But I have nothing to say.

Okay, that's not true. This last year has been interesting to say the least, but I'm just not sure what I can write about right now. I'll have to think on it, I guess.

Anyway, I'm updating the gallery to include pictures of my recent six day trip to CT to hang out with all my nerdy friends! Er, I mean, my supercool friends! Go check it out, if you want to look at people you don't know! WOOO!

Until next yea- er, next time...bye!

Got some new pics up from my Memorial Day trip to Florida! Yeah, a little late, but oh well. Go check 'em out!

And now, the latest entry in "Stuff that makes me wish the human race would die from some kinda horrible plague": I just saw a nice and shiny clean black Ford F150 outside. Well, clean expect for all the mud splattered all over the fenders and doors! That guy must do some pretty rugged off-road driving!

But then I noticed that there was no mud. This guy somehow thought it would be a grand idea to buy decals of mud and stick them on his truck. DECALS OF MUD. ON A FORD F150. I truly hope some construction workers happen to see his truck and smash it with wrenches or whatever heavy tools construction workers carry. Jeez louise, could society get any more rediculous? I'm guessing yes.

Okay, enough stupidity for now. Bye!

Oh yeah, hi. Still here, just not writing jack shit! :D

ROCK AGAINST LYMPHOMA

As you know, my friend Jeff has been fighting cancer for over half a year now. Well, his awesome sister-in-law has organized what is sure to be a kickass party at the Paradise Lounge in Boston on June 17th, all in honor of Jeff!

So if you're in the area or you like to buy plane tickets, come on down! It's all going to a good cause, dammit! Plus, you can get drunk and listen to good music! And if you play your cards right, you just might go home with that hot redhead in the corner! Dude, she's been eyeing you up all night! GO FOR IT, BRAH! GO GET HER!! WOOOOOOOO SPRING BREAK!!! U S A! U S A! U S-

uh...ahem. Scuse me.

Yeah, so go check out the site. :D

Life's been kinda crazy yet kinda boring at the same time lately. I dunno. Got a few things to write about, but it ain't easy.

Anyway! I put up a new gallery featuring Jessica's visit to Boston! Hopefully she'll still want to go out with me after she looks through them.

I'll be posting again soon...take care, suckas!

But when they pick up, for the love of Christ, YOU pick up, too! Don't you understand that NOBODY wants to listen to your conversations? Especially when half of them are personal calls? Nobody cares that your wife is going to pick up the car! NOBODY! Not even your wife! Stop it, for crying out loud!

And while you're at it, why don't you do your job and come fix my computer? THANKS!

Guy With Pink Shirt: Hey. Hey buddy. You are aware that your shirt is pink, right? More to the point, you're aware that your shirt is pink and you are a guy? Right?

Look, you can't do that anymore. Wearing a pink shirt, I mean. I'm serious. No, no. It's not "salmon". It's PINK. You know what else is pink? Vaginas.

Cut it out, already.

I'm still at the somewhat-shoddy temp-to-hire job, though it's leaning more towards the "hire" end of things these days. Maybe. Last Friday, I was instructed to go to the office of Todd, the older hepcat type who calls you "dude" and has strange bits or art and kitschy crap filling up the place. Not a bad guy, really, and he at least seems to be one of the few people you can hold a decent conversation with around here.

Anyway, Todd gave me a stack of paperwork to fill out, like the kind of stuff you fill out if someone actually hires you. Except, as Todd informed me, I'm not going to be hired by this company any time soon. I'm just a permanent temp. Yeah. But whatever, I can deal with that. I'm primarily only interested in the paycheck right now, anyway, though I will need some medical benefits sooner or later. Anyhow. Regardless, moving on and so on, I got a big stack of papers to read and sign, and boy was I happy!

