    Right, so, the restaurant was looking for someone and I'm looking for money so I wrote them this cover letter and I have an interview today at 2pm.

    Enjoy!
    ---

    Hi there,

    My name's Jason. Hello. I was wondering if you had found anyone for the runner position yet. Before I get to all the reasons you would absolutely love having me on staff, let me list out the possible reasons you may not to save you time.

    1)        I have two huge vacations lined up – one from June 20-July 2 to go to England to visit my girlfriend and another July 9-19 to visit Israel.

    2)        I have a full time job at the moment that ends at 5:30-6, but not on the weekends, which is when you're looking for people anyway

          3)       I do have restaurant experience: I've worked in a restaurant all of once in my life, as listed on the resume [there was also the time that I got hired at the Pewter Pot in Tewksbury MA and then they called me to say that they were going out of business after 30 years]

    Okay, those are some knocks against me, it's true. But why SHOULD you hire me, despite that? Despite the super boring resume that I've attached?

     

    1)       I love food so much it makes me wanna slap my mama. You give me a good piece of chocolate, ice cream, burger, whatever, and I will call her up and tell her that she should consider her face smacked because I'm in such food heaven. If customers don't know what they want to get, I will help them. I am Jewish. I am programmed to make sure everyone eats well.

    2)       Although I have a desk job, we have free weights here that I lift during our many phone calls. I'm very strong. I could easily lift lots of dishes.

    3)        I bike everywhere so transportation is not an issue. Also, due to all the biking, I'm very fit and I have good balance.

    4)        I have a well-groomed beard that inspires trust and comfort.

    5)       As the resume makes clear, I have nothing BUT customer service experience. Oh no! Someone just caught a chicken bone in their throat? I'll talk them down AND make them get dessert. "Nothing better for getting over near-suffocation than some chocolate cake! It has a lava center!"

    6)        I've worked the Retail Christmas Rush the last many years. I can deal with chaos with grace.

    7)        I'm super easy to work with. I take direction well. I've been in a theater company for three years, so I especially take direction well.

    So that makes 7 reasons I should work for you versus 3 reasons I shouldn't, and according to my second grade math, 7>3. Therefore, I'm a perfect fit. You can call my current boss, Someone Someone, to ask him how I work well with people and others: [number of Someone Someone].

    Have a great Memorial Day weekend,
    Jason Warner

    Wednesday, March 28th, 2007
    4:56 pm
    I am on You Tube, it seems
    Howdy everyone.

    I found out over the weekend after 11:11's latest show that I am on You Tube. A former castmate of mine in our Award-Winning Production of The Unnoticed told me her boss - another 11:11 alum - had discovered the clip.

    I am in the final threeish minutes of this, if you want to skip ahead. I'm glad the camera is not high resolution so you can't see my legs shaking from not knowing my lines 100%. However, that also means you can't see that the gun I'm wielding is pink and very very fake and very very very awesome.

    You should not watch this.
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHQ2AsfGXM8
    Friday, December 22nd, 2006
    11:08 pm
    A happy moment, with Ambient Devices
    I got a bonus today. $200 bucks(!) for my endless overtime this week to prepare for the Christmas onslaught, which will likely involve more endless overtime. This picture does not capture that mood, but it's a face of steely thumbs-up resolve in the face of hundreds/thousands of customers.

    Christmas for me, in the past many years, has meant family and presents and all sure, but it's also meant that instead of the Day After Christmas Glow where you get to enjoy your presents in your underwear - is that just me? - I know that I have customers to appease, so I look on it with a kind of dread.

    At 3pm today, Concierge Elizabeth came into our office - our temporary corner office at a building across the street thanks to a transformer fire/explosion two weeks ago that has sent all the companies working there to temporary spaces until mid-Janurary.
    "You guys are the only ones here," she said, incredulously.
    I looked up at her, "Why? Where's everyone else?"
    "Um..." And it was then I realized that for the rest of the working world, this is the Friday before Christmas, and everyone else left long ago. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. A part of me knows that the year is coming to a close, and that this Santa character is gearing up for another ride, but I've been so awash in work that it doesn't feel real.

    I got to enjoy my bonus on new (dark and milk) chocolate bars and a huge ice cream sundae (with syrupy walnuts). Money well spent.
    Tuesday, October 10th, 2006
    8:33 pm
    Skyblue love
    Howdy!

    Did I mention I was in love with a Sara?

