Me, Black Lightning, and Playboy

At 14, my interest in deranged, charismatic leaders was already well developed.

My 8th grade teacher had been converted and whisked away to foreign land by a cult, then promptly disappeared. I subsequently found a book on religious cults, and read the harrowing account of a young disillusioned man that had fallen prey to the Moonies. The most interesting part of the story however was not how he got in.  That was the usual, "my family doesn't care if I eat worms" of many middle-class preppy boys. The nifty part was how he got out. Or rather, how he was kidnapped back by his parents, and subjected to the then-traumatizing experience of de-programming. This last bit was done by a badass mofo known as Black Lightning (or Satan, to the Moonies).

The story was sooo cool, I decided to write my 9th grade term paper on it. I encounter a small hiccup though... one of the needed sources for my term paper was an article in Playboy magazine. So imagine a 14 yr old girl walking up to the school librarian and asking, "excuse me, where do you keep the Playboy?" A stern look from the lady in glasses and bun, immediately taught me not to ask for pornography quite so loudly. Hearing my interesting tale, to my delighted surprise, my English teacher informed me that Black Lightning lived right in my hometown!

Amazed by my luck, and not considering how weird it would be: I ran home, picked up the phone book, looked up Black Lightning, dialed, and then heard my teen voice saying "Hi, is this Mr. So-and-so who de-programs Moonies?" It was almost as silly as asking if the refrigerator was running, but it was too late. "Yes it is," said the voice on the other end, "how can I help you?" I proceeded to tell him I was 14, writing a school paper, and not allowed to read Playboy. Being a very sympathetic man, Black Lighting offered to come to my house and help. I kid you not... he was coming, to my house!!!

He drove up in his caddy, looking sharp in a burnt-orange suit and a fair amount of gold jewelry... funny, he didn't look like Satan. He gave me his business card, and a xeroxed copy of an article (yep, Playboy.. nope, no naked pictures). He told me to call him if I had questions, but since he'd already done more for my teenage life than anyone else I'd ever read about, I decided not to bug him. I wrote my paper, for which I got an A, thank you! And I filed away the excitement that comes from learning how a badass can bust the bubble of mindless minions. Only now I realize that perhaps that memory wasn't as filed away as I thought.

Thanks for the tips T!    :D

Underwear Dawg and the Musical of Life

While the idea of a little dog in tights trying to save the day is admittedly laughable, so is much of life.

There's many a morning I wake up, and I'd swear I'm living in a movie. Now, I feel like I've crossed from being an actor blocking through a scene, to a twinkle-toes dancer waltzing through a musical. My dreams are filled with random thoughts and images... the Little Tramp, Springtime for Hitler in Germany, High Fidelity, Fidel, baseball, and the soon-to-hit platinum Base Band.

Here we are, in this ridiculous dream of life, feeling like little dogs in tights. We're fighting a silly battle against a petty-dictator-wannabee, the silly fanboys don't have a clue and he think he's a huge success just like Hitler in Springtime. They tap their toes while he spins like a whirling dervish, and makes about as much sense as the Little Tramp doing his german impersonations.. "das ist sauerkrauten und wursterbratenschnitzel gubenheimer frankenwienerfurtersheisse!" And all the little fanboys go "ziggywiggy heil!"

Ay Fidel! I'm going to miss you. Not because I want Cuba to keep having '57 Chevys, or because you were the only leader in the Western world that never gave a damn about his ZZ Top beard. Nor for any of those communist (or capitalist) ideals. But because aside from being a great ball player, you were a rare example of a man. No one could point the finger at you and say "he's all rotten".  You knew how to mix leadership (sometimes cruel, yes), with genuinely winning the love of the people through acts of goodwill. How much better would this world be if we only had the high literacy, medical care, or low infant-mortality of Cuba? That offer to send your doctors to help out during the hurricane Katrina disaster... effin brilliant, by the way! Too bad old Dubya had to be a putz and say no.

So take a cue you petty dic*tators (emphasis on the first three letters of that word, the fourth letter was left off for politeness). It takes a real man to wear the pantalones ... or pants for you non-Spanish speakers. Perhaps if you learn to play ball like Fidel, you'll see that greatness requires teamwork, not just yelling out orders. Because it's not the Armani suit and the slick hair that will make you look good. A leader can be a leader, even in old army fatigues. It's what's inside the pantalones, and the heart, that counts!