In the end, half of the paperwork didn't apply to me (Why no, I am not an inventor who makes a habit of grabbing my co-workers' boobs and who also owns stock in your competitors, thanks for asking!), and reading over all that crap gave me a good excuse not to do too much work, so that sure was swell. Though this place can be a drag at times, as there really isn’t a whole lot to do on most days. The machine I’m working isn’t configured properly for me to do any of the shipping work, and the IT dweeb in charge of fixing that seems to be more interested in walking around, schmoozing with people, and talking very loudly on his phone about his house or car or something. So, thanks, dweeb!

Yes, I’m talking about work a lot lately. Fact of the matter is, there hasn’t been a whole lot going on, really. Well, okay, that's not true at all… Jessica came up to visit me recently, and we had a great time. Or at least I think we did. I did, anyway. I’m not entirely sure if she had a great time, since her teeth were too busy chattering from the relatively Arctic winds that were flowing over her Floridian bones. Instead of saying, “Wow, Josh, I love Boston! Thank you so much for showing it to me! You’re peachy keen!” she may well have been saying, “I’m going to stab your balls to death for dragging me up to this frozen hellhole, you motherfucker!” But she was wearing this really cute scarf, so maybe I was distracted. (check the gallery for pictures soon!)

Aside from that, it’s been work, go home, be semi-miserable, sleep, wake up, repeat… Life could certainly be better, especially on the home front, but it could also be much, much worse, I guess. But it’s more fun to write about work, because it’s a fairly non-personal thing that I can direct all my anger, disgust and sarcasm at! IT’S FUN! It also reminds me of the good ol’ days of my ranting-on-websites history, back to Monster Robot and Linenoise and CosmoDNA’s House o’ Pancakes, crap that was only seen by about ten people, but they seemed to enjoy the sites enough. I’ve totally derailed myself here.

Back to work! One thing that I notice regularly in this place is the diversity. Diversity in ethnicity, personalities, and sanity levels. I work with a goddamn bunch of lunatics, which really shouldn’t surprise me, since I seem to forever be walking into situations engineered and commanded by people who are completely batshit out of their minds. And this place is no different. It’s like one of those wacky sitcoms where every does wacky things all the wacky fucking time!

Take for example our old pals Pierre and Yeungling, those loveable scamps. Now, she passed her citizenship test, in case you were wondering. So, it stands to reason that she might be a little protective of her newfound Freedom™, or she at least takes it very seriously. Pierre should know this, but Pierre has shown in the past that he’s not very concerned about being very professional in the workplace a whole lot. Which is fine most of the time, because he’s a pretty cool guy. But…

Apparently, Yeungling asked Pierre how he learned to speak English so well. His answer: surround yourself with the language, talk more to English speakers, watch movies and television shows in English, and listen to music in English. This could have just been a ploy, though, as Yeungling had been playing tapes with music from her homeland throughout the day, and they were kind of a bit…much. She clearly hasn't learned the "We might not want to listen to what you want to listen to. Seriously." rule.

Pierre seemed to think so, too. So it wasn't a huge surprise when Yeungling's husband/boyfriend/really creepy significant other, Larry - the guy who moves slower than a turtle surfing a sea of molasses while watching paint dry - went to my boss' second-in-command (as the boss was out that day) and complained that Pierre had made Yeungling cry. Drama ahoy!

Here's the skinny: After giving his advice on how Yeungling could become a better English speaking person, he turned his attention to her music, telling her that she should shut it off and listen to something in English. When she refused, he pulled out his cell phone and said something to the effect of, "If you don't turn it off, I'm going to call Immigration!" Hence, Yeungling's flood of tears.

Pierre claims it was a joke, but it clearly wasn't the best way of handling the situation. After lots and lots of talking right out in the middle of the Production area (which saved the rest of us from the hassle of trying to eavesdrop, since we had no choice but to listen), some resolution was found. Everyone still has their jobs, so I'm assuming they dropped it. I don't know, I just work here.

Then there's Dee, the tiny Korean man who listens to country music in his office all day. Bad country music. Did you know that some country artist has done a remake of Boys II Men's "I Swear"? It's true. It's horribly true and will haunt my dreams for months, I imagine. In fact, I fully expect to be clinically insane as well by the time I get done with this place. But that's why I get paid the big bucks!

