more on flickr.

more on flickr.


I skipped a post on Friday. Maybe you noticed. Maybe you didn’t. I got tied up in open house preparation activities at the office and ran out of time for a post. I was tasked with ice procurement and photography. Clients and vendors came by to see our new space. With the hordes of people walking through, it was about 273 degrees Celsius. A couple people said it was hot as hell. I doubt that hell has a conference room full of delicious Mexican food or three enormous tubs of beer. I could be wrong.

Saturday meant a morning at the gym, a developing addiction to 24, band practice and a haircut. I decided to buzz my hair and thought it would be fun to go with a mohawk. I was right. It was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, Aimee hated it. She wouldn’t even look me in the face Saturday night. But the ‘hawk was awesome.

Sunday brought church, lunch with the grandparents and more 24. Aimee finally looked at me without puking at about three in the afternoon.

I shaved the ‘hawk this morning when I remembered that I had a meeting with a client today. And that my boss would strangle me if I showed up to the meeting with a mohawk…

[Agency team walks into conference room where Clients and Boss sit waiting.]
Boss: What in the –
Client 1: Uh.
Client 2: That’s, um…
Client 1: Uh.
Client 2: …different.
Boss: [sputtering] Professionalism! [Veins bursts in Boss’s head.]
Creative Director: Run, Robert.
Robert: What?
[Boss grabs Robert’s neck and begins strangling him.]
Boss: So, let’s get started. What are we meeting about today?
[Silence. Boss continues strangling Robert.]
Boss: Weren’t we going to talk about some possible media placement?
[Robert spasms.]
Boss: So…? Anyone?
Robert: [gurgling]
Boss: Oh, is this distracting you? [kicks Robert in the head]
[Roberts spams once more. Boss twists his neck with a jerk. Blood trickles slowly from Robert’s lips.]
Boss: [whispering] Shhh. Go to sleep.
[Boss lays Robert on the floor.]
Boss: [brushing off his hands and smiling] Alright then. Let’s get started.

I think I did the right thing in shaving it off. Although it would have been nice to have it for the trip to Austin tomorrow. I leave at eight in the morning to join the team from our office in the state capitol. It seems the scripts I’ve written for them have been trill enough to earn me a spot on the creative team for a pitch to a new client. And it’s a big one. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for writing in this space, so I’ll be using words as a photoblog for the next few days. I get back from Austin on Thursday night and go back next Tuesday morning. Stay tuned for photos. Or check back on Friday for more syntaxtual fun.

I miss it already.


Pros and Cons of Acne

You could end up looking like Edward James Olmos.
Thousands of acne clearing face treatments. Zero that work.
Contact sports.
Complete list of foods that won’t make you break out: saltine crackers.
Repulsiveness to women.
Accidentally popping a zit while using a borrowed cell phone.

Edward James Olmos is famous.
Hours of popping entertainment.
No need for expensive face moisturizer.
Low self-esteem means you can do anything and not worry that people will think any less of you.
Not dating leaves your schedule open for video games all day, every day.
Free cooking oil.
Portable relief map of the Badlands.

Today's nuggets courtesy of our friends south of the border.

Hiccups kill two

BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) - A Colombian man accidentally shot his nephew to death while trying to cure his hiccups by pointing a revolver at him to scare him, police in the Caribbean port city of Barranquilla said on Tuesday.

After shooting 21-year-old university student David Galvan in the neck, his uncle, Rafael Vargas, 35, was so distraught he turned the gun on himself and committed suicide, police said.

I guess "sorry" just wasn't enough.

The incident took place on Sunday night while the two were having drinks with neighbors.

Galvan started to hiccup and Vargas, who works as a security guard, said he would use the home remedy for hiccups of scaring him. He pulled out his gun, pointed it at Galvan and it accidentally went off, witnesses told local television.

The gun accidentally pulled its own trigger? Was it drinking, too?

"They were drinking but they were aware of what was going on," one witness said.

Yeah, they were completely lucid. Shooting someone who has the hiccups sounds like a great idea to me.


