The problem with having half-great technology is that even though you spend GOOD money on a new device, ALL the money you can afford to spend in fact, and even though you ENOY your new device very much, you nonetheless can't shake the nagging feeling that what you could afford is half great, and therefore you covet the devices of those who spent more on the truly great.
Oh man.
I like my new camera. Don't get me wrong. And yah, I'll post pictures. I just, you know, I'm having some personal issues with my camera not being what I covet.
It started when I was at a birthday party with jenna this weekend, and the uncle of the newly-turned nine year old had a GREAT Cannon and I of course HAD to take a picture with it of the whole family at the restaurant, and of course he HAD to show me his lenses and the tricks it could do, and then he HAD to tell me for $1200 you can really get everythng that would really make you happy in the life of one who takes pictures, and of course I KNOW that we can be happier for less money than that, but then I start to sort of twitch, and I know that I couldn't afford that little wireless number that lets you avoid hooking up a USB cable every time you want to dump photos, and sure some day I'll have the extra dough to get one of those dandy photo printers I didn't know even existed until a week ago....
But somehow knowing all these things does not erase the nagging feeling of someone else's better, cooler, heavier, multi-lensed, feature-rich camera in my hand. Or the memory of standing in BrandsMart in a 'if shopping is sugar, then I'm in a diabetic coma' moment, staring at all of the many many many wonderful things that now belong to others.
I don't covet my neighbor's wife.
I covet his Cannon.
I hope that's okay.
November 29, 2005
comment update
I've found that switching back and forth between registration-only and totally-open comments seems to be working well to thwart the spERmmers pretty well. If I can spend the majority of your time offering no-hoops commenting, by golly I'll do it! Plan B, based on your advice: Moderated.
Can you imagine having had this conversation four years ago? That was when we had to get up a 6:00 to register in the two-hour window YACCS had open for new registrants so that they could keep up with the tide of nerdy bloggers wanting to add comment functonality to their blogs. And the only people who ever commented were people on your blogroll.
Time sure flies when you're having blog.
Can you imagine having had this conversation four years ago? That was when we had to get up a 6:00 to register in the two-hour window YACCS had open for new registrants so that they could keep up with the tide of nerdy bloggers wanting to add comment functonality to their blogs. And the only people who ever commented were people on your blogroll.
Time sure flies when you're having blog.
On Being a Cold-Weather Football Fan
I was talking with my friend yesterday who had been home to Greenwood, Mississippi for Thanksgiving, where one of her relatives is married to Kent Hull, former Buffalo Bill who is a three-time pro-bowler and who went to The Show four consecutive seasons.
Kent was the center and anchor of the offensive line during the greatest era in football (at least to those of us in Western New York). He played 121 straight games in his 11-year career. During that time, the Bills enjoyed eight winning seasons and won four consecutive AFC titles. Kent was also one of the team's captains for his final seven years.
Being a Bills fan during that era was probably as wild a sports fan experience as any in history. No team before or since has run the hurry-up offense like the Bills did during those years. No team has come from behind more times to earn more surprise wins like the Bills during those years. No team rushed back and back and back and back to the Superbowl with the same players like the Bills did.
And no team handed as many heartbreaks to as many loyal fans who loved them as completely as we loved the Bills during those years.
God, those were the days.
Mmmm. Sleepy Sundays. TV and radio on at the same time. All night call-in shows after the games. .... yes they were the days.
Which isn't to say that I want to get stuck there.
So let me keep going with why I started this post in the first place.
Right.
So, during my friend's conversation with Kent Hull, she told him that she and I had been talking about the team last week. We were talking about the amazing players during that era, especially the offensive line and Kent at the helm, and we were trying to remember Steve Christie's name, and it was one of those tip-of-my-tongue moments where I got stuck on Norwood and couldn't get past it. yada yada yada.
Next she was telling Kent about how her friend-and-bills-fan thought he was one of the most amazing players to have ever graced an offensive line with his presence.
His response: "Wow, I'm just happy someone remembers me."
REMEMBERS HIM?
Remembers him?
I said, "Did you tell him he kept me alive?"
And that's the thing really. From 1980 - 1994, which is when I left Rochester, football kept me alive. Partly, that's the kind of football fan I am. And partly, that's just how it is when you spend half the year at or below freezing temperatures. When autumn hints that it's on its way, you might drive your car into a guardrail without knowing that football season is there to ease you gently into winter. By the time the superbowl and pro bowl are over, you're well into the worst of winter and spring is next on the agenda.
That transitional power of football season is no accident.
And there were some dark times, very dark yes, when it was the reason that this resident of the icy tundra of the Great Lakes decided to go on another day. A reason to brush 8 inches of caked snow off my car one more day. To shovel the driveway one more day. To step through slush one more day. To wrap a scarf around my dry mouth and lungs one more day. To stay hermetically sealed in a 61-degree house one more day. To slide my four tires for a half hour down 390 to work on top of a sheet of ice one more day. To fall on my back walking in pumps one more day. To stand on the register feeling the forced air heat on my legs until the hives on my skin went down one more day. To wipe freezing snot from my nose one more day. To zip up, pull on, wrap around, strap on, and seal up one more day. To trudge through three feet of snow to get the bills from the mail box one more day. To weather dark grey skies, whipping wind, and frozen ear lobes one more day. To never, ever, ever be warm one more day. To coat my cracked, bloody lips with lotion and squeeze my bleeding nose until it stopped one more day. To slide into one more light pole one more day.
Knowing that a game is coming, knowing that it matters, knowing that the guys in the uniforms in a stadium with no roof and no heat and 20-below temperatures with frozen fingers and bare arms are going to bust every inch of their skin and bones for me -- one more day. Knowing that it's never, ever over, and the two-minute offense is a game within a game, knowing that it starts again next Sunday and next Sunday and next Sunday, like the blanket of snow and sleet that is constant...just knowing that.
Remember you?
Kent, you kept me alive.
Kent was the center and anchor of the offensive line during the greatest era in football (at least to those of us in Western New York). He played 121 straight games in his 11-year career. During that time, the Bills enjoyed eight winning seasons and won four consecutive AFC titles. Kent was also one of the team's captains for his final seven years.
Being a Bills fan during that era was probably as wild a sports fan experience as any in history. No team before or since has run the hurry-up offense like the Bills did during those years. No team has come from behind more times to earn more surprise wins like the Bills during those years. No team rushed back and back and back and back to the Superbowl with the same players like the Bills did.
And no team handed as many heartbreaks to as many loyal fans who loved them as completely as we loved the Bills during those years.
God, those were the days.
Mmmm. Sleepy Sundays. TV and radio on at the same time. All night call-in shows after the games. .... yes they were the days.
Which isn't to say that I want to get stuck there.
So let me keep going with why I started this post in the first place.
Right.
So, during my friend's conversation with Kent Hull, she told him that she and I had been talking about the team last week. We were talking about the amazing players during that era, especially the offensive line and Kent at the helm, and we were trying to remember Steve Christie's name, and it was one of those tip-of-my-tongue moments where I got stuck on Norwood and couldn't get past it. yada yada yada.
Next she was telling Kent about how her friend-and-bills-fan thought he was one of the most amazing players to have ever graced an offensive line with his presence.
His response: "Wow, I'm just happy someone remembers me."
REMEMBERS HIM?
Remembers him?
I said, "Did you tell him he kept me alive?"
And that's the thing really. From 1980 - 1994, which is when I left Rochester, football kept me alive. Partly, that's the kind of football fan I am. And partly, that's just how it is when you spend half the year at or below freezing temperatures. When autumn hints that it's on its way, you might drive your car into a guardrail without knowing that football season is there to ease you gently into winter. By the time the superbowl and pro bowl are over, you're well into the worst of winter and spring is next on the agenda.
That transitional power of football season is no accident.
And there were some dark times, very dark yes, when it was the reason that this resident of the icy tundra of the Great Lakes decided to go on another day. A reason to brush 8 inches of caked snow off my car one more day. To shovel the driveway one more day. To step through slush one more day. To wrap a scarf around my dry mouth and lungs one more day. To stay hermetically sealed in a 61-degree house one more day. To slide my four tires for a half hour down 390 to work on top of a sheet of ice one more day. To fall on my back walking in pumps one more day. To stand on the register feeling the forced air heat on my legs until the hives on my skin went down one more day. To wipe freezing snot from my nose one more day. To zip up, pull on, wrap around, strap on, and seal up one more day. To trudge through three feet of snow to get the bills from the mail box one more day. To weather dark grey skies, whipping wind, and frozen ear lobes one more day. To never, ever, ever be warm one more day. To coat my cracked, bloody lips with lotion and squeeze my bleeding nose until it stopped one more day. To slide into one more light pole one more day.
Knowing that a game is coming, knowing that it matters, knowing that the guys in the uniforms in a stadium with no roof and no heat and 20-below temperatures with frozen fingers and bare arms are going to bust every inch of their skin and bones for me -- one more day. Knowing that it's never, ever over, and the two-minute offense is a game within a game, knowing that it starts again next Sunday and next Sunday and next Sunday, like the blanket of snow and sleet that is constant...just knowing that.
Remember you?
Kent, you kept me alive.
i had a dream last night
that tom matrullo put up a bunch of animated gifs and he was really excited that the ones he made himself were among those he chose to post. Thing is, the ones he made himself didn't jiggle, wiggle, jump or flash. They stayed still.
They were really cool looking though. I can see some of the thumbnails in my mind. A large cat -- like a running cheetah, and a coffee-pouring-into-mug gif.
Kind of sux that the ones he made didn't move though.
Kinda like the one in the post below.
I really don't know.
Just reporting.
Over and out.
They were really cool looking though. I can see some of the thumbnails in my mind. A large cat -- like a running cheetah, and a coffee-pouring-into-mug gif.
Kind of sux that the ones he made didn't move though.
Kinda like the one in the post below.
I really don't know.
Just reporting.
Over and out.
Don't read me
Read the comments on my comments post below--specially ken's. VERY VERY interesting take on RSS and its accidental(?) cultural inherent circumnavigation (ACIC) of comments.
ACIC must not be allowed to stand. VOTE NO to ACIC, or, why, I'll....
Alright--that's supposed to be an animated gif whereby this hand punches through paper right at you. How come it's not animated. It's not in my firefox. is it for you?
tomorrow i will blog actual thoughts.
This was just a test.
i've been real busy.
no excuse.
but when you add in my late afternoon nap, well, NOW you understand, right?
ACIC must not be allowed to stand. VOTE NO to ACIC, or, why, I'll....
Alright--that's supposed to be an animated gif whereby this hand punches through paper right at you. How come it's not animated. It's not in my firefox. is it for you?
tomorrow i will blog actual thoughts.
This was just a test.
i've been real busy.
no excuse.
but when you add in my late afternoon nap, well, NOW you understand, right?
November 28, 2005
November 26, 2005
got tickets see ya lata
Off to the Theater in the Square tonight to see George-who-still-wants-to-blog-but-somehow-never-finds-the-time doing bass duty in the musical, The 1940s radio show. He'll be doing the show from now until the end of December every night except for tues and weds. Wave to the brown guy with the long locks if you go.
I'll report back on how someone who looks like my husband made out in the 1940s....
OH WAIT--it's a radio show!
And, there was Lionel Hampton...
Catcha later!
I'll report back on how someone who looks like my husband made out in the 1940s....
OH WAIT--it's a radio show!
And, there was Lionel Hampton...
Catcha later!
crawled out from under the dining room table
HI! so that was fun! Hope your thanksgiving was merry, or thankful or something.
I need to know something about comments here. Okay, right now I have blogger's 'let anyone comment' feature selected. I'm assuming that means that, like me, to comment on this blog you just wite your little witty nugget and excrete it into my comment box AFTER typing in the cryptic code designed to fend off spam bots. Right?
But spammers still come. Those bastads. So, about a week ago I selected the other feature in Blogger that lets you only let registered users comment. But I noticed not so many people commented. So I changed it back to open.
SO, when I had the 'registered users' option selected a week or so back, did that mean that the only folks who could leave comments were those who have registered with blogger? Does that turn you off as a reader, commentor, trouble maker, or passerby? I know that I for one like to be able to leave comments without jumping through hoops, and truth be known, I will generally shut up rather than be bothered registering to comment someplace. Unless I really heart the blog.
To make things a little more interesting (read: confusing), Blogger has recently added 'moderated comments' to our plethora of conversation-continuing options, which is very cool. I think most businesses should use moderated comments and that they should respond quickly to accept all comments but spam.
But again, as a blog READER, it bums me out to make such a witty statement as I may make over at someone's blog but then not see my wit (or something that rhymes with wit) come to fruition for a while. So I don't know whether to try the moderated comments. Do you like moderated comments? Would it piss you off and make you go away if I tried them?
Because I do have abandonment issues.
As if you may have missed that along the way.