I'm hacking open Palm E2's by the boxload, slicing thick plastic and trying not to cut myself. My hands hurt, this is shitty work, but at least it's paying work. I mean, I'm not adverse to doing hard work (yeah, I couldn't keep a straight face reading that, either), but this stuff sucks. Oh well, at least I have fine company: Pierre, the Haitian shipping manager guy who likes to sing and make bad jokes; Dan, the tall, old guy with shaky hands and a pleasant disposition; and Yeungling, the aforementioned future citizen of these United States of America. Oh, and also Yeungling's tapes. Her tapes kept me company, too.

"What do the fifty stars on the flag represent?"

See, she's taking the citizenship test in early March, and she needs to bone up on the over 100 possible questions they might ask. From what I hear, they only ask a small handful on the actual test, but they make you memorize all of them just in case. And due to my current predicament, I was forced to memorize them as well!

Not that it was so bad, those first couple of days. I was tired and zoning out from all the robot work, so having something to listen to was welcome. Though it was better when Pierre turned on the radio and we got to listen to the smooth hits of the 60s, 70s and…and that's it. But they played some good stuff, played some Bob Seger and Journey and Queen and generally all the stuff I like to play on any jukebox I can get my hands on because A) I genuinely like these songs, and B) I know they'll annoy the jackasses who had just played Fifty Cent for an hour straight. Go me!

Anyway, the tapes were okay at first. And it helped that I wasn't always working in the shipping room, so I had a few days off from the American History re-education. But then I had to go back at the end of last week for a big "Hey, who wants to hack open 1,300 Palm Pilot cases? You do, Josh? Great!" party. Though by now this was almost preferable to sitting in the production department while folks tried to show me how things work around this place.

Side note: everyone here talks to me like I'm a complete idiot. I don't know why. The tasks I've been handling are extremely simple and repetitive, with a few random bits of variety thrown in here and there, a few minor things that I'd really only know if I had been doing these things for years. But still, everyone seems to think that these are humungous, Herculean exercises in human cunning and fortitude, and how dare I think I could understand them after watching someone do them a couple of times!? Feh!

Uh, anyway.

Back to the other day, to the tapes. We were listening to the Who or Pink Floyd or something good on the radio, when suddenly the music stops. Click. Clickity-clack! CLICK.

"How many stripes are on the American flag?"

God damn it all to hell. Bad form, Yeungling, bad form. You don't just shut off the radio when there are a bunch of people listening to it! They should put that kind of crap on these tapes.

"Should you shut off the radio when a bunch of people are listening to it?"
"(Chinese translation)"
"NO!"
"(Chinese translation)"

Bah. The tapes had gone from mildly entertaining and educational (hey, I didn't say I could easily answer all this stuff…they asked a lot of junk I didn't know or had forgotten) to plain annoying and boring as fuck. It's like they hired Ben Stein's entire extended family to record these things, the voices were so monotone and boring.

Now, I understand that the guy asking the questions has to be deadpan, as it's easier to understand if you're not a native English speaker. Also, I understand that Yeungling was very excited and nervous about this test, so of course she'll want to review the questions as much as possible. I'm not heartless, after all. Also, I don't have a spine, so it's not like I was gonna do anything about it besides bitch on the internet.

Tape Guy: "What do the thirteen stripes represent?"
Me (in my head): "The original thirteen colonies."
Tape Guy: "The original thirteen states."
Me (in my head): "Pardon?"

And the tapes weren't necessarily all the accurate, either. I think one of the questions said that we only had two political parties, which was awesome. Though they did get humorous and downright creepy later on, when she put in the "Let's practice our dictation" tape, geared towards helping folks speak better English through a series of common questions and answers. What made it funny was the guy asking the questions sounded absolutely pissed off, and the woman answering sounded as happy as a human being possibly could be. What made it creepy was that it started off with him sounding like he was trying to hit on her, only to segue sharply into loonytown. To wit:

Mr. Angry: "Are you married?"
Ms. Happy: "No, I am not married."
Mr. Angry: "Do you work around here?"
Ms. Happy: "Yes, I work at the Golden Dragon in Chinatown."
Mr. Angry: "ARE YOU A COMMUNIST!?"

