Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst

• Artist: Conor Oberst
  
• Album Title: Conor Oberst
  
• Record Label: Ramseur
  
• Release Date: 8/5/2008
  
• Rating: 8.0
  
• Bands Web Site: http://www.conoroberst.com/
• Sound: Indie Rock, Country Rock, Singer-Songwriter
  
• Similar Artists: Colin Meloy, Jenny Lews, Bob Dylan

"Hey, have you heard the new Conor Oberst?

"There's a new Bright Eyes?"

"No, it's just Conor Oberst."

"...Bright Eyes basically is just Conor Oberst; I don't understand."

"The album is 'Conor Oberst' by Conor Oberst; he didn't go by 'Bright Eyes' for this album."

"Is that some sort of statement?"

"I have no idea. I guess it would be like if Bono released an album called 'Paul Hewson' as Paul Hewson. And if he did that, I would take it as him trying to be less of a pretentious douchebag, though I'm not sure that's what Oberst is doing."

"It's frightening you know Bono's real name. So is Oberst being less of a douchebag?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure he is a douchebag to begin with. He does some pretty fucking annoying things on his records, but maybe he's just too earnest. I mean, who puts an interview of themselves on their own record? Even if its fake."

"And has background voices."

"Yeah. And Cassedega? The fucking thing won a Grammy...for best record packaging, with all that hidden shit. I mean it was a decent enough record, but I didn't feel like I could relate to it. In fact, I haven't really liked a Bright Eyes album since I'm Wide Awake It's Morning."

"Because you live in New York City?"

"Because it wasn't just about fucking Conor Oberst! And that's what I like about this album, it has a bunch of songs that are him singing about shit that has nothing to do with him or anyone he knows. He went to Mexico and wrote some songs about all kinds of shit. It doesn't make me feel like I need to search for some deeper hipster-ironic meaning in every fucking song."

"Are any of the songs about Mexico?"

"I have no fucking idea, really, but they have some beautiful lyrics. Like on 'Cape Canaveral', he sings 'Like the citrus glow off the old orange grove/Or the red rocket blaze over Cape Canaveral/It’s been a nightmare to me'. It's beautiful, and stays close to his folk-rock center instead of drifting to the fringes of his sound. It's uncomfortable sounding by his fringe..."

"I'll have to buy the record, because you can't sing for shit dude."

"There's a reason I'm talking to you about this record instead of making my own. Anyway, he also rocks a lot more on this album than he usually does. Country-rock songs, some real rollicking numbers like 'Sauslito', 'I Don't Wanna Die(In The Hospital)', 'Moab' and 'Souled Out!!!'. Electric guitar solos, crashing drums, he goes all out. 'I Don't Wanna Die' is my favorite song, it has a furious pace, and it's just fun. He actually laughs on one track, it sounds like he's having fun. Not as much navel gazing. And I don't know exactly who is in The Mystic Valley Band, but they play the hell out of their instruments."

"The Mystic Valley Band?"

"Yeah, he dubbed his backing band the Mystic Valley Band."

"'Dubbed'? Did they have a say in this? Can you just go around dubbing things?"

"...that's not the point."

"Whatever, sounds a little douchey to me. I don't go around naming my friends."

"I have a theory that people who go around saying exactly what they think and doing exactly what they want get labeld douchebags by people who can't stand the fact that someone isn't polite enough to play along with all of society's bullshit."

"...that sounds like something a douchebag would say."

"Fuck you, just buy the record."

Download from eMusic, iTunes.

That's Not What I Meant

I've been going home a lot lately. Travelling means bringing things; which in turn means forgetting said things. I've lost some weight this year, so my jeans ride a little too low without a belt. Unfortunately, I've left belts at a friend's house in Baltimore, my parents' place, and at friends' in the city. Which left me beltless the other day at the office, my jeans threatening to fall right off my Irish ass(which is an oxymoron), and led to the following exchange:

    Lady Co-worker: You should buy some belts.

    Me(without thinking): Yeah, I keep leaving my belts at other people's places.

    Lady Co-worker: ...

So, now I'm the office man-whore. 