    Picture included )

    Also, I am eagerly awaiting to hear if the people at this comedy writing job want to take me on. It's been a month, but the position is still posted, so I figure I still have a chance. I applied with a good cover letter back in September, they asked me to write them more funny things, but I've not heard back since then. I just wrote a second followup letter today.

    Just popping my head out to say hello/howdy. Hope y'all had a good Rosh Hashana!
    Tuesday, June 13th, 2006
    5:36 pm
    How to have fun under fluorescent lighting
    Hello everyone.

    Every so often here at Ambient, we make a customer upset. And by every so often I mean every day, because it's the nature of electronic things to fail. Those people then write or call me. And I gently help them. Right now we have a problem in Portland Oregon where people using our weather device (forecaster) in Portland are actually getting weather from all over the west coast. This evidently upset this customer greatly, and unfortunately the response I penned was not given the green light by my boss to send...but y'all can enjoy reading it:

    This is completely unedited:
    ---
    Name2: reyes
    Company2: fuckyouinc.com
    E-Mail2: *********

    textarea: I don't want to spend 1 hour to register and you not responding. Listen,I brought your product you don't need anymore than that.

    I live in Portland, oregon and you can't zone in on it.

    Itws a simple product, get real-- You are a waste of my time and money- I don't give a rat's ass about Seattle or Denver Eat sh and Die MF"S

    submit: send
    ------------------


    Dear Mr. Reyes,

    Ohmigod! Are you THE Reyes from Fuck You Inc?! We've been such a fan of your company ever since their campaign complaining against frosted raisins in Kellogg's Raisin Bran. If I want sugar in my cereal, I'll put it in there my own self! Am I fucking right?! Right!! FUCK KELLOGG'S!!

    Anyway, all of us here in the office were all a-twitter at your message. To be told to eat SH and die by THE Reyes!! This will be the highlight of 2006 for our tiny company. Do you think if we printed out this message and sent it to you, you would sign it? Maybe in blood or some other bodily fluid?! We'd love that. We already have a frame for it weaved out of the gray hairs of annoyed customers. We thought it would be appropriate. Now, we didn't mean for the forecaster to offend YOU personally, but that's the way the éclair smooshes, am I right? Right!! FUCK CRUMBLING COOKIES!!

    Mr. Reyes, thank you for contacting us, and if you ever need us in the future, we'll put down our SH sandwich right away and assist.

    Our deepest regard,
    MFing Ambient
    Monday, May 1st, 2006
    10:58 am
    Customer Love
    I got this email at work today:

    "This order was cancelled before. STOP BILLING MY CREDIT CARD!!!!!!

    What is wrong with you people?????"

    This is true. I had refunded his money but I had NOT cancelled his service. So we charged him again. E-mails like this that don't allow for the possibility of human error really, really annoy me. How I wish I could respond:

    Dear Sir,

    I am shamed. Your fondness for punctuation has sprung me into action. I did not realize that cancelling your service and refunding your seven dollars was a Level 6 Exclamation Point Situation. The proper channels have been contacted and your money restored. May I suggest you use it to get some sample blood pressure medication?

    For my inaction, I have submitted my name to the Customer Service Flogging Center for immediate disciplinary action. A picture of my bare, whipped buttocks will be sent to you via email in a high res JPEG. Should you deem the flogging insufficient, you may mark the appropriate check box.

    Thank you for contacting us,
    Jason
    Monday, April 24th, 2006
    10:40 am
    Freaking funniest
    A Craigslist ad for my bike:

    Are you in the mood for some hot pedaling action?!

    Look no further than this blue Mongoose bike! It has pedals, wheels, handlebars, gears – all the things that make biking great - and possible! And you’ll even get a bonus water bottle, filled to the brim with holy water blessed by a televangelist. If you drink it WHILE biking, you will find $3,567 by your front door in four days. Amen.

    The bike is good for quieter streets, not so much for city riding or for Bike Cop training. I didn’t measure the height of the bike, but seeing as I rode it when I was a teenager, mid 5-foot should be good. There should be some room to adjust the seat for your needs.

    The bike’s more than ten years old, but it’s been stored in a clean cellar for 7 of those years, hanging from one of them bike racks. It’s in great condition, though the handlebars are turned just the slightest bit forward. I tried to capture this in one of the pictures. Shouldn’t pose a problem.

    There are 18 gears on this bike. One gear for every month of the year! And for 6 of the next!