And we're not done yet: Blogger's OTHER commenting option is to let only a designated 'team' comment on the blog. I'm sure that's handy somewhere along the line, although I can't think of one single reason that any pubic blog should exclude everyone but a select group from commenting. For that reason, this option is out for my blog.
Which leaves me with a question: What kind of comments work best for you, o great and powerful readers?
I need to know something about comments here. Okay, right now I have blogger's 'let anyone comment' feature selected. I'm assuming that means that, like me, to comment on this blog you just wite your little witty nugget and excrete it into my comment box AFTER typing in the cryptic code designed to fend off spam bots. Right?
But spammers still come. Those bastads. So, about a week ago I selected the other feature in Blogger that lets you only let registered users comment. But I noticed not so many people commented. So I changed it back to open.
SO, when I had the 'registered users' option selected a week or so back, did that mean that the only folks who could leave comments were those who have registered with blogger? Does that turn you off as a reader, commentor, trouble maker, or passerby? I know that I for one like to be able to leave comments without jumping through hoops, and truth be known, I will generally shut up rather than be bothered registering to comment someplace. Unless I really heart the blog.
To make things a little more interesting (read: confusing), Blogger has recently added 'moderated comments' to our plethora of conversation-continuing options, which is very cool. I think most businesses should use moderated comments and that they should respond quickly to accept all comments but spam.
But again, as a blog READER, it bums me out to make such a witty statement as I may make over at someone's blog but then not see my wit (or something that rhymes with wit) come to fruition for a while. So I don't know whether to try the moderated comments. Do you like moderated comments? Would it piss you off and make you go away if I tried them?
Because I do have abandonment issues.
As if you may have missed that along the way.
And we're not done yet: Blogger's OTHER commenting option is to let only a designated 'team' comment on the blog. I'm sure that's handy somewhere along the line, although I can't think of one single reason that any pubic blog should exclude everyone but a select group from commenting. For that reason, this option is out for my blog.
Which leaves me with a question: What kind of comments work best for you, o great and powerful readers?
- The all-open (sprinkled [potentially littered] with spam) option
- The registered-people-can-comment option
- The moderated-comments option
- The really-stupid-team-commenting option
- None of the above - yer blog sux.
- All of the above - it's all about you, J.
Thank you for voting.
November 23, 2005
brandsmart?
Have you ever been into one of these places? Have you ever been shopping in Atlanta during the holidays? If you can say "no" to both of the above questions, your life will be all the more peaceful for it. Holy Heck, as Halley would say, in between writing steamy sex scenes and such, this place BrandsMart or BrandSmart or whatever you want to capitalize is in-sane. I mean excess and more and stuff and then some and everything and more and what you want and what you need and what you might need and what you'd never need but would be nice ALL under one roof. washersdryerstvsphonesrecordersdvdscamerascds
surroundsoundwatercoolers--i mean everything. Add in a thousand hurried shoppers and two sales associates and you get the picture.
and i get the picture too because i bought myself a digital camera. shhhh. i got caught up in the moment.
surroundsoundwatercoolers--i mean everything. Add in a thousand hurried shoppers and two sales associates and you get the picture.
and i get the picture too because i bought myself a digital camera. shhhh. i got caught up in the moment.
Pope Says Recovered or Passive Gays Okay for Priesthood
Looking for a new career? If you're a would-be catholic priest, you better steer clear of the new pope unless you've been clean and sober, homosexually speaking, for at least 3 years.
I believe that's the platinum chip.
OH NO, not African Rituals. The excess of it! Hold your babies tight. Under the reign of Ratzi, Interreligious gatherings are now a no-no too.
Doesn't this guy have, like, some praying to do to keep him busy?
I believe that's the platinum chip.
"If instead it is a case of homosexual tendencies that are merely the expression of a transitory problem, for example as in the case of an unfinished adolescence, they must however have been clearly overcome for at least three years before ordination as a deacon."
The pope also announced that anyone born gay would be slaughtered like the fatted before sundown tomorrow.
In other news, the Bruce Willis of popes, Benedict XVI, has gotten a firm grip on those pesky friars, known for their peace marches and other madness.
Vittorio Messori, a conservative Catholic commentator, told The Independent the 1986 conference was marked by excesses, including allowing African and Indian rituals.
OH NO, not African Rituals. The excess of it! Hold your babies tight. Under the reign of Ratzi, Interreligious gatherings are now a no-no too.
Doesn't this guy have, like, some praying to do to keep him busy?
Atlanta Bloggers...
Raise Your Voic.us!
If you're an Atlanta area blogger or want to write about local Atlanta topics -- from soup to nuts and then some -- check out voic.us. Blood-and-sweat child of longtime journalist, Atlanta resident, and Corante columnist, Dana Blankenhorn, Voic.us is an Atlanta community blog with a pretty neat blog engine AND other tools that are being tailored for writers. If you sign on, you'll see what I mean. Like half of Web 2.0, this site is in BETA and Dana REALLY wants to hear from Atlanta bloggers on what you think--stuff you like and stuff they can make better.
Atlantans are opinionated by nature -- after all every day here is a motherfucking opening day -- so sign in and add a Personal Blog Entry of your own. It’s easy to keep track of your new posts. During the beta testing, all your entries will flow automatically to the top of the main page.
I like the various ways you can enter a post. The blog engine has some pretty powerful word processor-like features, OR you can go with plain text or straight HTML. I copied a couple of posts out of Blogger's compose window and they went across great--including ready-made pictures and links.
You can email Dana with questions.
If you're an Atlanta area blogger or want to write about local Atlanta topics -- from soup to nuts and then some -- check out voic.us. Blood-and-sweat child of longtime journalist, Atlanta resident, and Corante columnist, Dana Blankenhorn, Voic.us is an Atlanta community blog with a pretty neat blog engine AND other tools that are being tailored for writers. If you sign on, you'll see what I mean. Like half of Web 2.0, this site is in BETA and Dana REALLY wants to hear from Atlanta bloggers on what you think--stuff you like and stuff they can make better.
Atlantans are opinionated by nature -- after all every day here is a motherfucking opening day -- so sign in and add a Personal Blog Entry of your own. It’s easy to keep track of your new posts. During the beta testing, all your entries will flow automatically to the top of the main page.
I like the various ways you can enter a post. The blog engine has some pretty powerful word processor-like features, OR you can go with plain text or straight HTML. I copied a couple of posts out of Blogger's compose window and they went across great--including ready-made pictures and links.
You can email Dana with questions.
Oh to be young and in love and....
...pissed off at each other? Ponzi and Chris Pirillo go at it on vacation. And not in a good way.
Are they warming up for SXSW? Honest couples blogging?
Or is this for real, and is there an actual living human being who sets up two flat screen monitors in Hawaii and complains about the heat?
Are they warming up for SXSW? Honest couples blogging?
Or is this for real, and is there an actual living human being who sets up two flat screen monitors in Hawaii and complains about the heat?
November 22, 2005
not the time to be in a blog funk
what with turkey hormonal anesthetization right around the corner, I'm feeling like there's nothing to read on the blogs these days. Oh sure, I've got my aggregator full of feeds from him and her and them, but I'm so used to them I think that I could post for them now.
Is anyone still "just starting out" in blogging? Where do we find the newbies--where are the new people who I don't know about--how do I find them: the ones who aren't writing ABOUT stuff but are writing stuff. More more. Leave me some links in comments.
Is anyone still "just starting out" in blogging? Where do we find the newbies--where are the new people who I don't know about--how do I find them: the ones who aren't writing ABOUT stuff but are writing stuff. More more. Leave me some links in comments.
First holiday off in a long time
It looks like I might actually have NO work to do on Thanksgiving.
I'm nearly anxious with excitement.
I'm not counting blogging in this no-work decree, because blogging is blogging even when it feels like work. I mean no client work, no business work, no DEADLINES. These last three years have been DEADLINE driven, well hell the last 23 years have been, oh well why not count college too and little miss summa 4.0's work ethic...
Well, now that I'm back out on my own I've decided I'm going to do it differently this time, take on two or three projects I care about, and downstream/outstream the rest to folks in my knowledge network, which includes and is mostly made up of bloggers.
I thought that was what I was going to be able to do in my last venture--outstream to bloggers. It didn't work out that way. And what I'm telling you has little or nothing to do with deadlines but everything to do with DEAD LINES because blogging is neither dead NOR linear, so how much easier deadlines will be to meet with the resources of the LIVE WEB!!!!!
oh i can't wait!
I'm nearly anxious with excitement.
I'm not counting blogging in this no-work decree, because blogging is blogging even when it feels like work. I mean no client work, no business work, no DEADLINES. These last three years have been DEADLINE driven, well hell the last 23 years have been, oh well why not count college too and little miss summa 4.0's work ethic...
Well, now that I'm back out on my own I've decided I'm going to do it differently this time, take on two or three projects I care about, and downstream/outstream the rest to folks in my knowledge network, which includes and is mostly made up of bloggers.
I thought that was what I was going to be able to do in my last venture--outstream to bloggers. It didn't work out that way. And what I'm telling you has little or nothing to do with deadlines but everything to do with DEAD LINES because blogging is neither dead NOR linear, so how much easier deadlines will be to meet with the resources of the LIVE WEB!!!!!
oh i can't wait!
That's not a SNAIL, That's Thanksgiving Dinner!
Holy Crap!
Is that a snail in your pocket or are you......
November 21, 2005
Thinking about adoption?
It's national adoption month. Thinking about the pitter patter of little feet? Big feet? Excellent! Got some good links for you.
When the net goes zzzzzzzz
When there's not much to interest me in my wanderings through RSS feeds (yawn) and technorati blog finder fuel (zzzz) late at night, I usually think up a couple of words, throw them in Google, and then look at the images associated with those words.
I find wonderful things that way. It's the last best unexpected place around.
So tonight I was thinking about being tired and that old phrase 'rest assured' came to mind, and so i put that in google and clicked images and I found the most delicious (no tags intended) looking bed, people!!!
From a site called online beds, comes the Rest Assured Pocket Spring 1200 Venice Ortho.
HELLO JETHRO granny's sleepin tonight!
Look at that puppy, will ya.
I look at beds and bedding like some people look at cars. You tell me stuff like Luxury damask fabric, Heavy duty springs, Sumptuous cotton and super soft polyester mattress fillings, Felt tufts and I'm nearly in tears. And when it comes to Rest Assured, I'm gathering that the Jubilee is the Roles Royce of the line.
I love beds. I love bedding, comforters, quilts, throws, pillows, cotton, duvet covers, dust ruffles, I AM A LINEN FREAK.
And google reminded me that it's okay. I feel better now. No really, rest assured, I'm fine.
I find wonderful things that way. It's the last best unexpected place around.
So tonight I was thinking about being tired and that old phrase 'rest assured' came to mind, and so i put that in google and clicked images and I found the most delicious (no tags intended) looking bed, people!!!
From a site called online beds, comes the Rest Assured Pocket Spring 1200 Venice Ortho.
HELLO JETHRO granny's sleepin tonight!
Look at that puppy, will ya.
I look at beds and bedding like some people look at cars. You tell me stuff like Luxury damask fabric, Heavy duty springs, Sumptuous cotton and super soft polyester mattress fillings, Felt tufts and I'm nearly in tears. And when it comes to Rest Assured, I'm gathering that the Jubilee is the Roles Royce of the line.
I love beds. I love bedding, comforters, quilts, throws, pillows, cotton, duvet covers, dust ruffles, I AM A LINEN FREAK.
And google reminded me that it's okay. I feel better now. No really, rest assured, I'm fine.
Happy Birthday Michelle!!!!
For the wonderful lady who does so much for the rest of us blogknownots, a lady indeed, Happy Birthday Meg!!!! Peace, you.
November 20, 2005
Chris Rabb Raps on Race & the Blogosphere
Hadn't heard this before. It's interesting listening. It's from I don't know when--I think earlier this month when Chris Rabb was on Tavis Smiley's show.
Chris needs to tell Tavis to get blogging. May? Huffington? Naw.
Chris needs to tell Tavis to get blogging. May? Huffington? Naw.
Introducing Blackster(TM)
Are you a conference planner who has trouble ensuring the right percentage of diversity at your events? Are you a pomo-web-2.0 company looking to get your groove on with that untapped demographic of color? Planning a blog meetup in your town and embarassed by that last showing of all grey-and-balding-50-something white guys with the stains on their ties?
Then Blackster's for YOU.
It's a social network, an online equalizer, and an RSS feed all at once! With Blackster, you find out how 'in' you are by how dark you link.
You may be Linked In, but are you sharing your link love with bloggers of all hues? Can you prove it the next time you get called on the carpet? Or will you try to be wiley like Tim O'Reilly?
Blackster is THE proven 'great equalizer' for the Web--and the protection you need from the bad PR of online brophobia.
AND for a limited time, if you purchase Blackster for $99.99, you get Blackster Desktop, which tailors your user experience to make you as diverse as you wanna be.
