Flash Bastards, and my commitment to the Sauce

It's been a helluva week for yours truly. I heard back from my rather recalcitrant advisor on Monday about my Master's thesis deadline. I can really tell the honeymoon period with this guy is over. I call him recalcitrant you see because during our three month relationship he has steadfastedly refused to volunteer advise and deadline details about my paper. And this despite me totally ignoring him and only begrudgingly admitting his existence. Ivory tower and all that I suppose. Anyways, after my plucky email last week inquiring as to any sort of rough draft deadline, he informed me that he requires a submission six weeks ahead of the deadline. i.e next Monday.

"Good Lord and butter" says I under my breath. Simultaneously considering this new development and appreciating the rather good turn of luck that my bladder happened to be empty at the time. "Well, well" I continue out loud in an effort to maintain my composure... "and me without a title"

Since then I've been trundling around with a ready grin, enjoying the high drama of my situation which I choose to ignore completely.
"Are you still coming to my Party?" murmured Jesse. I could tell by the look in his eyes that although he knew the answer somewhere deep down he was still hoping I'd do the right thing. Be responsible, etc.
"Heck yeah" I pronounced with a grin. It's always nice to see that people are still pulling for you in the face of all evidence. "I've got my Quality of Life to think of don't I?"

But don’t worry about me. I think I’ve got a handle on things. I’ve got my cover page, title, and have even started on some of the serious writing. Today though, I was stumped by a serious problem. I just don’t know what to name my little program. I was listing all the words that could be used to describe my little gem in order to devise a truly bitching acronym. Unfortunately though I just seemed to come up with a lot of Rs and Is… Not good fodder for your racy double entendre acronym. I feel that I need to through in an X somehow.

Kyle the Flash Bastard
Last week I went to a “consulting day” at the Business School. It’s been impressed on me that 0 is perhaps the wrong amount of effort to be expending on my job hunt. So I though I’d go and check out the glamorous world of consultancy. It had its mildly interesting moments surrounded by moments of dread, and silent anguish. There were a lot of moments where I looked at the person talking and silently told them how much smarter than them I was. To be honest it was an event full of undergrad business school students and recycled undergrad business school students (i.e. brand new consultants) so what can you expect?

One guy though really fascinated me. I was in a “case” session with a guy from one of the consultancy firms. A case session for those not cool, is where you take a hypothetical situation and work it like a consultant. In essence you had a bunch of these little snots trying to sound like they had a whiskey in their hand. And not the proper Bill Murray in Lost in Translation way, but in the “I routinely perform the habits of highly motivated people so piss off” way. Hard to watch, hard to watch. Anyways this guy wasn’t actually a consultant, but a sales guy pressed into talking to undergrad business school kids. Now you may be thinking “sales guy?” isn’t that a step down from consultant? Normally I’d jump on that wagon too, but not with this guy. This guy was fucking gifted. Slick as shit, charisma out the ass. He was like a Craig Kilborn whose just a little cooler and a little more confident. I found myself liking the guy, and that’s weird as hell (reading my freaking blog). I looked down at his name card and read Kyle ---------, and thought to myself Damn right his name is Kyle ------. I could’ve told you that without looking. In fact his nametag should read Kyle fucking -------. Obviously.


So an interesting time for el Jefe. My job search expenditure is still pretty much 0, I have a shit load of papers, midterms, and projects to do, and my uncertain future is daily coming closer to becoming my uncertain present.

But whatever, can’t let things get you down.

I’m still doing Fucking Awesome….

Could use a drink tho’….

Cheers from Graduate School!

Need some help?
Check out Bubby.. Its a kick if only to imagine a grandmotherly voice kicking out the pointers to us wayward losers...

The internet continues to shit on me....
Have you ever image googled yourself? I'm sitting next to my pal Butch who just did. Thanks to having such a manly american name, his search brings up pictures of Henry Rollins and the like. Mine brings up Asian guys with glasses. Ouch. I'm not talking Jet LI or Jackie Chan either...

So to sum up
Me: nerd
him: rock star.

Is that right?

check this pimp out..

help!

My new employer:
"Yo Patrick,
What gives? Are you still alive or what? Give me a call or let me know when a good time is for me to call you to discuss the program."

Me
"urgh..."

I've been contracted to do some database work and I'm very tempted to flake out on him. Not necessarily good business tactics, but I'm wearing a little thin here. Maybe you could help me decide?

Pros
A wad of money could be mine
My professional ethic will be satisfied
Much material satisfaction could be had from my huge wad o' cash.

Cons
I may fail.
I might not deliver in reasonable time.
I might succeed only to fail in my classes or on my Master's project.
This project may be drawn out interminably.
I could go insane (unlikely)
I might start gibbering to myself non-sensically (very likely any time now)

What should I do?.... I mean its a wad of money! At first I offered an exorbitant $50/hr price to dissuade him. Then the crafty bugger offers me a huge lump sum to build and support the database. For how long one might be tempted to ask? BIG WAD of money long, would probably be the answer!

How you doin'?
In America, its common to ask a person how they're doing as a salutation. No one really cares, but we ask anyways out of some strange cultural habit. The moment we lay eyes on you we demand to know your status. Its odd sometimes in that I'll be caught asking twice. I'll lean over to make a pool shot, turn my head, and say so "how you doing man?" I'll get a weird look and I'll be reminded that I've already asked this question. Yeah... but this time I'm actually going to listen...


I don't know, I'm actually the sort of mook that'll try to milk it. I'll generally make a noncommittal grunt and check in for sympathy hour. lame I know. The other day I caught myself and realized how lame it all was. Am I really that hard up for conversation material? So I've turned over a new goddamn leaf. From now on when people ask, I'm just going to say "Fucking Awesome", or just Awesome in the case of senior citizens. Maybe "Really Fucking Awesome" if I happen to be in a good mood. In fact I look forward to tilting my head a little and saying "Really Fucking Awesome" next chance I get. But I'll try to say in such a way that people won't ask for any details. That's not the kind of shit I can back up.

I think this will help my situation in a number of ways. (A) I won't be eyed warily by people who don't want to be fucking bothered by my stupid problems, (B) I won't have to repeatedly belabor my stupid fucking problems, and (C) I have a vague sort of hope that at the end of this little experiment I'll have convinced myself that I am Fucking Awesome. Kind of taking my sub-conscious to the cleaners if you will.

Hey if you're reading this, do me a favor and make it a Fucking Awesome Day!

Technology doesn't make you cool
I'm walking out of the library to make a call. I casually flip open my phone, and activate the Voice Recognition feature. I mutter "Justin" into the receiver... It repeats my voice saying "justin" and dials... Bitchin.. I now feel like the coolest guy around. Finally I'm the guy who knows what's up.. I perform amazing feats of technology and have got my shit together.... eye of the tiger etc

Justin doesn't answer so I leave a Voicemail... Ah well, catch him later... I flip close my phone, hitch up my pants, and saunter back into the library as if I'd just been on the line with Mick Jagger...

It's only after a confused email from another Justin, that I realize that I have two Justin's in my phone and that the wrong one has the all important Voice activation entry... He of course is treated to a message meant for another...

I like an idiot was apparently too busy prancing around with my fancy phone to notice the wrong voice on the other end

sigh..

Still just a jackass...