floorpie

Silicon Valley – In the Round: A view from a hill

I’ve taken, lately, to brushing my teeth in the shower. I’ll reach out of my steamy coccoon just long enough to damply grab my tooth brush and a dollop of toothpaste, and then re-seal myself within my manufactured rainforest. Then, I’ll look at myself in the mirror I use for shaving (also in the shower) and let any foam that escapes my mouth drizzle down my chin and on to my body, ’cause hey, I’m in the shower, who cares? I’ve also been bringing my cell phone in with me (lest my country calls upon me for immediate assistance), to perch precariously in the sliver of space between my sink and stacked magazines where reception is somewhat decent.

It’s pretty obvious, I think to everyone, that I’ll be living in the shower full time within the next six months. At first I thought, “Well that’s silly, my clothes will get all wet;” but, then realized how ridiculous that is, as I’ll have since sold all my clothes to pay the water bill, and I’ll be quite naked indeed.

I vaguely recall a Seinfeld episode where Kramer attempted something similar. Where he failed, I shall persevere… It’s true what they say, you know, art does imitate life.

Quote of the Day

Funny, they don’t look like hippies. – Me, out-loud, to no one in particular, for no apparent reason

Tri-Observations of a Blind Man

I was puzzled why the blind man next to me was wearing a watch…until I saw him pivot the face open and feel the hands.

While dismissing that it is not in vogue, I was still impressed when he lit his own cigarette. Think about doing so with your eyes closed and imagine the mounds of Neosporin.

Upon hearing a woman come up behind him whilst entering the bank, he stepped aside and held the door ajar for her. Class.

Buh?

From Scientific American:

April 1902

According to Count Gleichen in “Mission to Menelik,” the people of Abyssinia use the Maria Theresa 1780 dollar. But for small change a very different coin is used: a bar of hard , crystallized salt, about ten inches long, slightly tapering toward the end. Five of these bars go for a dollar.

People are very particular about the standard of fineness of the currency. If it does not ring like metal when struck with the finger-nail, or if it is cracked or chipped, they will not take it. It is a token of affection when friends meet to give each other a lick of their respective amolis (bars), and in this way the value of the bar is decreased.

Yummy. Makes you feel a little silly about balking at sharing straws…

I’ve mentioned mentioning the garbage trucks that come by my apartment in the morning before. To further elevate my entry for Best Apartment Ever, let me just briefly mention the jackhammers:

There were jackhammers.

I know how it is with some of you. I know that you come here everyday or so to check on the life of someone a little bit dangerous, a little bit wild; and, I can understand that. So, what I did just now will come as no surprise to you. You’ll be titillated, sure, but you’ll just think to yourself how it’s just vintage Dave “Bad-Boy” Kleeman.

However, in deference to those of you with unsteady nerves, I will not explicitly state what I did; but, here’s a hint:

UNDER PENALTY OF LAW

THIS TAG NOT TO BE REMOVED

EXCEPT BY THE CONSUMER.

Stuff and Stuff: a retrospective

Ariel brought up a good point today, even though she didn’t mean to. I was lamenting a recent lag in visits, and she facetiously said, “blah, blah blah… and see how funny your page used to be.”

The thing is, she’s right. I was funnier back then, unencumbered by the pressures of performance for a nonexistent audience. Lately, I’ve been diluting myself for the masses and dressing in conformity. So, to take those first faltering steps back to the Elemental Dave, may I present a few posts you never read:

01.09.01

I had the most awesome Bachelor-Morning today. Not only did I wake up to find that I had no more clean underwear, (forcing me to wear yesterday’s pair) but, I also discovered, upon shoving a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, that the milk had gone decidedly bad. The best part was, (as I sat on my chair half-dressd in dirty boxers) that I looked at the bowl with a quizzical expression on my face, smelled the milk, and then went in for another bite. Just in case my synapses had mis-routed the “ummm, good” message to my brain, you see. It was like I was that lab rat that keeps going back for the electrified cheese.