FEATURE LIST
BLACKSTER - 'cause once you blog black you never go back.
Then Blackster's for YOU.
It's a social network, an online equalizer, and an RSS feed all at once! With Blackster, you find out how 'in' you are by how dark you link.
You may be Linked In, but are you sharing your link love with bloggers of all hues? Can you prove it the next time you get called on the carpet? Or will you try to be wiley like Tim O'Reilly?
Blackster is THE proven 'great equalizer' for the Web--and the protection you need from the bad PR of online brophobia.
AND for a limited time, if you purchase Blackster for $99.99, you get Blackster Desktop, which tailors your user experience to make you as diverse as you wanna be.
FEATURE LIST
- Generates starter emails tailored to the darker side of your Outlook contact database.
- Launches Real Player pre-loaded with today's hottest Rap hits.
- Integrates seven free pre-loaded Blackster Registration Lists to ensure that your next conference meets minimum diversity standards (MDS)
- Integrates seamlessly with blogrolling.com to populate your blogroll with blogging's HOT new melanin-enhanced talent.
AND MORE!!
- BLACKSTER ALERTS notify you via email, pager, or SMS when your diversity quotient drops below 20% so that you can take immediate action to do what's right, not white.
- This month only--get tips on how to get the Internet's most popular blog brothers to add you to their blogrolls without dropping $20 on Miss Clairol Mod Blonde hair color.
BLACKSTER - 'cause once you blog black you never go back.
Next Week Goals
Spend more time reading blogs than I do posting (last week it was about equal--i think a ratio of 3/4 reading to 1/4 writing is good).
Spend more time with Jenna since the kids are once again out of school for a week.
SLEEP IN.
Try not to shop.
Maybe shop a little.
Lock up the debit card.
Clean this fricking house.
Feed the hamsters.
Change the hamsters.
MAKE Jenna clean her room.
Make clients oh-so happy.
Bill.
Clean my frigging car.
Email four friends.
Await a package from India.
EAT SOME BIRD.
Pray more.
.....your turn.
Spend more time with Jenna since the kids are once again out of school for a week.
SLEEP IN.
Try not to shop.
Maybe shop a little.
Lock up the debit card.
Clean this fricking house.
Feed the hamsters.
Change the hamsters.
MAKE Jenna clean her room.
Make clients oh-so happy.
Bill.
Clean my frigging car.
Email four friends.
Await a package from India.
EAT SOME BIRD.
Pray more.
.....your turn.
November 19, 2005
dot boom boom
Web 2.0 has the feeel of the speeedy dotcomboom times, but we learned from that little experiment, right? So it feeeels similar but it's all bouncing along on strange roads with foliage we've seen before. It's neither here nor there but the secret password is required for entrance.
Open Sessume
2.0 is going to go better than 1.0 ever did, and I really think so, because the refugees of boombangbust came to blogging in droves, most never abandoned the net in the first place, although they might have had second jobs as the under employed and bored as hell after trading in their jobs at exciting but defunct Internet 1.0 companies for the security of established enterprizes. The beauty of Established Enterprizes is that kow how to do real layoffs, where severance packages beat stock options and involuntary separation is a welcome break from the monotony of corporate servitude.
At first I wasn't down with the 2.o label. I was all about label-free, man, just let it be. But we have to call it something. We have to recognize that these opportunities are the ones WE WE WE WE WE have made. The cluetrain dare realized.
Something's afoot when Hugh lands Budget, knowtImean? When betas are sprouting like tomatas.
I didn't go the conference, I haven't seen the movie, I'm too busy to watch the film at 11, but I know when i'm in the middle of something important. We are. No Forbes is required to spell out their fear - I believe in the business arrangements happening as we walk away from the monitor long enough to shake hands and kiss cheeks and say okay then, let's go.
There's really nothing to it. The hard work's been done. The momentum will carry us home.
weeee!
Open Sessume
2.0 is going to go better than 1.0 ever did, and I really think so, because the refugees of boombangbust came to blogging in droves, most never abandoned the net in the first place, although they might have had second jobs as the under employed and bored as hell after trading in their jobs at exciting but defunct Internet 1.0 companies for the security of established enterprizes. The beauty of Established Enterprizes is that kow how to do real layoffs, where severance packages beat stock options and involuntary separation is a welcome break from the monotony of corporate servitude.
At first I wasn't down with the 2.o label. I was all about label-free, man, just let it be. But we have to call it something. We have to recognize that these opportunities are the ones WE WE WE WE WE have made. The cluetrain dare realized.
Something's afoot when Hugh lands Budget, knowtImean? When betas are sprouting like tomatas.
I didn't go the conference, I haven't seen the movie, I'm too busy to watch the film at 11, but I know when i'm in the middle of something important. We are. No Forbes is required to spell out their fear - I believe in the business arrangements happening as we walk away from the monitor long enough to shake hands and kiss cheeks and say okay then, let's go.
There's really nothing to it. The hard work's been done. The momentum will carry us home.
weeee!
if there is one kind of writing i hate
and truth be known there is more than one kind, and sometimes it's every kind of writing that bothers me, but the one I can depend on hating every time is proposal writing.
Oh Lord, give me a white paper, give me technical specs, give me a god-awful press release -- send me any of that before you send me into proposal hell.
I'm working on one for a client over the weekend that we started early last week, and the funny thing is that every proposal I've ever done (probably about 40 of them representing a total of probably $200 million) comes down to the last frigging minute. What is that about? What is it about proposals that invite the most exhausting processes in all of cobbling content together? Even the big companies I've worked for that either 1) claimed to have a proposal writing process together or 2) gave me the authority to build my own, never seemed to be able to stick to a schedule, timetable, or process--except the Big D Deadline
It's as though every proposal is a big sack that you know you have to hand over to the garbage man on Monday and you cram as much important stuff as possible into it for as long as you can until you start to get nervous--then you start picking through to take out what just doesn't fit, a Kleenex here and a used condom there--right up to the moment the truck pulls up. And the poor person waiting to tie the bag. Never mind.
So that's what I'm doing today. Dealing with Kleenex and condoms and the wonderful world of proposal writing.
Oh Lord, give me a white paper, give me technical specs, give me a god-awful press release -- send me any of that before you send me into proposal hell.
I'm working on one for a client over the weekend that we started early last week, and the funny thing is that every proposal I've ever done (probably about 40 of them representing a total of probably $200 million) comes down to the last frigging minute. What is that about? What is it about proposals that invite the most exhausting processes in all of cobbling content together? Even the big companies I've worked for that either 1) claimed to have a proposal writing process together or 2) gave me the authority to build my own, never seemed to be able to stick to a schedule, timetable, or process--except the Big D Deadline
It's as though every proposal is a big sack that you know you have to hand over to the garbage man on Monday and you cram as much important stuff as possible into it for as long as you can until you start to get nervous--then you start picking through to take out what just doesn't fit, a Kleenex here and a used condom there--right up to the moment the truck pulls up. And the poor person waiting to tie the bag. Never mind.
So that's what I'm doing today. Dealing with Kleenex and condoms and the wonderful world of proposal writing.
more-more-more-more-more-more-more
random stuff
Weird things I got called this week:
1) High and Mighty
2) Holier than Thou
3) Too Principled
Weird thing I have right now:
1) High and Mighty
2) Holier than Thou
3) Too Principled
Weird thing I have right now:
- Hiccups
- This boil thing on my right shoulder
- Technorati is faster - and behaving
- Back to Hiccups
November 17, 2005
OH my aching head
everything due everywhere at once and oh.
off to take jenna to basketball practice. it's cold here now and george cleaned the garage. i almost got out the cold weather clothes then it got hot and now here it is brrr again.
george does the laundry- he doesn't let me touch it because i always mix up the hues and he's very hue oriented, washing greens with greens and blues, red with reds oranges and pinks, yellows with beiges and pales, and white all by themselves same with blacks. You'd think an integrationist like him would not be so paranoid about laundry, but he is the klansman of the washing machine talking about the purity of the colors that comes out if you're careful.
me i throw it all in together 1 load for lights - near darks, and the other for darks and brights. My dryer lint is always dark grey. His dryer lint is the beautiful hue du jour.
so all this clean laundry piles up and he's all like, can't you at least put it away? and I'm all like, no. I'm busy, and he's all about I WASHED IT ALL and I'm like, that's good now it is clean and pure of hue, so put it on, and he has started some kind of protest whereby he will not bring clean laundry up from the basement unless i put away what's on the bed, and truth be known there is nothing I like better than sleeping under a pile of clean, crumpled laundry. Shhh.
He's got another musical gig--busy, busy. I guess I could put a few shirts away.
can you tell--i don't have a single, solitary brain cell left.
half of that problem is all yer faults.
blogger romper room - hi michael and tom and gary and mike, hi shelley and liza and lisa and rox, hi david and doc and chris and dean, hi betsy and sheila and jennifer and denise.
byebye
off to take jenna to basketball practice. it's cold here now and george cleaned the garage. i almost got out the cold weather clothes then it got hot and now here it is brrr again.
george does the laundry- he doesn't let me touch it because i always mix up the hues and he's very hue oriented, washing greens with greens and blues, red with reds oranges and pinks, yellows with beiges and pales, and white all by themselves same with blacks. You'd think an integrationist like him would not be so paranoid about laundry, but he is the klansman of the washing machine talking about the purity of the colors that comes out if you're careful.
me i throw it all in together 1 load for lights - near darks, and the other for darks and brights. My dryer lint is always dark grey. His dryer lint is the beautiful hue du jour.
so all this clean laundry piles up and he's all like, can't you at least put it away? and I'm all like, no. I'm busy, and he's all about I WASHED IT ALL and I'm like, that's good now it is clean and pure of hue, so put it on, and he has started some kind of protest whereby he will not bring clean laundry up from the basement unless i put away what's on the bed, and truth be known there is nothing I like better than sleeping under a pile of clean, crumpled laundry. Shhh.
He's got another musical gig--busy, busy. I guess I could put a few shirts away.
can you tell--i don't have a single, solitary brain cell left.
half of that problem is all yer faults.
blogger romper room - hi michael and tom and gary and mike, hi shelley and liza and lisa and rox, hi david and doc and chris and dean, hi betsy and sheila and jennifer and denise.
byebye
November 16, 2005
It's easy to keep the body count down...
...when you don't bother looking for them in the place that the most people died.
I was always under the impression that there would be a hard- target search at some point following that to determine whether or not there were any casualties left in those dwellings. As of right now -- in fact, the day before yesterday, in my own jurisdiction, a family came home to discover a family member who had been reported missing.
COOPER: Oh, my God.
STEPHENS: It was a horrible -- it was a gruesome sight. Very -- and again, people don't deserve any more grief and pain than they're going through right now. I mean, this whole process has been so excruciatingly screwed up and slow that, I mean, you're starting to feel a real sense of anger and hostility on the part of people locally and, my God, it's well-deserved.
new pictures not pictures
I know you're used to my sarcastic side. It's endearing isn't it? It's also been protecting me this last year. I mean I'm not saying I'm letting it go because it gives me a GREAT deal of pleasure to share it with you and it's what helps me make great fun of Those in Power and we all need that every third Friday.
What I'm meaning to say is that something's opening again. blogging doesn't like that, not grown up professional blogging, RSS doesn't understand because aggregators are flat like TV and you don't have to travel to them, like you do when you go to a friend's house or blog. Aggregators are channels and you tune in to flat feeds so my wounded feed doesn't FEEL any different than my SARCASTIC feed or my PR feed because everthing sits in the flat aggregator window and what do I care really?
Please understand: I don't care.
What I care about is that I saw new pictures of my father this weekend.
Have you seen them? What I mean is that when you are a child and your parent disappears forever, you're left with a finite set of image-memories -- like a deck of playing cards you take out now and then and shuffle through -- and then you get older and these are your 'bread and butter' of memories. They're the stock pictures you conjure when you think about the missing person. They are known because you have seen them over and over behind your eyes, year after year.
In all of my father memories, the face looking back at me is frozen in time, still, it is the dad I have seen in photographs and in home movies. My memories are the pictures of him that I've seen on the walls at relatives' houses, in the old box of black-and-white photos in the closet. They are a birthday party memory snapshot here; a vacation trip there; they are the paisley pajamas of my heart.
In loss, eventually, your memories grow still. Movement slows, then finally stop. You are left with disjointed snapshots that tell the only parts of your story you can absorb.
This weekend I saw my father in motion. It felt something like this:
Hi Dad! HI! and he was smiling back and Oh My dad that was your smile and YES I saw the corners of your eyes turn down and I see the SIDE of your face, this is not a picture, I see YOU, and you are MOVING inside you are in motion you are three dimensional you are NOT an RSS feed memory you are with me HI DAD! HI! do you see me? YES. You're dressed in a white cotton shirt, not pajamas and not clothes from the home movies, and it's really you, and where are you going daddy? What are you doing and why are you here like this. Only one time you came to me new and in motion, and I was 16 and you sang me a song in the kitchen, and now I'm 43 and you're back, moving your head and you're so real I could pinch your cheeks, and if I could just reach your shoulder..... and I wonder why you are back, and have I said I'm SO glad to see you? I can't believe I SEE YOU!!! You look so good--I wish I could get to you, what are you about 1o yards away? The way you tilt your head to the right.... of course, yes i'm your baby. yes i'm your baby. OH hellohelloiloveyoudaddy.
