Two pitchers for the A's - Mark Mulder and Barry Zito
Ian Poulter
Gary McCord
And finally, Burt Renyolds
Okay, just kidding about the last one, but it would have been pretty cool.
Monday, November 15, 2004
People I met last week
My favorite sports writer - Rick Reilly
Two pitchers for the A's - Mark Mulder and Barry Zito
Ian Poulter
Gary McCord
And finally, Burt Renyolds
Okay, just kidding about the last one, but it would have been pretty cool.
Two pitchers for the A's - Mark Mulder and Barry Zito
Ian Poulter
Gary McCord
And finally, Burt Renyolds
Okay, just kidding about the last one, but it would have been pretty cool.
Cheese it!
I really felt like posting something today, but instead, I'm passing on the funniest thing I've read today.
Here, from government experts, are 10 warning signs that the prostitute you've picked up is a sinister space babe:
1. Looks too good to be true -- If that curvy cutie working the street corner is a dead ringer for Catherine Zeta-Jones, odds are the gorgeous star isn't moonlighting. A shape-shifting ET has probably adopted the form of your dream girl.
2. Out-of-date lingo -- Alien prostitutes try to fit in by using streetwalker slang -- but often use outdated terms. A hooker who sees a police car and whispers, "Cheese it, the fuzz!" likely hails from deep space.
3. Evasive about identity and origins -- Few gals in "the life" are forthcoming about their full names. But a scarlet woman who refuses even to divulge where she comes from -- vaguely describing her birthplace as "the Midwest" or "overseas" -- could be an ET.
4. Odd, hard-to-place accent. "They have trouble pronouncing the letter 'R,' " Manling reveals.
5. Unusually petite -- The average alien hooker stands roughly 5 feet tall, but may attempt to disguise her size with ridiculously high heels.
6. Sex was "unbelievable." If the encounter was "everything you've always fantasized about," chances are the memory was implanted by ETs.
7. Missing time -- If you paid for an hour with a hooker, but your watch indicates four hours have gone by, this suggests part of your memory of the encounter has been erased.
8. Seems telepathic -- A fallen woman who finishes your sentences or slips up and mentions your real name when you've given her a bogus one, is probably invading your thoughts -- and our planet.
9. Over-perfumed -- Hookers from outer space often try to mask their peculiar ET body odor.
10. Squeamish about spanking -- Terrestrial prostitutes are willing to perform virtually every sexual act if the money is right. But ETs don't like having their butts touched.
Seriously, are there people worried about this somewhere? "Well, I don't know, $150 sounds mighty expensive. Wait - how tall are you? What happened to the last 2 days? Why do you smell so purty?"
Also, while thinking about aliens, I remembered one of my favorite TV shows from the 80s. Still, to this day, not a week goes by where I don't wish that I had the power to stop the clock by putting my fingers together. Think about it - all the extra nap time. Lounging around in the middle of the work day. Finishing that last-minute project AND going to happy hour, too. Carissa, this may be the solution to your post-daylight-savings doldrums. If I remember correctly, the girl could also touch certain people so they could join her in her timeless world. Plus, her dad was Burt Renyolds. I don't know about you, but I wish I had him giving me advice on a daily basis. After looking into Out of this World, I discovered one other tidbit - the show was directed by none other than the great Scott Baio. I think I can die peacefully - Scott Baio AND Burt Renyolds worked together on a project. Oh yeah, and that Evie could gleep objects into existence and transport herself from one place to another.
How nice would that be: I'll pause time, round up the crew, and we'll all go to the Virgin Islands. When we get there, I'll unfreeze the staff at a beach bar and we'll have a lovely gathering over cocktails on this Monday afternoon.
Here, from government experts, are 10 warning signs that the prostitute you've picked up is a sinister space babe:
1. Looks too good to be true -- If that curvy cutie working the street corner is a dead ringer for Catherine Zeta-Jones, odds are the gorgeous star isn't moonlighting. A shape-shifting ET has probably adopted the form of your dream girl.
2. Out-of-date lingo -- Alien prostitutes try to fit in by using streetwalker slang -- but often use outdated terms. A hooker who sees a police car and whispers, "Cheese it, the fuzz!" likely hails from deep space.
3. Evasive about identity and origins -- Few gals in "the life" are forthcoming about their full names. But a scarlet woman who refuses even to divulge where she comes from -- vaguely describing her birthplace as "the Midwest" or "overseas" -- could be an ET.