Border face-off involved men in Mexican army uniforms

SIERRA BLANCA, Texas (AP) -- Men in Mexican military-style uniforms crossed the Rio Grande into the United States on a marijuana-smuggling foray, leading to an armed confrontation with Texas law officers, authorities said Tuesday. No shots were fired.

They just arm-wrestled.

The men retreated and escaped back across the border with much of the pot, though they abandoned more than a half-ton of marijuana as they fled and set fire to one of their vehicles, authorities said.

The Mexican government denied its military was involved.

Sure. If you were the Mexican government and you were thinking about invading the U.S., would you admit it? "Hey- United States! We're coming over this river and we're gonna take over! We're gonna kick you all in the faces! With boots!"

The confrontation took place Monday and involved three Texas sheriff's deputies, at least two Texas state troopers and at least 10 heavily armed men from the Mexican side of the Rio Grande, said Rick Glancey of the Texas Border Sheriffs' Coalition.

Gov. Rick Perry ordered an investigation.

"It's certainly troubling and unacceptable and a real reminder of how an unsecure border threatens all Texans and the rest of the nation," said Perry spokesman Kathy Walt.

Troubling? Ten men armed with automatic weapons driving through Texas is troubling? I'd hate to find out what scares this woman.

The Mexican Foreign Relations Department issued a statement saying that drug traffickers and other organized criminals have used uniforms and vehicles before. "It is possible that these actions were designed to damage the image of our armed forces," it said.

"It's also possible that they are members of our advanced sentry unit doing reconnaissance for our invasion force. But don't let that worry you. If we were going to wage war on you, we would tell you for sure."

Monday's incident follows a story in the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin in Ontario, Calif., on January 15 that said the Mexican military had crossed into the United States more than 200 times since 1996. Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff has said reports of Mexican incursions into the United States were overblown and most were just mistakes.

They thought they were crossing some other river. It's no big deal.

The confrontation on Monday took place was near Neely's Crossing, about 50 miles east of El Paso, and started when state police tried to stop three sport utility vehicles on Interstate 10. The vehicles made a quick U-turn and headed south toward the border, a few miles away, Glancey said.

When the SUVs reached the Rio Grande, police saw the occupants of a green, Mexican army-style Humvee apparently waiting for the convoy, Glancey said.

Police stopped and watched as the vehicles began to cross the shallow river into Mexico. Both sides -- the Americans and the smugglers -- had their weapons drawn.

One SUV got stuck in the river, and another blew a tire on the Texas side. Its driver ran into Mexico.

Men in the Humvee tried to tow the stuck vehicle out of the river. When that failed, a group of men in civilian clothes began unloading from the SUV what appeared to be bundles of marijuana. They then torched the SUV, Glancey said.

Deputies found about 1,400 pounds of marijuana in the vehicle that had a flat tire. The vehicle had previously been reported stolen from El Paso.

Having ignored the rest of the release, thousands of El Pasoans are ecstatic that their city was mentioned on CNN.

Last week I posted a tutorial on commenting. Everyone loved it1. Somebody even emailed me to say that they would gift2 me with a new3 car4 if I ever used footnotes again. Sweet.

Anyway, in the spirit of that post, today we have a tutorial on emailing posts. Let’s begin5.

At the top of every post is a little tiny envelope. This envelope is more than just a pretty little picture. It’s a link. If you click it, it will take you to a page where you can email the post to a friend6. If you forget what the envelope is for, just read the text right to the left of it. That’s not just letters arranged in a random order. It’s a clue.

On this page, you enter your name7, your email and the message you want to include with the post. This might be something like, “Hey- thought you might find this funny.”8 Why might you want to email a words post to someone? Possible scenarios:

• You read the post and immediately thought of your little brother, who has an inexplicable fascination with France and hepatitis.
• You read the post and thought of your cousin Cora, who finds all defecation-related humor absolutely hilarious.
• You read the post, felt objectified as a woman9 and insulted beyond comprehension. So you email the text to all your women10 friends to rally a torch-wielding, murderous mob to kill me in my sleep.
• You read the post and thought of Bill in Accounting who, like the post, is also incredibly mediocre. You email him in an attempt to motivate him to greatness through my bad example.
• You read the post. When you regain consciousness, you email it to all your enemies in the hopes that they too will suffer the agony that afflicted you.

