Class Reunion

Warning: This post is going to break a lot of rules of my blog. Names will NOT be changed (although mine will not be mentioned at all, and comments mentioning my name past the first letter will not be approved). Even though names will not be changed, last names will not be provided. In the event a last name is referenced, it will be just the first letter. This post will also go a little more in depth into me than normal. If you're afraid, feel free to discontinue reading this post. Finally, there will be language that is not appropriate for minors. But, minors will be the ones being quoted during these words. I will not censor myself for this event. This story brings back some rough memories, but I am not bitter about any of it. If there are any details missing, please leave a comment with anything you recall. I don't hold any grudges (kids will be kids), and bringing up some of that has actually been creating a healing process over it.
Now, onto the story.

I grew up in a very country part of SC. And by country, we grew up across the street from cows. And not the people you see at WalMart wearing moo-moos! It was a quiet little neighborhood. And a few people in the area that were either my age or my sister's age.

I started Manchester Elementary School at Kindergarten. I was growing up with my classmates in a "normal" environment (well, as "normal" as a small town school could be where the 2000 Census had the median income at $19,583).

In fourth grade, something catastrophic happened. What exactly was the event(s), I could not tell you. If you went to school with me and happen to know, PLEASE remind me. But, for some reason, my classmates decided to start calling me "faggot". All of a sudden, I was the classmate with cooties. At times, it ended up being a bit of a game where if I ended up touching someone, they caught the cooties. But, it was worse than standard schoolyard playing. In today's standards, it'd be considered downright harassment / bullying. But, I grew up in simpler times where people weren't sue-happy.

As the school years went on, I was practically ousted away from any potential friendships I really had in school. I went on to being extremely introverted, quiet, and practically a loner. Hell, I might have actually been labeled as "depressed" at the time based on some of the behaviors I exerted, looking back.

Also, I was "the smart kid". I grasped onto concepts and ran with them. There was a while when I was the first one who raised their hand when a teacher asked for an answer to a question. I was proud of my smarts, but I guess it made some of my other classmates jealous.

It was also somewhere around the fourth or fifth grade that I quit doing homework. Whether that was a subconscious cry for help, depression showing it's ugly face, or my ADHD starting to show it's ugly head, I don't know. Sure, I got in trouble a bit in class being made to stand on the blacktop at recess, but that was about as fun as going out into the school yard and not getting to play with my other classmates. But, my grades didn't really fall for lack of homework.

So, this began my story as being a "quiet skinny nerd" in school.

As the years went on, the "cooties" went away, but "faggot" never did. This is where I have my struggle in the "nature vs nurture" concept of my sexuality. Yes, I'm gay. Now I have no reason to hide it, but growing up in "country, SC" when gays were all over the news and stuff being represented in a hugely negative fashion and being the evil people spreading AIDS, I wanted nothing to do with it.

About freshman year of high school, I began to realize my sexical fantasies were more towards guys than gals. I appreciated beauty and all that, but never was attracted to any of my female classmates. There was one football player though -- he was a junior, I think -- I thought he was the hottest thing since the sun! But, I was too fearful to show it, thinking I was an abomination because it obviously wasn't socially acceptable to be gay.

The summer between sophomore and junior years of HS, my sister and I were moved up to western Mass. It seemed a HUGE burden had been left behind as I left the "bad memories" of Manchester & Furman behind. I figured a new start. But, it seemed my lack of social skills came to bite me in the butt entering my new high school. Plus, I was a "smart kid" being one of two in the entire school who was a year ahead in English. Most of my classes were with seniors, so they were more interested in getting out out of school than making a new friend. Then my "real" senior year (or as I call it, my "second senior year"), I decided to be lazy and half my classes wound up being with freshmen, who wanted nothing to do with a senior. *shrug*, I had become accustomed to being a loner.

Anyways, that whole story is leading up to this: My 15-year high school reunion.

Reunions are generally meant for the graduating class. 97% of the time, these are the people you grew up with throughout your years of school. There's the occasional person who moves in or out, but it's fairly static. Since I spent eleven years with these people, there had to be some sort of connection. It kinda clicked back in October when I was in Boston and got to have lunch with Meka and we pseudo-reminisced over growing up. There was a lot of "What happened to Smply?" at the beginning of junior year. People thought I may have moved to Sumter High or something, but it was all rumors (as if nobody knew Dad worked at the Exxon in Wesmark Plaza). But, after seeing Meka and doing a lot of reminiscing and remembering the good things that happened, I was excited to know a 15-year reunion was coming up and I wanted to go.

When I got word on things, I replied with a resounding "YES!"

Then after I paid my reunion fee and time got closer, a lot of the above memories started coming back and I wanted to do "Oh yeah? Look at how well the faggot turned out!". Then, I remembered lunch with Meka and realized that's not the way to go and I should go there just to have fun. Which is what I did.

When I walked in the door and saw Angie, Tonya, and Clarice, a lot of memories started coming back. Angie and Tonya were really happy to see me, and they talked about how they were all wondering what happened to me. I later found out Clarice couldn't remember me past 3rd grade for some reason. I almost blame the fourth grade incident. Names were coming out and I was remembering things.

There was a reminiscing time for the reunion, and people were remembering specific events that happened (like someone being thrown in a construction pit, or seniors taking someone and throwing them in the dumpster, senior trip memories, and things like that). A lot of the events happened junior and senior years, so I had no idea things they were talking about, but they would recall something from the younger days and I'd be like "OMG, I remember that."

Some things were coming back, but nothing enough that I wanted to go up there and say them. Probably because I was terrified something in me would want to say "And I remember all y'all calling me a faggot" because that kept popping in my head.

At the end (before the horrible dancing), a photographer was at the banquet hall to get a class photo (as if everyone was there). We did an everybody picture, then a just the girls pic, then a just the guys pic. There were six guys and apparently we weren't close enough together. Someone made that comment and I came back with "But, some of us have cooties!" -- Angie quirked back immediately with "Not anymore, Smply!"

