Today at work, my phone rang for the first time. I wasn't scared; I was prepared for it. I had spent 96 straight hours watching it, setting up elaborate booby traps so that when it rang, I'd be ready. I was prepared for that phone to ring, and when it rang, I answered it with gusto. I bellowed my war cry: "This is Cody," and waited for Mr Telephono's next room.
As ready as I was to pick up the phone, there's no way I could've prepared for what the other person on the line said: "Hey baby girl." Hmm, hey baby girl. Was it a wrong number or was it the start of a terrifying love affair? As exciting as the latter sounded, I decided to go for the former. I said, "Sorry, no baby girls here," and hung the phone up real quick-like.
The weird thing about that conversation is how I had already spoken and everything when that guy said "Hey baby girl", so I don't know if his baby girl sounds like me or she regularly answers the phone by saying "This is Cody". Maybe he just wanted to call someone baby girl, and he picked me at random. Better yet, maybe it was code talk signalling me that the revolution had started. After all, they never said the revolution wouldn't be telephoned. I think that is a little unlikely, as I saw no white people strung up on my way back home tonight. Oh well; we'll get them next time, comrades.
We have these company polo shirts that we're supposed to wear when we deal with customers. I have to wear mine on Wednesday when I do some training stuff with some people, and I wasn't too worried about ti because I'd seen everyone else's company shirts and they were very nice and dignified. Little did I know that I'd be getting a light orange one. Everyone else's is white, and mine is decidedly nonwhite. So, I'm already preparing comebacks from when I'm mocked. Here's one scenario I'm imagining:
Fellow Employee: Well, I didn't know tangerines were in season.
Me: Oh yeah? At least tangerines are well rounded!
As you can see, I have nothing to worry about.
I think my policy regarding this website will be to do entries Sunday through Thursday, leaving Friday and Saturday for my weekly marathon games of Dodge Ball. You may not know this, but I am fairly certain that there was a Dodge Ball game for Nintendo. It never captured the rough, beautiful edges the game had when played in gym class. For instance, there were no overbearing lesbian PE teachers, exhorting you to throw the ball harder at your classmates. Also, it couldn't possibly convey the pants-wetting fear I'd experience as someone I considered to be on my team would wheel around and chunk the ball at my head. Some parents complain about the violence in movies, but if you ask me, it pales in comparison to gym class. It's a taxpayer sponsored version of Lord of the Flies.
Anywho, going back to the mystery of the chirping in my bedroom on Thursday night, I discovered that it was my smoke detector. It was beeping once a minute for about two hours straight, so I decided to take it down off the ceiling. I discovered then that, wherever I put it in my apartment, I could still hear it. So, I did the only logical thing and stuck it inside my car. I then went to sleep peacefully that night and forgot completely about the smoke detector, only to have my pantalones scared off the next morning on the drive in to work by a bewildering beeping sound coming from under my seat. I was certain it was some sort of sign of the apocalypse. Right up there with the weeping and gnashing of teeth is the beeping of the Nissan. To give a boring story an even more boring ending, the battery needed to be replaced. All is right with the world now.
I had my first activity yesterday as an alumnus of Trinity University when a group of us went tubing with the alumni association. The coolest part of tubing down the river is how quickly a group forms around the cooler and then stays there for the duration of trip. We had a regular Fellowship of the Ice Chest yesterday, and it was just like the movie, except for the fact that everyone was sunburned, in bathing suits, and totally incoherent due to alcohol. Maybe that'll be in the director's cut. Anyway, it was a good time.
Well, the Supreme Court shot down that law against sodomy in Texas. So, the next man who attempts to violate me no longer has to worry about criminal repercussions. Thanks a lot for that one, Supreme Court. I suppose this is a good thing, if only because all of us now see the Supreme Court for what it is: a band of ruthless homosexuals who will stop at nothing to further their own agenda. In actuality, I think this is a good thing because now more people can do what they want to do, and I hope that in the future, the homosexual community repays the SC by throwing wild, Judicial Branch themed sex parties.
