Mondayawn
Missing: one good night of sleep. Last seen three weeks ago between the hours of 10 p.m. and 8 am. Please return to Ryan Rhodes as soon as possible.
Mondays should not consist of exhaustion such as mine. Once again, I squandered a perfectly good weekend by staying busy when I could have simply stretched out on the couch watching the History Channel for 48 straight hours. That would have been ideal. Instead, I opted for the busy route, with golf, a street dance, running, a golf tournament and other such nonsense, which all cost me precious time that would have been better spent sleeping.
Friday night, however, I did briefly tune in to the opening few scenes of "The Terminator." Now, I realize this flick is considered a classic by people in my general age group, and I also realize that Arnold's career was built on this one movie, and it is not my intention at all to rip on a movie that many in my generation can recite verbatim.
But, come on, those SKULLS. I mean, I understand that, in order to show how ruthlessly efficient the killing machines of the future are, it's necessary to show some death and destruction, but those battle scenes of the future just consisted of entirely too many skulls littering the ground to be even remotely believable. Skulls everywhere. A five foot layer of skulls, skulls and more skulls. Then, to make the machines seem even more diabolical, they slowly rumble over the skulls, crushing them beneath their mighty tracks. Such indifference to the dead! How awful. How terrible. The machines! The machines are EVIL!
Ah, yes, "The Terminator." It was "The Matrix" of the 80s.
This week, I have to build a contact list both inside and outside of IBM for an article I've been assigned to write about spam. Finally, an article that I'll probably really enjoy researching and writing. My lead paragraph could revolve entirely around the piece of spam e-mail I received just now, not more than 20 seconds ago, that has the intriguing subject line "Re: Sexually Attract Men." But, I don't WANT to sexually attract men. Besides, when I think back to the times me and my friends dropped by the occasional gay bar (usually unintentionally), I think it's safe to say I don't need a boost in the man-attracting department. Not to brag or anything, but I imagine that, if I were to switch teams and start batting for the homosexual crowd, I think it's a safe bet that I'd have no problem attracting the men. That's right, I'm choice, USDA grade beefcake.
You know, I think I'm going to chalk that entire last paragraph up to my obscene lack of sleep.
Melissa's coming down to Rochester tonight, which is a good thing because A.) I'll be getting lucky and B.) I don't think I could have made it the full week without getting lucky. I would have exploded or something. Judging by the calendar, and my increased anxiety, she should be nearing her special time of the month. Sometimes, I think I'm more attuned to her cycle than she is. I wouldn't be so freakin' jumpy if she were on some sort of birth control, but because we rely solely on the latex baby batter blockers put forth by Trojan, Durex and the like, the arrival of Mel's period, for me, is a cause for celebration. "Yes! I'm not going to be a daddy! Let's go to the bar!" Last night when we spoke on the phone, she said she had seriously bad cramps the night before, so my hopes are high that this is her week.
A lot of folks have chimed in about Layne's sudden disappearance from the blogosphere, so consider me one of the folks chiming in. As sinfully guilty pleasures go, reading Layne was pretty high up on my list. At work, I kept one browser window open all day that was dedicated to her site. Every ten minutes or so, I'd click reload to see if another commenter dropped their two cents into the Layne psychiatric tip jar. So, yes, she's missed. But, I don't think she really owes anyone an explanation for her departure. We were simply virtual acquaintances, voyeuristic opinionists that really took more from Layne than we ever gave. Reading her heart and soul poured out daily on her site was something she gave us, and that was a gift infinitely richer than any comment or e-mail sent her way. Sure, writing ((hugs)) is cute and all, but that's not tangible or real, and I think it was obvious to anyone reading Layne that she needed a friend that was tangible and real, and she needed a real hug. So, she decided to unplug, which is totally fine. Bloggers are not required to blog, no matter how good they are.
Myself, I'll continue to blog unabated, because I'm a shameless self-promoting attention hog.
Now, in an attempt to boost Web traffic, I'll post a name that's been in the news lately: Laure Manaudou. Laure Manaudou. Laure Manaudou. Laure Manaudou. Laure Manaudou.
Posted by Ryan at June 9, 2003 10:54 AM
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