Music Review: The Avett Brothers, Gleam II

Artist: The Avett Brothers
Album Title: The Gleam II (EP)
Record Label: Ramseur
Release Date: 7.22.2008
Rating: 8.5
Bands Web Site: http://www.theavettbrothers.com/
Sound: Alternative Country, Progressive Folk (Warm acoustic sounding)
Similar Artists: Wilco, The Jayhawks

I would like to thank The Avett Brothers for providing the perfect antidote for the late summer blues. Listening to "The Gleam II"¹ is a cathartic experience; the warm acoustic songs about family, love, death and regret help you sort things out - or at least come to terms with them. Your head nods along with a beautiful melody and thoughts about letting the past go("Tear Down This House"), family loves and rivalry('there was nothing worth sharing/like the love that let us/share our name', from "Murder In The City") or just laments about how messed up love is ('and Cupids arrow is backwards and bent/when it flies for me', from "Black, Blue") form in your head. Or maybe that part is just me. Though, if you've managed to spend time on this planet and you can't relate to regret, loves lost and family drama you're either very blessed or the living damned.

Of course the Brother's 2006 breakthrough "Emotionalism" explored similar ground(in fact, so have all their records). Somehow, though, "Gleam II" still sounds fresh, with the open sound of the banjo, the plucking acoustic guitar and heartfelt worn vocals. It manages to be simple, but not monotonous and boring. Towards the end of the EP, the songs do seem to run into each other's sameness - and then an electric version of "The Greatest Sum" drops. At first, after seven songs sounding of hollowed wood and strings, the electric guitar and banging drum-fills are jarring - but the classic-rock skinning adds another layer of impact and drama to the song. I hope this is a sign of things to come on their upcoming Rick Rubin produced album(apparently the bearded guru was a fan of "Emotionalism", which I guess means it can't be regarded as overlooked anymore).

¹When I hear the word "Gleam", I can't help but think of Marty Schottenheimer's famous 'there's a gleam, gentlemen, there's a gleam' speech. This is why I'll never be a true romantic.

Buy It On eMusic
Buy It On iTunes

A Decision

I'm visiting my parents, taking a shower when I notice that there are two variations of the same brand of men's body wash sitting next to the shampoo: Revitalizing Cool, and Invigorating Clean. Apparently my brothers have minor but important differences in their choice of body washes, and now I'm left with a choice. A big choice. The consequences could reverberate the rest of the day.

Do I want to be revitalized or invigorated? I assume both products get you clean, so does that mean one gives a bonus aura of "cool"? What do I want to say later in the day when someone asks how I am? Will I be telling a beautiful woman at a bar that I'm invigorated, maybe wishing I could be saying that I was revitalized...and cool, baby.

And there's more. The invigorating brand says it's "50% more value", yet it's clearly only a third bigger than the other bottle at most. Can I dock points from a brand for lying? Will using it influence me to lie? Will they be invigorating lies?

The decision was impossible, so I did the only logical thing: I used both. So, I was invigoratingly revitalized clean and cool. That's four adjectives to start the day.

Another Late Arrival

There is one thing I do enjoy about getting into New York late: catching a glimpse of the trains leaving the city. Not the MTA subway cars, but real trains. Trains with two stories of windows glowing blue across the side, making the machine look like a deep-sea creature swimming through the darkness just over and beneath the edge of the turnpike.

A Party

A party, on Monday night. Interesting.

My roommate's former co-workers, from...two jobs ago? All involved with some billionaire. They are good looking, interesting, long-legged and broad-shouldered. They have accents, money, PhDs, knowledge and opinions on wine, European travel and soccer. A date in Paris is discussed with the same semi-enthused tone I use to talk about a good deli around the corner.

"Come on out, hang out!" they say.

And talk about what exactly? That I want to buy Madden 09? My trip back to my hometown in Maryland? The suburbs? Outside there is a professional chef(handling the grill while I cook plain chicken, rice and beans), an heiress, a doctor, another chef, and two diplomats. Diplomats! Asking if I'm an American! Is that bad? I'm almost embarrassed to put on pre-season Monday Night Football. Almost. Is there a better way to tell them I'm irrevocably American? Quickly, I switch to the Olympics...even though Family Guy is on TBS...no! Keep it at the Olympics(Giants/Browns was at halftime).

A guest wants to play Wii Sports. OK, that I can handle. What will she pick? Tennis? Golf? She picks...bowling! Impossibly tall, sophisticated French woman picks the game of beer guts and ash trays.

She is good, but tipsy. I'm sober, and a little better. She's drunkenly fake-angry at her loss. Maybe there's a little real anger. Now, she could be a friend back home. A fellow regular guy at the dive bar...