My new work place has a casual dress code, supposedly. Every day, I see people there in jeans, t shirts, and shorts. Usually not all at the same time. I haven't yet gotten into it yet because I am worried that the day I pick to go casual will be Tuxedo Day. And then I'll have run through the halls in my short pants and halter top, yelling "I'm new here! I didn't get the email!" Not that anyone will care, because it will also be Drive the New Guy Slowly Insane By Refusing to Acknowledge His Presence Day. I can only imagine that this would be an elaborate way of proving one's self, and so from now on, I'll have to keep a tuxedo hung up next to my dry erase board. Whenever a coworker asks me about it, I'll just point to my eyes and then point back at him. Oh yes, I'm on to you.
Last night at dinner, I need to make a call and my cell phone wasn't getting reception. I went up to the front desk of the restaurant where we were eating and asked if I could use their phone. The girl there was very nice and said I could. I asked how I got an outside line, and she said, "Just hit the asterfik key." I thought I didn't hear hear correctly, so I said, "Do what now?" Again, she said, "Hit the asterfik key." Well, obviously it wasn't a mistake if she said it twice, and I just figured there was an extra key on their phone called the asterfik. Phones always have all sorts of weird buttons, therefore I wasn't going to call her an idiot just yet. So, I stared at the phone pad for a second, seeing if there were a key on there that looked kind of like an asterisk, but fikier. I couldn't find one; it looked just like a regular keypad. She sensed my anxiety about this, so she took the phone from me, hit the star key and then gave it back with a loud, theatrical sigh.
Even now, that experience doesn't make much sense. First of all, who calls that button on the phone the asterisk key? That's two more syllables that you could save later for a haiku, perhaps. And then, once that's established, who on earth has ever called an asterisk an asterfik? I can only guess that's what she's referring to; it sounds like a magical platypus from the Chronicles of Narnia.
The fire alarm in my room won't stop chiping. It's incredibly loud, and I"m worried that when I go back into my room, I'll discover it's not my fire alarm at all, but an enormous bird who has nested on my bed. We'll have to battle the death for who gets to sleep there. I'm not too worried about it; I bought those salad tongs for a reason.
I had my first day of real, grown up work today. I am officially grown up; I have no doubts about that at all. I went in there this morning at 8:30 as somone who didn't care about a 401k or health insurance. Thirty minutes later, I was running around the office, shaking my fists and yelling, "You call that a copay?!?!" It's actually very nice there. I get my own office with a window. That window affords me a nice view of the parking lot and the dumpster, but I figure if I can prove my mettle in monitoring the parking lot and the dumpster, I can probably get promoted to watching the septic tank. "Hey buddy, ever heard of a recycling bin?" and "I KNOW you're not trying to fit that battleship in the Compact Car Parking Only!" are just a few of the threatening phrases that will be bellowed from my office in the coming days.
In all seriousness, I am excited about working at this place. The work will be both interesting and challenging, and I am surrounded by nice, competent people. I can only hope that when it comes time to dole out the raises, this paragraph, in some small way, becomes the cornerstone of my performance evaluation. I am confident of this being a good fit for me because I subscribe to a theory where you can judge a place of employment based on your first day there. Here's a quick story regarding this theory.
Like everyone else who has ever operated a computer, I worked for a dot-com in 2000/2001. I didn't really know what they did, but it sure looked impressive during the interview. They had free coke machines and a Playstation, and they were going to give me a lot of money for doing very little. It all sounded great until my first day there.
I was a student and had made it very clear that I could only work in the afternoons. Everyone I'd be working with knew this, and assured me it was fine. And so, imagine my surprise when I get back from class and start to get ready for my first day, only to learn that my place of employment had left me 3 messages, wondering what kind of idiot didn't show up for his first day of work. When I finally make it down there, I discover that someone else was in my desk. He worked a different shift and so he'd be there for another hour and a half. No one there knew who I was or what I was supposed to be doing, because I had been told to communicate with the wrong group of people. Ahh, good times.
I was almost in shock when, 2 months later, they laid everyone off. Why, it was like Henry Ford himself ran that place! That place was a Harvard Business Review article in the making and everyone knew it. I'm no business visionary or anything, but I'm guessing it's a bad sign when I am the voice of moderation and reason at a place of business. I would say things like, "Hmm, maybe you guys should stop looking at internet porn and do some work," and everyone would nod sagely like I was Confucius. I suppose this is why I got assigned to dumpster watch at the new place.
