Mission Failure, Or: "Why were there so many cops?" |8:17 PM|
Dammit. My plan to infiltrate a CompUSA in an old uniform and mess with a customer failed utterly, seeing as my old managers were RIGHT IN THE FRONT OF THE DAMN STORE. What the hell were they doing there? Bah.
We went to a lot of trouble. I shaved my chest and taped a microphone to it. An X-10 camera and battery pack was placed in a purse and taped in place. A car DC inverter was aquired, and hooked up in a Toyota camry idiling out front, with Videodrome on Support, Boobarilla on surveilence and myself on Ops. Vid was supposed to watch and record the X-10 feed from Rissa's purse, while remaining in contact through a hands free cell phone. I was to mess with a customer, and be in the store for less than 5 minutes. Sadly, seeing my old manager (Damn you Mr. Morales!) and an old security guard, I had to scrub the mission. It was exciting, and expensive. But as a test run it went fairly well.
We drove across the street to a Best Buy, but unfortunately I lacked a Best Buy shirt, having only worked at CompUSA. Oh, and there were a bunch of police in front of the store. Which is bad. The only person who talked to me (once I was inside) was a Best Buy employeee Who was helpful and polite! I mean, Christ almighty, how often does that happen?
About the only funny thing we managed to record was when I was buying a 12 pack of beer for a friend, I told the employee that "It's the only beer my 6 year old drinks" and that "You know, they're teething". Besides the dirty looks I got from one set of customers, nothing came of this.
Hello, this is the internet calling |1:59 PM|
I was looking through referalls, and I was taking a look at google's "Similar pages" link, and this Accidental Julie site kept coming up. Vid and I were trying to figure out the connection between Vorpal, this Julie woman, and TPL. Luckily enough, she has her phone number there, so we gave her a holler. From work, out of the blue. It's easier than email when you have to break into your home computer to send email, but I digress. Now, if someone ever called me and asking about this site, especially if they were asking for "Cecil" I'd hang up and run away, returning only to burn down my apartment to cover my tracks. Julie was very polite and understanding as two dorks (Vid and myself) asked a bunch of questions, until it was determined that she and Vorpal are old school friends.
Why is this entry here? Because if she mentions that she got a call from the TPL staff to Vorpal, he'll be looking for answers. Here they are Vorpal, here they are. Yes...look at them.
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Ha! I'm an IDIOT |11:59 AM|
Boogie down, shake that brain. I wanted to be a host of an educational children's show. I think I'd do an excellent job of being flabbergasted at every turn, because I would be. I'd be learning as much as the children at home, and I'd be sincere when, while taking a tour of the recycling plant, I point at the plastic/metal seperator processor and yell "That is so cool!". I think my constant swearing would be an issue though. Perhaps they could censor all of that out and call me Mr. Beep.
I think this might all be a terrible idea.
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Meme Assault |3:05 PM|
In a blatantly egotisitcal, yet still lazy, move, I made This.
I've found an interesting tattoo idea, but it would be incredibly difficult to make gradients on a tattoo, so the bio-mechanoid shoulder may be quite challenging. Videodrome managed to put together a rough draft on my left shoulder, and though it looks kind of neat, I can see the issues that such a design might have. I'll take a picture a little later today, perhaps, and photoshop the hell out of it.
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Hypnotized |9:36 AM|
It was my friend Josh's 21st birthday celebration last night. We were supposed to meet at a bar downtown at around 11:30 as to catch his legal changeover to the drinking age.
I headed downtown alone, at a very unusual time traffic wise. I have never seen the highways of Austin this empty, even at 3am. Usually, there is someone or some truck ahead of me on the road, but for mile after mile there was just my car, and the headlights of other cars a great distance behind me. The street lamps zipped by, and I started to feel myself detach from the actual driving and thinking involved in the road. I was being hypnotized, and I was very quickly just a perspective, just a pair of eyes rippling their way down the road as the need to dodge or worry about other vehicles had been removed. I'm unsure how long I spent as nothing at all, but eventually another car entered the highway in front of me, and I had to pull back to reality. As if this was some trigger, cars that had been in the distance behind me quickly caught up and passed me, while several more cars entered the roadway, and again I was in standard traffic. But for those moments, I was nothing but a will to continue, a perspective to observe the streetlights as they flickered past my window.