So if you like a post and think someone else might like it, take advantage of the easy-to-use email feature. Thanks11.

1 This is a lie. Most people hated it with a passion that burns stronger than this fire that's been burning in Pennsylvania since 1962.
2 stab
3 rusty
4 bowling trophy
5 If you got the guts.
6 Or enemy. Some posts are better suited for sending to your enemies for torture purposes.
7 When sending posts to your enemies for the purpose of torture, you might consider using an alias.
8 Or, “Hey- read this and suffer. I hope you die in a shallow grave in the middle of France with no family, hepatitis and leg cramps, you miserable excuse for a human being.”
9 or toaster, kidney or attack monkey, as the case may be.
10 or toaster, kidney or attack monkey, as the case may be.
11 and please don't use words as torture or spam, please. I've got all the hate I can handle right now.

I was at my cousin's house yesterday, taking their family portraits. I hung out for a little while afterwards to take some individual shots of his sons while they were playing in the yard. The older boy is six. And great with words.

Dad: Hey Son, you want to throw the football around?
Son: Yeah!
Dad: You think you can catch it?
Son: Sure!
Dad: I’m gonna throw it hard… You gotta be ready.
Son: Ok.
Dad: Are you ready?
Son: If you got the guts.

Space Junk Cleanup Needed.

Space is filling up with trash, and it's time to clean it up, NASA experts warn.

A growing amount of human-made debris—from rocket stages and obsolete satellites to blown-off hatches and insulation—is circling the Earth.

NASA was made aware of the problem in a note left on the break room refrigerator:


Man who shot pope headed back to prison.

ANKARA, Turkey - Police took the man who shot Pope John Paul II back into custody Friday after an appeals court ordered him to return to prison to serve more time for killing a journalist and for other crimes in Turkey.

Mehmet Ali Agca did not resist arrest after eight days of freedom, and he was taken to police headquarters in Istanbul, where TV cameras showed him handcuffed and yelling in English, Turkish and Italian.

"I declare myself Messiah! I am not the son of God, I am Messiah!" shouted Agca, who has made similar outbursts in the past.

Agca received several notes upon his return to his cell:


Kidnapped garden gnomes found in snowy Swedish forest

STOCKHOLM (AFP) - Twelve garden gnomes kidnapped in western Sweden a month ago have been found in a snowy forest, standing in a ring beside a lighted bonfire and a small hut, Swedish news agency TT reported.

"It looked very cozy," Bo Larsson, a police officer in the town of Kil, near Karlstad, told TT on Friday.

The gnomes mysteriously vanished from their gardens just before Christmas.

A letter from the "Garden Gnomes Liberation Army" later claimed responsibility for their disappearance, explaining that the dwarfish figures had pined for freedom.

Larsson said the gnomes had, however, declined to collaborate in the investigation.

"We've tried to squeeze them for information, but they're staying mum," he said.

Larsson found this taped to his bathroom mirror when he got home:

I’m a big phony. A fake. A sham.

The agency I work for has a lot of clients and two offices. Our office here handles local clients, for the most part. Our office in the state capitol handles some other clients. Some of them are based in their geographic area. Many are not. Many of the other office’s clients are national outfits. Big-time companies out of D.C. and Los Angeles and San Francisco and New York. The other office gets these clients by positioning itself as an “urban” agency. In this case, “urban” essentially means “black”. Companies looking to make some advances in the African American segment look for urban agencies to handle their advertising. This is cool, because our relatively small agency gets to work on some pretty big accounts. It’s really cool because I’ve been able to work with some really big accounts, like a national retailer and a major telecommunications company. The thing is: I’m white. Like, totally Caucasian. This isn’t really a moral or ethical problem. The stuff I’ve done has been well received by the market. But I got an email yesterday that made me realize what a con I am. It went something like this:

“Hey guys,
We wrapped up production on the spots today. [Filler text here.] [Guy] did really well directing the voice talent and Robert’s scripts were trill!”

Clearly, I was supposed to have known what trill means. I didn’t. I had to look it up. Don’t tell anyone, okay?