Also, I just finished the new Harry Potter. I couldn't believe that magic dragon ate them all! Yeah, I don't know anything about Harry Potter, but I hope that if I spread that rumor around, people will be so depressed about it that they stop talking to me about it. It sounds like a neat story and everything, but I've had a few too many conversations over the past few days where someone expounds on the book for a few hours, expecting me to have an idea of what they're saying. And when I reveal to them that I haven't read any Harry Potter, they get really animated and tell me I must, I MUST! That's like 5000 pages, right? If I'm reading 5000 pages of anything, it's going to be either the entire Baby Sitters Club series or just my favorite parts from Hank the Cow Dog over and over.
Well, my cable modem curled up in a little corner of my den last night and pooped in its pants, then spent this morning hanging its head in shame. Thus, no entry. I'm back in the saddle now, though, like a black cowboy who saves a frontier town from ruin, only to be thrown out by a people who can't see beyond the color of my skin. And so I ride out of town at dusk, sniffling a little bit and thinking about making up a mess of beans for supper, only to hear someone gallop up behind me. It's the Mayor of the town, and he wants me to come back as Sheriff. But no, I have to work to do. Yeah, a lot like that.
So, I made a comment today about gypsies that inadvertently offended someone. Shouldn't we be allowed to make fun of gypsies? Those people are a menace, we all know that; I'm just the only one with the guts to take a stand. You may now be wondering where this gypsy animosity comes from. Well, allow me to tell you. One evening at Best Buy, when I couldn't make up my mind which CD to buy, I ended up buying a 2 CD set of the Best of the Gipsy Kings. Needless to say, that was the worst purchase I've ever made, since I had only a passing knowledge of their music and would've been sated with maybe a 2 song tape, let alone 2 CDs of that crap. Now I don't know if those guys are actual gypsies since they spell their name differently, but it doesn't really matter. My hatred of them is too strong for me to just hate them; it needs a larger target, like an entire people. Thus, watch out, gypsies.
I have lots more to write about, but I'm going to stop before I get going so I can do an entry tomorrow. I'm devoted to doing an entry a day in here, so that when the gypsies find my address and kill me, this will serve as a testament to my life, just like Anne Frank's Diary. Ah yes, my old friend poor taste.
Okay, so how about that boxing match last night? There is something I love about a sport where success depends on how much vaseline you rub on your face. Not to mention the fact that one of the guys entered last night to the soothing strains of "Hotel California". I can only imagine the rivers of urine flowing down his opponent's leg as he heard that call to war.
In other news, I watched one of my favorite movies of all time today, Zero Effect. Is any actor more criminally underused than Bill Pullman? I can only figure he has been blackballed from Hollywood for forgetting to send Ving Rhames a Valentine, or some such poppycock.
One thought I had while watching the movie is how short Ben Stiller used to look; it seems like he's a lot taller now. Either he's picking shorter costars or he hit that inevitable growth spurt that hits all 40 year old men. Or, he's wearing big KISS boots in his movies. That's worth investigating, but in the event that Ben Stiller is reading this, I want to let him know that he should let his short man flag fly. There's no shame in being short, especially when one learns that short men have notoriously large genitals. It all balances out.
At first, I was a little frustrated with the makers of 2 Fast 2 Furious for not calling it Faster and Furiouser, but I think I'm starting to come around. I am coming around because I realize that my naming scheme comes to a dead end with the third one, which would presumably be called Fastest and Furiousest. You really can't do anything after that, unless you want to go super ballsy with Faster than the Previously Regarded Fastest, Furiouser than Aforementioned Furiousest. The other scheme, meanwhile, could just keep going to infinity. That's one thing I can definitely say about the filmmakers behind 2 Fast 2 Furious: their minds are always concentrated on the consequences of expanding their art out to infinity. Make of that what you will.
Heeey internet, it's your old pal, Cody, coming around again to spread mirth and merriment. I call it mirthiment/merrirth. Better yet, Mirtherrimentirth! My head will explode if I try doing any more of that stuff.
Let's see what I have to talk about at this juncture. Well, I have been getting freaky with the website today, trying to get stuff going. There's nothing quite as fulfilling as working on something that will only be seen by your family members and those who stumble upon it, looking for porn. If you're in the latter group, I refer you to this guy, the porn king of San Antonio. The thing is, he won't just give you the porn. You need to email him, call him, and if you can, visit him in order to get it. Just be persistent, that's all I'm saying.