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Tuesday, April 09, 2002
It is requested that the self you get down with be my bad one. |1:30 PM|
Huge numbers of people are coming to the site, but all for the pictograms. Out of the last 100 hits, 70 have gone to the pictograms, 3 have gone to this personal page, 20 have gone to the front page while the rest milled around aimlessly.
I'm riding the snake that is today, and it's quite long. I've got 4 hours left to slaughter in some fashion. I need to get home, and get prepped. Hopefully a man called Spook will teach me a particular kind of sword fighting. I was a promising saber fighter, and a decent fencer, so perhaps I can excel at this. People who had reason to do so described my motion through this world as either incredibly accident prone or breathtakingly elegant. At one point I was described as both in the same sentence: "You know, he's quite graceful when he isn't slamming into chairs or bouncing off of walls".
My coworker says he is sick of my growl, because it is non-communicative. It's either that or me saying "Arrrrrr".
Over the weekend I was completely 0wnz34d (owned) over the weekend by a couple of tobacco selling women. They were cute, acted in a strange fashion, spoke in a mystical tone of "Death, rebirth" and "being delivered into a new dimensional realm" they also danced with me. So I purchased a pack of Dunhill cigarettes. This bum pack has been ruthlessly bummed from by my boss, so I must be careful. I'm half tempted to go back to sixth street to find these two girls. At one point one of them yelled "What's your name?!" I answered, having to yell over the music. She followed up with the question "What's your favorite color?". When I answered green she acted surprised and joyful, green was apparently the correct answer, as if I had just fulfilled the prophecy or something. She bowed to me, and yelled to her friend "GREEN!". Her friend reacted in a similar fashion, bowing and dancing with joy. I fell in love with the tobacco girls.
Sounds like a great name for a music single.
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Request Timed out |12:35 AM|
Someone I talk to online found out just today that someone he knew jumped off a building. The guy (who jumped) always went by an alias in real life, and so it wasn't until the second page of the news story about his death that the alias was mentioned. It's peculiar, I'm reading this website with all this contact info, and the guy in question is quite dead. I could send email and I'd never get a response or a bounce message. I think I should appoint someone to clean up my digital affairs along with my real life affairs in the event of my sudden extinction. It just seems more dignified. "This webpage will no longer be updated due to the unfortunate death of it's owner."
The guy was apparently a furry, which I would normally hold against him, but seeing as he's dead there's not much point. The Website
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Monday, April 08, 2002
From the US department of STFU |11:18 AM|
I almost left the state again. A friend of mine says I can't keep running away whenever "things get bad". I'm a little insulted, seeing as I have come back each time. It's a change of scenery, and at worst leaving the state is an ill-planned vacation. However, I got a call out of the blue from an old friend, and it generally put me back on to an even keel. No longer will I be helping a buddy quite far away move into his new place. (My offer of help was sincere, appreciated, and rejected on the grounds that his father would be helping him). But at least it was a destination other than here. I'll just get my car fixed up this week and call myself ahead. Or call myself a head of lettuce, which I can't stand.
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Sunday, April 07, 2002
Dammit! Cookie failure! |11:04 PM|
I didn't have a proper measuring tool for my cookies, so I think I used a little too much baking soda. The result were large, air filled cookies. They are very peculiar to look at and do not have the standard taste of cookies at all. They are like eating air with chocolate bits.
The magazines at the supermarket are yelling about getting a bikini body by june 1st. Well, I'll just stick to my normal bathing suit, seeing as I am male. But I really need to tone up a little more. Hell, what if I get a tattoo? I want to be able to show the damned thing off.
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Every evening should end with tear gas |5:16 AM|
I got back from a night at concerts. At the end of it, Vorpal and I were walking back to my car....oh, by the way, something had brought out a huge number of people, many African Americans, to the streets of Austin.
The cops were uneasy, and as we were leaving 6th,we heard a couple bangs (I thought it was tear gas, it later turned out to be gunshots) and the whole crowd freaked out, started running. Vorpal and I bolted for the car and got the hell out of there. That's the way to end an evening, I suppose.Man, that's the second time I've had to run away from rioting on 6th street. At least it's not a trend or anything.
I tuned my guitar, I found a possible rhythm section, I'm going to start a band.
"Central Chilling Station Number 4"
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