The giant robot: he is my friend

It has come to the attention of me and my associates (well, me, anyways) that a certain girl with "shapely legs" is going to be the subject of this entry. Let's call her Mrs. Dalloway.

Usually I can set pen to keyboard and come up with something passable for this blog. (The IT guys at work keep saying "don't spill ink on your computer anymore, doofus!") However, I can't seem to come up with anything worthwhile to write about, so I'll meta-write about how when I think Mrs. Dalloway (or whoever) is expecting me to write something awesome, I can't do anything at all! Heck, I'm not even breathing right now!

In spite of you silly beasts, I'll continue breathing. Okay, so I've developed a capacity for caring less about what people think over the past year or so. This is in accordance with a certain resilient quality that I admire in some people; I call them "likeable jerks." I decided to skip the "likeable" part and go straight for "jerk," with mixed results. At any rate, I generally assume that if I turn off my usual over-concern for others, I'll be able to do better, which is best for them in the long run.

Now I have to decide: how do I put in the "likeable" part? Sometimes I make myself the sidekick of somebody who has a higher Charisma score than I do. (Wahaha!) Other times I duct-tape kittens to myself so that people who naturally like kittens will gravitate to me. But I think being likeable has a lot more to do with a) liking yourself b) sincerely seeing the good in others and c) strong cheek bones. Heck, I may as well add d)ability to do Dim Mak Death Touch and e) butter, lots of butter.

• Discuss what "likeable" means. Then what "jerk" means, only occasionally drifting to the meaning in "jerk chicken."
• Some other people have suggested that items such as "a grandfather clock" and "an electronic Japanese-English dictionary" are also helpful to likeability. Can you think of more?

Good night, everybody; enjoy the buffet.

I'm reading behind a blog around a bunch during inappropriate prepositions

Just in case a sudden influx of visitors comes to my blog any time soon, I feel that I should put something important up here. Something to catch the eye, and yet also something to provoke thought and perhaps advancement towards liberty, fraternity and equality. I dare say that this message will finally unite all humankind in harmony!

And here's the message: "He's single, ladies!" I guess my "engagement" of two posts ago has already fallen through. Whatever.

On a related note, my homey Exoth and I have decided that I should start a betting pool as to when I would get a girlfriend. Takers? Ah, I guess I wouldn't be allowed to know who was betting. However, if you're an attractive young lady in every sense of the word, feel free to get "personally involved" in your investment!!

Again, I end my communique with a hearty "Wahaha!"

Friend/associate theory

I should preface this by saying I don't always use this way of thinking. It's fairly realistic but also takes a rather naturalistic, Nietzsche-esque view of human nature, which I don't always like. Anyways, what am I talking about? Oh yeah, the promised "friend" vs. "associate" theory.

I first heard this from a psychologist, but it sounded more like something he learned through his own experience than the ideas of philosophers or scientists. He told me that with very few exceptions, people do things for other people, even in a warm relationship, in hopes of gaining something in return. Only the likes of parents and spouses will be so committed that they will show kindness in spite of no physical, social or emotional reward. And that means absolutely no reward.

He gave the example of a woman who bought a pair of pants for her grandson. The grandson was somewhat of a delinquent, being at a ranch for troubled teens, and he threw away the less-than-stylish pants. When the woman came to visit, she naturally asked about the pants; the boy cooked up some story about how they got stolen--fairly believable at this ranch.

What is the problem with this example? First, the grandson is controlled by his fear of disappointing his grandmother so much that he doesn't care about being honest with her. But another rather obscure problem is the motive for the woman giving him the pants in the first place. Is it love, going by the "thought of no reward" definition? If it is, why did the woman care whether he wore it? She wanted validation from the child, and supposed she'd get it by buying something for him. She isn't his "friend," so to speak, but rather they are "associates."

I thought of this as rather interesting to say the least. I was halfway killing myself trying to bust myself up to "friend" level with every last person. Invariably, I'd fail on my end and feel guilty about not being selfless and loving enough. Also invariably, people would ignore me or do something not "friend"-like* and shatter my expectations into a lifeless blob. (I'm not sure how expectations, being brittle, would turn into a blob, but they do.) Once I realized the true nature of my relationships with "associates," though, things became much easier. I hate to say it, but lowering my expectations works really good!

Anyways, my point is not that people are jerks (though they are, if you ask me or famed hair metal musician David Coverdale of the 80s band Whitesnake). It's okay to be only associates with most people. We should be thoughtful, nice, giving, and charitable, but maybe we should show true devotion to a select few.

So this all begs the question: which of you are my true "friends," and which of you are mere "associates?" I won't lie to you: Every last one of you are "friends." *wink*

*The words "not 'friend'-like" and "unfriendly" are different. Very different!

Titled CXLV

I've been through about a hundred different versions of this in my head, and I can't think of a clever or lyrical way to put this, so I'm just going to say it the way I announced it to the family tonight.

We're engaged. And I couldn't be happier.

Strobe lights and blown speakers

I have a couple of lights above my head that are almost going out, but have decided to go down blazing, being like strobe lights. Combining this with looking at a computer screen all day is probably going to make me blind, unless if I'm lucky, in which case I'll be able to shoot laser beams from my eyes! Yeah!

To complete the mostly-coincidential Radiohead reference in the title, my car speakers are slightly blown because of my brother's treachery. (It was originally his car. I suppose he didn't necessarily blow the speakers deliberately and treacherously, but we can all agree that ascribing somebody's innocuous actions to "treachery" is fun...and educational!)

