inspiration strikes - a break from the monotony

Friday, March 28, 2003

WORLDS COLLIDE

A while back, I posed a question, asking readers (both of you) whether or not your brick-and-mortar friends were privy to your weblog postings. Though some of my "real" friends now frequent this site, the realms of the virtual and the real have remained somewhat sequestered. Tomorrow night that will change when I grab dinner and drinks with a couple of marvelous web mavens I've yet to meet. It's like the meeting of the real world and the bizarro world; hopefully, with entertaining results.
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mattchun 3/28/2003 01:20:00 PM [+] ::
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PUNTING HIS JOB

For the past several months, JW, a laconic, though jovial fellow, has sat next to me at the office. Today was his second-to-last day, so a dozen of us went out to lunch at Naked Fish, by Faneuil Hall.

JW's family is from Finland and he's always wanted to live there. After much soul searching, JW decided to pack up his belongings and move away; he'll be flying to Helsinki with his wife and adorable daughter before you can say fjord.

It was a nice lunch. We talked about "old times" and the way things were back in the heady Internet boom days. After a leisurely repast, we strolled back to the office.

We got off the elevator and someone said "Wow, I can't believe tomorrow's your last day."

"Yes," I added, "you're almost at the Finnish line."
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mattchun 3/27/2003 02:31:00 PM [+] ::
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THE LESSON IS, NEVER TRY

Monday, I was asked to pitch in on the fourth week of a month-long consulting engagement -- I was called in on a "special assignment" of sorts. What does that mean? I have built a reputation as a guy who works hard and can get things done. Because of this terrible pedigree, I was roped in to put out some fires and fix a number of problems that, for a variety of different reasons, the original project team wasn't quite equipped to handle. I guess I'm the Winston Wolf of my little firm.

As cool as that sounds, the upshot is, I'm going to have a late night at the office tonight. I know now why the wolf howls at the moon -- it's his impending deadline.
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mattchun 3/26/2003 08:38:00 PM [+] ::
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THE EYES HAVE IT

It's said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I've heard of piercing stares, steely blue gazes, baby brown eyes and bedroom eyes; these are eyes that intimidate and entrance.

Recently, I was out in the bright sun, surrounded by glaring white snow, my only facial protection afforded by a pair of sunglasses. As a result, I have reverse raccoon eyes (reverse ocularis procyon lotor) a tan represented by ruddy cheeks but paler skin around the eyes.

Until this fades, I'm going to have a little trouble generating intimidating or alluring gazes with my peepers. "As she gazed into the mask of his raccoon eyes she was swept away -- and they retired to his hollowed out log."
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mattchun 3/26/2003 09:37:00 AM [+] ::
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VIN DIESEL AIN'T GOT NOTHIN' ON ME...

There were so many amusing things that happened to me this past weekend that it's worth mentioning one more. My friend Dan took some video of me attempting to get big air on the terrain park at Mount Snow. I watched some of the video today and there's a point in the jump (right about here) where I'm almost completely upside-down*. That's right, I'm extreme.

*Note: this is unintentional.
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mattchun 3/25/2003 10:54:00 AM [+] ::
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A DRUNKARD'S DREAM IF I EVER DID SEE ONE

Recalling this past weekend, Up On Cripple Creek by The Band just may be my favorite song to listen to while drinking in Vermont.
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mattchun 3/25/2003 09:41:00 AM [+] ::
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THE RING DIDN'T GET ME, BUT THE ALTERNATOR DID

This past weekend, I rode up to Vermont with three friends from work for the annual company ski trip. As we began the two-hour drive to Mount Snow, I murmured to my traveling companions that I had watched The Ring on video exactly seven days ago. The Ring foretold my death after (gulp) seven days.

Though unfazed while watching The Ring, riding up to Vermont in the darkness of late evening, my mind meandered almost as much as the winding backroads, conjuring images from the film. Horses padded nervously by the side of the road. Figures peered suspiciously from second story windows. Circles of light shrouded by suffocating blackness tumbled down the road ahead of us.

Just as my imagination began its sprint, our sedan began to slow, as if my racing mind was drawing away the car's essence. Our headlights, like a dying firefly, dimmed, fluttering on, then off, then on - then off. We were on a dark New England backroad and the battery was (gasp) dead.

We groped in the creeping darkness, clammy hands scouring for a light, a phone, an escape. Luckily, uncertainty was followed by small wins - someone found their phone - followed by larger victories (a flashlight) and the ordeal was soon over. We called AAA and were able to cram into another coworker's car, following twenty minutes behind.

The rest of the weekend was full of 'too's. I drank too much, stayed up too late, got up too early and skied too hard. I also had too much fun playing a game we discovered at Saturday night's watering hole. It involved a small metal ring, suspended from the ceiling by a string. The object of the game is to swing the ring and get it to catch on a hook found ten feet away. I was quite good at the game and won a beer on the merits of my skill.

You know, I guess a ring did get me after all.
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mattchun 3/24/2003 04:19:00 PM [+] ::
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