Bad, Naked Girls on IRC

Yep, made you look... suckerrrrrr!!!  :P

It's true. I've been accused of all sorts of naughty things, like, getting people to like me (awful, ain't it :) ... But for better or for worse, I'm solidly halfway between 'wallflower' and 'nympho'. Fortunately, I do have some pretty outrageous friends that I can call up for vicarious thrills. One of them is my ultra-cool girlfriend, Carrie.

Carrie's my hero. For all sorts of reasons. She's outrageous as all get-out, and never takes crap from anyone. The kind of woman that could either make a sailor blush, or beat the living daylights out of him! Mae West... your soul lives on. And yes, her naked tits are available on the web for public consumption.

So what does this have to do with anything? I just said "naked" and "tits", and you can still come up with coherent thoughts? WOW! Good for you! Well, my whole point is that, whatever you wish to find, is actually out there, and that IRC women are not all the same. Some are sweet and innocent, some are evil *itches, some are nerdy girls who write blogs... but at the end of the day, they all need/want the same things. Friends, respect, love...

But you can't get the sweet girl, or the bad girl, by being an evil dweeb. Most of us are too smart and too seasoned to fall for your maniacal plots. Lies and BS will get you nowhere very quickly. Only this morning I banned a bozo for asking one of our female chatters if she was hot. I mean, seriously, do you HAVE to ask? Because if you're a dweebie nerd chained to your PC, most women you'd ever meet might well be out of your league! That doesn't mean we want your worship. Equality will do just fine.

Be honest. Be yourself (politely please). Chances are, we'll like you anyway.

Even if you are a dweeb. :)

Bbbb'bad to the Bone Banlist

A certain someone we know (we'll call him Z) has either:

1) Banned us from his server

2) Turned our nicks into ban-words

3) Bricked our phone

4) Stolen our stuff

5) Pissed us off some other way

Feel free to add yourself, your flames, your two cents.

(Please do not mention the server or channel... this way we can keep the innocent from finding it if they haven't already).

sunny (aka ban-word girl)

Hackerstars and Groupiedom

Fresh out of college, I used to go to a little blues club up the street. It was there that I met many musicians, and became a bit of a professional fan. Mostly, this involved going to shows, smiling/clapping, carrying gear, and schmoozing over drinks. It was a good life. I met a few amazing musicians (*waves to Greg Allman and Dr. John). I kissed a very cute drummer. I even had a short, steamy romance with one very hot guitarist.

Well I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the line, I switched from rock-stars to nerds. (Yes, we could discuss why on earth I'd make such a decision... but that detracts from this post. LOL) The oddest thing, however, is that these worlds are actually rather similar!

We've got the most-excellent hacker-stars. These are the truly talented ones. I swear they need to start a group called Base Band! And then we're got the pretentious posers who are in it for the fame, the money, and the chicks. I kid you not when I say that one chatter claimed he could get girls by unlocking phones for them... and I was even accused of sleeping with someone to get my phone!!! (Lord forbid my boss's wife should ever hear that, 'cause my entire team got free phones from my boss... and what kinda slut would that make him?) This tech frenzy is ridiculous, I tell ya!

It gets even funnier when I realize I'm on both sides of the looking-glass. I look at these brainy men, who I see from far away as if on a stage... and I imagine them to be smart, cute, and great kissers. On the flip-side, I've got a few (maybe 5) fans of my own... and they fall over themselves to please me. Sure, one of them is just 12, and will inevitably grow out of his crush as soon as the little girl next-door notices how cute he is! LOL

The posers? Well, they're one-hit wonders. And as my friend who knows the blockbuster stars from Hollywood tells me... mega-stars got there by being 1) talented and 2) incredibly nice to everyone (Johnny Depp, that means you). In the end, idiot posers get what they deserve and be forgotten. But those brainy hunks with real talent... I think they'll be getting a grammy soon. I just hope that if they see me in a crowd one day, they'll remember the girl who knew them 'way back when'

mn, zz, w, dn, and 12... Rock on!

Childhood moments revisited, and the hole in my pants

(a re-post of something funny that happened a while back)

You know those dreams about going to school and realizing you're naked? We all have them, though I doubt anyone of us has lived them... except for that one time at band camp!

No, seriously. But we do all have our fears, and usually it's because at least one of our fears came true. For me it is peeing my pants. I've come pretty close at times when I laughed really hard, or sneezed, and once when I was about 5, well I don't know why but I did... and it was embarrassing. Probably noone found out except my teacher, and the school nurse who sent me home, but I knew and that's what counts.