While I'm on the topic of San Antonio, there is a completely insane sign there, sitting in front of University of the Incarnate Word. I don't remember it exactly, but it's something like, "Bless Our" Troops Overseas! Is it being sarcastic with those quotes, or were they quoting someone who only managed to get "Bless Our" out of his mouth before he died, so they just finished the rest for him? Who knows, but it leaves a man with a lot of questions. I will try to get the porn king to take a picture of that for me.
And finally, I'd like to thank Time Warner cable for swindling me real good by getting me to pay for HBO and Showtime. I look forward to an endless loop of Bio Dome and Highlander III. I'm fairly certain that good movies are released on this planet, as I hear about them all of the time. However, when it comes to the movie channels, I am guessing quality doesn't figure into the programming. Instead, I imagine them needing to buy like 10,000 staplers for their office, and when they're on the phone with the stapler seller, the seller says, "Okay, so I'll sell you the staplers for $0.75 each, and I'll throw in the rights to broadcast Karate Kid III." The HBO guy replies, "You've got yourself a deal!" I bet all of their movies work that way, and I can only hypothesize that the Sopranos came from a sweet deal they made with the company that sells urinal cakes.
My apartment complex has a rule where you can't own an animal that weighs more than 40 pounds. This information begs the question of just how much a basset hound weighs. I'm going to have to do some investigating here. In the case I do come up with a basset hound under 40 pounds, Mary and I took some time this mornign to come up with a list of good dog names. Here they are, in all their glory: Roscoe, Luigi, Beauregard, Old Hickory, Marty McFly, Charlemagne, Professor Woofers, Doctor Murder.
Dad and sister came down today, and we Bed Bath and Beyonded it up. Hello, Bed in a Bag! And then, we Best Buyed it up. Hello, Fancy TV! I swear, my apartment is way too fancy for me to live there. I need to start burning tires and skinning possums in the living room to balance out all of the nice stuff.
Before I moved here, my mom sent me an article saying Austin was the best place to live for swinging singles like myself. I shall now call shenanigans on MSN for printing that, as I have found no girls whatsoever in the past week in the course of my trips to Jack in the Box and my games of Hearts on the computer. Maybe all of the ladies are all too elitist, although I should point out that, when I had no internet or cable going, I won 7 straight games of Hearts. Form an orderly line, ladies.
I didn't realize until just now that BBC America has been showing a 2 hour block of The Office every night. Holy crap! A virgin is going into the volcano to thank the TV Gods for that one.
New locale, new website. Get used to it or get served a knuckle sandwich.
I've moved to Austin in my quest for that which the rappers call the bling bling. So far, all I've found is the anti-bling bling, as I've been spending money out of every orifice. I didn't realize this until I moved out on my own that I have absolutely nothing. I'd be just fine with sitting on the floor all day, eating pudding with my hands, but I figure if I'm going to get serious about this rampant promiscuity thing, I'll need a chair for the ladies to sit on and whatnot before the what-have-you occurs.
My 2 days here have been rough with no TV and no Internet. I think my neighbors above me are starting to get tired of me scaling the tree so I can peek in and see what Al Roker is dressed like on this particular morning. I get a real sense of what the pioneers went through when their cable didn't work, and all they could do was sit around drinking coke and playing MP3s. It is absurdly boring so far, but all of that changes tomorrow morning when, HOLLA, the cable comes to give me 300 channels, fast internet, and maybe if I play my cards right, a denver omelette.
I had a distinctly Austin moment this morning, my first of what will be many. I was bebopping around the Barnes and Noble, looking for some tasteful lebsian photography, when I see an older lady on a Segway browsing through the science fiction. I can't even classify how cool that was. Additionally, in the Austin Chronicle, I saw this personal ad:
"You: Kate, the afternoon cowgirl at Kenny's in Round Rock. Me: Whimsical gamer who would like to see YOUR dragon's lair."
I think I can safely say that between his use of phrases like whimsical gamer and his oh-so-subtle reference to her dragon's lair, Kate has been snared by this classy gent. Is that wedding bells that I hear? I can only hope that dragon's lair refers to her genitals.
I really like my apartment so far, and I predict I will like my job as well. I am expecting to contract SARS to counteract this positivity in my life. From now on, I will be on my tiptoes around all Asians, even more so than normal.