That was HUGELY healing for me. Two little words made me feel all warm inside. They made the five hour trip seem completely worth it. I wanted to go up to her and thank her for those words, but I probably would have wound up crying like a baby. (Little secret: Tears are trying to come out of my eyes with me typing this). But, it was WAY AWESOME! Thanks, Angie, for making my day! :) (Not to say the rest of y'all didn't, but that just hit way deep inside).

After I departed, I started recalling some of the events I remember from school. It was a bit late to go grab the mic and say them. They're also more of little events, but I figured I'd share:

• I remember in English class (just before lunch), Dee was getting hungry. All of a sudden she comes out with "I'm hungry, roll over!"
• I remember Miss G being a little weird (She was my homeroom teacher). She would be looking in one direction and pointing another and people had no idea which of the two she was intending to answer a question.
• I remember Miss G talking about the giant oak (or maple?) tree that was in front of Manchester. She had all kinds of pictures of it. Then Hurricane Hugo struck and knocked it down. She was sad she didn't have a full picture of it.
• Still with homeroom, there was one girl who shot a tampon out across the room. Needless to say, Miss G wasn't thrilled.
  
• I remember Clara going off on Miss G and making her quit (early retire?). Then we had some substitute for the rest of the year who liked to drink the Listerine. We insisted she was drunk all the time.
• I remember Holly's dad was a firefighter.
• I remember there was one class the teacher wanted to show a movie. But, the only format she could find the movie on was Betamax. And I think it was Bessie who had the player she brought in.
• I remember one bus driver, Jay -- he was... flaming. Everyone called him "Gay Jay". And he and Bubba would get into cat fights. One day he dropped Bubba off at his stop and made some sort of comment as Bubba departed. Jay quickly closed the doors and SPED off down the dirt road (that was full of potholes). Those in the back of the bus had fun (and/or whiplash) at the end of that trip.
• I remember being in Mr. R's geometry class and Chris was all mad 'cuz the biology teacher Mr. O said he had diarrhea of the mouth.
• I remember underclassmen with a 95 or higher pre-final didn't have to take a final. At the end of Mr. R's geometry class, Angie was pissed off that I had a 95.1 average and she had a 94.9. Her rebuttal was "But, he never did his homework!" (That makes me wonder how little homework counted in school)
• I remember in gym class we had a 1:1 basketball tournament. I had no skillz, but I was paired against Greg. I came close to beating him, and he admitted it. I didn't care, I got to sit on the sidelines the rest of the tournament.
• I remember Mr. T's 8th grade history class he used to stand there and eat peanuts all the time.
• I remember Mr. G's 7th grade history class, he used to tell us how more advanced the north was with their education systems. I was in a bit of awe until I actually moved up there and my 11th grade history class had the EXACT SAME books as Mr. T's history class in 8th grade. And we watched the exact same movies and everything.
• I remember Dee (I think it was Dee?) throwing To Kill A Mockingbird across Ms H's classroom when she read the jury verdict.
• I remember getting stuck with a female frog in biology and digging all the eggs out the day my lab partner just "happened" to be out.
• I remember being jealous of my classmates who brought in Kool-Aid (the pre-sugared kind) in a baggie and would eat it via wet fingers similar to Lik-M-Aid.
• I remember the fourth grade play -- the story was something involving aliens who only spoke in a monotone voice. I got to play the goofy kid and my favorite line I said was "And I thought it was... INDIGESTION!"
• I remember everyone LOVING pizza day! And when we got to Furman and had a choice between regular lunch and the other stuff, most people preferred the other side because it usually had pizza. (And, let me tell you, I swear there was something in that pizza that made everyone love it).
• I remember at lunch one time I was drinking my chocolate milk and someone said or did something funny, and milk came out my nose. Someone complained to the teacher and I got in trouble because they said I did it on purpose.
• I remember someone was helping Mr. G fill out the damaged textbook forms and for some reason it was decided my textbook had a $5 damage fine with it. They circled "her" in the section saying "Your child has damaged his/her textbook..." and my mother went OFF on him!
• I remember we all picked on Susie H -- she was an awesome teacher albeit short. We loved her as much as we joked on her!
• I remember playing Musical Chairs (or Musical Hula Hoops, or Musical something) in Ms S's gym class growing up. And the ONLY song I can remember from that is Solid as a Rock.
• I remember the school was getting way overcrowded, so the solution was portables. And by the time we got to 7th/8th grade, the only time we went inside the building was for lunch.
• I remember everyone being jealous when Pocalla was being built because we got out of Manchester just as Pocalla opened, so never got to reap the rewards. I guess this is similar to the way the class of 95ers kinda felt because Lakewood and Crestwood opened right after that.
• I remember USC vs Clemson Days at school where we were encouraged to show our team pride. And it was like a WAR!
• I remember one of our football players got Athlete of the Week on WLTX Channel 19 (I think). The whole school was abuzz.
• I remember Tonya had huge difficulties saying "Bernoulli" in Mr. R's earth science class.
• I remember Dee complaining about another school's wooden floors 'cuz "the ball bounces funny" off of it. (And, let me tell you, it does compared to the gym floors we grew up with).
  

I look back and realize there was a lot about school I didn't like, but there was a lot of positive memories as well. Even with the negative, I do miss those days (although, I kinda wish some of that never happened). And, I hafta say, there really was no class like FHS Class of '95!

It was a sad sad day

One year ago today was very tragic in my life. We still haven't come up with a name for it because nothing goes well with "Thursday" to acknowledge how horrible it really was.

You see, one year ago today, I went to work at The Suffix in a very unsuspecting manner. I was happy-go-lucky trying to get systems to be all happy and cooperative and stuff like that. It was great.

Then 2:00 came and everything changed.