02.18.01

Back in the day, my then girlfriend was kind enough to cut my hair (thereby saving me what was at that time a whoppiing $9). She liked my hair very short (on the order of Marine) which was actually fortuitous, because I have what can honestly be called a coif; where, instead of my hair growing down as it gets longer, it simply grows out (Not unlike a ‘fro, but many magnitudes less cool).

At any rate, what started as a hair clipper around the sides and scissors on top, eventually evolved into a hair clipper all the way around with varying height guards. When it got to that point I thought to myself, “That doesn’t seem so hard,” and on one faithful summer day about 4 years ago, I threw caution to the wind in the form of overwhelming self-confidence and promptly completely messed my hair up. It was not fashion-model messing my hair up, where my sideburns were uneven by a matter of millimeters, it was “Oh look dear, that young man has walked blindfolded into a wheat-thresher” messed up. It was not one of my finer hours.

You’d think, despite the “old-dogs new-tricks” maxim, that I would have learned from my past folly. However, I again decided to cut my own hair tonight, as I needed cutting, and I just don’t think Supercuts does it quite right. As it turns out, neither do I. If you, or someone you love, is also thinking about cutting their ‘do, let me offer you a few observations:

1. Even though the little height guard says “blend” on it, it does in fact cut your hair as short as it looks like it would, and doesn’t just automatically blend in all of your previous uneven attempts.

2. When you mess up, and cut a patch of hair way too short, before thinking to yourself, “I can fix this,” make a quick mental inventory on just exactly what tools you have at your disposal and think about that again.

3. Before trying any of this, find a favorite sports team, rock group, or cult, and buy one of their sweet logo hats.

4. Always, and I can’t stress this enough, be prepared to completely shave your head (or at least come damn near like I did). I suggest developing a hip, confident swagger now, because you’re going to need it to overcome your busted-ass haircut.

Don’t get me wrong, having super short hair does have it’s advantages. For instance, should I be pursued by a non-gun-toting, non-ax-weilding, strictly hand-combating assailant, he or she will not be able to grab me by my hair, but will instead have to grab me by my less convenient shirt, pants, arms, legs, backpack, or neck. Also, I definitely do not have lice.

Next week: Other things you shouldn’t try to shave.

06.13.01

On the way to work, I rode past a business called Intuitive Surgery. I don’t know what that is, but I definitely don’t like the sound of it.

Patient: (rushing into emergency room) Doctor! Doctor! I was just hit by a car, and I’ve broken my neck! Help me!

Doctor: (bemusedly) Mmmmmm, I think it’s your spleen…

Patient: (writhing in pain) But Doctor! Can’t you see how my head is at this odd angle, and there’s a bone jutting out of my neck?!

Doctor: Mmmmm, no…mmmm-nope, I’m pretty sure it’s your spleen, I have this…feeling.

07.06.01

Excercises in IM dorkhood

voltron says: you at work?

Lion-O says: yup

voltron says: you actually went in?

Lion-O says: haha

Lion-O says: (I think I’m leaving early, though)

voltron says: it’s early now….

voltron says: you got hps?

Lion-O says: hit points?

voltron says: hps = hot plans

voltron says: …geek

Lion-O says: I have a +5 in agility

voltron says: potion of speed?

Lion-O says: no, but I have cloak of invisibility, so…

I found out this morning that the girl refered to earlier is getting married.

sigh

Actually, I am very happy for her, caused partially I’m sure by the existence of ADG. Still, though, there is that slight twinge of sadness in deference to one impossible dream lost. I sure hope that whole want-to-be-an-astronaut-when-I-grow-up thing works out for me someday…

Why do all new kleenex boxes begin with that Double Kleenex? At the time, you really only need one, and you don’t want to waste any. So, you stuff the extra back in the box awkwardly, and wait for your next sneeze.