Until her attractive, Latin fiance comes to take her home. They are all so different from me. Yet, we'll always have Wii Bowling.

A Good Start

This is how I would like to start every morning: trying to use the sink that's full of my roommate's dirty dishes(from a Monday night party) and accidentally splashing water so it looks like I pissed myself, followed by delayed trains, and then finally getting to work to find someone else has logged into your machine and locked it.

Fun.

Late Arrival

Arriving in New York late last night, I noticed how long the tunnel from the Port Authority to the seven train is. Completely devoid of people, the lines of the floor tiles stretch out towards infinity, scaling the people at the far end into specks. The next morning, throngs of commuters will crowd around on all sides, making the tunnel just more walking on the way to work. Late at night, though, it can breathe.

The cackle of an annoyingly loud woman is more grating when you've been stuck in a Greyhound bus for four hours. Especially when you had to tell the guy next you, hey dude, I'm sure you've got a nice ass, but I still don't want half of it in my seat. The cavities that form in your head from lack of sleep fill up with her banal, stupid laughter. People shouldn't be this happy right before Monday.

Everything seems amplified, but in a bad way. An old woman singing for meal money on a mostly empty train is the most depressing thing in the world at two in the morning.

The one exception seems to be borderline women, who become more - not less - fuckable.

I need some sleep.

Ramblings, Death Cab, and Guilt

Skip to thoughts on Death Cab.

I am lost.

No, I'm not lost. I'm directionless. Searching for meaning. Fulfillment. But where? From what?

Work? Why don't I feel fulfillment from work? Whenever I try to build my identity(yes, that's the word - knowing yourself is important, I've heard) through work I feel foolish. Isn't it common knowledge that most work is bullshit? Who will remember you for the extra time you put in the office? Is that what you want your family and friends to think of? Yes, I do remember hearing this message - mostly from Hollywood millionaires pretending to be middle-class men who should be content with their place in life. Lost family men who've betrayed their families by missing a Little League game or a piano recital(don't kids do anything interesting? fuck, no wonder pretend Dads and Moms don't want to show up to this shit). Men doing their dream jobs telling us to be content without our dream jobs.

Perhaps if your work is your dream(and therefore important to you), it's OK. From Children's Magician to CEO, I bet both know themselves pretty good through their work. It's part of who they are. Is my job part of who I am?

Maybe there is a problem with my assumptions(which are always dangerous); maybe when you go looking for work that is meaningful you actually rob it of any chance of giving you fulfillment. You can't get by on the "idea' of important work, because you've abstracted it too much. It should just come naturally; what you would be doing anyway.

And if that's true, then what would be important, fulfilling work to me would be reading, writing, watching movies, and doing whatever comes next...

...that's not a fucking job! That doesn't sound like doing anything, let alone an occupation. It's just hanging out.

So yeah, I won't find fulfillment -- at least not total, zen level fulfillment -- through work. At least not yet. That doesn't mean I can't find a certain kind of satisfaction. Hard work can be it's own reward, if you don't take it too seriously. That lesson only took twenty-nine years to learn...

...I'll bet women respond to men who don't do this kind of over-thinking; men who just get things done without wondering what does it all mean?

Is that what the red-head¹ was trying to tell me?

"I'm attracted to a guy who is in control..."

I could tell from the tone of her voice what she meant. I could take that tone and march it around New York and it would match frequencies with the vibes those men put out, buzzing in attraction. And even if one was a children's clown, they would be in control. More control than I'm in, that's for sure.

Like I said, I'm directionless. Each morning I start being tossed about by myself, wondering where I'll bounce myself to next. I have no control over myself - and what else should I be controlling? Maybe this lack of control is why I listened to that damn Death Cab for Cutie album more than once...

I'll admit, I don't particularly care for the last Death Cab album(or the band itself, for that matter). Sure, "I Will Possess Your Heart" is a decent song but I prefer the radio edit version, not the rambling, pointlessly long album cut. I tried, believe me I tried to like them but after a while the lead singer's whiny chirp of a voice grates on my nerves. See, I don't even know his name! Yet I feel compelled to have an opinion about his band, or face losing my music credibility. So I listened to that last album(something to do with stairs), and I listened, and I kept listening even though I strongly disliked what I was hearing. And then, for the last track, someone reads the fucking credits. That's the soundtrack to a hipster circle jerk. Who the fuck thought anyone would want to listen to the album credits? If I like your band, I'll read the fucking liner notes, OK? Christ people, have some faith.