And it is going on and on like that. I have no explanation and I have no pretense about it. It just is. He's here and I'm not sure why, but you should all know that something is moving.
What I'm meaning to say is that something's opening again. blogging doesn't like that, not grown up professional blogging, RSS doesn't understand because aggregators are flat like TV and you don't have to travel to them, like you do when you go to a friend's house or blog. Aggregators are channels and you tune in to flat feeds so my wounded feed doesn't FEEL any different than my SARCASTIC feed or my PR feed because everthing sits in the flat aggregator window and what do I care really?
Please understand: I don't care.
What I care about is that I saw new pictures of my father this weekend.
Have you seen them? What I mean is that when you are a child and your parent disappears forever, you're left with a finite set of image-memories -- like a deck of playing cards you take out now and then and shuffle through -- and then you get older and these are your 'bread and butter' of memories. They're the stock pictures you conjure when you think about the missing person. They are known because you have seen them over and over behind your eyes, year after year.
In all of my father memories, the face looking back at me is frozen in time, still, it is the dad I have seen in photographs and in home movies. My memories are the pictures of him that I've seen on the walls at relatives' houses, in the old box of black-and-white photos in the closet. They are a birthday party memory snapshot here; a vacation trip there; they are the paisley pajamas of my heart.
In loss, eventually, your memories grow still. Movement slows, then finally stop. You are left with disjointed snapshots that tell the only parts of your story you can absorb.
This weekend I saw my father in motion. It felt something like this:
Hi Dad! HI! and he was smiling back and Oh My dad that was your smile and YES I saw the corners of your eyes turn down and I see the SIDE of your face, this is not a picture, I see YOU, and you are MOVING inside you are in motion you are three dimensional you are NOT an RSS feed memory you are with me HI DAD! HI! do you see me? YES. You're dressed in a white cotton shirt, not pajamas and not clothes from the home movies, and it's really you, and where are you going daddy? What are you doing and why are you here like this. Only one time you came to me new and in motion, and I was 16 and you sang me a song in the kitchen, and now I'm 43 and you're back, moving your head and you're so real I could pinch your cheeks, and if I could just reach your shoulder..... and I wonder why you are back, and have I said I'm SO glad to see you? I can't believe I SEE YOU!!! You look so good--I wish I could get to you, what are you about 1o yards away? The way you tilt your head to the right.... of course, yes i'm your baby. yes i'm your baby. OH hellohelloiloveyoudaddy.
And it is going on and on like that. I have no explanation and I have no pretense about it. It just is. He's here and I'm not sure why, but you should all know that something is moving.
Dear Cigarette that I Want
Dear smoking,
I want to tell you some things, the first thing is that I love smoking and I love to smoke and it's legal and I don't think there's a thing wrong with smoking as long as you quit between 50 and 60 and as long as you're not my kid. That's just how I see it and I think it comes down to genes and also what The Man puts in cigarettes today because my grandpa smoked until he was 76 and he started at like 7 and he never even coughed. Same with all my Italian relatives and now a days you have to buy good cigarettes like American Spirit brand in order to avoid inhaling sugar and insecticide although since Reynolds bought my beautiful brand (i think that's who bought them) i am not sure i know who to trust. but i did trust them in that i love them with my very being I would wrap myself around an American spirit this instant if I could, and i would inhale so deep I'd disappear. All my thoughts and worries and complex problems and ideas would adhere to the plumes and make perfect sense.
Smoking did you know they say that i used to use you to push anger down? i don't know what the fuck they're supposed to be talking about because i'm not fucking mad at any fucking one except when they say that about you. I stick up for you all the time because you were my buddy, smoking, and when everyone else gave me grief, you sat there in your cellophane and paper not giving me one ounce of trouble. sure, yes, well blah blah senate commission.
I saw a thing yesterday at the store that takes tar out of cigarettes before you inhale them and i know that they're not too far away from coming out with that safe-smoke cigarette and do you know what smoking? when they do i am so there. I am right there. I am in line overnight for the concert of my dreams.
did you know i fell in love with you at 11? I stole for you. Every day. You know that right? I bet not many kids did that for you or know you like I did.
Anyway, I have to go now but i wanted you to know that no matter what you're always a part of how i think and feel, even when you're not around. as soon as you clean yourself up you come back and see me and we'll talk about how we can maybe get together again. because sometimes my head just won't clear out no matter how hard a shake it, and i get that messy cloudy feeling or i start just bawling for no reason or i get pissed enough to break shit, and smoking i know you're the one who can talk me out of those places.
in the mean time, you try not to hurt anybody now and I'll see you pretty soon.
I want to tell you some things, the first thing is that I love smoking and I love to smoke and it's legal and I don't think there's a thing wrong with smoking as long as you quit between 50 and 60 and as long as you're not my kid. That's just how I see it and I think it comes down to genes and also what The Man puts in cigarettes today because my grandpa smoked until he was 76 and he started at like 7 and he never even coughed. Same with all my Italian relatives and now a days you have to buy good cigarettes like American Spirit brand in order to avoid inhaling sugar and insecticide although since Reynolds bought my beautiful brand (i think that's who bought them) i am not sure i know who to trust. but i did trust them in that i love them with my very being I would wrap myself around an American spirit this instant if I could, and i would inhale so deep I'd disappear. All my thoughts and worries and complex problems and ideas would adhere to the plumes and make perfect sense.
Smoking did you know they say that i used to use you to push anger down? i don't know what the fuck they're supposed to be talking about because i'm not fucking mad at any fucking one except when they say that about you. I stick up for you all the time because you were my buddy, smoking, and when everyone else gave me grief, you sat there in your cellophane and paper not giving me one ounce of trouble. sure, yes, well blah blah senate commission.
I saw a thing yesterday at the store that takes tar out of cigarettes before you inhale them and i know that they're not too far away from coming out with that safe-smoke cigarette and do you know what smoking? when they do i am so there. I am right there. I am in line overnight for the concert of my dreams.
did you know i fell in love with you at 11? I stole for you. Every day. You know that right? I bet not many kids did that for you or know you like I did.
Anyway, I have to go now but i wanted you to know that no matter what you're always a part of how i think and feel, even when you're not around. as soon as you clean yourself up you come back and see me and we'll talk about how we can maybe get together again. because sometimes my head just won't clear out no matter how hard a shake it, and i get that messy cloudy feeling or i start just bawling for no reason or i get pissed enough to break shit, and smoking i know you're the one who can talk me out of those places.
in the mean time, you try not to hurt anybody now and I'll see you pretty soon.
I want to smoke so badly
I'm on a passive smoking binge. That means I want to smoke SO badly that I'll do anything to keep wanting to smoke. I suck the wind downstream of friends who exhale. I swear, to my own shame, that I had a tear stream down my cheek yesterday when I saw that the convenience station VERY near my house carries my brand of American Spirit -- the brown packs.
"Oh Oh Oh," I said to the cashier. "You've got my brand. Right here. Do you know that? Oh oh no."
"Which?"
"American Spirits, the brown, look at them above your head there, don't they look good?"
"Sure. $10 for the gas."
"I know but, do you know I used to smoke those? I quit a year ago, but that's my brand and I think I should get them."
I hand him the $10. He makes the register go cachunk and sticks the money in.
Then he looks at me. I'm thinking he wants to talk some more about my smoking days. Then I realize he's waiting for me to move out of the way so the guy behind me can pay for his gas.
Sometimes I just don't get people.
And DON'T come on here and tell me not to smoke, fucking shit I know I shouldn't smoke, what do you think that doesn't piss me off when you tell me that?
I love you.
"Oh Oh Oh," I said to the cashier. "You've got my brand. Right here. Do you know that? Oh oh no."
"Which?"
"American Spirits, the brown, look at them above your head there, don't they look good?"
"Sure. $10 for the gas."
"I know but, do you know I used to smoke those? I quit a year ago, but that's my brand and I think I should get them."
I hand him the $10. He makes the register go cachunk and sticks the money in.
Then he looks at me. I'm thinking he wants to talk some more about my smoking days. Then I realize he's waiting for me to move out of the way so the guy behind me can pay for his gas.
Sometimes I just don't get people.
And DON'T come on here and tell me not to smoke, fucking shit I know I shouldn't smoke, what do you think that doesn't piss me off when you tell me that?
I love you.
Watching Gum
I don't watch TV much anymore. Hardly ever. Only during an active hurricane season. My bedroom TV has now become a stage for Elimitaste gum, preferred gum of the bloggerati. You need some gum, you come see me. My TV makes a great distribution center. I've got my Smoke Screen in one stack, my Zapp in another. Ladies and gentlemen, I AM supply chain efficiency.
I've only got 10 minutes...
...before I'm out the door again. Being back on my own business wise means mo-meetings. I was around people yesterday. I find it odd, entertaining, and energizing. Until I leave, and then I have to pass out.
I used to do these blog jaunts where I'd try to post 30 posts in 30 minutes. I never made it. I once posted 30 in a row but it took an hour and a half. It seemed like 30 minutes.
So here's the thing about Jenna's school. The teacher sent home 'corrected' class work the other day and I looked it over to find that the teacher had marked THREE problems wrong that were actually right. One of them was 51 - 48. Jenna got it right. The teacher didn't.
I AM VERY SCARED.
I used to do these blog jaunts where I'd try to post 30 posts in 30 minutes. I never made it. I once posted 30 in a row but it took an hour and a half. It seemed like 30 minutes.
So here's the thing about Jenna's school. The teacher sent home 'corrected' class work the other day and I looked it over to find that the teacher had marked THREE problems wrong that were actually right. One of them was 51 - 48. Jenna got it right. The teacher didn't.
I AM VERY SCARED.
FleshBooks(SM)
I talked to RB today about a new business model that's been brewing in my head (the last 20 minutes). I'll call it a distribution methodology, and I shall name and brand it here and now as my own: FleshBook(SM).Under the FleshBook(SM) brand, we will write our stories upon flesh -- all of us. We will move in numbers, tatoo words not pictures, string ourselves together to make meaning.
Words are what I see on flesh, I am a walking chapter, I read myself and you, I read myself in you. I paint stories in blood.
What's your genre? What font family? Mine is a deep, dark typeface that screams.
I am busy now writing stories upon my flesh.
I write them with my fingers. I cut and paste, I peel layers.
What word for my little finger, then? Secret.
Some choose to encrypt themselves.
Reading them requires a decoder. It is necessary--it is worth any price.
Story consumers must pay a lifetime's worth of a living wage for a decoder to read an encrypted teller's story.
The ending is everything.
Mothers, make stories of your children.
Tellers are seers. Their flesh is hairless and smooth.
We will write books upon the beautiful people and send them out into the world to carry our message.
We will write poetry books on the injured, the wounded.
Talk to me.
November 15, 2005
Latest project up!
Wshew--world record pace completion of content for InComm's new website. Went up today. InComm's Fastcard(R) Network is what makes it possible -- not to mention quick, easy and cost-effective -- for retailers to sell you all of those cool gift cards you'll be buying for holiday presents. They're a smart, nice bunch of folks. Wrote this 100-page website in about three weeks I think--I'm not sure. I call it creative amnesia. What was I saying? Why do I feel like shopping?
BY THE WAY woman who did the Web design on the site is looking for work -- she'll be updating her blog soon. Let her know if you have work for a Web project manager with XHTML/CSS experience. She is one of the most organized and easy-to-work-with women I've done business with in a looooong time.
Happy Furry Half a Million
Speaking of which, there are some really great prizes at stake for being Happy Furry Puppy Time's 500,000th visitor!!!! Click early and click often!
November 14, 2005
Apparently Frank...
...and the rest of blogging are at some Senior Sex Addict conference... I really--I had no idea--I mean Frank seems so.... innocent....and I think he's like 31.
Near as I can tell, it's Weinberger, Paynter and a bunch of women bloggers. Somewhere up north.
I don't know. I never thought Halley would bring Jackson to SSA.
...wait...maybe i've gotten my letters mixed up....
Near as I can tell, it's Weinberger, Paynter and a bunch of women bloggers. Somewhere up north.
I don't know. I never thought Halley would bring Jackson to SSA.
...wait...maybe i've gotten my letters mixed up....
Can Google Kill the SEO Industry
Well, it helped build the industry, so sure. If it wants to. Because when Google moves there are a thousand rippling counter moves. And I can already hear the shirt sleves rolling up.
It's not in Google's best interest to kill the entire SEO industry. It is in their best interest to take aim at a piece.
