Hot Robot on Robot Action

I've been having trouble writing lately.

You know, I don't really do it anymore, which is pretty obvious from this site.

But it's not my fault. Ok, it it my fault. But I have an explanation. All I do is work work work and I'm learning all this crazy shit and you know what you're doing is crazy when building the crazy shit isn't even the issue, it's building the tools to begin building the framework for the crazy shit that is daunting...

So whenever I start to write it's just blah blah XML data intertwingularity blah blah XSLT blah blah dammit ben I don't want a garden of pristine crystalized data structures blah blah blah, blah blah blah perl.

I work too much. This week was a heavy thinking and designing week. My head hurts. That sounds so completely stupid, but it's true. The massive amount of crazy planning makes my head hurt at times. Yummy yummy, creating disruptive technologies that suck data from every which where and spanking it around into xml and doing wild wacky stuff and connecting and interconnected tools and sites and wowzers. Wowzers. I love my job and I love my company and I love what we're doing. Yay. But see, no... no worky work talk because this is a texty text and this is about my wacky misadventures.

But I just can't seem to work up a coherent texty text adventure - this is more like a shitty clip show. Bleh. Sorry, no fun-filled wacky misadventures.

So I made this stupid comment at lunch one day and decided to post it to the weblog. Because you know, that's what makes weblogs so great these days, I, adam "total idiot knows nothing about women" mathes, can post stupid comments I made passingly at lunch that I found "funny" and people will not only read it, but real, live, actual people will write on their little weblogs that it's "genius," still others will get "super peeved" and write about it. It's a riot.

I could go into the discussion and provide context to the girls are crazy or boring comment, but that would require actual story-telling, and remember, this is the shitty, crappy, boring, clip-show texty-text, so that's out. Anyway, there's this corollary to the theory, although I don't have quite as much info to back it up, and it's still being developed. Of course, once I announced it here it'll ruin it, but whatever. It's not like there's "real content" to put here instead.

So, anyway, the corollary to the theory states that if you ask a girl whether she agrees or disagrees with the theory that all girls are either crazy or boring, if her response is that she agrees, she's crazy. For example andrea. If she disagrees, she's boring.

I'm not quite sure where connie's "i'm boring and crazy" response fits into that whole thing... but you know, the corollary still needs some work, and I don't think Connie is boring anyway.

Of course, the only correct response is "adam, you're a fucking idiot."

I did my laundry a few days ago. Ben and I have a washer but no dryer, so for the first time in my life I hung clothes outside on a clothesline to dry. It was the most wonderful thing. I don't understand it but for a few minutes I just outside in the hot Texas air, clipping up my t-shirts to draw, and I just took a deep breath, and everything was great. It was peaceful and beautiful and simple, and I just sort of realized that I loved it. And I really love this. I like it here. I like what I'm doing here. I'm pretty happy with my life right now, even though I don't know what the hell I'm doing. That's ok, I'm more content with my life than I have been a long time.

Even though it's Friday night and my nerdy friends and I just walked around a lake and got crappy pseudo-diner food and did not have wild crazy fun or meet hot hott girly girls.

It's all ok though, because there is hot hott robot action going on in the living room. The sad part is that it's more fun to just put the stupid game on demo mode and watch than play it.