ANYWAY, control, direction..how do I right a rudderless ship? Stop making obvious metaphorical writing choices? Couldn't hurt.

I'm reading more, listening to more music, trying to find out what I like, what I am like and in the end, trying to become someone I would like to meet, hang out with, shoot the shit, invite to a party, and possibly meet up for a late night fuck. Who knows?

And it feels a little wrong. Hasn't Judd Apatow and Zach Braff saturated the market with this crap? Isn't this whiny-white-male-disillusioned-and-lost bullshit been done to death? It's so out. And, unfortunately for me, manic pixie dream girls don't really exist. They're just manic.

Well, even if it's out of fashion, it's still where I am. And it's probably why I liked "Definitely, Maybe"², watch How I Met Your Mother, and listen to Crowded House's "Don't Dream It's Over"³ late at night like it's a profound act.

Still, I feel a little guilty that if I had a vagina I'd have much less shit in popular culture to identify with.

Could I identify with "Stay Positive", the latest from Hold Steady? Are Craig Finn's lyrics gender-crossing? He does sing about Boys and Girls in America, after all, not just boys. And it would be really easy to say "Here's One For The Cutters" should resonate with women(thought it feels dirty). Still, they are heavily classic-rock influenced, not the most popular genre of music among women(I actually had one girl tell me she wouldn't date a man who listened to Lynrd Skynrd). But that's all based on stupid stereotypes. I'm the only person I know who cut themselves and I didn't even listen to Bruce Springsteen until a girl got me into him.

You know what, to hell with feeling ashamed of what I like.

¹The red-head isn't actually red-headed, technically. But my mind plays tricks on my eyes.

²My man-crush on Ryan Reynolds is also a factor.

³In a true sign of being able to bullshit, I know that Crowded House is supposed to be an underrated 80s band with a worthy catalog that goes way beyond this one hit single. And I'll say that. But this is still the only song of theirs I've heard.

Shall We Play A Game?

I saw WarGames last night on the big screen, and it was a treat. A solitary one, too, since I couldn't find anyone to go with. Hell, it was hard to find someone at work who had heard of the damn movie(which is celebrating it's 25th anniversary, making me old).

When I arrived at the theater, the audience was mostly mid-thirty-somethings with wedding rings, beer bellies, bald spots and - sigh - children. Though the kids were a little endearing; like watching a geek-torch passing.

There was a small technical hiccup in about three-quarters through(which prompted the expected Joshua jokes), but I didn't mind since that gave me an unexpected bathroom break.

Seeing the old-school computer hardware -- floppy disks, modems, green terminal text -- was interesting. I can only imagine how fantastic this all seemed in 1983.

In a behind-the-scenes feature that aired before the movie, Mathew Broderick revealed that for the two small scenes where he plays Galaga in a *gasp* arcade(a true relic of the times), the producers of the movie bought him a Galaga machine and put it in his trailer. He also had to learn how to type(no one had computers then). Galaga got a lot more of his attention then typing.

Hot Hot Heat

I hate sweating. The sticky, slick slimy feeling of your shirt clinging wetly all over; like being pawed at by a moist-palmed pervert. And that little trickle down a leg or the small of your back, it's a sudden jolt of ickiness. A reminder of how disgustingly flesh and bone you are.

It's been remarkably hot lately. My room nearly reached 100 degrees Sunday and yesterday. My apartment has AC, it just doesn't reach my room. I have a large, towering ineffectual fan instead. If you want to move hot air around, I can't recommend it enough. At least today is a little cooler.

I've been good with the exercising, and up until a brotherly visit last week, good with the eating. I'm back on track now, though, so hopefully my goals can still be reached this summer.

Something Useful For A Change

Music is personal. Tastes vary wildly from person to person. My Desert Island All Time Top Five Records probably includes some music you'd gladly use for a signal fire. Listening habits, however -- especially with the advent of the iPod -- seem to be very similar. Stop me if you have the usual playlists: by genre, by artist, maybe a work out or happy mix, and if you tire of those -- and who doesn't -- bam, you just hit Shuffle. And skip, skip, and skip. Why does that same Madonna/Radiohead/Kanye song always come up on shuffle? Is Apple fucking with you? Who knows.

There is a better way, at least if your goal is to get a fresher mix of your favorite songs, new songs, and stuff you haven't heard in a while. And it's (relatively) simple: iTunes Smart Playlists.