    For only $50 you can ride away with this bike. Let’s look at what that $50 gets you!

    * A bike!
    * A water bottle with blessed water!
    * That lock dangling from the bike that we might find the combination to!
    * Peace of mind?
    Tuesday, March 28th, 2006
    9:24 am
    Misplaced humor
    Hi everyone. An email exchange:

    Name2: Jessica
    Technical Questions: checked
    textarea: Hello,

    When my ambient beacon is on the weather setting it blinks slowly
    when there is precipitation in the forecast. I know that it's
    supposed to do that, but sometimes it's distracting. Is there a way
    to keep it on weather, but turn of the precipitation alert?

    Thank you!
    Jessica

    P.S. I work right around the corner from you (Cambridge Parkway), and I'm thinking of getting another beacon to put in my office.

    From: Jason
    To: Jessica
    Subject: Re: Ambient Devices Web Inquiry
    Date: Mon, 27 Mar 2006 15:31:57 -0800 (PST)

    Greetings,

    There's no way to turn that alert off, unfortunately. We DO have for
    sale the Ambient Devices Weather Beacon Paper Bag, which for only
    148.99, will cover your beacon so that you will not be distracted.

    Let us know if you'd like to order that, or if you would like to order
    another beacon! The more the merrier, we say.

    - Jason, Ambient Support

    -----Original Message-----
    From: Jessica
    Sent: Monday, March 27, 2006 7:26 PM
    To: Jason
    Subject: Re: Ambient Devices Web Inquiry

    Are you serious? I can't tell if that's supposed to be snide or funny.
    ---
    Damn it. I wrote her a more professional letter apologizing for my failed attempt at humor, but come ON - 148.99 for a Paper Bag? Maybe if I had started that as a new paragraph...or said that the paper bag comes in charming colors like brown, burnt sienna, cardboard, oatmeal, wood and browntastical...or that they're former air sickness bags repurposed - no that's too far.

    You try to show a little personality...
    Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
    9:46 am
    Silly Cast Bios
    I'm in charge of the program for my NEXT SHOW THAT OPENS THIS WEEKEND. One of the cast members didn't write their bio so I made a fake silly one for them. And then I thought, why not make one for everyone? And so...

    THE CAST AND CREW OF SET IN SAND

    Cynthia Wegel (Senator Dietrich)
    Cindy is thrilled to be performing with 11:11 again, especially considering her alleged stalking of 3 members of the company. Now cleared of all charges, Cindy, a collector of Sharpies – except for red ones – wants to be a senator in real life. Her reign would be peaceful, except for a brief period when she demands a declaration of war against Nunavut, because those polar bears MUST BE STOPPED.

    Jason Warner (Mr. Fitzpatrick)
    Set in Sand marks Jason’s 6th show with 11:11, his fourth onstage. Jason is curious about something – did Vikings make out with each other? Think about it. You’re coming back to your boat after a long day of pillaging and looting and otherwise making a mess of things, and you’ve got all these endorphins rushing…Jason would like to propose Ang Lee direct Nordic Vikingboat. “I WISH I COULD UNPILLAGE YOU!”

    Alice M Curley (Ms. Cole)
    Alice kindly requests that you refrain from staring at her impressive and god-given mammaries whilst she is on stage. Flash photography is NOT permitted. Alice has been in three 11:11 productions so far, and hopes to be in about seven more. Eight would be too much. Alice is interested in Mah-Jong and really wishes Nepal were free.

    Kerlee Nicolas (Damarcus Frey)
    Kerlee Nicolas is the very definition of humility. Raised by wolves in the forests of Montana, he has surpassed his primal instincts and has become an actor of the finest order, on par with Laurence Olivier or even Martin Lawrence. One of the two. His talent, charm, and well-shaped head will take him far. This is a young man to keep your eye on, otherwise he’ll take your candy.

    Danhai Jackson (Bigs)
    Danhai hails from Roxbury, MA. When he was six, he learned how to do a cartwheel thanks to Marnie Shepfield. Danhai had dreams of becoming World Cartwheel Champion, but a nasty stumble put him out of contention and onto the stage. Danhai has appeared in 18 shows and has gone commando in each. Perhaps you didn’t need to know that, but he feels better telling you.