On my calendar was a 1-on-1 meeting with my manager. It was initially scheduled for Tuesday, but got shifted to Thursday. Not usually a big deal. The meeting was also changed from a conference room on our floor to a conference room in the basement. That was weird, but I figured nothing was available upstairs.

At 2:30, I headed downstairs and entered the Red Oak Conference Room and saw two people -- my manager, and our HR representative. "This can NOT be good, I thought."

I was informed that due to the current economic crisis, my position was being eliminated. My manager left the room and I was sitting with HR.

She explained what was going to go on. As of Halloween, I would be severed. They asked if I'd continue to work until the end of the month, but work more on focusing to find a new position. Anything I had to do for this came first, and The Suffix work came second. We went through the standard paperwork and the first thing I noticed was my age on one of the forms would be wrong as of the layoff date. She inquired and I said "Next week's my birthday. Happy birthday, I'm getting laid off!"

I kept as much composure as I could and went back upstairs. I happened across Princess Sparklepants and she was like "Do you need to go for a walk?" I responded "YES!"

We went outside for a few minutes and she was apologizing left and right. She said she knew and it was killing her that she couldn't tell me. I told her I was glad she didn't because I didn't want her to risk her job. And, to this day, I think she's awesome in the fact she didn't let anything on. I know much it hurt her to be on the inside with bad news about the people she cares about.

I went back upstairs and packed up for the day. I walked outside and called my chiropractor and asked if I could see her early. She asked if everything was ok, and I said no. She asked what was wrong and I said I couldn't say at the moment. Of course, her next response was "I'll be at the office in ten minutes." (I love her for that!)

I met her at her office and she asked what was wrong. I let out the water works and started bawling on her shoulder (which isn't difficult when I'm 6'1" and she's 5'3 3/4"). She keeps trying to figure out what's going on and I finally muster out "I'm being laid off."

We talk for a bit and she kinda cheers me up, but not really. I went home called a few people to give them the bad news, went to my favoritest chinese restaurant with a friend, posted this, then went to bed all depressed.

I mean, what was going to happen to me? To Bradley? To my house? I was beyond lost.

Friday, I got up and moped around. I started working on my resume (too bad I didn't think of a video resume....), and was getting more and more depressed. Then, out of the blue, I had a great idea! I was going to throw a party to celebrate the fact I was getting laid off! Thus birthed the "I'm over it" phase of it all.

I started basic planning of that, and tried to see what else I could do.

The following Monday, I showed up at work (mainly to provide the face time -- not really wanting to focus on The Suffix work), and played around with my resume. I stopped by friends desks and informed them of the news if they hadn't heard yet. The composure came and went, but nothing came bigger than eyes swelling up with tears.

That Wednesday was the 15th, and my standard work from home day. So, I got all settled in and was playing with my resume.

About 12:45, I logged onto computerjobs.com and searched for my specialty. The first posting I saw I was like "I can do this!" and sent in my incomplete resume. I've sent in thousands of resumes in the past to these recruiters only to have them ignored, so what's one more incomplete resume?

At 1:00, I had to hop on a conference call (That I didn't want to be on), and call waiting kicked in. I answered it and it was the recruiter. He asked if I had time to talk and I told him I was on a conference call, but can hang up with them to talk. We had a conversation about how much he liked my skills and wanted to present my resume to the client. I said "Ok" and he informed me the client was The Company.

I was like "you're kidding, right?"

"No -- why?"

"I've wanted to work for The Company for YEARS! In fact, I've joked with The Suffix that the only way I'd willingly leave them was for The Company!"

He said he'd give me a call back and work on when I can interview.

Hope began to spark. I told a few people I had an interview coming up.

The following Monday I had the interview. And I thought it went BAD. HORRIBLY! So wrong that I didn't even call the recruiter back after it. Tuesday, the recruiter calls me and asks how it went. I informed him "Horrible -- worst interview of my life."

The next words out of his mouth were quite odd to hear: "Weird. They said they like you and want you to come back for another interview."

"Dude, this is no time to play with my emotions."

"No, seriously. They like you."

I'm flabberghasted, and get a second interview set up for the following Monday. This time, it was a lunch interview (Gee... not only is there pressure to be personable, but I have to EAT in a monkey suit as well?).

The following Monday I had said interview, and we went out to lunch and the theme was Italian. "Great... I'm going to be in the monkey suit AND have to deal with Italian food? PLEASE DON'T LET ME DROP FOOD.. PLEASE DON'T LET ME DROP FOOD!"

The lunch interview went great. So great that I forgot I was wearing the monkey suit. After lunch, we headed over to HR with that portion of the interview. Hiring manager said there was a second contendor for the position and her second interview was the next day and Wednesday or Thursday I should hear. Of course, mentally I'm like "Are they going to hire the homosexual or the female?"

The logistics are talked out with HR, and I head home and get out of the monkey suit. I talk with recruiter dude and he heard good things, so it's the waiting game.

Wednesday came and went.
Thursday came and before it went, I emailed the recruiter asking if he heard anything. Bad news -- there was some sudden budget deadline that appeared and they wouldn't make a decision 'til Friday or Monday.

I think to myself, "How hard is it to say 'Hire Smply'?"

I'm talking with a coworker at The Suffix and he tells me my name's being said a lot in HR. I try to figure out how he knows that until I realize his wife works for HR in The Company. He didn't know much but my name being said, so I thought that was positive thoughts (or he was just lying to me to keep me in a positive mood).

Friday was not only Halloween, but my last day at The Suffix. I wrote my tearful goodbye email and had my exit interview (that ran long), and left. I got home and had absolutely nothing to do. Until I was invited out Trick or Treating by Beanie.

Somehow during Trick or Treating, I managed to collect a bag and actually start getting candy (which wasn't really impressive 'cuz it was stuff I wouldn't eat -- so much for collecting food for unemployment).