The main foundation for my playlists are taken from this fantastic article by Andy Budd, iTunes Smart Playlists. I highly recommend the article; it's useful and easy to implement. The basic idea is to create several "feeder" Smart Playlists: favorites, new songs, songs not played often, and a mix of songs that haven't been played in a couple weeks. All of these are combined into one "Master" playlist. The only real difference is that I try to rate all my music - leaving audiobooks, podcasts, and videos unrated so they won't show up - and as such my "feeder" playlists have a rating condition. Usually "rating greater than three" or "rating equals x", while in Budd's system, only the favorites playlist is rated. Budd's system will work fine, however, for anyone who is not as anal as me when it comes to rating their tracks.

My ":Master Mix" playlist is limited to eight hours of music, the maximum amount of music I imagine I would need for a workday.

Budd also uses his master playlist to make several genre centered playlists. I also do this, but I set up the same feeder system for each genre, instead of having it feed from the master list(since mine is "only" eight hours).

I name my genre playlists after radio stations around Laurel, Maryland, where I grew up.

My radio playlists are:

• : Radio (Alternative 99.1 HFS)
• : Radio (Classic Rock 94.7)
• : Radio (Indie 102.7)
• : Radio (Oldies 100.3)
• : Radio (98 Rock)
• : Radio (Hot 99.5)
• : Radio (95.5 The People Station)

This adds a personal touch, rather than just the same old boring "Alternative", "Classic Rock" title playlists. I add the ": Radio" prefix to keep them near the top of the Playlists menu on my iPod or iPhone. Of course it should be noted that no "Indie 102.7" ever existed, but I needed to call the Indie radio playlist something.

All of these playlists use two feeder playlists: "Genre Feed" and "Genre New". "Genre Feed" looks for songs in the genre that have not been played in four weeks, have a rating over three, and selects two hours at random. "Genre New" looks for songs in the "New Music" playlist that match the genre, and limits the selection to one hour of music(the rating, and other considerations are already handled by the "New Music" playlist).

The ": Radio" playlists combine these two feeder lists, limited to one hour of music, selected at random. Since the "feeder" is twice as big as the "new" playlist, you should get a 2-1 ratio of "old favorites" to "new music". This can be tinkered with to your liking, providing you have enough "new" music to fill up the "Genre New" playlist.

This kind of set-up is perfect for a limited storage device like the iPhone. 8GB is not nearly enough for a sizable music library, so instead, my iPhone syncs the above Radio playlists and my Mix playlists. After listening to some music while I'm out and about, I re-sync it, and the playlists get re-populated with fresh content.

Still, I love having access to my entire library, because sometimes you just want to listen to The Replacement's entire catalog or you need to hear one of the more obscure selections in your collection. For that, I still use my video iPod with 160GB of storage.

A Reoccuring Dream

A Reoccurring Dream: I'm a little boy, at the age when first memories begin to form...the youngest I ever was. Not yet fully aware of myself. I'm sitting in front of a television. A commercial comes on - for what, it doesn't matter - starring another little boy. He's blonde. He's handsome. I know because my babysitter says so.

A little boy thought: I'm blonde! So I am handsome!

I run to the bathroom to look at myself. I see the boy in the mirror.

A little boy thought: I don't look like the boy on TV...

...I must not be handsome.

My first memory; my first disappointment.

There is an element of this dream in every day that's happened since.

A Couple Of Random Thoughts

1. I now we all love our iPods/Zens/whatevers to death, and we can't imagine daily commutes - or life - without them. I count myself among the countless hordes you can identify by spotting those white earbuds, or a pair of noise canceling headphones when I'm feeling really pretentious. But you will never, ever spot me wearing those while ordering my coffee, lunch, or anything else for that matter. You won't see me doing what the prick in front of me did today: taking one bud out, and then draping it over his ear. Hole-lee FUCK, people. Look, this is not an ATM or an online order; there is an actual human being behind the counter who deserves your attention when they are trying to take your order. Especially since you will be the first person to bitch if anything is wrong. Plus - and I know this may come as a shock - your music will wait for you. It will not gleefully ignore the pause command and go on playing while wishing a fuck you at you, robbing you of your favorite song. Come one people, we are trying to have a civilization here!
2. We have two elevators at work. Sitting in the lobby one day, I noticed the "5" above the second elevator door was burnt out. Watching the descent, the car goes to "6", disappears for a few seconds, then goes to "4". During those few seconds, I like to pretend the car is in the Twilight Zone.