    Daniel (Christopher Robinson)
    Daniel is a world-champion horse jumper and illegal street racer. This is his first theatre production and he’s excited to be here because it’ll probably impress girls. Daniel asks you not to be intimidated by his height or ask him how the weather is up there. He will have you know it’s sunny and pleasant, except for odd days when it does in fact snow directly above his head. No, that’s not dandruff, it’s snow. Really.

    Brian Tuttle (Writer, Director)
    Brian likes pie.

    Becky Deitsch (Marketing)
    Becky hails from Florida and has a similarly sunny disposition. Becky likes Jews and has invented 14 new Jewish Holidays that are currently waiting to pass inspection by the World Jewish Holiday Acceptance Society. First on the list: Noodle Kugel Day, where Jews will be required to eat loads of noodle Kugel and will get free parking in all major cities. Becky works 400 hours a week and actually has that thing from Harry Potter 3 so she can manipulate time.

    Beth Noonkester (Lighting Design, ASM)
    Until recently, Beth could be found, or rather not found, touring the country with various productions. Her favorite state? Colorado. She is happy now that she’s in one place, and especially happy now that she’s found a hot date who is a really good kisser who uses his tongue sparingly. Her name is German, but she really likes bagels. But not lox. Fish belong in the sea, not on Beth's holey bread.

    Cassandra Meyer (Miriam)
    Cassandra used to be deathly afraid of theatre. Actually, Cassandra used to be afraid of a lot of things. For instance: Tabasco sauce, berries, bus stops, Iceland, and most kinds of wood. But ever since her hypnosis therapy, she’s been completely cured. Cassandra asks you to please not say the phrase, “There’s a chicken in the pot and he wants to cluck a tune and if you are a sordid lot you’ll put away the spoon.” She can’t be held responsible for what happens.

    Terrence P. Haddad (Mr. Donovan) – Terrance is sexy. You are feeling Terrence being sexy, no? YES. If you think you can handle it, touch Terrence. He will not bite. He will only be sexy. For that is all Terrence knows how to be. Sexy. Sexy sexy Terrence.

    Jeannie Lin (Mrs. Applegate)
    Jeannie is excited to be wearing a cardigan in this show. Introduced to cardigan technology in the summer of 2003, Jeannie has sought to wear cardigans but was always told by friends that she resembled a tired old school teacher burnt out from evil students. Finally, her dream role has arrived. When Jeanie is not on stage, she rows a dragon boat. Jeanie’s lats are friggin’ ripped and she can do 15 and a half pull ups – WITH ONE ARM. Bitch.

    Hieu (Stefan)
    This is Hugh’s very first theatre production. He knows kung fu and many football moves. Like Stefan, he has boundless confidence, but unlike Stefan he’s very intellectual and can often be found voicing his opinion on Alan Greenspan’s influence on the global economy. He makes a fine smoothie and one day hopes to be a Rat Pack style-crooner in a smoky lounge in Las Vegas.

    Lisa Hamel (SM)
    With Lisa’s blazing natural red hair, she tried out for many childhood commercials. However, her career was ruined when she burst into uncontrollable tears when Johnson’s shampoo landed in her eyes. Tearless indeed. Now a rebellious 8-year old, Lisa dyed her hair black and started a Tricycle Gang named Hamel’s Angels. Brought up on hazing charges at the age of 9, Lisa renounced her life of Tricycle Crime and turned to the stage for creative output. Her favorite shows include Give Me Your Money, Powerful Peroxide, and My Moral Compass is Pointing South.

    Jennifer Collins “Boss” Hard (Assistant Lighting Designer)
    Jennifer Collins Hard is the little-known inventor of the AAAA battery. She suggests you call it the Quad A Battery. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? It does, admit it. Although it is only powerful enough to fuel her electric scissors, she is convinced that in due time the hegemony of the AA batteries will end! Ms. Hard will also be holding a Vagina Symposium immediately following this production. All vagina enthusiasts - Vageys - are encouraged to attend.
    Thursday, February 2nd, 2006
    4:25 pm
    NFTU
    Remember how a couple entries ago I applied to write for Not For Tourists? They wrote me back on Tuesday, asking what sections I would be interested/qualified to write about. It would be neat to get paid for writing.

    Also, 11:11 Director Brian said that my blurb about our next 11:11 show impressed some lady at a film studio? I'm not sure exactly, but it was someone who sounded impressive and I felt nice about that.