The elevator gets pretty crowded in the mornings. Like, really crowded sometimes. This morning, I was standing in the rear of the elevator with my back to the wall. It filled quickly and a woman moved to make room and ended up right in front of me. She had reddish-brown, curly hair and she kept flicking her head back to get it out of her eyes. In other words, she kept flicking her hair in my face and eyes. It was slightly annoying, as you might imagine, but it smelled wonderful. I don’t know what hair product she uses, but whatever it is, all women should buy it. All the other shampoo companies should just stop trying to compete. For a brief moment, I thought about telling her that her hair smelled fantastic. That’s not creepy, is it?

Me: Excuse me, miss, but your hair smells sensational.
[The elevator crowd turns and stares.]
Miss: Um…
Me: I understand that’s a strange comment to make, but I thought you might like to know.
Miss: [mumbles uncomfortably]
Me: Oh, don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not trying to hit you on or anything like that. I’m married, see? [points to wedding ring] I just wanted you to know that whatever you’re using to wash your hair is the finest product ever.
[Awkward silence.]
Me: What are you people staring at?
[More silence.]
Me: Come on, it’s not that weird…
Me: Look, her hair is right in my face and it smells fantastic. Look, smell it!
[People try to avoid eye contact.]
Me: Come on, smell it! It smells delicious! You could eat it!
[Doors open. Chaos ensues as people fight to evacuate the elevator.]
Me: Smell it! Smell her hair!
[The doors close. Me rides to the ninth floor in silence.]


Dear me,

It’s really not a big deal. People make mistakes every day. In all likelihood, no one even noticed. And in the grand scheme of things, they probably don’t even care if you’re wearing a black tee under a navy blue shirt. Just remember: you're not so good at things like color-coordination or choices. You might want to write that down so you don't forget.


p.s. While you're taking notes, add this: try to stay away from any combination of plaid, stripes, checks and/or polka dots unless you’re this guy.

I have been informed me that the new look is giving some people a little trouble. It seems that the commenting system is a little obscure1. Here's a little rundown on the procedure2. The process is actually less complicated than it used to be, but it's a little harder to get to the commenting section. Here's how you do it:

Each post begins with a title3. Just to the right of the title is a number4. That number corresponds to the amount of comments the post has received. Slide your mouse over the number, and the word 'comments' magically5 appears. That's a link. You click it. Doing so will take you directly6 to the post's responses7. Below those, you'll see three empty boxes.

Two of them are small and one is big. Write your name in the one next to the word 'name'. Your name is required to leave a comment, as you can see by the word 'required' next to it. Beneath that is a space in which you can type your website address. If you've got one, type it in8. If not, don't. Now that you've put that behind you9, you can type your comment and press the 'post' button. Now the whole world10 can see what you've got to say. That's it. That's the process. Easier than you expected? Well, definitely easier than before. No logging in. No word verification. No marauding hordes of attack monkeys11.

So now that you know how the whole thing is handled, comment away. Seriously, get crazy. I love me my comments. Even if you've read but never commented before, go ahead. Tell me how you feel12.

1This may be putting it mildly. My dad was so confused by the whole thing that he actually punched me in the face13.
2Translation: I like the new format14.
3Usually having almost nothing to do with the post itself15.
4Usually zero.
5You might think that magic would be hard to code in html. You're right16.
6Sorry, you won't pass Go and you won't collect $200.
7Usually berating me for my lack of sensitivity to women, toasters, vegetables and small rodents.
8Or not. Whatever. This box doesn't have the little 'required' next to it.
9Feel free to wipe the sweat from your brow at this point.
10Actually, just the people who read this blog. Not surprisingly, a very small number of people.
11Regretfully, I cannot guarantee a lack of marauding hordes of vicious attack monkeys.
12Unless it's something gross. Then skip it.
13This statement is almost true17.
14Translation: even if the new format was burning your retinas and eating your cupcakes, it would stay.
15The less sense it makes, the better.
16I had to hire an old hunchbacked lady with a big, black hat and a mole on her nose. She was weird.
17But entirely false.

