6th Sense

As people celebrate remember the 5th anniversary of the 2001 6.8 Nisqually Earthquake, I think back to where I was 5 years ago and what I was doing when "the big one" hit.

It was Winter Quarter 2001 at Western. I had an Accounting 240 exam at 10AM that morning--I finished my exam in 40 minutes. After the exam I ran back up to my dorm room to get my laundry gathered and sorted for the 5-hour marathon that was Laundry Day. Fortunately for me, the laundry room was a few doors down from my own so eyeing the availability of washers and dryers was as easy as sticking my head out the door. As I sat waiting for the next washer to free-up, I was hunched over my computer playing Counter-Strike. I had just been fragged when my pot-head roommate Ryan awoke from a small coma and asked me, "what was that?" I asked him "what?" And then the Earth shook.

It was quite possibly the weirdest thing I've seen a human do. Like catfish moving violently, chickens that stop laying eggs, bees fleeing the hive, or dogs barking or whining for no apparent reason, my roommate had exhibited an animal-like reflex sensing the earthquake before it occurred.

Five seconds after the earthquake, my roommate Ryan returned to his coma only to return 2 hours later when his friend Jason showed up at the door. Before Jason even entered the room, my roommate Ryan sat-up in bed and indicated it was time to "smoke a fatty."

Tipping

This is one of my favorite scenes from "Resovoir Dogs"

MR. WHITE: I don't tip because society says I gotta. I tip when somebody deserves a tip. When somebody really puts forth an effort, they deserve a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, that shit's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doin their job.

MR. BLONDE: You don't have any idea what you're talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a hard job.

MR. WHITE: So's working at McDonald's, but you don't feel the need to tip them. They're servin ya food, you should tip em. But no, society says tip these guys over here, but not those guys over there. That's bullshit.

MR. ORANGE: They work harder than the kids at McDonald's.

MR. WHITE: Oh yeah, I don't see them cleaning fryers.

I've Made a Huge Mistake

This morning on my way into work I stopped by the grocery store to pick-up some cough drops to help suppress the annoying and lingering sore throat my girlfriend gave me (she thinks it's cute when she passes her colds on to me--they impact me 10x more than they do her, yet it's still cute when I'm in the fetal position bundled under my sheets begging for the snot in my nose to stop running--yep, really cute). Anyhow, as I was letting my car cool down I noticed a guy across the lot looking over my car from a distance. I didn't think much of it and proceeded to turn her off and lock her up.

As I was walking into the store the same guy eyeing my car approached me from behind and asked if my car was turbocharged.

I could have said "no" and walked away, but instead I said "yes" and it was at that moment when the 'S' was rolling off my tounge that I realized I had made a huge mistake.

For the next 10 minutes I was bombarded with questions relating to how I managed to shoehorn a turbo kit in a tight engine bay or how fast my car goes or how much power it makes and comments of how any type of Honda/Acura are more powerful than V6's/Ford's/Mazda's, how his car would beat me in a street race, how he's only working as a landscaper until his dreams of being a fully-sponsored race car driver come true, how he's outrun every sheriff or state patrol car, and on and on.

Needless to say, I got sick of his talking and reached into my pocket and pretended as if I had received an important voicemail and that I ought to be getting on my way. He proceeded to follow me back to my car and he soon realized that I would be on the road and probably to never speak to him again. He asked that I write down his cell phone number so that we could speak again he could tell me his car was better than mine. I pulled a pen and my business card out of my pocket and as I was getting ready to write down his number, only to toss in my glovebox later, he asked why I just didn't give him my business card. And so I did.

S T U P I D !

Any day now I expect a call from this guy on my work phone or possibly an e-mail or possibly a personal visit if he can put the numbers and letters together. This is what I get for being sick and needing cough drops, this is what I get for being an idiot, this is what I get for having a sexy car.

Mt. Dew Saves

A goldfish gets its bowl drained of its water, then the water gets replaced by Mountain Dew and the goldfish dies. The Mountain Dew is then drained and replaced with water. The goldfish is still dead, but is ressurected with a 9 volt battery.

WTF!?!?!

My Life. My Card.

The following questionnaire was ripped-off from an advertisement I saw in GQ.