    By the way, Boston area residents, you are hereby required to come see our next show. February 17, 18, 19, 24, 25. Only 15 bucks for theatre that will make your life 11% better. It's good for a hot date, for a cold date, for a date with your Mom, for a solo date, whatever. The link above tells you all about it, but basically, it's about the plight of our urban city schools. I play a principal. I have a beard. I've done the website for the show. I've lost sleep, memorized a bunch of lines, spent 5 nights a week for three hours a night right after work to do this show. Come see it, or I will dropkick you in the face. Thanks.

    In other news, my feet are so dry, they are sandpapering holes in the bottom of my sock.
    Monday, January 23rd, 2006
    11:51 pm
    Craigslist, coming through again! My theatre company (11:11 Theatre Company) needed a Nicorette box for a prop. Where to find one without paying for the gum? Someone responded to the following ad and now our play is that much closer to completion.
    ---
    Wanted: Empty Nicorette Box. Reall.

    Hello, Smoker Attempting to Quit! Congratulations on following through on that New Year's Resolution of yours and finally getting the nicorette gum. As a friend of three smokers who are sure to give me ironic lung cancer by the time I'm 30, I salute you. I'm just wondering, are you gonna do anything with that box when you're done with it? Cuz see, I'm in a play, and my character is doin' the gum thing and I could use your empty box on stage. We fear that without that box, we're going to lose the entire audience. You, yes you, will be a crucial part of this show, and as such, you will directly impact up to 400 lives, if we sell out the theatre (read: 30 of our friends and family) We're a tiny theatre company and we really can't afford to pay for an entire box of gum when what we really need is the box. Don't tell anyone, but I'm actually going to chew Trident Gum instead!

    So, help the earth, help theatre, give me your empty Nicorette gum box. For your contribution I am willing to trade:
    - nothing
    - an oreo cookie
    - a good handshake
    - a draught of whiskey
    - one leather glove

    If any of these conditions appeal to you, please write to me at your earliest convenience. It doesn't matter what strength of gum, level 1 or Hopelessly Addicted, whatever.
    1:28 pm
    The sooner to see you
    [responding to this ad: http://boston.craigslist.org/wri/125791606.html]

    Greetings,

    This weekend I was talking with my friends. They are moving to New York to pursue the great acting dream and justify their love of show tunes. Friday night comes around, and what do they elect to do? Stay in their apartment. “There’s nothing to do here,” they whine. I was indignant! Boston may not have the Great White Way, but “nothing to do?” I was deeply offended, Not For Tourists. They’d given up on this wonderful city, barely even given it a chance. And as I rattled off roughly 14,000 suggestions that they dramatically sighed away, I wondered, could there be some way that I could get paid for this? For this evangelism about my most excellent city and surrounding environs? And then, like some heaven-sent Craigslist ad…I saw your Craigslist ad.

    The attached resume will not endear you to me, I warn you. It’s boring and looks like it was churned out of a resume sweatshop. I assure you though, I have writing credentials. For example, I would direct you to this resume:
    http://www.geocities.com/nicelyj2/wackyresume.html

    I was also recently nominated for Best of Craigslist for an ad trying to get rid of sod:
    http://boston.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/116189898.html

    Or why not check out a stab at some theatre copy at my theatre company’s website?
    http://www.1111theatre.com/nextshow.html

    Just like mixing white milk and dark chocolate makes a delicious drink, I think you and I would be a good fit.

    - Jason Warner, Spring Hill, Somerville

    [they ask for writing samples from places around the neighborhood]

    Somerville – Formerly known as Slummahville, this neglected neighbor to the north of Cambridge is really coming into its own. Davis Square’s got the nightlife, an armory is to be repurposed as an arts center, streets are getting cleaned up. 3-story multi-family houses dominate the hilly landscape. Search out the Citadel for a killer view of the city and Boston skyline.

    Restaurants Close To The Somerville Area Worthy Of Ten-Word Write-Ups That I Have Been Found Audibly Moaning Within (Also, Nightlife):

    Finale, Harvard Square – Decadent desserts (and wine) make love to your mouth.
    Soundbites, Broadway in Somerville – Long lines. Cramped space. Brusque waiters. Best breakfast in Somerville.
    LA Burdicks, Harvard Square – Rich hot chocolate that makes you wish for eternal winter.
    Somerville Theatre, Davis Square – Occasional live music, Bollywood, second run movies and fresh popcorn.
    Johnny D’s, Davis Square – Dance floor in eclectic music spot ISO booties for shaking.
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