Listen, Oatmeal, it’s time we had a little talk. No, don’t interrupt me. It’s my time to talk now. Why? Because this is Toast you’re talking to. I care about you. I’m trying to help. Just hear me out, okay? Listen, man, things have got to change. The Breakfast Foods Coalition is talking about kicking you out of the organization. They- Well, yes. They can do that. No, there isn’t really a precedent, but it’s in the bylaws. I know, but look at yourself. You’re a sloppy mess. You’re slow, thick and absorb more liquid than a sponge. No, look, I am your friend. That’s why I’m here to help. You should hear the things the guys from the Coalition say about you… That’s not the point. Just straighten up, okay? Look at what Cereal did when they were thinking about kicking him out. Yeah, you didn’t hear about that? It was only a rumor, really, and nobody seriously thought that cereal could be kicked out, I mean, he’s the backbone. But anyway, there were rumors around that he was a little sloppy, too. Messy. Complicated with the spoon and the bowl and the milk and everything. Big show. So he went out and got this new guy: Cereal Bars. Big hit. Fancypants packaging. Astronaut, freeze-dried milk or some business. And Cereal stays in because he brought in the new guy. Oh come on, it’s not an entirely different situation. No, I’m not saying you should just copy him and find some Oatmeal Bar to step in. Besides, Oatmeal Bar is in. Part of that Cereal Bar guy’s deal. That’s part of why I’m here. You didn’t look so bad ‘til he showed up. Well, honestly, I don’t know what you should do about it. Just straighten up. Get it together. Maybe find a new rep. That Quaker guy is so self-righteous, with that weird collar thing and that smug smile. I’d like to take that stupid hat of his and set fire to his barn with it.

Reasons I am in love with Apple.

1. Great operating system. Stable. Virtually virus-free. Pretty. Soon to be known to most of the world as Windows Vista.
2. Aesthetically pleasing case designs. Check out the iMac. That’s no Steve Buscemi.
3. Aesthetically pleasing case designs. The Mac mini. Cute as a button. Almost as big.
4. The iPod. It’s an mp3 player. It’s a hard drive. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from anything. Also, it has more potential for addiction than crack, heroine, tobacco and Carmex combined.
5. iTunes. It’s easy to use. Even for me.
6. Quicktime. The media player so good that Microsoft decided to quit trying to compete with it.
7. Excellent customer support. If you’re sending a product in for service, they ship you an empty box with pre-cut foam, address labels and packing tape. Yes, even the packing tape.
8. The CEO wears jeans to announce new products.
9. iLife and iWork. Only $79 a piece. And only $20 more for four more licenses. That's almost cheap enough to prevent software piracy. Almost.
10. They’re not afraid to go out on a limb with their advertising. Check out the home page and their new TV spot. Or these posters. Some people may not like it, but that’s the point. Advertising that doesn’t offend anyone compels no one. It’s good stuff.


I spent today's blogging time setting up the new look. I'm sure you're devastated.


Who gets married on a Monday night? Honestly.

And who's the simple-minded fool who agrees to photograph the event?

Oh, wait. That's me.

Yes, I know Apple introduced some new stuff today. I am excited [putting it about as mildly as the following statement: Hurricane Katrina made a couple people a litte grumpy]. Maybe some sleep will shave my brain fuzz and I'll do something with that tomorrow. For now, check out the sack of hot air.


[The curtain rises on a nearly empty stage. A large grasshopper sits in the middle of the space. Man1 enters.]

Man1: Woah. That’s a huge grasshopper. I wonder how it got here.

[Inquisitive, Man1 steps toward the insect. He walks around it slowly, examining it. He steps back for a wider perspective. Man2 enters.]