Personally, I would like to see the SEO companies go through Conversation Sensitivity Training before they pretend to know how to Make You More Visible online. Not because I think it would do any good. But because it would be fun to watch.
Now, I've had to learn to write search-optimized copy because it's my business to know how. I'm STILL not good at it because it's like writing my way into a shoebox, and if I wanted to write my way into a shoebox, then that shoebox better contain some really super comfortable and nice looking black pumps, not your average bla-blahdy-blah tissue paper and one right shoe.
SEO is a low-return-for-the-investment activity. A year of looking at it hasn't changed my mind. It comes down to two different ways to spend your money:
You can figure out how to join or support conversation, or you can pay companies to help you circumvent and avoid the conversation. It's that simple. There are no wrong answers. But each approach comes with a pricetag. Guess which one is higher. Guess which model is more sustainable.
Ding Ding--YOU WIN!
It's not in Google's best interest to kill the entire SEO industry. It is in their best interest to take aim at a piece.
Personally, I would like to see the SEO companies go through Conversation Sensitivity Training before they pretend to know how to Make You More Visible online. Not because I think it would do any good. But because it would be fun to watch.
Now, I've had to learn to write search-optimized copy because it's my business to know how. I'm STILL not good at it because it's like writing my way into a shoebox, and if I wanted to write my way into a shoebox, then that shoebox better contain some really super comfortable and nice looking black pumps, not your average bla-blahdy-blah tissue paper and one right shoe.
SEO is a low-return-for-the-investment activity. A year of looking at it hasn't changed my mind. It comes down to two different ways to spend your money:
You can figure out how to join or support conversation, or you can pay companies to help you circumvent and avoid the conversation. It's that simple. There are no wrong answers. But each approach comes with a pricetag. Guess which one is higher. Guess which model is more sustainable.
Ding Ding--YOU WIN!
So is the best part being above the super models?
Or this most awesome post from Tom who knows I've been brooding more than usual lately? I think by far Tom's bruit post is the best thing.
Oddly, I'd been thinking for the last four days that I would come back into circulation as an independent kind of like Prince, because from a contractual standpoint, being a symbol opens up brand new horizons the law has yet to completely settle on. I was looking for the perfect non-name to represent The Blogger Formerly Known as Jeneane.
Tom's most appropriate Trinacrian symbol is just what I was looking for! Now, what kind of computation mechanism would be required to tell Google (but no one else) that [(insert trinacrian symbol here)] is the blogger formerly known as me?
Or maybe I should just put it on a cafe press t-shirt.... hmmmmm. ;-)
In case you don't know, Tom's the best.
--posted by
Oddly, I'd been thinking for the last four days that I would come back into circulation as an independent kind of like Prince, because from a contractual standpoint, being a symbol opens up brand new horizons the law has yet to completely settle on. I was looking for the perfect non-name to represent The Blogger Formerly Known as Jeneane.
Tom's most appropriate Trinacrian symbol is just what I was looking for! Now, what kind of computation mechanism would be required to tell Google (but no one else) that [(insert trinacrian symbol here)] is the blogger formerly known as me?
Or maybe I should just put it on a cafe press t-shirt.... hmmmmm. ;-)
In case you don't know, Tom's the best.
--posted by
Song and Dance and The Color Purple
With George Sessum a founding orchestra member of The Color Purple, which first hit the stage in a five-week pre-broadway shakedown here in Atlanta, I've been following the show's journey to broadway from the sidelines. This I know: it was an intense schedule and experience for the cast and crew who first brought The Color Purple to the stage at its World Premiere at the Alliance. And since that time, the Broadway-bound company has spent a year improving and refining the show.With Oprah signed on as a co-producer now, I'm sure that no expense will be spared to ensure the show has a long, successful run.
It was fun to see the original cast members I'd met do their thing on Oprah last week. Hope to get to NY to see the end result.
Standing O for all involved.
*************************
Bonus Links - MP3s & Such
My original post on
The Color Purple World Premiere
MP3s
Push Da Button
What About Love
The Color Purple
Video
Videos on Oprah.com
************************
November 13, 2005
Jeneane 2.0
This news item will be as brief as I can make it.
I've left The Content Factor as a partner. While I maintain a relationship with my existing clients through the business, I am otherwise unhitched, departnered, unattached and free. In fact, I'm just one big forward looking statement!
Eventually, I'll write about some of the tough lessons I've learned during the last year in working to build what has become a very successful business.
But now's not the time for that.
If I stop to look back, I risk falling into a giant, goo-filled pothole. Now is not the time for goo. (Not sure when the right time for goo is, well kinda, but never mind.) Now is the time to entertain new ventures and opportunities. Some of which I'm already entertaining.
You too can entertain me.
(Sing Elvis, Dance!!!!)
Contact info and recent work is represented here.
Welcome me home.
I'm glad to be back.
Wshew.
I've left The Content Factor as a partner. While I maintain a relationship with my existing clients through the business, I am otherwise unhitched, departnered, unattached and free. In fact, I'm just one big forward looking statement!
Eventually, I'll write about some of the tough lessons I've learned during the last year in working to build what has become a very successful business.
But now's not the time for that.
If I stop to look back, I risk falling into a giant, goo-filled pothole. Now is not the time for goo. (Not sure when the right time for goo is, well kinda, but never mind.) Now is the time to entertain new ventures and opportunities. Some of which I'm already entertaining.
You too can entertain me.
(Sing Elvis, Dance!!!!)
Contact info and recent work is represented here.
Welcome me home.
I'm glad to be back.
Wshew.
Redemption Song
[audio]
[interesting 2nd - audio]
Old pirates yes they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
from the Bottom less pit
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the almighty
We forward in this generation
triumphantly
Won't you help to sing these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had
redemption songs, redemption songs
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
Have no fear for atomic energy
Cause none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look
Some say it's just a part of it
We've got to fulfill the book
Won't you help to sing,
these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had,
redemption songs, redemption songs,
redemption songs
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
Have no fear for atomic energy
Cause none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look
Yes some say it's just part of it
We've got to fulfill the book
Won't you help to sing, these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had, redemption songs
All I ever had, redemption songs
These songs of freedom, songs of freedom
[interesting 2nd - audio]
Old pirates yes they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
from the Bottom less pit
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the almighty
We forward in this generation
triumphantly
Won't you help to sing these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had
redemption songs, redemption songs
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
Have no fear for atomic energy
Cause none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look
Some say it's just a part of it
We've got to fulfill the book
Won't you help to sing,
these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had,
redemption songs, redemption songs,
redemption songs
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
Have no fear for atomic energy
Cause none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look
Yes some say it's just part of it
We've got to fulfill the book
Won't you help to sing, these songs of freedom
Cause all I ever had, redemption songs
All I ever had, redemption songs
These songs of freedom, songs of freedom
November 12, 2005
You mustabeen a beautiful baaabbyyyyy
Happy Birthday Suit, RageBoy.
With you, they broke the mold. And the mold maker. And the mold maker's maker!
Have a great day.
With you, they broke the mold. And the mold maker. And the mold maker's maker!
Have a great day.
November 11, 2005
Goodbye "City too busy to hate" - Hello "Every Day Is An Opening Day"
I guess it's not abnormal when you live in a major metropolitan area to see it rebranded once in ten years.
When we moved to Atlanta in 1994 we really did arrive in a city that fit its unfortunate slogan: "The City Too Busy to Hate."
You and I both know it takes time and energy to hate, and Atlantans back then had little of either. They were too busy building entire industries from the ground up, and in their spare time shopping or sitting in traffic, or hunting for underpriced real estate. NO spare time for hating. Not that it didn't occur to the average Atlantan. There simply wasn't time.
Talk to the hand--got no time to hate you.
And now, with the Olympics a distant memory, we've grown up. Because we're not too busy to hate any more. We've got the time, the memories of dreams denied, lots of people laid off, the dot-com boom having come and gone. We've got a divided nation. One at war. A war that half the country doesn't think we got into for the right reasons. Atlanta's just a microcosm of the larger American divisions. Our millions of bumper stickers demonstrate the opposing views in this city. "Love it or leave it." "Bring the troops home." "My boss is a Jewish Carpenter." "My right. My choice."
Who can blame our great mayor, then, for deciding that it is time to drop the pretense of brotherly ambivalence and rebrand.
Atlanta is now the city where "Every Day is an Opening Day." And, in the tradition of KFC, we are now officially ATL. That's A-Tee-El.
For me, this conjures an image of a confused city--are we talking about baseball? The open minds, open doors, open hearts of the Methodist Church? Our reputation as a city welcoming of diversity as long as you stay out of certain counties at night? Our strip clubs that are open late? The HOV lanes that are open except when they're clogged with traffic? I'm not sure.
I think about the brainstorms that must have gone into coming up with the slogan. How many Snickers bars were ingested in the name of progress? How many Hershey's kisses? How many stress balls had to die? How many easel pads? Ahhh. Just think about how it went down...
Almost makes me miss home. ;-)
When we moved to Atlanta in 1994 we really did arrive in a city that fit its unfortunate slogan: "The City Too Busy to Hate."
You and I both know it takes time and energy to hate, and Atlantans back then had little of either. They were too busy building entire industries from the ground up, and in their spare time shopping or sitting in traffic, or hunting for underpriced real estate. NO spare time for hating. Not that it didn't occur to the average Atlantan. There simply wasn't time.
Talk to the hand--got no time to hate you.
And now, with the Olympics a distant memory, we've grown up. Because we're not too busy to hate any more. We've got the time, the memories of dreams denied, lots of people laid off, the dot-com boom having come and gone. We've got a divided nation. One at war. A war that half the country doesn't think we got into for the right reasons. Atlanta's just a microcosm of the larger American divisions. Our millions of bumper stickers demonstrate the opposing views in this city. "Love it or leave it." "Bring the troops home." "My boss is a Jewish Carpenter." "My right. My choice."
Who can blame our great mayor, then, for deciding that it is time to drop the pretense of brotherly ambivalence and rebrand.
Atlanta is now the city where "Every Day is an Opening Day." And, in the tradition of KFC, we are now officially ATL. That's A-Tee-El.
For me, this conjures an image of a confused city--are we talking about baseball? The open minds, open doors, open hearts of the Methodist Church? Our reputation as a city welcoming of diversity as long as you stay out of certain counties at night? Our strip clubs that are open late? The HOV lanes that are open except when they're clogged with traffic? I'm not sure.
I think about the brainstorms that must have gone into coming up with the slogan. How many Snickers bars were ingested in the name of progress? How many Hershey's kisses? How many stress balls had to die? How many easel pads? Ahhh. Just think about how it went down...
"Okay, what do you think of when you think of Atlanta--"
"baseball?"
"traffic" = "a ha ha ha ha"
"pass the candy dish"
"anyone want a Coke?"
"no idea is a bad idea come on..."
"gay pride?"
"The buckhead murder district?" = "a ha ha haha"
"Dan you've got a client call--sandy's looking for you."
"scuse me."
"Okay, Mike Vick?"
"Dawgs."
"The music--has to appeal to the urban crowd...""Smells like Hell in the A-T-L?" - "a ha ha ha"
"Marta's Ashcan?" = "a ha ha ha ha""Bob you're being a jerk."
"Okay no idea's a bad idea..."
"Atlantizzle My Nizzzle?" = " a ha ha ha""How many of us in here are billing? Is this billable?"
"How about the culture--Cultural Mecca or something..."
"Jesus, why don't you just call it Islamanta!"
"Pass me the candy dish..."
Almost makes me miss home. ;-)
November 10, 2005
Slap Me and I Mean Hard
I'm nearing the end of writing a 100-page web site. (Hi JW!) Can't point to it yet. It's in progress. So. Tired. Words playing tricks. I'm almost there. Oh. Oh. I have a hive on my eyelid now. It itches. It's swelling. I feel a hard dot in the middle. Spider bite probably. But where from? Google? I'm waiting for my right eye to seal shut. The wall. Hitting the wall. Running the last 20 miles with eye wide shut. Damn.
B-Lo You're so Fucking Stealth
Dear Blogger, I love when you sneak features in and wait for us to talk about them. No I don't. Not really. But I see you added moderated comments. Wow. That's cool. What else did you do while you were in here? Sometime you might want to drop me a line. Maybe a free shirt I never got. Tell me stuff like we just went in and changed up Blogger again--did you see us? I like the way you break shit before you go in and add new stuff, so that we're so busy worrying about why blogger's not working that we don't notice you sneak in a bunch of features. Righteous slight of hand! And then I like how the next time I notice new menu items and how sometimes my little edit buttons get really REALLY long instead of square like a button should be, which I think means they're broken, in a way. I like how it seems like you fix that shit and then BAM it's back again. Like an old friend. So, thanks for moderated comments blogger. I'm not going to use them. I mean we already can do comments three ways til Sunday with your multi-choice comment options. Me and my friends we like to reveal our secret comment code we have to enter to post a comment so that we can keep the spammers away. That was a really good idea, Blogger, and I like how sometimes I can't tell WTF letters you're throwing at me because its some Palatinizia font in bright red sideways. I'm not I really into that "backlink" thing either. I haven't figured out what it's for. It showed up. Like without really working or anything. I want to do that on my job Blogger. Hey client, your shit is broken--OH WAIT LOOK it does new things! That is the great thing about Y2K05 business models.