4. Odd, hard-to-place accent. "They have trouble pronouncing the letter 'R,' " Manling reveals.
5. Unusually petite -- The average alien hooker stands roughly 5 feet tall, but may attempt to disguise her size with ridiculously high heels.
6. Sex was "unbelievable." If the encounter was "everything you've always fantasized about," chances are the memory was implanted by ETs.
7. Missing time -- If you paid for an hour with a hooker, but your watch indicates four hours have gone by, this suggests part of your memory of the encounter has been erased.
8. Seems telepathic -- A fallen woman who finishes your sentences or slips up and mentions your real name when you've given her a bogus one, is probably invading your thoughts -- and our planet.
9. Over-perfumed -- Hookers from outer space often try to mask their peculiar ET body odor.
10. Squeamish about spanking -- Terrestrial prostitutes are willing to perform virtually every sexual act if the money is right. But ETs don't like having their butts touched.
Seriously, are there people worried about this somewhere? "Well, I don't know, $150 sounds mighty expensive. Wait - how tall are you? What happened to the last 2 days? Why do you smell so purty?"
Also, while thinking about aliens, I remembered one of my favorite TV shows from the 80s. Still, to this day, not a week goes by where I don't wish that I had the power to stop the clock by putting my fingers together. Think about it - all the extra nap time. Lounging around in the middle of the work day. Finishing that last-minute project AND going to happy hour, too. Carissa, this may be the solution to your post-daylight-savings doldrums. If I remember correctly, the girl could also touch certain people so they could join her in her timeless world. Plus, her dad was Burt Renyolds. I don't know about you, but I wish I had him giving me advice on a daily basis. After looking into Out of this World, I discovered one other tidbit - the show was directed by none other than the great Scott Baio. I think I can die peacefully - Scott Baio AND Burt Renyolds worked together on a project. Oh yeah, and that Evie could gleep objects into existence and transport herself from one place to another.
How nice would that be: I'll pause time, round up the crew, and we'll all go to the Virgin Islands. When we get there, I'll unfreeze the staff at a beach bar and we'll have a lovely gathering over cocktails on this Monday afternoon.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Bigger than my britches
Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for Zach's First Business Trip!* I will be heading into the capital of commerce, New York, during the first week in December. However, although it sounds great, this poses a variety of problems for myself, the least of which is actually acquiring a new suit. One of the great parts of my job is that I can show up to work wearing just about anything, with the opposite effect being that my so-called "business wardrobe" hasn't been updated since the interview process. I'm now left with a suit from [name deleted*] that is a little worn at the seams and what can be called a classic power Zoot suit - a pin-striped double-breasted number with big shoulders and pants with pleats and cuffs. I guess that's what I get for going to the Men's Wearhouse with my dad when I was 19.
More importantly, I have this fear that I really don't know what I'm doing in my job. I'm supposed to be a manager, but there really isn't anything for me to manage. And, I'm an analyst, but I really don't feel like I know anything at all - like I'm sort of a pretend analyst - yet I'm a supposed "expert" on earnings quality (and pension accounting, if you can believe that).
I have zero credentials (even though I'm working toward a CFA designation and CFE) and only two or three years experience. I have never managed money or traded. Hell, I don't even invest my own money. Still, people pay me and my company for my research and make multi-million dollar decisions based on our findings. I just got off the phone with a portfolio manager - he knows nothing about me. However, I know that he has passed the CFA exam (a rigorous three-year certification process) and has a BA and a PhD from Harvard. Why is he depending on me for anything? While in New York, besides meeting clients and prospects, I'm having dinner with one of the most important hedge fund managers and short sellers on Wall Street. I've also talked with the guy credited for uncovering both Enron and Tyco years before the disasters. Somehow, amazingly, I am able to come up with some bullshit that they have never seen before, although I feel like I'm just making it up as I go along. I have this vision that someone will find out I'm 24 and call me out for not knowing what I'm doing. Because of this, I actually prefer the anonymity of the phone: if I don't look the part I can at least sound like I know what I'm talking about.
*Not counting the time I went to Napa when I worked for Kenneth Cole because, um, Kenneth Cole has mysteriously disappeared from my resume.