Man2: [with a British accent] I say! That is quite a large bug!
Man1: Isn’t it? I was just thinking that same thing.
Man2: From whence might such a beast come?
Man1: Well, it’s way bigger than any of the grasshoppers I’ve ever seen around here.
Man2: Hmmm. Have you a theory?
Man1: Well, sure. I was kind of thinking that maybe it’s a regular grasshopper that ate really well and grew really big.
Man2: Poppycock!
Man1: Excuse me?
Man2: That’s preposterous.
Man1: How do you mean?
Man2: It’s quite clear that the local environment is entirely prohibitive to such outstanding growth. It is absolutely impossible for a local grasshopper to outgrow its counterparts in such a fantastic fashion.
Man1: Well, maybe improbable, but not really impossible…
Man2: Yes, it is. Quite impossible.
Man1: Then how’d it get here?
Man2: Well, I am quite an expert on the North American Husky. Through years of research, I have learned that, from time to time, the North American favors a grasshopper or two in his diet. In addition, the Husky is quite nomadic. It’s perfectly clear to me, and any open-minded, clear-thinking individual, that a Husky happened upon this grasshopper in its native habitat and carried it here.
Man1: Why would a dog carry a grasshopper so far without eating it?
Man2: Well, you see, the Husky is quite a foresighted pooch. When one considers the evidence, you must come to the conclusion that the hound procured the grasshopper for consumption at a later date, and brought the insect with him on his wide-ranging travels.
Man1: What evidence? That’s just your theory. There’s no evidence for that.
Man2: Pshaw! Only the blind could ignore the evidence here.

[A pause while Man1 stares at Man2. Man3 and Man4 enter.]

Man3: Holy crap! That grasshopper is flippin’ huge!
Man1: We were just talking about that.
Man3: How do you think it got here?
Man1: Before we tell you what we think, why don’t you venture a guess?
Man3: Um… Well… Maybe it’s from some exotic jungle or something… Like in South America or some rain forest somewhere… And it was captured so some scientist dudes could do some research on it... And the plane was flying over here on its way to the research lab and they lost cabin pressure and the grasshopper got sucked out of the fuselage and landed here.
Man2: [grunts incredulously] Ridiculous.
Man1: How did you come up with that?
Man3: Well, it’s way bigger than any grasshopper I’ve ever seen around here. And I was born here. I spent a lot of time as a kid chasing and catching these things. And it’s way bigger than any that I’ve ever seen.
Man1: But the airplane. How’d you think of that?
Man3: Well, it’s the only logical explanation, if you think about it.
Man1: Why couldn’t it have just migrated here?
Man3: Why would he leave the place where he’s from? There’s obviously a lot of good food and stuff there. Why would he leave all that for this? It doesn’t make any sense.
Man4: Maybe he was made by some crazy scientist. With like, DNA manipulation or something crazy like that.
Man2: Please! That’s preposterous!
Man4: Why?
Man2: It just is! You have no evidence to support that! It’s complete hogwash!
Man4: Hey, man. You don’t have to be mean about it. What did I ever do to y-
[Man5 enters.]
Man5: [to the grasshopper] There you are, boy! Come here!

[The grasshopper turns and bounds into the arms of its owner.]

Man1: That’s yours?
Man5: Yeah, isn’t he great? [nuzzles the grasshopper]
Man3: Where’d you get him?
Man5: Oh, I ordered him on the internet.

[Man5 exits with his pet. Man1, Man2, Man3 and Man4 stare at each for a moment and exit in silence. Curtain.]

held back

I was held back in kindergarten. Sat through it twice. For years, my parents told me that they decided to have me repeat the grade so that I would have a year to grow. You see, I was a tiny kid. In fact, I was a tiny kid until the ninth grade. Smaller than almost everyone else in my grade, even though I was a year older. So this was a very believable explanation for my repetition of kindergarten. Unfortunately, as believable as it was, it was also a lie.

In the early part of 2005, I finally learned the truth. I was sitting at dinner with my family and some friends. The subject came up, as it has been known to do, and someone asked why I was held back. I started talking about being smaller than everyone else and my parents wanting to give me a chance to be the same size as my classmates. I glanced over at my dad, who was looking at me kinda funny. I paused. He just stared at me for a second and said, “No… You couldn’t read.” He went on to explain what happened.

I switched schools after my first attempt at kindergarten. There was a test. Sort of an aptitude thing. I remember sitting in an office and drawing a stick figure. Apparently, the test somehow gauged my reading level. It was not good. The school wouldn’t let me go to first grade. I had to repeat kindergarten there or go somewhere else.

Allow me to clarify. I couldn’t proceed to Grade One because I couldn’t read at a first grade reading level. Know how well you have to read to enter the first grade? I’ll tell you: not at all. I was held back because I couldn’t not read. I didn’t not read as well as everybody else my age. Everybody else who couldn’t read could apparently get much more accomplished in their time spent not reading.

a joke

Q: What do you call the guy who survived the cannibal attack?