Seriously, he asked if she was a Communist. She said no, of course. But she did say she would fight for America, so that's cool. I can finally sleep at night knowing Ms. Happy is keeping the borders safe. I guess maybe the tapes were made in the late 80s or something. But considering the Q&A tapes claimed that Bill Clinton is president, who the fuck knows?

Ah well, this could all be much, much worse, of course. At least I have a job, even if it's kinda dumb. But it's good enough for now, and at least I'm learning lots of great stuff that I'll most likely never have to use ever again! Woo!

Yeah, a temp job. This is what you've been waiting for, folks. My next epic adventure! Full of thrills and spills and...packing boxes. My unemployment rudely ended on me, so I had no choice but to find some kind of work. So I went back to my old standby temp agency, Manpower, which seems staffed almost entirely by idiots these days. But maybe I'll write about that later, if at all.

About a week after jumping through hoops and paperwork for Manpower, they call me and tell me they deseperately need me for a job. My skills and knowledge are perfect for this particular position, and they feel that I would be perfect for it! Well, that's what I decided to take out of "The other guy didn't show up, so we really need someone to be there tomorrow morning. Can you do it?" Thanks for making me feel special, Manpower!

Okay. Job's in Charelstown, home of the Bunker Hill Memorial and Bunker Hill Community College and, I guess, Bunker Hill. Shipping/receiving, some computer work, business casual. Which is good, since the few items of clothing I own these days could be hammered into something resembling business casual. So the next morning I hop out of bed, ready to get back to the workforce and take the world by storm! Even though I'd only had about four hours of sleep...and was really tired...and just wanted to go back to sleep...fuck.

The trip to Charlestown from Winthrop is mercifully short, just giving me enough time to get only vaguely pissed off at idiots on the train. Listening to angry music at 8am probably doesn't help, but I'm an angry person, so I'm entitled. Besides, my "homicidal rage" train face is sort of rusty, so I need to exercise it. I get there after wandering around for ten minutes in the industrial apocalypse wasteland that is this portion of Charelstown, over by the Hood plant, where they make milk! Or something. My aunt used to work there and met her husband there, I think. Fun fact: Her son, my cousin, got shot a couple of weeks ago! But he's okay, so I can make light of it. Uh, right?

Moving on.

The job is okay, general mindless drone work, the kind of stuff they'll eventually build robots to do. Maybe. Robots are a lot more expensive and less expendable than temp workers, after all. Making boxes, packing boxes, opening boxes, closing boxes, cutting my hands up, rinse, repeat. The people are nice, even if I can't understand a thing half of them say, they being not from this country. In particular is Yeungling, a nice Chinese lady from China. I worked alongside her most of the day, though we didn't talk all that much. This was mostly due to my inherent inability to talk to most human beings without wanting to hit them in the knees with an axe handle, but it was also because she was very intently listening to her tapes.

Her tapes were training tapes. Training for her "You want to be a citizen of the US? Answer all this crap!" test, which she will be taking in a few weeks. And after spending two days in that room, I'm ready to become an American citizen, too!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Yeah, okay, I've let the site go a little. Sorry, it's just that life isn't as exciting as it was when I was out on the road. I know I still have to write an epilogue, and then write about what I've been up to. Eventually.

Anyway, I'm uploading new pictures now, so that's half the story of what's been going on.

Go to the gallery and look at stuff! As a matter of fact, why don't you go back and view all of the pictures, in order, from the beginning, while alternately reading everything I've posted on the site? That should give me enough time to write a new update. Hah!

Um. Yeah, I'm going back to Tampa til next week. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya!

Later. I do have a few more updates planned to get the site up to date, and I'll try to get those up while I'm away. Also need to get a bunch of gallery pictures up!