July Update

So far so good with the running. Getting up early, running, then heading to work knowing I don't have to hop on the treadmill before eating some lunch. Of course, getting up is still a bitch.

Eating is going pretty good too. I'm fixing a lot of meals at home, then saving half for lunch the next day. The extra tupperware cleaning is annoying, but it saves a lot of money.

Just have to keep it up.

NetFlix Has Me...

In an official act of singlehood, I finally signed up for a NetFlix account. I know I'm very, very late to the party. Technically, I had one when I was married - but it was really my ex-wife's account. I had little input on the movies arriving in those neat red envelopes.

Now, though, I'm in total control. Already my queue has hit triple digits, filled with movies I've missed the last couple of years, classics I've neglected to see, and favorites I want to see again(but for some reason do not own).

My first arrivals came Saturday: 3:10 to Yuma, Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny, and Season One, Disc One of LOST. Yes, LOST. I never boarded the LOST train(or in this case, plane) when it first aired, but now I'm all aboard. Those first four episodes hooked me.

NetFlix should definitely help with my goal of staying single the entire summer, keeping me locked away in my apartment, basking in the glow of the TV while manipulating my queue and rating movies in hopes of getting some good suggestions from the NetFlix robots. I already can't wait for the rest of the first season of LOST(though I'm told after this, it gets really weird until picking up again in the fourth season).

I also watched American Psycho for the first time over the weekend, and I have to say, now I understand why some people just couldn't see Christian Bale as Batman. After all, Patrick Bateman is pure evil. Not exactly superhero material. Like Bruce Wayne, though, Bateman is a mentally disturbed member of the upper class, alienated from everything around him. Though he doesn't imagine demonic cat-eating ATMs or daydream about dismembering hookers with chainsaws, Wayne is still very unhinged. And for some reason, I can imagine Wayne going on at length about his favorite artists and albums(though I doubt Huey Lewis and the News is in big rotation in the Batmobile; more likely he rocks out to something dark and elegant - like Led Zeppelin¹).

¹He definitely does NOT listen to anything Goth.

July

I've decided July will be dedicated to my fitness and health. I've been pretty good about the gym since February, going five to six times a week. I've lost almost 20 pounds(while being asked if I was remembering to eat...believe me, I would never forget that, I love food too much).

Going into July, though, I find myself plateauing. So, I'm going to start seeing a personal trainer on Sundays, and I'll be eating better(during the week...I still cave to some cravings during the weekend. Like pizza. Hmmm, pizza...). A food journal is in order.

My goal is to drop to 10 percent or below in body fat. Last time I checked, I was in the 11-13 percent range, but I'll get a definitive measurement Sunday at my first session. After that, I'll have a new weight program that I'll be doing three times a week.

In a sort of addendum to the fitness goals for the month, I'm going to try and get up at seven at least three days a week to go running outside, instead of doing the treadmill at lunch. For one thing, I'll feel like I'm using more of the day, and for another, I'll be freeing up my lunch time for other things. I've done this twice so far this week. Getting up at seven can be hard, but once I get running, I feel great.

I'll be posting about how all of this goes.

Never Heard That One Before

I was going to begin this with "I've been dumped many ways..." but then I realized that isn't true, and even if it was, it didn't really apply to what happened to me last week.

In reality, I've been dumped once. And by dumped I mean divorced, which is the major-league level of dumping. No, what happened yesterday files itself in line behind the many times I've gone on one or two dates, then things just fizzled out for whatever reason. Inconvenient schedules, not-so-good chemistry, uncontrolled second date projectile vomiting, whatever. It's the beer-league softball of dumping.

Anyway, I've been softballed in many ways, but never for not being Jewish. I can't blame her, though, because the dictionary entry for "not even remotely Jewish" is a picture of me, smiling back and giving a thumbs up.

A Pattern Emerges

So...

It's 2005, a month after a breakup. I meet a great girl, who lives in another city.

It's 2008, a month after a breakup. I meet a great girl...who lives in another city.

Well, at least this time I still have my job.

A Riveting Experience

I recently attended a mandatory training/orientation meeting. The subject was security, and free snacks were provided for the hour and half ordeal. Here are my carefully written meeting notes:

That brownie was excellent.