So, dear blogger, maybe you might want to put a little field for us to insert technorati tags like simple/dimple. Or maybe could encourage all of the creative folks you know out there where you live to scare up some new templates for my friends. Luckily I had Josh Hallett design my new one for me. Blogger do you like it? Blogger you would like Josh!! He's very creative and his designs are elegant.
So, anyway, I hope all is well there. Guess it's too late to ever get that shirt. No biggie. I'm fine. Just quit breaking shit every time you toss some celery into this soup and not telling us what you're up to.
Night.
So, dear blogger, maybe you might want to put a little field for us to insert technorati tags like simple/dimple. Or maybe could encourage all of the creative folks you know out there where you live to scare up some new templates for my friends. Luckily I had Josh Hallett design my new one for me. Blogger do you like it? Blogger you would like Josh!! He's very creative and his designs are elegant.
So, anyway, I hope all is well there. Guess it's too late to ever get that shirt. No biggie. I'm fine. Just quit breaking shit every time you toss some celery into this soup and not telling us what you're up to.
Night.
incarnationcantations
ssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssss
rumpumpumpkin soup
vegemetavitamin goop
from nortward down
my spell be bound
you'll do the loop-de-loop.
November 09, 2005
Why My Name Is Spelled Jeneane
My Name is spelled Jeneane. There aren't many Jeanines who spell their names my way. Garafalo is close, but she's off by a letter.
For the many blogziens who have asked over the many years WTF is up with my spelling, I will answer you all at once: my SISTER who was 9 when I was born was tasked with spelling my name. She was learning the rule which I guess they taught in Catholic school in 1962, that the FIRST vowel talks and the SECOND vowel walks.
That's how she got the "ea"
the e talks, the a walks.
In theory I guess you don't need the e on the end of my name, as 'bean' works quite nicely not being beane. But it certainly does provide some balance. The idea of being 'Jenean' makes me feel very jittery.
Like I've been somehow amputated. A name cut short. What a shame. Oh the humanity.
And Jeanne is an entirely different name. Don't call me that. I'm not coming to the meadow.
Jeanne is one syllable. I'm two.
So, that's today's how to say/spell/remember my name.
Thank you.
Class dismissed.
For the many blogziens who have asked over the many years WTF is up with my spelling, I will answer you all at once: my SISTER who was 9 when I was born was tasked with spelling my name. She was learning the rule which I guess they taught in Catholic school in 1962, that the FIRST vowel talks and the SECOND vowel walks.
That's how she got the "ea"
the e talks, the a walks.
In theory I guess you don't need the e on the end of my name, as 'bean' works quite nicely not being beane. But it certainly does provide some balance. The idea of being 'Jenean' makes me feel very jittery.
Like I've been somehow amputated. A name cut short. What a shame. Oh the humanity.
And Jeanne is an entirely different name. Don't call me that. I'm not coming to the meadow.
Jeanne is one syllable. I'm two.
So, that's today's how to say/spell/remember my name.
Thank you.
Class dismissed.
steroid comedown
wick a sheath, ember
charred then spark
reminds me, what feels any other way isn't anyway
consider laughing, slashing, grinding you
to maim or hump
either way
tomatos + salt + pepper + mayo on soft white bread
seven, please
what do you mean by that
lighting the corners of things
heel toe heel electric
your lips razors of flesh
i can hear sound in sound
turn down the air
rushing
my ears are
a villiage
arsonists
paris is burning
paradiddles
now on the edge of that spoon
soft curves feminine
form plump meat
what was he for halloween
anyhow
diamonds have edges
seven feet thick
every hair
grows inward
tickling thoughts I haven't
had.
scent, wind clash - the soft silence of without, the dancing of quiet, the marvel of the circus of 'be'.
carry me.
charred then spark
reminds me, what feels any other way isn't anyway
consider laughing, slashing, grinding you
to maim or hump
either way
tomatos + salt + pepper + mayo on soft white bread
seven, please
what do you mean by that
lighting the corners of things
heel toe heel electric
your lips razors of flesh
i can hear sound in sound
turn down the air
rushing
my ears are
a villiage
arsonists
paris is burning
paradiddles
now on the edge of that spoon
soft curves feminine
form plump meat
what was he for halloween
anyhow
diamonds have edges
seven feet thick
every hair
grows inward
tickling thoughts I haven't
had.
scent, wind clash - the soft silence of without, the dancing of quiet, the marvel of the circus of 'be'.
carry me.
OH Madame!
The Internets - It is Making That Beautiful Noise Again:
It was a couple a few sandwiches short of being a picnic if you know what I mean wordcountwise. Word to the wise.
Let me tell you about Ralphie the neighbour boy when I was six and seven and lived on AntrimRoad always dressed in women’s clothing. Huge lobster, perhaps the hugest lobster ever, hung over the fireplace mantle in the playroom. Couldn’t tear my eyes offa it. It figured largely most likely to succeed probably. I feel like I am making this up. I can’t remember if he wore makeup. And another neighbour kid who later lost her arm. And her sister Kathleen (different one JMo and PingLee) and a huge collection of Catholic memorabilia branding me for life. German last name. They drew on their genitals seems weird but it was true.I abstained. Use your arm while you got it I guess.
Dangerous iceskates hanging from the rafters in the basement. Creepy peeper man next door. Angry brothers on the other side always hurting frogs.more childhood imagery, and certain themes that appear to be specific
Every note in the music was clear and forceful
(At one point, I saw myself in the mirror and noticed a conventional movement of the hands which did not stem from the music. I rejected it at once. When one side of
the record was over, I turned it over and went on dancing. I felt no fatigue, and movement gave me great pleasure.)it informs us of the importance of an experience with virtually no personal content
these images light
dancing
it’s kindof easy
For the first time, I loved myself.
--Madame Levy
November 08, 2005
The World Wide Wish
Having kids means understanding convergence. Every day you watch as baby and adult inside of your kids vie for control. I'm a baby. No, I'm a grown up. I'm a two year old, no I'm 22. In the center of that boxing ring is who they are at any given moment.
So Jenna's standing at the foot of the bed, reading aloud from her holiday wish list, which she has painstakingly and independently compiled on notebook paper from devout study across three toy catalogs that came by mail.
She's serious about the performance. She recites an entire page of descriptions, prices, and if you ask, she'll sing you the jingle.
Her wishlist got me thinking about what I want. Not just in an amazon.com sort of way, but my macro wish list.
My wishes that are horses with beggars who ride.
And that got me thinking about how we seem to be just one good utilitool shy of having the ability to create our own world wide wishlists.
Break me out of Amazon and Froogle, of ebay and overstock. Let me cross from retail into give-space and back. Let my wishes reflect my dimensions. And know me all the while.
Let me add a donation to MSF from over here, and Golden Pearl Shower Cream from over there, but only while it's on clearance, because if you're going to spend $17, then I'd rather have two of these, because I get the free pink mini dog. I want my wishlist to know that. My wish is that meals on wheels in can keep bringing lunches to my Aunt, and that our Ford gets paid off before they want it back. I'd like some heat for the winter and a health insurance premium or two for when Jenna gets strep. Add in a bottle of Children's Motrin for that. And refill her prescription Singulair at Walgreens if you would. I want a real tire on my car, not a donut, and Tires Plus by my house gives us a discount for having our work done there, so add Two Installed Tires to my wishlist. Let me know when it's time to rotate them. And I could use a copy of photoshop -- that would rock my world. On my world wide wish list you could pay my garbage or buy me a can. And if you could send a paid roofer my way, well you'd blow me down. You could add to my wish list some supplies for Shelley's photography and books for Locke, shipped to their doors, in my stead, because I need them to do what they do, to put a different kind of roof over my head.
You and I are not so different, and very different, at any one time, in need of this as much as this.
I want commerce to become elastic.
intuitively inclusive. an extranet of wants and needs.
let me be buyer, seller and intermediary all at once.
Me the marketer, Me the market, Me the marketplace.
Can you give me that?
And for a little extra, can you wrap it up with an RSS bow?
Happy Holidays...
So Jenna's standing at the foot of the bed, reading aloud from her holiday wish list, which she has painstakingly and independently compiled on notebook paper from devout study across three toy catalogs that came by mail.
She's serious about the performance. She recites an entire page of descriptions, prices, and if you ask, she'll sing you the jingle.
Her wishlist got me thinking about what I want. Not just in an amazon.com sort of way, but my macro wish list.
My wishes that are horses with beggars who ride.
And that got me thinking about how we seem to be just one good utilitool shy of having the ability to create our own world wide wishlists.
Break me out of Amazon and Froogle, of ebay and overstock. Let me cross from retail into give-space and back. Let my wishes reflect my dimensions. And know me all the while.
Let me add a donation to MSF from over here, and Golden Pearl Shower Cream from over there, but only while it's on clearance, because if you're going to spend $17, then I'd rather have two of these, because I get the free pink mini dog. I want my wishlist to know that. My wish is that meals on wheels in can keep bringing lunches to my Aunt, and that our Ford gets paid off before they want it back. I'd like some heat for the winter and a health insurance premium or two for when Jenna gets strep. Add in a bottle of Children's Motrin for that. And refill her prescription Singulair at Walgreens if you would. I want a real tire on my car, not a donut, and Tires Plus by my house gives us a discount for having our work done there, so add Two Installed Tires to my wishlist. Let me know when it's time to rotate them. And I could use a copy of photoshop -- that would rock my world. On my world wide wish list you could pay my garbage or buy me a can. And if you could send a paid roofer my way, well you'd blow me down. You could add to my wish list some supplies for Shelley's photography and books for Locke, shipped to their doors, in my stead, because I need them to do what they do, to put a different kind of roof over my head.
You and I are not so different, and very different, at any one time, in need of this as much as this.
I want commerce to become elastic.
intuitively inclusive. an extranet of wants and needs.
let me be buyer, seller and intermediary all at once.
Me the marketer, Me the market, Me the marketplace.
Can you give me that?
And for a little extra, can you wrap it up with an RSS bow?
Happy Holidays...
Holiday on Uranus
Well the kids are off school again today, and what with the state of education in Georgia, why not. Another day off won't ruin the kiddies' chances of living in the Governor's mansion one day.
bada bing!
Hope you enjoyed the ElmiTaste fun yesterday and the introduction of one Mr. Rage Boy as chief chewing officer. Yes, ElimiTaste is a client, but they didn't just find us bloggers by accident. They've been reading blogs and throwing some spare change to bloggers for a while now. They're your mouth's answer to Big Gum, and you know I like answers to Big Anything (Big PR, Big Oil, Big Bang...)
So that's what's up with that.
More news coming on what the fuck I'm up to soon. Soon as I know.
On the hamster front, all is quiet.
We cleaned all three cages yesterday, which has become a family fun day here at the Sessum house.
It involves many materials and hands, including rolls of plastic, garbage bags, George Forman cleaning products, paper towels, bleach, shavings, fluff, buckets, and a range of other supplies. I am so grateful to my sister for bringing the precious little pets into our lives.
I had the bright idea of taking Coco the matriarchal escape artist and switching her cage with the Runt's cage (a nice double-decker abode) because it has those doors that latch shut with a hook. The move was intended to keep her inside the cage. Indeed, she has refrained from escaping for TWO WHOLE DAYS, which in the world of Coco is like 8 hamster years.
I can't say she's happy about it.
She's chewing the bars of the cage like James Brown on an assult and battery rap.
I read somewhere that this is not good for hamsters. I read that their teeth are so long, and go so far up into their heads, that continuous chewing in such a manner can cause their teeth to receed up into their brains, causing brain damage and/or death.
Can you imagine--you've got these long tusks-for-teeth, and you're trying to chew your way out of prison to go see your fuck buddy in the next cage, and all of a sudden BAM! Your teeth wind up in your brain?
Yowsa! That's gotta be worse than going off Effexor.
I thought about giving her some Zapp to chew. But last night I gave her a cracker instead. I thought, maybe something different to chew on would distract her from her mission of gnawing through metal bars. She ate the cracker and attacked the bars with new fervor.
I'm worried about her.
But not worried enough to switch her back to the easy-escape cage, so she can break out and go shit under my stove some more.
Happy Tuesday!
bada bing!
Hope you enjoyed the ElmiTaste fun yesterday and the introduction of one Mr. Rage Boy as chief chewing officer. Yes, ElimiTaste is a client, but they didn't just find us bloggers by accident. They've been reading blogs and throwing some spare change to bloggers for a while now. They're your mouth's answer to Big Gum, and you know I like answers to Big Anything (Big PR, Big Oil, Big Bang...)