Saturday was the "Smply got laid.....off!" party. As my Furby would call it, "Big fun!" I even got a "RIP" tombstone from Party City and put The Suffix's logo under it. It was great!

Sunday I went to take down the black balloons from my mailbox and the dog groomer was at gaybor's house and said "Someone had a big birthday..." -- I replied "nope, I had a 'I got laid off' party" -- her look was priceless!

Monday, I woke up and went downstairs and started working on my resume. Bradley was very confused as to why I wasn't at work. About noon, I finally decided to hop in the shower. When I got out, I emailed the recruiter asking if he had heard anything. Fifteen minutes later, my phone rang and it was him.

He started all the smalltalk that I HATE! Asking how my weekend was and all that jazz. "GET TO THE POINT!" I wanted to demand, but I was being nice.

He finally got around to the meat of the conversation: "So, do you still want to work for The Company?"

"Um, yes!"

"Well, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is they really like you and would like to extend you an offer."

"Ok....?"

"And the bad news is they don't want to pay you what you asked. They want to pay you more."

Of course, it wasn't extensively more, but I was happy with the number they came up with (Heck, I was happy with the number I came up with). We talked through logistics and I told him I would prefer to take two weeks off before so I could scare my fambly.

In any event, it was a sad sad day a year ago today. But everything turned out for the better. It's great to have friends and fambly (and friends who are basically fambly) out there to reach out for support!

Email Time!

This is the email my sister CC'd me on as she was sending it to a radio station. True story.

I only heard a brief segment of your phone-ins this morning about things being flushed down the story and what makes it worthwhile to fetch. It really brought me back to my childhood. I'm 28 right now. Let me tell you a story.

Quite a few years ago, when I was probably 8-10 years old, my brother (he is 3.5 years older than me) & I went trick-or-treating on Halloween and I always finished my candy before anyone else did so, it was probably a week after Halloween or so and I wanted some candy. So, what's a girl to do? She goes and asks big brother for some candy. You think he'd give me any? Of course not! SO, I had to put up a fight. I followed him around the house begging and finally followed him to just outside the bathroom door.

Here I am, outside the bathroom door banging on it saying, "Just a lollipop, all I want is a lollipop!" and hearing "no" as a response, SO, I kept it up, FINALLY he finished his business & pulled up his pants, so the door opened and he yells "FINE!" and flushes the toilet, reaches down just to the side of the toilet and pulls a dum dum pop out of his candy bucket, as he goes to hand it to me, it hits the flusher and falls in the toilet. The toilet is still flushing and he reaches his hand in the toilet and grabs the dum dum back out and tries to give it to me.

"EWWWWWWW! I'm not eating THAT! I want a CLEAN lollipop!" I said.

I never DID get a lollipop, but it brings tears of laughter to my eyes EVERY time that story is told.

So, for my brother, he'd sacrifice reaching in the potty to save a dum dum pop. Me, on the other hand, I've never reached in the potty, but I'd probably save my book or my cell phone LOL

"I think he's on drugs"

So, one of my fellow Bentley Alumns (different year though) has been trying to land a job. I'm pulling for him (c'mon, his Musical Resume is wicked awesome. Someone needs to hire him NOW I say!).

Anyways, he just changed cellphone companies and I twittered that he can now get pranked by potential employers and that I had a story about my past similar. I thought I'd share (and for those of you who already know this story, SUFFER through it again!)

As my five readers (yes, I've somehow upgraded it seems) may or may not know, when I first moved to Atlanta, I had difficulties finding a position in the IT field. This was shortly after I lost my job in Boston due to the Dot-Com Bust. I was tired of Boston, so I moved to Atlanta. After SEVERAL months of searching (and a few interviews), I was getting desperate with money running out, so I applied for and got a position waiting tables at Waffle House.

Yes, I said it. Waffle House.

Don't believe me? Here's a pic or two:

I started working around Christmas time of '01 and spent thirteen LONG months there working the night shift (9pm-7am).

Now, enter December '02. My regular Waffle House schedule was Sunday-Wednesday 9pm-7am. I woke up that Wednesday night to go into work and I had no hot water. I called the emergency number for my apartment complex and they promised to have someone out first thing in the morning. Gee, I get to go to work unshowered. Luckily I showered that morning...

I worked my ten hours and left about quarter after seven. I stopped by Jesus Chicken on the way home to get my "breakfast-dinner" and I went home to wait for the hot water heater guy.

He showed up about 8:30 (Oh yeah, did I mention I complained loudly that I work nights and needed him to come as early as possible so I didn't lose much sleep?) and replaced my hot water heater. 11:30 he was done and I was PRAYING for the hot water to heat up so I could shower and go to bed. Noon I did one of those "quick showers" since I knew I had minutes of hot water then went to bed.

About 2:00pm my cell phone rings. I'm dead to the world at this point (as it's the equivalent of a "normal person" being called at 2am after getting to bed after midnight). I hear the words "health care" in the caller's greeting, so I go into "telemarketer mode" -- which is where I unconsciously answer all the questions and when they ask if I'm interested, say no. Hey, if you're gonna waste my time, I'm gonna waste yours.

Anyways, I get to the "Are you interested?" part of the conversation and I say "no." -- She asks why and states that it would be a great opportunity and I start to wake up and realize I had been on an initial phone screen interview. I explain the ordeal to the HR person and set up an interview for a few days later. (The company was basically a managed health care organization -- think nursing homes)

(That part of the story is the reason for the aforementioned Twitter update)

Of course, these interviews are AFTER my regular shifts at Waffle House, so I'm PRAYING I don't yawn or fall asleep during them.

My first interview was with the lead technical guy. It was a "how well do you interact" interview. The only thing I really remember from the event was him saying "eh" and I jokingly asked if he was from Canada. He made some snide "Stupid Americans" remark saying I wouldn't even know where Nova Scotia (the province he's from) was -- I proudly described it's location then informed him I cheated 'cuz my sister's husband's (ok, he wasn't husband at the time) family is from there.