Oh, heh, I decided to crawl out of my shell and accidentally make a friend this morning. Soon after waking up, my cell phone exhorted me to "buy these shoes (you'll jump higher!)." As every retired naval officer knows, this meant a text message. This one was from a stranger! "It's National Good Looking Day! Send this to someone gorgeous and sexy. But don't send it back to me, I've been getting this message all freaking day." Thanks, I particularly enjoy random appraisals of my beauty from people who are possibly 43-year-old stubble-y truckers!* With this in mind, I replied "Who the devil are you?!" As it happens, though, this person thought I was her cousin (I'm not), who apparently had the same number as me. And this person being gregarious started up a conversation, at the end of which I reluctantly told her of my facebook. So now we've opened a correspondence; her citizens are allowed to use my ports and there are favorable duties on most goods. Still, who knows what could happen? I'm starting a pool, and I'm going to guess "more or less nothing."

I used the term "friend" above, and I just remembered that I was going to post about my "friend vs. associate" theory. But I didn't, and I don't feel like writing too much more tonight. Tune in...uh, sooner or later.

* It's common knowledge that every person you don't know on the Internet is actually a 40something greasy male who still lives with his parents and wears women's underwear. Especially if they are posing as young women. So, it's not too much of a stretch to apply this to mysterious text-messaging people.

Sadistic theory of blogging

Like most of you, I have no talent for creativity. So I asked krebscout to give me ideas for a blog post. She suggested, and I quote: "work, life, milk, and/or heavy metal." In an effort to deliberately create a lousy post so that magically a good one will come out, I've decided to combine two of these and make 'em the worst blog post ever. Namely, osmium being in milk.

Osmium is a pretty heavy metal! When you look at a mountain and the ore contained therein (or, as I like to do, look downwards at the ground to the metallic core of the earth), you just might be fixing your gaze at churlish iron and vulgar tin cowering before the mighty osmium. Or maybe it's the other way around: gold snickers "Where ya headed, tubbo?" when osmium is mined, and even uranium is picked for teams in P.E. before poor no. 76. Granted, uranium commands a certain respect due to the whole "look at me wrong and I'll blast some gamma rays on your kneecaps!" thing, but maybe life is hard for osmium.

So you have isolation and loneliness from being the best on one hand, or ridicule and weakness on the other. What would you do? Personally, I shout with the combined voices of the children of America: "Jump into milk, creating trace amounts of myself that could be poisonous!!" Hence, osmium in milk.

Man, that really was silly. I'd ask for your forgiveness, but I don't think I will. I've got angry Japanese people to talk to.

Edit: Yes, I DO realize that this is a pretty dumb post. But, like rock'n'roll bands and Orville Redenbacher, I have to appease the masses by pushing out large quantities of product.

Note to self

Don't do Flying Atomic Punches on your be-castered chair with a wall between your oddly protruding knee and your foe.

"Great baby! Delicious!"

I'm not too conscious right now. But I figure that if I give my blog a new, rather ugly color scheme, I should also make a post.

Today's theme is...Awkwardness.

My buddy thirdmango and I have shared a fair amount of social situations. It is clear that we are marked by a particular mark. We can, merely by exercising our native talents, cause shuddering dread to even the most hardy of opponents. If we wholeheartedly focus our powers, we can cause the destruction of entire civilizations. Is this blessing, or curse? One can only guess. But I'd probably guess "curse."

Yesterday...I guess "two days ago," because it's now 12:46 ..., I demonstrated one principle of controlled awkwardness to a female coworker (with her permission, of course). That was Proximity, perhaps one of the most simultaneously basic yet destructive techniques known to our kind. It isn't necessary to have every inch of the body close to the victim's body; in fact, only my legs were close enough to have any effect, and what an effect it was! But then when my "team leader" (probably a mini-boss that doesn't get paid more than me) came to work, I sneakily whispered "check this out" and approached him, a menacing gleam in my eyes. For you see, the previous demonstration had made me bloodthirsty. So I pulled the dreaded "your pockets are not personal space" move, which is deadly in and of itself. Then I utilized Principle 2: Lingering Eye Contact.

One can destroy the body with weapons, but only awkwardness can destroy the mind.

Eat photons, smallheads!

I don't write for the 100 Hour Board, but I play one on TV. A 100 Hour Board, that is.

The reason I bring this up is that many of my friends who blog are affiliated, or have been affiliated, with the Board. Thus, you who read this must think "Hey, he's related to the Board!" Which is not true. Jerks.

So today's subject is respect. Specifically, self-respect. Where is the line between being a good friend and having no self-respect? I guess I should give some background. How far does the law of "love thy neighbor" bind me in situations where I keep my promises to a person, often go out of my way to talk with them or invite them to things with not much in the way of return?

Yes, I have somebody in mind. How could you tell? And it's a g-g-g-girl. And having a crush on said girl makes me foolish and not ubermensch-ish. Sure, I don't really care about fulfilling Nietzsche's dreams. But this girl either doesn't realize how much it frustrates me and is doing this unconsciously, or she knows that she does it and can't help it. (I guess I need to protect my ego by excluding "She hates my guts" as a possibility.) This leads me to say "If she doesn't respect me with her actions (regardless of what her motives are), I need to supply that respect myself."

So I need friends that respect me as I respect them...or I guess I should say that I already have them, but they're out of reach, since I work all the time. And my id pops in and says "Plus you need attractive, available female friends!! For the dating!!"

I should name my id.