MY NAME:
Jessie

CHILDHOOD AMBITION:
MLB Pitcher or Rock & Roll Drummer

FONDEST MEMORY:
Too many to list

SOUNDTRACK:
Something with a bass line that grooves

RETREAT:
To my room or the Oregon/Washington coast

WILDEST DREAM:
Any instance of deja vu

PROUDEST MOMENT:
Graduating from the UW

BIGGEST CHALLENGE:
Life

ALARM CLOCK:
Circa Survive - Juturna

PERFECT DAY:
Waking up next to my girlfriend, bagel and cream cheese breakfast, playing music for a few hours, a grilled sandwich, throwing a wrench on my car, an evening with my girlfriend

FIRST JOB:
Delivering newspapers

INDULGENCE:
White Cheddar Cheetos or White Cheddar Popcorn, a Long Island

LAST PURCHASE:
GQ Magazine, cough drops, yogurt

FAVORITE MOVIE:
Saving Private Ryan

INSPIRATION:
Mom and Dad

MY LIFE:
is about making other people happy

MY CARD:
is the mail, expected delivery is 4-6 weeks

Sprint for the Win

This is one of my favorite commercials from Super Bowl XL.

How I Spent the Found $15

After a frustrating Monday in the office, I found $15 in the parking lot on my way to my car. Here is how I spent it.

• $4 16oz. White Chocolate-Toasted Marshmallow Latte = Crazy Delicious ($3+$1 tip, I was feeling generious, besides, it wasn't my hard earned money)
• $ .39 Stamp to mail my absentee ballot
• $10 work-wager on the upcoming Seahawks/Pittsburg Super Bowl
• $.30 for a pack of gum
• I lost the rest of it in my girlfriend's car
  

Monday Rant

The effects of my new position are starting to wear on me. I’ve only been at this a few months now, but the daily whining of an incompetent contractor, an imperceptive architect, and the never-ending Pacific Northwest rain has brought me to the point of wanting to walk-away from the job.

Over the last several weeks I have read at least 10 letters from our contractor who has requested equitable compensation for their inability to write a schedule, coordinate with their sub-contractors, the architect, the owner, and themselves. It was the hilarious the first time I read a letter from our contractor requesting additional money for a requirement they were contractually obligated to pay for. After their 3^rd request, I quickly saw where this was heading—anything not put right in front of them or anything that required them to apply themselves requires additional payment because apparently this goes beyond their abilities as contractors—or free-standing, walking, thinking, humans.

Our architect is suffering from a God-like complex. His drawings are PERFECT. They cannot be improved upon. They need no further explanation. His drawings are so perfect that if you removed one dimension on a page, the dimensions would assemble themselves, collectively calculate the missing dimension, and shape the corner of the plans to pick up a pencil from off the table and fill in the missing dimension. If anyone was to try and improve upon his drawings, including the architect himself, the planets would align and the natural balance of the solar system would fail, life would vanish, but the architect would prevail survived only by the plans he had drawn. (sarcasm)

Lastly, I want the rain to stop. It’s rained far too much for 2006. We need to spread this rain out evenly over the year so that there are May flowers, late-summer hot showers, and December snow.

On a brighter note, I found $15 cash in the parking lot today. If this happened at the end of every day I think I just might be able to tolerate this job.

Bejeweled

A few weeks ago my boss gave me a Palm Tungsten C. It's a hand-held computer that is wi-fi compliant, has an internet browser, an e-mail client, AIM and MSN instant messenging, and a RSS reader. Just when I thought I had a chance at getting away from the internet, I'm given another device to stay connected.

Sure, the Palm isn't the most up-to-date handheld device on the market, Blackberry's and Treo's are clearly the most popular devices on the market combining the handheld PC and the cell phone, but despite the cell-less feature, the Palm has been great to me. The wi-fi allows me to take internet browsing and e-mails to places I've never considered including bathrooms, meetings, and even in the car. Just last week I was able to read The Stranger's news section while sitting in a construction meeting.

The absolute hands-down best feature of the Palm is Bejeweled. Where I can't find wireless internet access, I have Bejeweled to keep me striving for a new high score or to keep me occupied while taking a dump.

Toiletries

In 2005, I was fortunate enough to be sent-off to distant cities to represent myself on behalf of our organization. While I made sure to present myself as a well-educated, groomed, and mature adult while in the company of others, I got ridiculously giddy at the luxuries of staying in high-end and not-so high-end hotels.

I have to be honest, one of the more exciting features to the hotels I stayed at was the attention to detail: the kleenex box with tissue sticking out that was folded and formed into a swan, the extra towels the house keeping ladies gave me after my girlfriend used all 3 provided towels in less than 2 hours, and lastly, the way they folded the toilet paper upon first entering and after house keeping services.


I've gotten in the habit of folding my home toilet paper in a similar fashion. I think it's the OCD in me or my own high attention to detail. Or maybe it's that I secretly want to be a house keeping lady. I dunno.

