|
Previous:
11/14/05: I'll slap his bald head
Next: 11/18/05: Coasties
11/15/05: STFU Part Deux
It happened again today. I found myself resisting the powerful urge to talk out
of my ass, instead shutting the fuck up several times.
We had like a four hour meeting and I spoke up quite a bit over the course of
the four hours. But as it wound down, I caught myself about to say something and
then holding back like five times, for no particular reason other than instinct.
After each of the five near-misses, I reviewed in my head the thing I'd been
about to say to figure out its potential impact and each time, I was thankful as
hell that I didn't say it. Had I gone ahead with the five comments, the results
would have been negative every single time, with damage ranging from mild to
catastrophic.
I could probably take this information in a number of ways. If I were an
optimist, I might say, "Wow, Hansie, you really have a great sense of timing --
that rare understanding of what to say and when to say it, and more importantly,
when to say nothing at all." However, that is simply not true: earlier in the
meeting, we had been joking around, and one guy who I don't know all that well was talking about his 73
year-old mom and he mentioned how cute she is. I chimed in with "Cute? She's a piece of
ass." That's real bright.
When coupled with that gem, the five-for-five mercifully-unsaid bonehead
comments point to a more obvious conclusion: NEARLY EVERYTHING I SAY IS STUPID.
STUPIDER STILL IS THE STUFF I ALMOST SAY, BUT DON'T.
If that's the case, I guess the smartest thing I can do from here on out is
place
myself on permanent STFU status. Every time I am about to say something, I am
going to put that potential statement through a rigorous set of cross-checks to
gauge its level of appropriateness. If it doesn't come through clean on all
sectors, it gets buried permanently in the STFU file. If, by the time I figure
out that the potential statement is OK, the moment to say it has slipped by,
I'll STFU then, too, knowing that it wasn't meant to be.
This should take me down to like 92 words a day, mostly pleases and thank yous.
If I had to start a business, I think it would be a smoothie shop. Sure, a
sandwich shop is my true fantasy, but that's a little complicated. Smoothies are
a sure thing. Think about it, the Smoothie probably celebrated its "It" moment
in like 1992. But unlike flannel shirts and goatees, it didn't fade into
embarrassment and obscurity when it was no longer in vogue. No, the smoothie
just kept doing its thing and earning big money. And you know why? Because smoothies are delicious. Everybody likes 'em. Even
a bad smoothie is pretty good. And if I had my own smoothie place and I
needed to come up with a menu quickly, I could do it. Give me an afternoon,
maybe $400 worth of various fruits, juices, and sorbets, and I'd have that shit
figured out no problem. Just keep mixing shit up till it tastes good.
To prove my point, I had a friend from high school who knew nothing more about
fruit, juice, sorbet, or smoothies than you or me. In the early 90's, he opened
a smoothie shop on Houston off West Broadway, and he made a killing. He sold it
about eight years later, and I am pretty sure he made enough in that deal to
retire.
Retiring at 30. That's smooth.
I went to Tekserve the other day and checked out some Mac laptops. My
conclusions were as follows:
-I want the 15" Powerbook (with extra memory and a 100GB HD) in the worst way. I
want it so much I feel unclean.
-The iBooks, while probably more than adequate for my needs and much more in my
price range, look and feel sorta cheap to me. But I would not rule them out by
any means.
-the 12" Powerbook might be a good solution -- it's really nice and the screen
size didn't bother me that much. But the unit in the store was warm, and it gave
the sense that it might run hot. Not a scientific test, I know.
I think I will get a new computer in February. So keep the tips comin' in.
For twelve points, name the song that contains these lyrics (no googling).
Some say she's from mars
Or one of the seven stars
That shine after 3:30 in the morning
Well she isn't
That's all we got today.
|