Ooey Gooey Crunchy Gutter Snacks

Snack #1: Enter through the Ear

Existential Crisis

I'm afraid I've forgotten who I am. I've been unemployed for so long now, I've forgotten my place in the functional development of the universe in general and humankind in particular. I've basically lost my direction. I think it was north by northeast, the last I checked. Anyway, in the unlikely event that I actually do get a job, I think I'd once again see myself as a useful organism, rather than a webpotato. If that were to happen, I would more than likely be able to define myself as a software Producer.

Existential Crisis, Redux

Thing is, a job really shouldn't be the quintessential factor that defines who we are. There's some deep-rooted thingy telling me that (would you believe I actually took philosophy courses at UC Berkeley, and I say things like "some deep-rooted thingy"). But it's hard to believe otherwise when everybody keeps on asking me about my job search, and they act genuinely concerned, like my digits are going to start falling off one by one if I don't get a job soon.

If that happened, I could land a job as a circus freak.

Gen X Gripe #3,569

When I got out of college, I cruised right into gainful employment. It was like the proverbial "slippery slope" into the perfect job. It was great. And I started to get pissed off at all those whiny Gen-Xers, bitching and crying about not being able to find a job like their big brothers and sisters did back in the mid-eighties. Lazy bastards, I thought, making my generation look like a bunch of losers.

Now here I am, unemployed for what seems like an eternity now. I can't seem to land a job. The fates are against me, and so is the San Francisco Chronicle.

What I have against the Chronicle, and you should too!

I just read an article in the San Francisco Chronicle that talked about how the multimedia industry is going straight into the crapper. It just chattered away about how all the major companies -- EA, Brøderbund, Acclaim, Sanctuary Woods, you name it -- are losing money like they're just a bunch of saps with shit for brains, so they're laying off people like crazy. Yeah, I can get a job in this industry.

I've decided to be very angry at the San Francisco Chronicle until they get me a freakin' job. This is all their fault. You can tell them, too. Tell them I sent you.

Back to the Gen X Gripe #3,569

Anyway, back to the heart of my gripe. You see, I'm a good guy. I'm smart. I'm good at knowing when and when not to pick my nose and stuff. And I still can't land the job I want. I'm really good at what I do. Most VP's of Product Development would cream their jeans to have a guy like me anywhere near their office. Here's why ... I can do lots of stuff.

Like this (take a deep breath): team building, team management, project management, new business development, design specifications, P&L analyses, budgeting, copy writing, script writing, public speaking, marketing strategies, problem solving, client relations, web surfing, HTML coding, playing computer games and watching The Animaniacs. I mean hell, who wouldn't want to hire me? Come ON for CHRISSAKES! What's wrong with you people?

I mean, just look at my resumé!!! Just go ahead and LOOK at it! You'll see what I mean.

Muse

I'm thinking about getting everybody I know to call URL's "Earls," because I think it would be cool if that caught on and I could say "I came up with that. Earls." But even if it didn't catch on across the webaverse, my friends and I could still have it as our "little inside joke."

Circus Freak

OK, I'm trying to figure out the circus freak thing. Would I have a better chance of landing a circus freak job if I had lost all my digits one by one, or if I walked around with a big gaping hole in my forehead?

The Box

I made a box with a slot, a latch and a padlock, because I needed it for my friends to put money in (long story). I painted it red, blue and yellow, with a neatly-crafted arrow pointing to the slot where you put your money. I was thinking of taking a picture of it and stapling it to my resumé because maybe employers would start to see me as a rennaissance man.

I think I may use it later on when I have to start selling my body to eat. I think it'd come in handy, because it would look awful nice next to the bed, and I could just kind of gesture towards it when we were done, rather than having to come right out and ask for the money, which must be a really uncomfortable thing to have to do.

Am I Crazy?

For some reason, people look at me weird when I tell them I watch The Animaniacs. Then they take a good step away when they hear that I watch it regularly. You see, I watch The Animaniacs like most people go to church. And that includes the singing. I usually don't tell people that part, because then I'd never get a job. Watching The Animaniacs with unbounded passion and verve is healthy behavior, I tell you. The little people tell me so.

Go ahead and email me if you think I'm crazy. I know how to make your computer blow up, and I can do it from right here in my comfy cozy chair.

I think people who don't appreciate The Animaniacs are crazy. That's just how I feel, and that's just that.

Trepannation

OK, here's proof that I'm not really crazy. There are people out there in the world who actually trepan themselves, which is where you take a hand-held drill and bore a hole in your skull. See, trepanners believe that you reach a higher level of consciousness if you simply relieve all that nasty pressure on your brain. Since there isn't a single doctor that will do this for them (go figure), they are forced to do it themselves ... sometimes with the help of another trepannation fan, sometimes alone. There's actually a Trepannation Society.