A: Leftovers.


This may be a little late for a year-in- review, but here on words, I’m the boss. So it’s year-in-review time.

2005 began well. I had just graduated from college in three and a half years, finally catching up educationally to a lot of people my age who didn’t go through kindergarten twice. I also finally found out the real reason I repeated kindergarten. And it wasn’t what my parents had been telling me my entire life. More on that at a later date.

I started the year in Denver, working on the production crew for a conference of college students. A lot of fun. A lot of work. And some very complimentary attempted recruitments. Which I refused.

I got a D70.

In February, Aimee had my baby. Very cool. Extremely disturbing. Not for the faint of heart. But the baby’s pretty cool. She’s so close to walking now that it almost hurts.

Then, just as I was pulling the hospital bill from the mailbox, I got a call from my boss. He said that there was no more money to pay me. So I lost my job.

Then I found one. They took me back days later at the ad agency where I had worked all three summers I had been in college. It was very generous. Fortunately, I had money again. Unfortunately, I had very little of it. And quite a bit of debt from the baby and the doctor’s visits for Aimee. I told her that they did it fine without doctors in Bible times, but would she listen? Noooo.

While in employment limbo, I had sent my resume and some writing samples to The Big Agency in the city. I knew it was a long shot, but thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. I didn’t hear from them, so I went to work at the small agency [not even big enough for the Shift key].

Work at the small agency got boring. They had evolved into more of a design studio and less of an agency. I was writing about a line of text a week. In my emails. To myself. I started this blog to force myself to get at least some writing done every day. And then a couple people started reading it.

I thought about joining the circus.

And then The Big Agency called. They needed another writer. We met. I wrote some stuff for them. They liked it. They offered me a job. I didn’t take it.

Just kidding. I totally took it.

I started August 1st. I found out when I was leaving the small agency that my boss had been considering letting me go. In English, that means he was going to fire me. It’s hard to justify having someone on the payroll to not do their job.

I started the new job a little scared, but got into the swing of things. A lot of work came across my desk. Including the writing for a couple real big accounts. National ones. Which was awesome.

I got a second D70 for my budding photography business.

In late November, The Big Agency gave me a raise. That seemed really fast to me. And awesome.

I got press passes to both the X Prize Cup and the Sun Bowl. More awesomeness. At the X Prize Cup, I watched a rocket engine explode from 300 feet away. And I didn’t die or end up severely disfigured. At the Sun Bowl, I got to watch Brandon Breazell return two onside kicks for touchdowns. Two in a row. That hardly ever happens.

We’re building a house. I’m frustrated because it’s taking forever and our builder’s rep is an ass, but I’m also pretty excited at the idea of owning a home.

A lot’s happened this year. Way more good than bad. Thanks for being part of the good.


So… it’s been a while.

Last Wednesday night, I got sick. For the third time in about as many weeks. Let me provide some context: between my freshman year of college and graduation, I was sick once. One time. I’m either dying or I’m already dead.

Anyway, I got home from a party Wednesday night [photos coming soon] and thought to myself as I walked through the front door, “Hmm. My stomach feels kind of funny.” I proceeded to the bathroom and puked my way to the sunrise. Then I took two or seven of something and fell asleep before my body could demand to be taken back to the bathroom.

When I woke up around noon, I felt like I might be able to make it into the office for the afternoon. My boss should see this. Talk about dedication. Well, I got halfway to office and realized that going in to work might have been the biggest mistake of my life. If you don’t count that time at the zoo. So I went in anyway and picked up uncle shiny. Then I went home and back to sleep.

I woke up for intravenous drugs at six and then returned to that dream I have where the world is made of cheese and I’m the king.

I woke up Friday morning feeling fantastic. So I went to the Sun Bowl [photos soon].

Then there was the weekend, New Year’s, and a day off yesterday. But I’m back. So you can once again look forward to the same lame jokes and shallow introspective review you’ve come to simultaneously love and hate. I don’t know about you, but I’m excited. See you tomorrow.

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