Oh, and that Map View thing? It was nice while it lasted (it worked for what? a month?), but I dunno how to make it work, and it'll be fairly pointless since most of my posts will be from the Boston area from now on. So, uh, fuck that noise.

Okay, I'll be back soon and hopefully update the site sooner! Bye!

Yeah, I'm a tool for not updating, but it's been a busy week and a half [editor's note: uh, three weeks...but I did start writing this a week and a half ago! I was trying! You know I love you, baby!], so there's my excuse. Guess I needed some time to absorb everything and yadda yadda yadda. Sitting here, the year will end in a few days, and what am I doing with the rest of my life, anyway? Damned if I know. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that I might not get to be an astronaut after all. But not today!

How'd I get back here, anyway? Well, let's see... December 18th was the day, the day I was to leave Tampa. We'd had a good night before, me, Jessica, Becky and Mike, just hanging around, mostly. I packed up my shit, made sure I was good to go, then relaxed. Stayed up a bit too late hanging around with Jessica, but oh well, I could always sleep on the plane.

I would get no sleep on the plane. We said sad, sad goodbyes at Tampa International Airport, which is a pretty nice airport. It's compact and smartly designed, unlike the twisting, convoluted behemoth that is Logan Airport back home. After stripping off my shoes, my belt, putting my cell phone in the little bowl, removing my laptop from my bag and putting it in a bin along with my bag and my coat, or maybe it was two bins - the whole thing seemed like some cruel intelligence test - I went through security. Fortunately, I passed and wasn't shot on sight by airport security, and headed to my gate.

"Welcome to Song airlines," the chirpy lady with the microphone said. "Today we'll be taking you to Boston! You'll be happy to hear that it's 73 degrees and sunny in Boston right now!" A long moment where no one breathed, where we all collectively thought, very slowly, Could it be true?

"Sorry, just kidding! Hee hee!"

Meh.

So after that little joke, we were allowed to get on the plane. I was stuck behind some loud-mouthed lady who reminded me just a little too much of all the townie idiots I'd grown up around and would soon be amongst once again. She was having a little trouble getting her ass down the aisle, despite the fact that pretty much the entire rest of the passengers were right behind her. Actually, I was right behind her and was treated to her whining and yelling and and and...I wasn't really paying much attention. I just wanted her to move, which she finally did a few minutes later.

Got to my window seat (yay!), got comfortable, and eyed the little screen that was embedded in the seat in front of me. That's a big thing about Song, I guess. They have little screens for you to play with during your trip. You can do a few free things, like watch teevee or play airplane trivia (more on that in a minute), and you can also do lots of stuff that you pay for, like pay-per-view movies and nifty games. It took awhile for the screens to start working properly, but it was fun watching them reboot and seeing all sorts of LINUX-related crap that I couldn't understand scrolling by. I hunkered down and stared out the window, not exactly happy to be on that plane.

Eventually the screens started working again, so I played around with that a bit before finding the trivia game. The cool thing is, you're playing against other people on the plane, and the faster you answer the more points you get (if your answer is correct, of course). Though I realize now that it's a good thing they don't allow firearms on airplanes or I would have shot a couple of people that day.

See, I was doing okay. I managed to be in the top five most of the time, but could never get to number one. Why? Because there were two people, MHASH and SH, who were apparently fucking robots with lightning-fast reflexes and a repository of the world's useless trivia in their stinking robot brains, because they just kept getting correct answer after correct answer, and they would almost always answer immediately, thus ensuring they got as many points as possible. Run-on sentences denote pure hate, by the way.

It got to the point where I was almost muttering curses under my breath, but I just...couldn't...stop. I needed to win. Even when the plane was approaching Logan for landing, I had to squeeze in a final answer or two. I WILL BE VICTORIOUS! Or not. I never did get to first, but I did okay. Fuckers.

And that was it. Then I was home. I went outside for a smoke and it was cold, but not too cold. And oh, hey, there's some snow on the ground! And...well, it hadn't sunk in that I was home yet. It's been three weeks and it still hasn't fully sunk in. But I'll write something else about that.