So that's what's up with that.
More news coming on what the fuck I'm up to soon. Soon as I know.
On the hamster front, all is quiet.
We cleaned all three cages yesterday, which has become a family fun day here at the Sessum house.
It involves many materials and hands, including rolls of plastic, garbage bags, George Forman cleaning products, paper towels, bleach, shavings, fluff, buckets, and a range of other supplies. I am so grateful to my sister for bringing the precious little pets into our lives.
I had the bright idea of taking Coco the matriarchal escape artist and switching her cage with the Runt's cage (a nice double-decker abode) because it has those doors that latch shut with a hook. The move was intended to keep her inside the cage. Indeed, she has refrained from escaping for TWO WHOLE DAYS, which in the world of Coco is like 8 hamster years.
I can't say she's happy about it.
She's chewing the bars of the cage like James Brown on an assult and battery rap.
I read somewhere that this is not good for hamsters. I read that their teeth are so long, and go so far up into their heads, that continuous chewing in such a manner can cause their teeth to receed up into their brains, causing brain damage and/or death.
Can you imagine--you've got these long tusks-for-teeth, and you're trying to chew your way out of prison to go see your fuck buddy in the next cage, and all of a sudden BAM! Your teeth wind up in your brain?
Yowsa! That's gotta be worse than going off Effexor.
I thought about giving her some Zapp to chew. But last night I gave her a cracker instead. I thought, maybe something different to chew on would distract her from her mission of gnawing through metal bars. She ate the cracker and attacked the bars with new fervor.
I'm worried about her.
But not worried enough to switch her back to the easy-escape cage, so she can break out and go shit under my stove some more.
Happy Tuesday!
November 07, 2005
All in Good Taste ; - )
*****************************FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
******************************
Blog hero, Internet fortune teller, and slayer of New Age dragons, RageBoy, has announced his decision to join the ad age by making a partial-subsidization- of-book-buying-habit deal (AKA: arrangement) with the gum guys at ElimiTaste.
Not only can RB now rush to the bookstore chomping on Zapp with some extra cash in his pocket, but he can also talk to the ladies in the "Spirituality" isle of Barnes & Noble without that skanky Starbucks-and-cigarette aftertaste on his tongue, thanks to SmokeScreen.God bless us, every damn one!
Read more about RB's sellout class hierarchy of needs.
Read more about ElimiTaste here.
And ask RageBoy how YOU can become an affiliate.
Weinberger Real Disclosure Statement: YES ElimiTaste is a client (suggested addition to the Weinberger scale: WWT (work with them).) They are also cool folks who understand how bloggers think, and they intend not to insult us. You can buy their gum online, pop it in your mouth after coffee or a cigarette (ahhhh, those were the days), or hand it out to the kids for trick-or-treat (DOH! I mean after the Thanksgiving turkey). Not to mention, the ElimiTaste folks don't waste your time with things like the juicy fruit blog.And the gum's damn good too.
To quote RageBoy's evil twin Chris Locke:
"I've been chewing the shit outta the stuff."
....and you can too.
November 06, 2005
For The Hamster Weaning Cell Phone Question Guy.
One cool thing about blogging is that we become seen as experts on stuff that we're not.
One scary thing about blogging is that we become seen as experts on stuff that we're not.
Thanks, Google. I remember the time a man emailed me from Europe because his daughter was in the hospital. He wanted me to know that he found my writings about Jenna's Strep Throat and how I could usually tell it was strep by her strawberry tongue. Strawberry tongue is self-explanatory if you've never seen it. If you have seen it, you know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, this father who had googled my writing about strep wanted to let me know about Kawasaki disease - a rarer-than-strep and often more-serious-than-strep illness that is also frequently accompanied by a strawberry tongue (among other symptoms). The man who wrote wanted me to know that strawberry tongue does not always mean strep--it can be part and parcel of many illnesses, including Kawasaki Disease. Why is this important? Because a delayed diagnosis of Kawasaki's can lead to permanent heart damage, even death.
That's one example of how my sorta-knowledge had realworld impact by NOT being the expertise Google had suggested.
Another example is from today. Luckily I'm a bit more qualified for this one.
Today I got a voice mail from Hamster Guy - HI! - I forgot his name. He was asking about hamster weaning. First, Hamster Guy, let me say congratulations on the new members of your family. (HAHAHAHAH!)
Now, as far as weaning goes, you'll see the little kids start leaving the nest in about 10 days. They can't really do anything much but slug themselves around with their big heads. This goes on for a couple of weeks until they look like real hamsters, but smaller. Between 3-4 weeks old you can separate them from the mom. There's a whole other ballgame involved in telling the sexes apart, and you don't want to mess that up or you'll have more hamsters on your hands. Allow me to include a helpful diagram for the hamster sex newbie.
It took me about two weeks after weaning for me to find homes for most all of them. We still have one - the runt - and the two parents. It's a royal pain in the ass because they're Syrian hamsters and they will fight bloody as adults, so we have 3 separate cages that need to be CLEANED and WATERED and so on. There are lots of good hamster sites. Which in itself is amazing.
I'm sorry I didn't call you back Hamster Guy--my cellphone is in the car, and I just remembered your message. I hope this helps. Have fun with the babies.
Don't bring any over here.
Sincerely,
Miss Manners
One scary thing about blogging is that we become seen as experts on stuff that we're not.
Thanks, Google. I remember the time a man emailed me from Europe because his daughter was in the hospital. He wanted me to know that he found my writings about Jenna's Strep Throat and how I could usually tell it was strep by her strawberry tongue. Strawberry tongue is self-explanatory if you've never seen it. If you have seen it, you know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, this father who had googled my writing about strep wanted to let me know about Kawasaki disease - a rarer-than-strep and often more-serious-than-strep illness that is also frequently accompanied by a strawberry tongue (among other symptoms). The man who wrote wanted me to know that strawberry tongue does not always mean strep--it can be part and parcel of many illnesses, including Kawasaki Disease. Why is this important? Because a delayed diagnosis of Kawasaki's can lead to permanent heart damage, even death.
That's one example of how my sorta-knowledge had realworld impact by NOT being the expertise Google had suggested.
Another example is from today. Luckily I'm a bit more qualified for this one.
Today I got a voice mail from Hamster Guy - HI! - I forgot his name. He was asking about hamster weaning. First, Hamster Guy, let me say congratulations on the new members of your family. (HAHAHAHAH!)
Now, as far as weaning goes, you'll see the little kids start leaving the nest in about 10 days. They can't really do anything much but slug themselves around with their big heads. This goes on for a couple of weeks until they look like real hamsters, but smaller. Between 3-4 weeks old you can separate them from the mom. There's a whole other ballgame involved in telling the sexes apart, and you don't want to mess that up or you'll have more hamsters on your hands. Allow me to include a helpful diagram for the hamster sex newbie.It took me about two weeks after weaning for me to find homes for most all of them. We still have one - the runt - and the two parents. It's a royal pain in the ass because they're Syrian hamsters and they will fight bloody as adults, so we have 3 separate cages that need to be CLEANED and WATERED and so on. There are lots of good hamster sites. Which in itself is amazing.
I'm sorry I didn't call you back Hamster Guy--my cellphone is in the car, and I just remembered your message. I hope this helps. Have fun with the babies.
Don't bring any over here.
Sincerely,
Miss Manners
This is what I'm talking about
Phil Libin is the President of Corestreet. He was one of the earlier regular executives blogging about his industry. But that's not why I read his blog. I read his blog because he is Phil Libin. There is a difference. It isn't subtle.
Neither is this post - Compelling. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
Phil has lived an interesting life - he obviously has had a model of what it means to be interesting. What does it look like? To be interesting? To be someone who gives out little pieces of yourself to others -- pieces so full of meaning that they last like that? I think it is about dimensions, about teaching a little boy the power of language while you teach him about what it means to love someone for close to a century. I think that those are the people I want to know. I want to know all 600 sides of you. Of Phil. Of Phil's grandfather. Don't you?
Phil, every one of the words in this post was necessary. Your grandfather would be proud.
Neither is this post - Compelling. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
One day, when I must have been a particularly meddlesome six-year-old, my grandfather said, "You know, at birth every person gets a certain quota of words allotted to them for life. It's impossible to tell how many words anyone has, the numbers vary widely, but when you've spoken all of your words, you die." This affected me deeply and I immediately resolved to horde my remaining lot. For the rest of the day, I expressed my demands by mumming, pointing and stomping until my grandfather told me that gestures counted even more than spoken words. Foiled, I started to worry about how many words I had needlessly burned through in my careless six years. From then on, I thought, every word I speak had better be really necessary. This is how I learned about economics.
Phil has lived an interesting life - he obviously has had a model of what it means to be interesting. What does it look like? To be interesting? To be someone who gives out little pieces of yourself to others -- pieces so full of meaning that they last like that? I think it is about dimensions, about teaching a little boy the power of language while you teach him about what it means to love someone for close to a century. I think that those are the people I want to know. I want to know all 600 sides of you. Of Phil. Of Phil's grandfather. Don't you?
My grandfather and grandmother were married and inseparable for almost 75 years. She died a year and a half ago and he didn't speak much after that, although I don't think that it was because he was trying to stretch out his days. He died peacefully at the age of 99 and we buried him today.
I do a lot of talking. It's pretty much my entire job. Right now, I'm sitting in the airport departure lounge getting ready to fly for a few meetings and two speeches. I'm going to pare down my PowerPoint decks a bit. Probably not every word is really necessary. I'm going to try to make it last a week this time.
Phil, every one of the words in this post was necessary. Your grandfather would be proud.
November 04, 2005
Stone Age
A friend forwarded this invite to a poll that Ad Age is doing on employees wasting time blogging:
Since the poll is now closed, I thought I would re-write this solicitation in a more Web 2.0 way:
My suggested changes are bolded.
This one's on the house.
HAT TIP: To me for fortuitously predicting this stupid discussion during my first week of blogging November 10, 2001.
Be Part of the News - VOTE IN THE AD AGE WEEKLY ONLINE POLL BACKGROUND: A report last week by Advertising Age Editor at Large Bradley Johnson noted that about 35 million workers -- or one in four people in the U.S. labor force -- spend an average of 3.5 hours, or 9%, of each work day reading blogs. This blogification of workplace time is no minor concern -- the total losses across the national work force are estimated to be the equivalent of 551,000 years of paid time that is being spent on blogs via the employer's own computer systems. Another important point was that the time spent reading blogs on the job was in addition to the time already spent surfing the Web in personal pursuits. The debate appears to be one of reasonable limits. At what point, or at what length of time, does the use of company assets for personal activities become unreasonable? And is the problem likely to become an even greater one as more and more TV content goes online, becoming easily accessible from one's office computer? Do employers need to find new ways to police their computer systems? THIS WEEK'S QUESTION: Should employers allow their staff to read blogs in the workplace?
Since the poll is now closed, I thought I would re-write this solicitation in a more Web 2.0 way:
Help Us Feel Useful in the Age of the Net - VOTE IN THE AD AGE WEEKLY ONLINE POLL BACKGROUND: A report last week by one of our guys who's hanging onto his MSM title for dear life noted that about 35 million workers -- or one in four people in the U.S. labor force -- spend an average of 3.5 hours, or 9%, of each work day educating themselves without dipping into your "professional development" budget while at the same time escaping the tedious mindlessness of watercooler chitchat. This blogification of workplace time is no minor concern -- when the slaves find out they can make money without living in the quarters out back, your business stands to lose 551,000 years of indentured servitude, which means fewer workers to fire just before retirement. Another important point was that the time spent reading blogs on the job was in addition to the time already spent surfing the Web looking for jobs at clued companies, not yours. The debate appears to be one of reasonable limits. At what point, or at what length of time, does the use of company assets for building tighter connections with your markets become a problem? And is the problem likely to become an even greater one as more and more of our print subscribers use the publication for toilet paper, potentially in your own office bathrooms? Do employers need to find new ways to police their computer systems? Because we're having to find new ways to seem interesting. THIS WEEK'S QUESTION: Should employers allow their staff to read blogs in the workplace?
My suggested changes are bolded.
This one's on the house.
HAT TIP: To me for fortuitously predicting this stupid discussion during my first week of blogging November 10, 2001.
And if the corporation knew what we were doing, what would they say? "Wow, what an amazing forum--who are you talking with? what matters to them? what the hell is going on out there?" No, I'm pretty sure that's not what's going to happen. Like blocking napster access (back in the day), I'm pretty darn sure the corporate eyebrow would raise not-so-slightly, with the ageold warning: "Don't let this affect your productivity." I'm willing to wager we'll start to hear non-gonzo proclamations of 'no blogging at work,' or worse yet, "Hey, set one of those blogs up for the marketing department, will ya? we can talk about our new product launch." egads.It's not easy being right.