The second interview was with the boss man. Again, one of those "how well do you interact" interviews. He also said his whole vision for the system they were creating.

Oh yeah, did I mention I NEVER dealt with the database software I was interviewing for? But they loved the fact I had a multi-dimensional background. Of course, I'm throwing out ideas that I pick up on things fast and am doing anything I can to get the position.

I'm asked back for a THIRD interview. This was when I interviewed back with Canadian on a more technical basis and then I got to talk with the two Financial Analysts I was going to support. Now, back to the idea I had NEVER dealt with (or even heard the word Essbase before), I'm supposed to be able to do some technical stuff with it? Ok, here goes.

Canadian is interested in my debugging skills. So he shows me some of the actual real-life calculation problems he's encountered with Hyperion's piss-poor compiler error messages as to what's wrong. I reiterated that I had never seen Essbase prior to this encounter, but was able to find all four problems in the four scripts he showed me (one he admitted it took him three hours to discover the problem and I found the missing semi-colon in thirty seconds).

I then got to sit with the Financial Analysts. Honestly, I didn't like them. They seemed snooty to me. (Later I realized how awesome and cool they were and admitted my first impression to them -- they said they get it all the time).

I then got called back for a FOURTH interview. Yes people, I said FOURTH. This is getting to be the equivalent of running 14-hour workdays in order to do the commutes and such.

The fourth interview I interviewed with the SVP of the Finance Dept (I wasn't in IT, I was in the Finance Dept as IT couldn't figure out the exact needs of the users). Dude told me it was between me and this other girl and told me I practically had the job, there was just logistics they had to go through. I'm wondering why he's telling me all this, and later hear him say he's leaving the company soon anyways, so he's wondering why he had to interview me. Gee.

I got home about noon after that interview and went to bed. For some reason I woke up about 2:30 and went downstairs (where my phone was charging) and I had a voicemail. It was the HR peeps from said company wanting to talk to me. I called them back and I got a job offer (after about a month of interviews).

Of course, when I went and told my manager at Waffle House, he BEGGED me to stay (apparently I was the ONLY one of his employees he could trust). I told him I couldn't because Waffle House didn't offer me the benefits and such that this new position. Not to mention daylight hours!

Fast forward one year. We're doing our celebrations of birthdays and anniversaries. Canadian dude proclaims the following story:

When we were looking to fill the new Hyperion position, I sent HR on a quest to find people. I got a call back from HR saying "I think we found someone for you. But I think he's on drugs!" I took a chance and still interviewed him and we've gotten an awesome resource out of him. Sometimes I still think he's on drugs, but at least I know it's his personality.

The moral of the story? "When life is looking gloomy, bright things will come." Or is it "When you get a call while sleeping, don't automatically go into telemarketer mode or you'll sound like you're on drugs"?

Sink o' Mayo!

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

The day where everyone pretends to be a Mexican by drinking cervezas and partying it up. (Yet they don't do lawn work?)

Every Cinco de Mayo in the past few years, I'm reminded of a celebration we did.

Back when I was working at The Suffix, I was a member of the "Fun Team." We organized cheap fun events throughout the year to break up the mundane existence around the office. Sure we didn't want to see our fellow coworkers more than we had to, but getting a break every now and then was awesome.

Anyway, we held this Cinco de Mayo potluck lunch in the office. It was a blast! We had a (virgin) margarita machine, piñata, and games. Of course, the game I was all about I had heard on the radio a year before: Sink o' Mayo!

On the radio, they had this giant sink filled with mayonaise and prizes (well, not the prize itself, but a card saying what they won). So I took a page out of their book and put prize cards in ziplock bags and dumped a couple Costco-sized containers of mayonaise over them.

The look on my coworkers faces was priceless.

Of course, everyone was afraid to even stick their hand in this gooey goopy gunk. It's not like there's a restroom nearby where they can wash their hands. Wimps, I tell ya!

Then we had one person go for the gusto! She reached her whole hand down in the mayo-filled bucket, slopped it around, pulled out a number of ziplock bags, put them back in, and got into it deep!

The smell was starting to get to me. I didn't realize how bad mayo smelled until you have it sloshing around big time with you.

Anyways, after about 2 minutes of just sloshing around the mayo, she pulled out a prize ticket and actually won the grand prize!

She went and cleaned off her hands and came back raving at how soft her hands were after her mayo manicure. She smelled like a rancid salad, but her hands were nice and soft.

Sometimes I miss those days, but it seems all the hilariously fun people have left The Suffix, either willingly or unwillingly. But, it also gives an opportunity for me to attempt to bring things like that to The Company!

I'm finding the craziest things

So, I've been spending the past week or so cleaning out one of the drives on my Linux box. I've found a lot of crap, a lot of porn, and a lot of weird things.

I've even found things back from my college days. Scary.

Anyways, I came across the following story from my Waffle House days. I remember this day vaguely (mostly because of the insomnia that occurred previously), but enjoyed the story.

Background to understand story:
- Cheshire Bridge Rd is the road that I work... I mean I work on. My Waffle House is at the corner of Cheshire Bridge and Alco (small side-street). On the other side of Alco is Opus1 (old decrepid gay men club), 24K Club (strip club), and 404 Motorsports (expensive auto detailing and custom anything). Being the locale of Midtown, of course, Waffle House is going to be full of homos, including those working. And now, for our story...

Picture it - Atlanta - 2002.