More importantly, I have this fear that I really don't know what I'm doing in my job. I'm supposed to be a manager, but there really isn't anything for me to manage. And, I'm an analyst, but I really don't feel like I know anything at all - like I'm sort of a pretend analyst - yet I'm a supposed "expert" on earnings quality (and pension accounting, if you can believe that).
I have zero credentials (even though I'm working toward a CFA designation and CFE) and only two or three years experience. I have never managed money or traded. Hell, I don't even invest my own money. Still, people pay me and my company for my research and make multi-million dollar decisions based on our findings. I just got off the phone with a portfolio manager - he knows nothing about me. However, I know that he has passed the CFA exam (a rigorous three-year certification process) and has a BA and a PhD from Harvard. Why is he depending on me for anything? While in New York, besides meeting clients and prospects, I'm having dinner with one of the most important hedge fund managers and short sellers on Wall Street. I've also talked with the guy credited for uncovering both Enron and Tyco years before the disasters. Somehow, amazingly, I am able to come up with some bullshit that they have never seen before, although I feel like I'm just making it up as I go along. I have this vision that someone will find out I'm 24 and call me out for not knowing what I'm doing. Because of this, I actually prefer the anonymity of the phone: if I don't look the part I can at least sound like I know what I'm talking about.
*Not counting the time I went to Napa when I worked for Kenneth Cole because, um, Kenneth Cole has mysteriously disappeared from my resume.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
I misunderestimated the power of a letter
W.
W.
Who would have thought one letter would be so powerful? Especially when that one letter is relegated to the upper-left corner of the keyboard, holding court with the Q. W has become so useless that no one even talks about the letters in front of a web address. It’s all bangbusdotcom this and cheatinghousewivesdotcom that – it’s just assumed to be somewhere on the “world wide web” (as my parents still call it). In fact, www is to dotcom what Jan is to Marsha. Now, in the U.S. – or double-U.S., actually – the next four years belong to a letter. And it's not even the first letter - or even in the first half - of the alphabet. Nope, it's number 23. Just like the winner of the 2000 election was actually second place. And who was that?
W.
Here are some random thoughts from today:
Would Bush have still won if the candidates pulled a wife-swap?
Bush is the first president with a four-letter last name to serve two terms. Aren't we lucky? I can think of some more four-letter words to describe our situation.
Will anyone die this week? There were a lot of non-voters out there, and apparently, death is the only other option.
Finally, the best bumper sticker I saw during the entire election process: “Democrats are sexy. Who ever heard of a nice piece of elephant?”
W.
Who would have thought one letter would be so powerful? Especially when that one letter is relegated to the upper-left corner of the keyboard, holding court with the Q. W has become so useless that no one even talks about the letters in front of a web address. It’s all bangbusdotcom this and cheatinghousewivesdotcom that – it’s just assumed to be somewhere on the “world wide web” (as my parents still call it). In fact, www is to dotcom what Jan is to Marsha. Now, in the U.S. – or double-U.S., actually – the next four years belong to a letter. And it's not even the first letter - or even in the first half - of the alphabet. Nope, it's number 23. Just like the winner of the 2000 election was actually second place. And who was that?
W.
Here are some random thoughts from today:
Would Bush have still won if the candidates pulled a wife-swap?
Bush is the first president with a four-letter last name to serve two terms. Aren't we lucky? I can think of some more four-letter words to describe our situation.
Will anyone die this week? There were a lot of non-voters out there, and apparently, death is the only other option.
Finally, the best bumper sticker I saw during the entire election process: “Democrats are sexy. Who ever heard of a nice piece of elephant?”
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
The More You Know
Okay, this is a public service announcement, but it reminded me of those cheesy promo spots from NBC in the '80s. You know, the ones with Scott Bakula or Bill Cosby telling us to Stop, Drop and Roll or Just Say No. Okay, there's a chance that my childhood memories may be blurring together and that none of that really happened. I was actually surprised to find that Alan Thicke (Alan Thicke, people!) never recorded one. And, I can't be the only one who is surprised that these promos are still running. Seriously - they started in 1989 (1989, people!)! Did they ever have one warning us of the dangers of slap bracelets or how light reflecting off of fluorescent clothing is harmful to the eyes? Maybe they had an impact back then, but are kids even watching Will and Grace now?
Anyway, there's only one thing left to say:
Anyway, there's only one thing left to say:
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