Tuesday, February 26, 2002

Bryn can defeat my logic in a single bound
or
Sure I’m funny, but I’m not Stephen Hawking funny!

The weekend before last I spent a few days in San Diego visiting my brother and his kids. As always I had a great time, but I came to realize a few things while I was down there. One, my 4-year-old niece is smarter than I am. I don’t mean she’s smarter than I was at her age I mean she’s smarter than I am now! Steve must have been bitten by a radioactive spider, struck by lightning, and given special powers by our yellow sun when she was conceived. She’s amazing and will probably accomplish incredible things in her life all while making some poor guy totally miserable. The second thing I realized is that Umpa Lumpas’s freak me out.

Last weekend was the annual Dunsmuir house chili cook-off and it was a blast! Thank you to all those who came and made it such a success. To sum the party up to those who weren’t able to make it, or who don’t know who I am. There was a crowded house full of great people, beer, beef and beans. Scientists are still trying to explain the abnormally high methane concentration in Menlo Park on Saturday night. There are many little stories I could tell about the party, but suffice to say that I won the people’s choice award and someone referred to me as the “Stephen Hawking of comedy.”

Monday, February 11, 2002

I’m so deep I’m shallow

I had a very relaxing weekend where I got to spend a lot of time with me. Getting in touch with my self and really experiencing who I am. In other words I was board out of my gourd. I haven’t had a weekend that lame since… I don’t think I’ve ever had a weekend that lame. After spending a weekend with little human contact I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not that deep. I’d like to think that I’m a bottomless pool of mystery that gets ever more complicated as you go down, but in reality I’m like a Kiddy pool after a long hot day of evaporation. There’s no big mystery to me. I’m not a tormented James Dean type character with inner conflicts and a deep down drive to be somebody. I’m more like a rabbit with little concept of events outside what’s in its direct view at any given moment. Or maybe I'm more like a tropical fish with a long-term memory of about four and a half seconds. They say genius is the ability to think like a child, I haven’t exactly found that to be so. But then again there may be some difference between thinking like a child and childish thinking… Anyway,... what were we talking about?

Wednesday, February 06, 2002

Benjamin Owen, Employee of the year!

My boss has been out of town for 10 days and in that time I’ve done a total of about 17 minutes of work, and 15 of those have been done from home. The rest of the time has been devoted to sleeping in, taking really long lunches, watching my entire collection of DVDs (which is quite extensive), emailing everyone I can think of, and perusing some of the high quality porn the internet has to offer. Tomorrow will be my most staggeringly unproductive day so far. I’ll roll out of bed around 10:30 and check my email to make sure the sky isn’t falling at work. Then I’ll go have a long lunch after which I’ll meet Taylor in Santa Cruz to capitalize on the huge swell that’s rolling through right now (I can’t be expected to work when the buoy reports are this good). The work part of the day will be checking my email and will last all of 45 seconds. I would devote some time to feeling guilty about the extremely large bonus they gave me last month, but it’s naptime. Maybe I’ll get to that on Friday.

Tuesday, February 05, 2002

I’m getting the band back together!

My love of drums goes back a long way. As a kid growing up in Beaverton Oregon, attending Tera Linda grade school I thought drums were magic. We had a school band and one of the biggest dorks in school (I say “one of” because I was still a student there) took up the drums. I remember it like it was yesterday, everybody filed into the gym to hear the band play. Now going to listen to a bunch of 5th and 6th graders play instruments that they’d been playing for about 2 months wasn’t all that appealing. But between the fact that having the whole school in one room was a great opportunity to make fake fart noises, and we were getting out of social studies made this a pretty great event. I was prepared for that, fake fart noises and getting out of class for 35 minutes, but I was totally unprepared for the life-changing event that I was about to witness. The lights went down and the band started to play, it was either Beethoven’s fifth symphony or Mary had a little lamb, we couldn’t really tell. We were subjected to a series of numbers similar to the first, pretty much just noise, then the life changing moment. The band broke into what was supposed to be a rock number and with the first rim shot a magic transformation took place. Dork became cool, not just cool, but really cool! Science hasn’t been able to explain it yet, but there is something in the sound of a cymbal that makes girls like you. One instant, this kid was a dork that no girls even looked twice at, the next he’s neck deep in passed notes and after school sweater puppies. I started playing drums while attending San Diego State, I replaced the couch in my single dorm room with a Mapex Mars-pro series drum kit. Which I loved and everyone else in the building hated. I thought that I’d hit a cymbal and girls would start knocking on my door asking if they could run around in their panties while I played. This never happened, the closest I got was some girl’s boyfriend yelling out the window that I sucked. I’ve been playing drums on and off for about 5 years and am neither good at playing them or any closer to notes and sweater puppies. I bring all this up because I’ve just bought a Roland V-Club electric drum kit and I’m going to start taking lessons. So I’ll secretly get good, playing quietly with my headphones on late at night. Then one day I’ll amaze the world with my chops and I’ll be inundated with girls who want to show me that their right nipple is just a little larger than their left.

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