July 18th, even - 9:45pm. On Cheshire Bridge Rd at the Waffle House. I'm groggy still from taking Tylenol PM (bad case of insomnia where I was up 75 hours) - I'm so groggy and out of it, I'm still kinda seeing spots and stuff. I'm waiting on my table in the corner and this guy is banging on the window and pointing towards Alco. I look, and don't see anything, and try to go back to what I was doing. I begin hearing an alarm and figure it's someone's car and the guy bangs on the window again, points at 404 and makes some weird motion, and thru the spots, I see a rim rolling by. I'm totally confused, the guy starts walking towards the front door and I put the pieces together - someone's robbing 404 Motorsports!

So I tell Izaak to call the cops since he's at the register (that and I'm still having no idea what's REALLY going on) - Izaak is handling money, so he hands the phone to Melinda to call 911. Melinda dials and everyone else in the restaurant starts dialing on their cell phones. Melinda is telling the poor 911 operator "There's a break-in at 404 and Chestire Bridge - they're stealing strippers from the 24K club" (and I'm the one drugged up). Izaak grabs the phone from her and is like "child - you got it all wrong - Hello? Yes, there's a break in across the street at 404 Motorsports on Cheshire Bridge across from the Waffle House.... Do we have a description? Uh... A couple guys with rimcaps in their van..... Tag number? Child, like we can see that far..... Oohh there was just an accident... They sped out and started heading down Cheshire towards I-85."

I swear, within 2 minutes, there were cops all over the place - yet when WH has problems and we call, it takes an hour or two. But, I digress. Customers are walking out tryin' to see what's going on. The cook goes out to get a piece of the action, thus leaving us without any way to deal with these scattered, smothered, covered hashbrowns. We're all confused, and the cops are piling up, strobes flashing everywhere not helping my seeing spots, Grady ambulance comes up (poor guy), and the fire truck. They clean up the accident and it takes about an hour and a half.

Now, I hear you saying to yourself - "Wasn't this supposed to be a stupid criminal story?" - well, above is the facts as witnessed by myself. Below are facts reported to me by the security officer they called in to take care of the place overnite.

Security guard comes in and orders food - "I wish I had been there, they wouldn't have gotten anything..." - Child, what would the security officer have done? Said "BOO!" - he don't carry a gun. If they wanted stuff still, they would have gotten it.

And, apparently they stole three mis-matched display rims. So we know who did it when you see a White Chevy Conversion Van driving around Atlanta with three mismatched 24" rims and one 19" regular wheel. That, and they left the $70,000 motorcycle in the window. PLEASE, child - if you're gonna have a heist, at least do it right!

I tell ya - that's all we ended up talking about that nite at WH - picking on those poor stupid criminals.

I'm unmotivated to post

As you can probably tell from the lack of postings lately.

I haven't had much to really post about. My life has been a little blah. And I refuse to try to be all poetry like Princess Sparklepants has been.

I've been doing computer-geeky things with my machines at home. And slowly starting to organize my files so I can find things (and in the process do a little cleanup of the files I don't need).

Then, I found the story of my 24th birthday. It was shortly after I moved to Georgia. And, quite possibly, the most f'd up day I had in quite some time!

I started reading it last night and giggled quite a bit. In short, I felt like Lucy Ricardo in that episode where she was finding her birth certificate.

Aahh - birthdays - the second best day of the year, correct? (Christmas being the best) - not for me. I probably would have had a better day playing in traffic on GA400 (Mass Pike? I-95?) during rush hour.

Let's see - where do I start. 9am, my phone rings - it's my grandmother wishing me a happy birthday (she calls my cell, but I don't complain because I don't expect to be on long because I told her I had things I needed to do) - I also get to talk to mother (ok, you can stop laughing now). I get off the phone with them about 9:20, and I hop in the shower, primp myself, gather my birth certificate and a bank statement and head up to the DMV (dramatic "DOM-DOM-DOMMMMM").

11:50am - I arrive at the DMV. I see the line is literally around the corner and out of sight - I'm like "I'm glad I made a reservation for noon" - I get in, they tell me to sit and they'll be with me momentarily. I'm like "kewlios" so I'm all happy.

12:05pm - it's now my turn. I'm like "Ok, I need to get my MA license transferred over to GA, I have my birth certificate and a bank statement, and even a utility bill in case you want that too. And here's my MA license, I think it's all in order." - she looks at my birth certificate and is like "what's this?"

"My birth certificate."

"I don't think we can accept this."

"Why not? It's a valid birth certificate with the raised seal and everything - albeit the seal isn't raised MUCH because it's so old"

"Um, it's not in English."

"Yes, it's in German. I was born on an American Air Force base in Germany to American parents."

"We need a Certificate of Birth Abroad"

"Here's a photocopy of it - I don't have the original - I've NO clue where that would be."

"We can't accept that."

"I've got a Social Security card too - I can't get that without being an American citizen. I've enough documentation here to prove without a shadow of a doubt I'm who I say I am and I was born when I say I was, and I can even give you the time on my Hospital Birth Report."

"Sorry."

"So, you're telling me I'm screwed?"

"Basically."

"So, what are my options?"

"Get an American birth certificate"

"Am I supposed to be born again? Can I just go down to the church across the street and become born again and get a birth certificate that way?"

- no comment -

"I mean, my mother is 1100 miles away (thank God) - and I don't think I can fit back in her to be born again - and if I did, the birth would be today so I wouldn't be old enough to drive for another 16 years - although I'd get to go back to school and I'd prolly be the smartest in my pre-school class, and I'd have nap time again, but I don't think I'd fit in the chairs."

"I'm sorry"

"I have a little blue card somewhere at home which I've been searching for since I moved here that is a notice of my birth that is from the Town (ok, now it's City) of Easthampton - where I was registered - if I can find that, can I use that?"

"Yes, but you won't be able to use this appointment."

"I'll worry about that later. Ya know that phrase 'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it'? - well, it looks like I just got my wish to be fu*cked for my birthday."

Anyways, I'm PISSED as I walk out of there with the knowledge that I probably won't be able to drive after midnight because that little blue card is gone - vamoose - hasta-la-way-go-bye-bye probably in the move.