Let's Go to the Movies
Atlanta's Kaneva is making headlines again with the launch of IndependenceMovieFest.com, a joint effort with Campus MovieFest (CMF).From what I understand, they're currently running an online Independent Movie Festival that sounds like something I wish had taken place when my nephew was studying film at RIT. He'd make these incredible short films with a cast of characters from the campus and I remember thinking I wish someone who could make a difference in his 'after college' life would see these things. As it is, he changed majors because it was frustrating wanting to make films but not having an audience outside of the family and professors to appreciate them. Man, they were funny. (Hi Russ, if you're reading).
That's why I like this idea--and I like that it's aimed at young film makers looking for an exposure platform. I also like that the Movie Festival will let community participants play movie critic along with a panel of legit judges who'll be reviewing the work. I like that it might bring back good short-film makers who might have given up on getting their work out because there wasn't "a better way." Now, better technology makes watching movies online a real option. And as a distribution platform, control goes back into the artist's hands.
They're taking submissions now through May 15, 2006. The festival ends and winners are announced July 4, 2006. (Get it--INDEPENDENCE Movie Fest...)
You can watch trailers free after registering at Kaneva. I'm still not sure how pricing for the festival works for us moviegoers -- like can I get a wristband similar to going to Six Flags? Can I pick certain days to watch and get a pricing deal? I do know there are some free movies and some dollar movies. And I do know the Kaneva folks will answer questions if you ask 'em.
Check out the official details here.
If there's a filmmaker in your life, send them here.
Weinberger Real Disclosure Forward Looking Statement (WRDFLS)
WRDFLS Rating: FT, FT2, SUT, WTOMS, IJND++
November 03, 2005
Here's what's amazing
When Josh offered to help me out of my template mess here, I gave him creative license and a huge grin he couldn't see from his side of the monitor, and the same with Andrea who helped on my portfolio site.
The thing is, I didn't see Josh's rendition until he was pretty close to finished.
That's the first time I saw the tree. Right there. Above here.
And I told Josh what I'll tell you now, but I didn't get a chance to really explain it to him, and maybe you won't believe it because you think, I know how she can be, but really, how am I? So what I meant to tell Josh is what I'm telling now: that the farm I've written about so often, the place where my father died when I was younger than my daughter is now, that home of innocence shattered, sat directly across the road from this field, this tree, this very day, the sun falling just so.
Or it could be.
And I mean -- during those years when the farmer across the road gave his soil a rest, and that field was cut clean and green, watered well by gray western New York skies, giving way to welcome sun and a so-damn blue -- the only thing standing between me and forever, forever being the end of that field I never reached on stubby five-year-old legs, was that tree.
Right there.
Josh put me across the road, wondering when the farmer would cut us a path back to forever, the end of his field, which he would do each year, and my brother would race me as far as we could go, which was never to the end, if it had an end. I never found out.
And now there, in that place that Josh gave me back, stand pricey new homes of vinyl and pressure treated lumber, no field, no tree.
And no forever.
Except for here.
The thing is, I didn't see Josh's rendition until he was pretty close to finished.
That's the first time I saw the tree. Right there. Above here.
And I told Josh what I'll tell you now, but I didn't get a chance to really explain it to him, and maybe you won't believe it because you think, I know how she can be, but really, how am I? So what I meant to tell Josh is what I'm telling now: that the farm I've written about so often, the place where my father died when I was younger than my daughter is now, that home of innocence shattered, sat directly across the road from this field, this tree, this very day, the sun falling just so.
Or it could be.
And I mean -- during those years when the farmer across the road gave his soil a rest, and that field was cut clean and green, watered well by gray western New York skies, giving way to welcome sun and a so-damn blue -- the only thing standing between me and forever, forever being the end of that field I never reached on stubby five-year-old legs, was that tree.
Right there.
Josh put me across the road, wondering when the farmer would cut us a path back to forever, the end of his field, which he would do each year, and my brother would race me as far as we could go, which was never to the end, if it had an end. I never found out.
And now there, in that place that Josh gave me back, stand pricey new homes of vinyl and pressure treated lumber, no field, no tree.
And no forever.
Except for here.
Into my fifth year...
In 2001, the Financial Times Group named Christopher Locke one of the Top 50 Business Thinkers in the World. 2001 was an interesting year. Many of my clients and colleagues were finishing up their happy dance soon to be tripping on the bad foot.
Chris Locke already knew what was next. That same year, he issued a challenge to his EGR readers: Start a blog and I'll blogroll you.
I'd already been blogging over at Gonzo Engaged, and around that time welcomed anyone and everyone onto the blog who wanted to come and experiment. Oh they came. A rowdy group o regulars still hangs there. Tom, Marek, Ken, Frank, Denise, Kevin--you know who you are.
When the challenge came, quite a few bloggers you know today took Chris up on his offer. If Chris is your babydaddy, then give him a shout out. Leave a comment here.
He was this allied's blogbaby daddy. And finer stock there isn't. Just ask his psychotherapist.
The day I took the challenge was November 4, 2001. Which means tonight I'm ready-or-not entering my fifth year of blogging. With a new look, courtesy of Josh Hallett. And a new attitude, courtesy of Andrea Roceal James, cause like I said, if I didn't have me some blog friends I'd have no friends atall.
Thus and such having been revealed and not meaning to mix past present and future, here I am doing just that.
And why not. This is the Web. Linear's dead. There is no Christmas Past. Every day is a holiday and a day of mourning in the same instant. We walk on invisible lines toward and away from one another 500 times a day. Someone is always coming. What's better than that.
So, in my own celebratory way, I'm thinking about why I'm here, not philosophically or metaphysically speaking, or even spiritually speaking, unless you count the places Google takes me sometimes.
And in this throw-my-own party, where do we go from here, frame of mind, I have to toss in some kind words from the guy who started a generation of newbies on the road to each other and to you. And who told me a long time back what i needed to be doing, and that if I did well then by golly somebody gonna take notice...
Right. Not usually.
Happy Anniversary.
Thank you Josh and Andrea and this blog's babydaddy.
And thanks to everyone who keeps coming here.
Damn. What else can I say?
Chris Locke already knew what was next. That same year, he issued a challenge to his EGR readers: Start a blog and I'll blogroll you.
I'd already been blogging over at Gonzo Engaged, and around that time welcomed anyone and everyone onto the blog who wanted to come and experiment. Oh they came. A rowdy group o regulars still hangs there. Tom, Marek, Ken, Frank, Denise, Kevin--you know who you are.
When the challenge came, quite a few bloggers you know today took Chris up on his offer. If Chris is your babydaddy, then give him a shout out. Leave a comment here.
He was this allied's blogbaby daddy. And finer stock there isn't. Just ask his psychotherapist.
The day I took the challenge was November 4, 2001. Which means tonight I'm ready-or-not entering my fifth year of blogging. With a new look, courtesy of Josh Hallett. And a new attitude, courtesy of Andrea Roceal James, cause like I said, if I didn't have me some blog friends I'd have no friends atall.
Thus and such having been revealed and not meaning to mix past present and future, here I am doing just that.
And why not. This is the Web. Linear's dead. There is no Christmas Past. Every day is a holiday and a day of mourning in the same instant. We walk on invisible lines toward and away from one another 500 times a day. Someone is always coming. What's better than that.
So, in my own celebratory way, I'm thinking about why I'm here, not philosophically or metaphysically speaking, or even spiritually speaking, unless you count the places Google takes me sometimes.
And in this throw-my-own party, where do we go from here, frame of mind, I have to toss in some kind words from the guy who started a generation of newbies on the road to each other and to you. And who told me a long time back what i needed to be doing, and that if I did well then by golly somebody gonna take notice...
If your aim is to genuinely inform your markets about what you're up to and why anyone should give a damn, hire Jeneane. You can't go wrong. That's assuming, of course, that you are up to something worth giving a damn about. If not, hire robots. They're cheaper and they don't seem to mind writing crap. Jeneane does mind. Although she has many laudable communication skills, suffering fools gladly is not high among them.
Aside from that, she's a very nice person and doesn't (usually) bite.
Right. Not usually.
Happy Anniversary.
Thank you Josh and Andrea and this blog's babydaddy.
And thanks to everyone who keeps coming here.
Damn. What else can I say?
i want to feel like this
HELL YAH!
instead we are all sick here.
i have made the yelp part of my blogger profile.
I think it captures my essence.
I love you all.
in steroids,
j.
instead we are all sick here.
i have made the yelp part of my blogger profile.
I think it captures my essence.
I love you all.
in steroids,
j.
always tell people it's a PDF
Doc gets pissed about PDFs. We all know that. And we know why. He's right, they are a pain in the ass in terms of loading time, hogging resources, and searchability, although I think google spiders them now, right?
But what is a pain is that PDFs aren't as fast and manuverable as HTML.
What's nice is that you, the author, controls the look during the browser wars of today and tomorrow.
My solution is to simply TELL readers that the document they're about to click on is a PDF. It's really very simple. Just put [PDF] after the document link.
That'll make Doc happer. It'll make me happy. And we can all get some rest.
But what is a pain is that PDFs aren't as fast and manuverable as HTML.
What's nice is that you, the author, controls the look during the browser wars of today and tomorrow.
My solution is to simply TELL readers that the document they're about to click on is a PDF. It's really very simple. Just put [PDF] after the document link.
That'll make Doc happer. It'll make me happy. And we can all get some rest.
November 02, 2005
I'm telling you
If I were to tell you all about what I'm going through right now, your hair might stand on end. Or it might not. Because you've been around here before and usually I have something going on. Lots of times that something might make your hair stand on end.
I'm the quiet retiring sort.
What I can tell you is that talented and busy information architect (mom i wanna be an infoarchitect when i grow up!) Josh Hallett is making me a cool new template for this joint, and talented web designer and geek icon Andrea Roceal James is working on a cool site design for me, and David and Chris have two very big shoulders--well they probably have four of them when you stand them end to end, but that doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things, unless they decide to carry purses, but most certainly if it weren't for blog friends, I'd have no friends at all.
I want a signed copy of Cluetrain by all three guys (sorry Rick). I think I'm going to ask for their addresses and enclose self-addressed stamped envelopes and ask them each to sign and pass it on. Do you think they would? I know in the end it would sit in Chris' livingroom pile-o-books. I guess that's okay.
In other news, I'm sick, George is sick, Jenna is trying to get better. I need more steroids. If you have a medrol dose pack, please send it to me.
Oh the stories I could tell you and will one day, maybe in code, maybe because you know me so well code is all you need. The holy code of blog disclosure, because I never go back on my storytelling word.
Did you all see what David made the other day? I think this is brilliant. I love it. I want it on a business card.
tadum--i gotta go now. get some sleep.
I'm the quiet retiring sort.
What I can tell you is that talented and busy information architect (mom i wanna be an infoarchitect when i grow up!) Josh Hallett is making me a cool new template for this joint, and talented web designer and geek icon Andrea Roceal James is working on a cool site design for me, and David and Chris have two very big shoulders--well they probably have four of them when you stand them end to end, but that doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things, unless they decide to carry purses, but most certainly if it weren't for blog friends, I'd have no friends at all.
I want a signed copy of Cluetrain by all three guys (sorry Rick). I think I'm going to ask for their addresses and enclose self-addressed stamped envelopes and ask them each to sign and pass it on. Do you think they would? I know in the end it would sit in Chris' livingroom pile-o-books. I guess that's okay.
In other news, I'm sick, George is sick, Jenna is trying to get better. I need more steroids. If you have a medrol dose pack, please send it to me.
Oh the stories I could tell you and will one day, maybe in code, maybe because you know me so well code is all you need. The holy code of blog disclosure, because I never go back on my storytelling word.
Did you all see what David made the other day? I think this is brilliant. I love it. I want it on a business card.
tadum--i gotta go now. get some sleep.
November 01, 2005
thisblogsucks.com
I know I haven't updated. I know this blog has been SUCKorama for the last two weeks. It's because someone's working on a nice new template for me, and I just can't abide this ugly place anymore. Sometimes your words need a place to land before you bother taking all that effort to link them together into fragments and occasional sentences and toss them into the world. For crying out loud bloogle, you might know that and throw us a template bone once every quarter century.
Now I think my swiki has gone and bumped down all the stuff on my sidebar--or it's probably blogger's fault, because generally when blogger fixes some stuff, your template gets all funny...
not to mention half the time I come to read my own non-posting and I get an error message.
My house here is just a mess. I hope to have it back in order soon.
in other news, i'm coming off steroids, grumpy, and tired as fuck.
hope everyone's well.
Now I think my swiki has gone and bumped down all the stuff on my sidebar--or it's probably blogger's fault, because generally when blogger fixes some stuff, your template gets all funny...
not to mention half the time I come to read my own non-posting and I get an error message.
My house here is just a mess. I hope to have it back in order soon.
in other news, i'm coming off steroids, grumpy, and tired as fuck.
hope everyone's well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)