Fast forward a couple decades... to yesterday. I get up from my desk at work and run my hand behind my back. I'm fidgeting with my back pocket, which I often do because I can't be still for very long. And then I realize it! I realize why I'd put the particular jeans I'm wearing aside and planned not to wear them anymore. It's because they were gradually ripping just below the back pocket... and now I have a fairly large hole that shows off my ass!

Some people would think "what's the problem?" but though I may be many things, I'm not an exhibitionist, and even if I were, the workplace is not the place to do such things. I'm having flashbacks of kindergarten. I'm imagining having to walk into my boss's office and asking him if he'll excuse me because I have to go home and change my pants. I wonder if he'll pity me like the nurse did, or if this will reflect poorly when my annual review comes along. I can see the words now... "employee did not live up to expectations at work, and furthermore she showed her backside innapropriately." I cringe inside, and decide not to ask my boss for time off.

What do I do? I sit for most of the day. I keep close to my cubicle. And at the end of the day, I go shopping for new jeans. I pull my sweater down, and I try to look fashionable. I tell myself that if anyone sees the whole in my jeans they'll conclude it's on purpose. So I walk like there's nothing wrong and hope it is convincing. Guess what... it works! No one is staring. No one seems to care.

I walk out of the store with three pairs of jeans. I'm so tired that even I don't remember the whole below my back pocket. This denial stuff really works I tell ya!

Now I'm home and I'm safe. Nobody will know about my pseudo-exhibitionism... except you of course, but you're not telling, right?! I laugh at myself and get ready for bed. And I hope those dreams about peeing my pants will stop! LOL

Random Stuff About Me

Well enough about you... let's talk about me!  :p

Blogs are for engaging in narcissism after all, so, one might as well talk about oneself. Ideally, a blog should also be entertaining to others, lest it become a waste of 1s and 0s. So, for the amusement of whoever cares to read it, here's a few interesting tidbits I came up with:

1) My entire family line and all of its descendants were once cursed by my great-grandfather. Someday, I plan to write a novel about it.

2) I was once a millionaire. It wasn't that exciting. I know a few millionaires and most of them aren't too exciting either.

3) I rode an elephant... that was amazing and exciting!

4) I've never been arrested. But I did get tossed into the back of a squad car and threatened with imprisonment in a Turkish jail (that's what happens when you get caught making out in a park, in Istanbul, very late at night).

5) I've been investigated by the FBI for terrorist-related activities. The only other person who thought I was a terror, was my mother.

6) I was once offered a first-class plane ticket, and a blank cheque by a high-ranking official of the Angolan military. I declined both, but we still email from time to time.

7) My family worries about the crazy stuff I do... the well-connected ones sometimes slip me little pieces of paper with the home numbers of foreign consuls and archbishops, in case I ever need to be rescued.

8) My idol is James Bond... like that's a surprise, NOT!

9) I've shot many people. But so far, only with a camera.

10) The cutest guy I've met recently, is named Dino. Yeah, you know who you are.  :p

11) My favorite color is blue (did you think everything in this list was gonna be exciting?)

12) During those few minutes of my near-death experience, I was very, very mad.

13) I've occasionally pretended I was male. And got away with it.

14) I can sing like Elvis... if I really, really, want to.

15) I know when to quit writing. It keeps people from getting annoyed with me.

Kids these days

Kids, heh. I love them... I guess that's a good thing.

They're smart, smart-ass, funny, irreverent creatures. They want to be all grown up, and don't have the slightest clue as to how much we envy them. Having your whole life before you, full of possibilities, a road that will take you wherever you choose... talk about power!

They stress too much sometimes. When I was 13, I got my first real kiss. Arix is 13, and he wrote his first jailbreak. Sure, he'll probably get his venture capital and make a million before I do, but I still wouldn't trade that kiss for the world. My life has been pretty rich, even if it wasn't money.

They're all so focused, it's amazing. It doesn't matter what I say, but I say it anyway. I wish they'd put down their grownup toys every now and then. I wish they'd look up from their PC/PS3/Wii every once in a while... get outside to a ball game, or the beach, or a dance. Why? Because the world is the perfect place for the young spirit. It is a place of adventure, of amazing discovery, of experiences that will give you the adrenalin rush of a lifetime.

So go ahead, look up... you might just happen to catch the attention of a really cute girl (or boy) who never heard of IRC.

The Unimportant Place-Holder Blog

Hmmm.... don't have anything particular to say. Perhaps because its a Monday. Clearly, I should start a new religion that makes going to work on Mondays against the rules.

I've made many friends lately. I've learned alot of secrets... I feel like a cross between Dear Abby and La Femme Nikita.

Cue the music, please!

Love Ya!

S