So, now you have a pissed off mole (POM for short) who has TOTAL road rage on GA400 trying to stay calm so I don't speed and get pulled over and have MORE problems.

Next stop - home - one hand I'm searching frantically thru the few boxes I didn't unpack - no avail - other hand, I'm dialing people trying to figure out all my options. First call: My grandmother in Easthampton, MA - asking if she can go to the Town.. err.. City Hall (I still can't get used to calling it a city) and get a copy of my record of birth mailed to me. I also explained her the situation up to this point. I got off the phone with her then called Dad and informed him that the state of Georgia is screwing me and it's all his fault (for having me OVERSEAS). I also inquire about his post-surgical health, and get off the phone with him to call the state of MASS to see if there's any "grace period" so I technically wouldn't have an "expired license."

Call MassRMV - one of the MOST HATED orgs in the state there. Explain the situation up to that point. The guy on the phone informed me that if I was MOVING to Mass, I could present any expired license up to 4 years old and Mass would give me a license, but he's not sure of GA's laws, and there is no grace period. Trying to get the info I WANT, I asked a few other questions, and discovered there is a form I could fill out explaining I'm traveling and couldn't get to MA to renew my license and allow me to renew it without penalty when I return to the state, but it doesn't serve as an extension to allow for another state. So first idea comes to mind: Fill this form out, SOMEHOW get to Mass, get a MA license renewed, return to GA with "American" birth certificate and trade in for GA license. Nope - nocando - no way to get to MA without valid ID and expired license isn't valid ID on aircraft. Strike 1.

I call the GA DMV and inform them of the situation. They tell me of a "translator service" that can translate my birth certificate. I'm like "THERE'S ENGLISH ALL OVER THIS CERTIFICATE I HAVE NOW" - but instead of fighting through this loop deal, I get the information.

I call these new people (Catholic something Services) - I explain the above to them (I can just HEAR people laughing each time I explain it because it sounds like something that only would happen on "I Love Lucy" *recalls the Passport episode where Lucy couldn't find a birth certificate*) - they told me it would cost $150 to get it done. I ask about expediting it so I could potentially get to the DMV today and get my life straightened out. He tells me $300 for "speedy delivery" and I wouldn't get it 'till 3 *IF* I faxed it to them before I headed that way. I was like "Okay - I'll fax it to you as soon as I can manage to get across the street" - I call the DMV and ask if I can use my reservation and she's like "No. You'll have to stand in line." - "Which is half a block around the corner," I pipe in.

My grandmother calls back and says she overnighted a copy of my birth certificate, but the post office said it probably won't get here for two days (so TECHNICALLY it was 2-day mail, not overnight, but I digress, this isn't a bitch session about the post office). Also, I get a phone call from a friend and I explain the situation and he's not sure what to do.

At this point, I know I can't get a license until a future date because you can't get appts the day before and I can't DRIVE up there with an expired license to get a Georgia License. In order to get a license now, I'm gonna need to take the written AND road test. No problem, I remember most of the rules of the road and - well - I've been driving for the past year and change constantly, so I should have no problems passing a road test. - I inform them that I have an out-of-state vehicle if that's fine for the road test. She said yes, as long as I have proof of insurance.

I'm like "oh crap" because I can't get proof of insurance because I was told by my insurance company in MA that since I'm moving, I'm not really covered anymore because they can't cover out of MA (um, what about roadtrips here? But I can't argue much because there's not much I can do there trying to explain why I need proof of insurance). So I call the GA tags (license plate) department (which is TOTALLY different from the DMV licensing people) - I tell her the situation and she makes my day even worse by telling me I can't get GA tags without a GA license (even tho I was told by someone earlier that I could do them in either order) - and I know I can't get GA tags without GA insurance. The logic for calling them was to inquire about the law to see if I could get insurance on a vehicle without a license. She said I'd hafta call an insurance agency.

Insurance - the biggest gamble of you're life - you pay tons of money basically betting that you won't get into an accident, the insurance company bets you will (or do I have that backwards?)- and either way YOU LOSE. I pick the most handy insurance agency in the list, and explain the situation and ask if I can have insurance on a vehicle without a valid license - he said I could open a policy, but the policy would be canceled once my MA license expired (essentially midnight) - no luck there. So, the situation is I have to take a road test to get a GA license - in order to take the road test, I need GA insurance. in order to get GA insurance, I need a license. In order to get a license..... well, you get the picture. I brainstormed a bit, and came up with my other two options.

Option 2: BEG someone to let you borrow their car for the road test who already has GA insurance and all that jazz - the pro is there's no big hassle with agencies, but the cons are I'm not comfortable in that vehicle and I would inconvenience them having to take me to get a licnese.

Option 3: Take a friend and go get insurance on my truck with him/her as the primary driver. Take the vehicle to the road test, take the road test, get the license, take him/her OFF my policy and add ME to the policy. This seems SHADY and will probably cause more headaches.

So, the current situation is as follows:
- I ACTUALLY MISS Mass for a change
- I'm ROYALLY PISSED OFF at Georgia
- The lady at the DMV best be GLAD I didn't have PMS going on
- I'm a year older and yet I can't drive again legally (funny, a similar situation happened when I moved to MA from SC, but I digress 'cuz it was totally different still)
- I have a birth certificate due here by Thursday, so if I can find a friend with a vehicle that is an automatic, I can theoretically take the tests this weekend and have a license by then... that is IF I can get an appointment.

So, next time you wish someone a happy birthday - make sure it's REALLY a happy day for them! :-D

For those of you who wonder the outcome of everything, my grandmother sent me my birth certificate through "regular mail" (not overnight) -- it arrived that Friday. I begged a friend of mine to take me to the license place and use his car. It was 9.5 hours at the license place. Apparently if your license is expired, you've forgotten how to drive, so you need to take both the written and the road test. The VERY first question on my written test was the child seatbelt law. I came close to turning around and saying "Excuse me, may I have another test, there won't be a child in my vehicle." Needless to say, I got it wrong. But, I took the driving test in my friend's Toyota Echo and parallel parked quite easily.

