Stephanie asked me something the other day that, quite frankly, I couldn't even begin to answer. What is the little hole for in men's underwear? It's in every pair of briefs I own, ditto for pajama pants.
The sad truth is I have absolutely no idea. One would think it would be used to to pee through, but fishing out Little Jeffy through that hole is a bitch, especially if it's cold. It's much easier and faster to just pull your pants down.
I remember trying it once when I first had "big boy" underwear. Seemed like a lot of work at the time so I never did it again. Now that I'm older and wiser, I'd speculate it's like the Ron Jeremy escape hatch or something. Instead of pitching a tent you deploy the probe.
No one may really know.
Having a job again is really nice, I just wish I could be my happy go lucky self again. It's not that I'm unhappy... I'm just tired all of the time. I slept in when I was unemployed, but I also stayed up late, so I'm sleeping about the same amount of time. I'm even sleeping better than I was and more soundly.
This week I really snapped at my volleyball kids when they were screwing around. It wasn't really justified, at least not the kind of cranky attitude I was giving them.
I find myself being cranky all of the time just because I'm tired. It's not that I'm unhappy though, it just seems like I'm a dick to people. That's no fun. I don't like myself when I'm like that.
I'd be lying if I said the last four and a half months were all fun and games. Being unemployed is weird when there's nothing out there, the unemployment is running out and you've got bills to pay. Add to that the strain on your marriage by way of being totally preoccupied with the above issues, and it's not a fun situation.
Alas, I nailed a new job, and I start Monday. The months have really allowed me to take inventory of things, even if they did stress me out to a certain degree. The time has allowed me to learn a ton of new things, relax a little and really figure out what the hell I exist for.
So what conclusions have I arrived at? Well, here's a brief list:
Having money is a quasi-need. The only reason I really need it is to pay bills so I can buy dumb shit. That's still pretty basic if you ask me!
So I go back to work for the man. Opportunity knocks, and it has a package to sign for. Let's see what's inside...
I've spent a lot of time hating Microsoft over the years just because I can't stand when shit crashes on my computer. Despite all this, I am so tired of these clueless idiots and the feds fucking with Microsoft. I sincerely believe they're being penalized for their success under the influence of their competition.
So I read today on C-Net that now Sun wants to sue them. The suit says Microsoft violated anti-trust law and should be punished. But here's the kicker... Sun makes server products, which has nothing to do with the anti-trust case. Rather, this is a pre-emptive strike, to try and stifle Microsoft's .Net platform before it gets too popular and threatens Sun's Java platform.
It has become this stupid cliche now. "Oh, we're not doing well in the marketplace, it must be Microsoft's fault!" When are these stupid companies going to start taking responsibility for their own failures?
Microsoft has finally been able to get their shit together. Windows XP is solid, and the .Net Framework kicks ass in every way for Web development. Hell, it's what runs this very site. I say good for them, and best of luck in the quest to dominate that environment as well. Let the marketplace decide what the best products are. We don't need the feds or Sun deciding for us.
It's funny the way a lot of movies with hot chicks are outright lame without said females. Sure, it's two hours of eye candy, but it's the film equivalent of getting a hooker. You get your rocks off, but still feel empty inside afterward.
That's why I dig movies with good dialog. Action is nice to have, sure, but clever dialog goes a long way. What made me think of this is O Brother, Where Art Thou? Aside from being the only movie where George Clooney actually earned his salary, the dialog is hysterical. What's more, it's perfectly tuned to the period and locale. Funny thing about it, the Coen brothers (who wrote and directed the film) have been outstanding in this area in all of their movies. For example, The Big Lebowski was Gulf War era SoCal while Fargo was the upper Midwest, probably 80's.
Quentin Tarantino has a similar gift, though it seems to be limited to stylistic crime movies. Between Pulp Fiction's "Eatin' a bitch out and givin' a bitch a foot message ain't even in the same fuckin' ballpark" and Reservoir Dog's revealing look at Madonna's Like a Virgin, there's so much there that you're convinced these were real conversations.
What all these films have in common is that you remember the dialog. Because dialog is, in my opinion, the basis for community and society, you remember it. When it comes to a choice between boobs and dialog in a film, it's a tough choice.
When are these guys going to really do both?