Retrotarted

2009 Chevrolet Camaro

1969 Chevrolet Camaro

2008 Dodge Challenger

1970 Dodge Challenger

The 2006 North American International Auto Show (NAIAS) was held last week in Detroit. After reviewing MotorTrend's coverage of the show, I am not impressed and a little disappointed by what will be coming out of Detroit in the next few years.

In the past, the Detroit Auto Show was something to look forward to. It was a show that highlighted the manufacturer's current model year cars and dazzled spectators with their leading edge concept cars. The show used to be about performance, innovative design and use of technology, and time-less styling. What the show has ultimately become is a loss of all originality, the loss of imagination, a dependence on what was then--a signaling of ultimate failure.

There is a reason why the muscle cars of the 60's and 70's were retired; their designs were tired, their large cubic inch displacements inefficient, and lastly the increasing costs of oil. This is precisely why the muscle car will fail again. Oil prices will continue to rise, the inefficiencies of driving a 400 wheel horsepower supercar through 35mph congestion will materialize, and the retro trend will end.

I have hope in Detroit and for auto manufacturers across the world in designing cars that will appear timeless, that utilize the latest technologies in making automobiles more efficient, more powerful, more safe, and more enjoyable for the driver.

Book Review: Tales of Adam

"No place where there is life is a desert except to man."

"Tales of Adam" is the latest offering of author Daniel Quinn. At only 90 pages, 20 or so which are illustrated, it's his shortest work yet (I read the entirety of the book on a 50-minute ferry ride to Seattle). Unlike previous works of Quinn, "Tales of Adam" doesn't offer us any new teachings nor does it challenge us to think differently or analyze our current way of living as takers. Just like the number of pages, this book comes up short. I recommend reading this book only after you have read "Ishmael," "My Ishmael," and the "Story of B."

Hamster Calendar

In what started off as a fucking hilarious AIM conversation about Richard Gere, Lemiwinks, and hamsters, the Hamster Calendar seems like a viable product.

A few years ago there was this website that featured dancing hamsters. It was intended as a joke for many, but for a select few, it inspired beyond belief. The inspiration would create an array of dancing hamster related spin-offs including dancing rabbits, dancing goldfishes and would also inspire hamster related goods including little hamster shoes, little hamster boom-boxes, and little hamster cars. Over the years these products would die-off failing to live up to the fame of the dancing hamster website.

As I start off 2006 fresh--with a career, a retirement package, and a growing waistline--I'm thinking BIG! How do I go BIG? With a hamster calendar of course!

The idea for the hamster calendar is to have hamsters dress up as everyday people. A fireman, a doctor, a police officer, a banker, an airplane pilot, a Harley Davidson bike rider, a UPS delivery man...we could even have the hamsters dress up as other animals! For some reason beyond my realm of understanding, people will think it's cute. Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson, Brittney Spears circa 2000, dolls with glass eyeballs, a new Mini Cooper...all cute and all sell. The dancing hamster was huge in 2000 and just 6 years later--it's back--but better! Instead of having a dancing hamster on your screen for just a few minutes, you'll have a hamster on your wall for 12-months of the year.

With hamsters going for $5/each and for $3 when bought in quantities over 5, there is relatively low up-front costs and since I'll only be needing the hamsters for a 3-day weekend/photoshoot, I can release the hamsters back into the wild and keep maintenance costs low. Photographing the hamsters will be left to me and the clothing can be purchased at the dollar store for only a few, hmm, dollars. I would estimate total cost of production to be under $25.

If I sold 100 of these stupid brilliant things, that's well over $2000 in my pocket. Then I could buy more hamsters, breed them, release them into the wild, and let them terrorize the Puget Sound, wait, Washington, or even better, the West Coast, or even better than that, the United States, or better than that, the World, or even better than that, the Universe.

New Blog -- First Post

I often can't sleep at night; I have too many ideas running through my head. When my thoughts don't come to be in bed, they come to me when I'm doing repetitive tasks at my job or while driving.

This will be a place for me to write down my ideas, carry out the good ones, and then dominate the world.

My name is Jessie. I graduated from the UW Tacoma in June with a degree in Urban Studies and Environmental Studies. When stupid people ask me what Urban Studies is, I tell them that it's Urban Planning. (They still don't know what I'm talking about). I work for a redevelopment agency in Bremerton, WA. I have an intelligent girlfriend who on a daily basis reminds me that I'm not as bright as her--and not as pretty. I am an automobile enthusiast; I drive a turbocharged V6 '94 Ford Probe and garage-keep a '57 Chevrolet Step-side truck.