What have I done to prevent this from happening again? Well, I finally went to go get my passport, so I shouldn't have to prove I was born again. I also have the "Easthampton Birth Certificate" filed away in a safe place. The only thing to make it better is if I had an actual safe to keep everything in.

Kids these days... I swear...

Growing up, we keep telling ourselves we'll never be like our parents. In some cases, we strive for it. We want to be better than them. But, there are some things we cannot avoid.

Growing up, when we did laundry, if there was an unmatched sock, we put it in a pile on top of the dryer. Eventually, we would go through that pile and pair up any matches, and every now and then we'd throw away the unmatched socks. (Made me wonder if there really WAS something in the washing machine or dryer that ate them).

A few years back, I was doing laundry, and there was an unmatched sock. Subconsciously, I threw said sock on the dryer and said to myself, "The other half will show up."

I stopped myself right there, went and hunted down the match, and put both in my dirty clothes basket. It was one less thing I wanted to be like my parents with.

I don't know why that side-story is in this post. It really is supposed to be about video games. In fact, I don't even know how I started on that. Anyways, let's let my ADHD go aside and hit the topic at hand. What was it? Oh yeah, video games.

Kids these days complain about how hard video games are. With all their cheat codes and gabillion lives, and let's not mention how many times your character is allowed to be shot, stepped on, trampled on, or whatever before you actually lose a life, what can you complain about? Then, when you regenerate your life, you're halfway through the level.

Back in my day, you got hit once, your character died. And when you regenerated, you were back at the beginning of the level. Oh, and we had a frog that couldn't freaking swim! What the flip is up with that, Konami?

And, let's not forget the imagination you had to have! If you look at Donkey Kong, he seemed terrifying to me as a child. I plugged in my Atari recently with Donkey Kong, and... well... laughed at him. What kind of crazy fool climbs some whatever that is supposed to be, and just stands there throwing barrels? (and I don't think he really did it... they just magically appear out of nowhere, it seems.) And, when you get closer, he doesn't do anything until you get next to dude's girlfriend? (And, seriously... an ape and a human... I don't get it...)

And who here doesn't know the swirling staticy noise that's at the beginning of a level of Defender? Seriously now!

Now, we had games that made absolutely no sense (Yars' Revenge, anyone?), but we still loved them. Except for maybe E.T. the Extra Terrestrial -- I think I was the only person who liked that one. But, no matter what, we had imagination to make it seem more awesome than the 8-bit graphics allowed.

Then video games progressed and we had games (like Super Mario Bros) that had never-ending pits. Not particularly realistic, but neither was The Mushroom Kingdom. In this unrealistic game, there were never-ending pits. You fall in one of them, and heaven knows where your character went. You never see the splat. But it was still hard because there were these mushroom people that killed you if you touched them any way but jumping on them. But there was this star that went "dat-dat-ble-dat..."

Nowadays, video games have to be extremely lifelike. But, they've gotten away from the things that make them truly lifelike. If your character gets shot, the chances of it being able to continue on and save the world are slim to none. Seriously. And we wonder why kids are getting in trouble "due to video games."

I liked them better when they were more cartooney. No way in our mind's eye that it could be real. We had to use our imagination to understand what was going on. If we forced our kids to go back to level of imagination, who knows where we'd be. Kids would probably do better in school because they're flexing their brain. Creativity would go up since they're flexing their imagination. The would could become a better place if we weren't focused on making video games "look real"

If I could turn back time...

So, I was bored at work with not really anything to do since there's NOBODY in the office (I think three people in our department). I decided I wanted to get my old MySpace blogs into this blog after reading that Blogger is now allowing importing of blogs. The hitch is you can only do it with other Blogger blogs right now.

I did a quick search and found no real way to get MySpace blogs moved over to Blogger. Apparently there's a way to do it with Wordpress, but I don't have a Wordpress account. I thought about creating one, until I read that the import only works with Blogger.

So I decided to count the MySpace posts I have. Eighteen. One of them doesn't count because it's just a posting saying it's my first posting. Since this blog already has one of those, I decided not to include that, so there are seventeen posts to be copied over. Not really that bad.

So, there you go. You should be able to find all these posts prior to my first Blogger post. Some are fairly amusing. Some not so much. And NO, I will not bring back my way old blog postings from when I first moved to Atlanta and tried to blog. Those are horrible.

Here's To Yesterday

So, way back in 2001-2002 (and a couple days in 2003), I had another bit of a blog. It wasn't hosted by something like blogger -- it was hosted by me... in an application I created myself. In that time period, I did fifty-two entries. I started out strong, then had months in-between at times.

Of course, during this time period, I was working third shift at Waffle House. I didn't have time come up with witty repertoire. I was too busy making ends meet and trying to find a real job. It was officially removed when I worked with the company prior to The Company. My Canadian Manager there pissed me off because he basically told me it's not OK to spread that link to anyone at work because it says I'm gay and it's not good to be gay at that place of employment. I took it down, but saved all the entries in the event I decided to bring up a blog again.

I found the entries. Initially, I decided it would be cool to throw random "blasts from the past" entries in here if I didn't have time to post... until I started reading them. I needed SERIOUS help way back then. I had forgotten a lot of the things that happened during that time of my life. I had a lot of serious drama in my life that I don't need to be spreading any further. :)

It brought back some retrospect as to how much I've grown in the past *does math* six-plus years. It brought back some good times, some hard times, some sad times, and some fun times. In short, it's one of the many building blocks that makes up my life. I may post portions of the ones I find relevant -- but it would be a lot of work to remove names to protect the guilty.. I mean innocent.