Oh, so why aren't I crazy? I haven't bored a hole in my head yet.

The Space Shuttle

You probably won't believe this, but they say the people on the Space Shuttle Challenger didn't die when it exploded. Nope. They instead waited around to smack into the surface of the ocean at 200mph. There's actually a transcript of stuff they said as they were careening downward, but take my word for it, it's just a lot of screaming and praying and plenty of being down-right surprised by the whole situation. They were pretty bummed out, all in all. Funny how NASA forgot to tell us that part of the story.

Sayings and You

They say one man's ceiling is another man's floor. That's so cool. In fact, I think I'll say it. One man's ceiling is another man's floor. Try it at home, and see how it feels. Go ahead. I'll wait.

HTSL

I'm going to write my own hypertext language -- this is right after I theoretically spend a long time in school learning how to write code, mind you -- and I'm going to call my masterpiece HTSL (Hypertext Sarcasm Language). I think people would find it useful. Sarcasm is the final frontier of cyberspace. Show me an avatar that can truly express sarcasm, and I'll show you a really kick ass avatar. Then I'll show you my wee wee.

Huh?

OK, forget that part about my showing you my wee wee. That was uncalled for, and I wouldn't show it to you even if you did call for it. Plus, there are some United States Senators that would probably like to hurt me for even thinking that thing about showing my wee wee. Anyway, where was I?

Guess what I can do!

Since the "homepage" is easily the world's most dynamic and powerful medium for ego-stroking self-aggrandizement ever seen in the modern era (except for the mirror, I guess, or dating somebody just because they like to give blowjobs), I'm going to devote this entire paragraph solely to telling YOU what I can do! I snowboard. I ski. I snowshoe. I mountainbike. I volleyball. I hike. I breathe, then I breathe out. I eat, then I poo. I drink, then I pee. I generally like people who like me, and generally don't like people who don't. I lift heavy objects only when other people are watching, and I still don't make my bed just to spite my mom (I'm 27).

Like you care.

SPAM

Do you know how many times I've gotten that email that's just chock full of SPAM haikus? Don't send it anymore, OK, because ... see ... I've already GOT IT!!!

The second piece of code that I write will be a filter for all the net crap emails that I've gotten a thousand times from very well-intentioned people.

I'm Really Sorry

OK, it just dawned on me that I'm sounding really bitter and snide and stuff. But that's really not what I'm like, and I care very much about making you understand what I'm really about, you know?

OK, that last sentence was a perfect example of where my Hypertext Sarcasm Language would come in really handy, see what I mean? There's a market for this thing!

Something to do when you're bored

Take a sentence, any sentence, and say it out loud. Then say it over and over again, emphasizing a different word each time. Finally, emphasize the whole sentence. Get really passionate about saying the sentence. Do it to a stranger in an elevator. To get you started, try this sentence: "Then I'll show you my wee wee." You can assume "wee wee" is one word, for the sake of the game. E-mail me and let me know how it goes.

I've been in prison

You may not believe this, but I've been arrested before. I didn't put that on my resumé, because I thought it might hurt my chances of getting a job. Having been unemployed for a while now, I'm starting to rethink that strategy. I think being arrested shows that you have a kind of elán, a panache, a passionate zest for life and all that can be squeezed out of it.

Of course, the only reason I'm telling you this now is because my parents don't have a computer. To think of all the money they poured into therapy ... all I needed was a web site to ladle my brains onto, and we could've gone on plenty more family vacations!

The other reason I'm telling you this is because you will now see clearly that I have a kind of elán, a panache, a passionate zest for life and all that can be squeezed out of it.

Program Notes

When I was deciding what to do with this web site, I landed upon the really neat idea of sharing a bunch of links that I like that other people could follow them. Then I realized how stupid and useless I think that is when I see it on other people's pages.

Also, I figure that if you've actually found this page, then you've obviously been everywhere else on the web first, and just got really bored, and figured well ... there's this one, I guess. So, I wouldn't be showing you anything you didn't already know about, and I hate doing that. Plus, why would I want to send you away? There's plenty to do right here, and we'll be serving vanilla cream cookies with milk later on. I like having you here.

Look at all the pretty colors

I hope you like the pretty color I picked for the background. I thought it was pleasing and soothing. I picked it out especially to please and soothe you. That's the kind of guy I am. If you don't agree that it's pleasing and soothing, try sticking a knitting needle in your eye, and see if you like that color instead. If you have some kind of problem with the idea of sticking a knitting needle in your eye, try pressing your fingers hard against your eyelids, and hold them there for a while. Let go, and look at the page. Whaddya think now?

Feel free to suggest a color, and I'll assuredly ignore you.