Blink Rewards

I taught her how to walk, and breathed life into her words and her copy, I made her great. Some porkos in LA took her away and turned her into a spamming shitbox.

Punk’d - Ashton Kutcher - The Download

I love the idea of Ashton Kutcher. I want to be a female Ashton. Minus the older woman thing. I find him terribly fascinating, as far as people in Hollywood go. The dichotomy outlined here is probably why — the whole “I am the man” vs. “Fuck the man.” Love it.

CNN.com - How the rich kids live - Oct. 27, 2003

I can’t wait to watch this. I hate how much envy and anger and resentment I have towards them. I need to get over myself and stop harboring such negative energy.

Perhaps I need to reinvigorate my relationship with God, says that Mormon missionary voice in the back of my head.

Boo-hoo, I’m a hipster and I was beaten up with a baseball bat. I’m sorry I can’t come up with any sympathy for you.

I remember walking around campus after the assault with a miniature aluminum baseball bat called The Whomper. It was the appropriate size for bashing someone’s head in at close range. I had many daydreams of sewing a faux fur cover for The Whomper and tying a delicate light pink ribbon around it.

It went missing after a camping trip with a bunch of the middle schoolers I taught math to. I haven’t been able to find one in any mass merchandiser since. But I’d bet The Whomper would become the next It thing among the hipsters if it were around.

Come to think of it, maybe someone SHOULD make trendy coverings for baseball bats and sell ‘em to the hipsters (who are now ‘arming themselves’ according to CL). Maybe that person should be me. (Think Dr. Marvin Monroe’s patented aggression mallets.)

Apple - Mac OS X - Up-To-Date Programs

I remember being six and making programs in BASIC in my basement on a $10,000 IBM with huge-ass floppy disks. (They were incredibly floppy.) I love computers. I love that happy orb and glow and the creativity that technology can unleash.

This is why I’ve obsessed more over the past year about which apple to get (17″ imac) than I did when I bought my car (jetta wolfsburg). Nevermind that the car was 20x more expensive.

The apple, I feel, will be my savior. Perhaps I’ve hemmed and hawed because if it doesn’t change my life forever, then I’ll be fresh out of ideas.

Whether it’s the dry heat that’s hissing out of the office pipes, or the accompanying odor of said heat, or the one-two combo punch of Coldplay then Dido on the speakers, or the autumn daylight reminiscent of so many broken hearts …

Whatever it is, I cannot help but feel that I am a shadow self of who I was. When did I trade my zest for life into a careful, plotted, responsible approach for doing what’s safe?

Perhaps there is something wrong with my thyroid, or it’s the never-ending migraines, or it’s an undiagnosed case of bipolar disorder. But these all sound like excuses. Excuses, per Coach, are for losers, no?

If I have to sit back and think of a nice, team-player way to encourage people to adopt my brilliant idea about this schlocky marketing mess I’ve gotten myself into, I think I will surely die.

There is a way to walk away from this damned six mile island and start anew in a cornfield somewhere, isn’t there?