Twitter Addictions, Bambi and Dream On

Okay, Ill admit it:

I'm a Twitter addict.

I jumped on the wagon to see what the fuss is about and now I find myself learning the finer points of hashtags and retweets, sifting through the mindless drivel that most of the MLM guys post and wrestling with how to use this tool to my advantage. Will it help me sell a few more trade show exhibits? Perhaps. Will it keep me up to date and abreast on what absolute strangers are up to? Yes. But like Howard Stern's listeners, I want to know what's going to happen next.

You see, I am a no-nonsense type of guy. An intellectual figure who gets by on wits, my English degree, Rockstar Zero Carb, and my MacBook Pro. My office is my living room. Here's a shot of my view...everyday:

Let me tell you, this beats being in a cubicle. I have full access to my kitchen (right behind me), I have peace and quiet, and I don't have to deal with being pestered by corporate suck-ups who will do whatever it takes (including losing their identity and mores) to get ahead.

Ahhh the good life, right? Well, yes and no. I remember the steady paychecks and health insurance I used to get. They were great weren't they! I remember the smart people who saw the cracks in the system and tried to fix them with me. Yeah, I really miss corroborating with them. But I also saw the "lifers." Those folks who were complacent and just "happy to be employed." They reminded me of that old Monster.com commercial, where they had the little kids talking about how they wanted to "work their way up to middle management." That was true of my previous corporate employer. Imagine working in a place filled with people who were just happy to be there, satisfied with the banal, mediocre lives they were living. Day after day after day after day.

I digress.

So when Twitter hit the scene, I was really hesitant to join because a) I didn't know how this tool could be used -I was ignorant, like much of America probably still is about it- and b) it reminded me of someone who used to throw around a word that made my blood curdle.

Now we've probably all seen Bambi by now. If you are reading this post and you haven't been enlightened by one of Walt Disney's most controversial animated films, shame on your parents. How can they even look at themselves in the mirror? However, assuming that you have seen it, I'm going to press on like Lee's Nails.

I had this co-worker, one that I worked intimately with by no choice of my own, who really was a lifer. One day in a meeting, she used the word "twitterpated" and I about fell out of my seat. Ugggghhhh! That is such an ugly word. Why couldn't she have just said that so-and-so was "pissed off," or "flustered?" She had to go into the Bambi bag of vocab. She had to give me a reminder of her for the rest of my days.

I remember watching an episode of Dream On once, you remember, that old HBO series with Brian Benben as Martin Tupper. Well, he was trying to convince a black friend that he was hip to African-American culture by trying to use black slang, but he would overuse it and end up looking like a fool. The one incidence from that episode that has forever stuck in my mind was when he was eating some chips n' dip and he turns to his friend and says, "This dip is really....Def!" Now if you have ever seen the show, you'd know that the series is crammed full of hundreds of clips from all manner of old films, used as metaphors for Martin's reactions (hence the title). After he makes his remark about the dip, it cuts to a clip of an old film where a male actor says, "That's my word for the day." This is exactly what I thought of after hearing the word "twitterpated" come gurgling out of her lips.

However this wasn't her word of the day. No, this word became her word of the week, month, year, you name it! What was a boy to do, but carry around a pail to meetings so I could deposit my lunch into it. Ahhh, corporate America...why did I leave?

So you can imagine how difficult it is when I hear all these variations of Twitter apps and devices used for twittering (or is it tweeting?...who knows what the preferred nomenclature is). It brings back memories that need not be resurrected. I laid them to rest over a year ago, but like Lazarus, they find a way to live. The saddest part is that I am addicted to Twitter. So i have a feeling that these memories aren't going away anytime soon.

Does anyone out there know a good hypnotist?

You Wanna Know Why I Hate the Lakers?

Hate.
Such a strong word. Such a powerful word. Such an overused word.

"I hate lima beans."

"I hate James Blunt."

"I hate it when my hair flips out on the sides."

People toss the word around everyday, just as common as the sun rises and sinks. You know the saying that it takes more work to love than it does to hate? Well, it takes more effort to discuss the pleasantries of life than it does to rip on the neo-maxie zoomed dweebie who works in Membership Accounting while huddled around the water cooler with your work cronies. I mean seriously, is it cool to rip on everyone and everything because you think it sounds cool to? It's like that scene in Hitch when Albert and Alegra go to the art show and he meets those two poseur friends of hers...negativity personified. Egads! (or Egan!)

The answer is "sometimes." Yes, hate is a household word. Like Bubba Gump Shrimp, or Sham-WOW. It rolls off the tongue without hesitation. Yours truly has fallen victim to the hate bug from time to time. One of those times was last night.

I attended a viewing of Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals (WCF) between the Denver Nuggets and the LA Lakers last night at my friend James' place. A small congregation of 30-somethings with an interest in seeing a decent game take place. What I saw...was a flashback!

[enter wacky arm motions, ala Wayne's World]

The year was 2000. The date was Sunday, June 4. The place was my friend Garon's living room. The situation was Game 7 of the WCF between the Lakers and our hometown Portland Trailblazers. The outcome was a fourth quarter, double-digit collapse by the Blazers, resulting in a series ender and eventual championship for the Lakers that year, the first of three straight for both Shaq and Kobe.

I thought I had a good handle on my hate thresholds prior to that day, but I was wrong. We we're all wrong. I had found a new reason to hate...a new vitriol so pure that nobody could ever claim it as their own. Nope. No way on God's green earth that you could ever exorcise me of the ill-will I wanted to inflict upon every player on that team (even A.C. Green!). Kobe and Shaq stole something from me that day. I was robbed.

Then came 2003. Kobe Bryant's sexual assault of a spa employee in Colorado hit the headlines. I hated this guy even more. Where does he get off thinking that the world revolves around him? There is a special place in my heart for people like that. Wait, no, there is a special place in my toilet for people like that! What a dirtbag! Yes the charges of rape were dropped, but I have my suspicions, plus the guy is still an adulterer. Shame on him. How dare he! It was all fuel for my hate fire.

So you can understand my feelings last night when Kobe scored the last four points for his team in a narrow two point victory over a very resilient Nuggets squad. I really hate this guy. I really hate the purple and yellow and I really hate that this douche bag gets to win championships. Hate, hate, hate, hate! I know that there are at least three more games to play, but if they end the way this one did, I'm going to have find an outlet for my frustration.

Maybe I'll write a song about my distaste for the Lakers? Maybe I'll quit my job as a seller of trade show exhibits and accessories and travel the world telling people how much I hate pompous Kobe and the Lakers.

Or maybe I just write about it, go have a beer and put on some James Blunt records!

Timeshare Fraud

I own a timeshare. Correction: Wifey and I own a timeshare. Bought it on our 1 year anniversary in Maui. We went into Boss Frog's in Kahana just to rent some snorkel gear and the guy at the register roped us into attending the "1-2 hr presentation." Gave us free snorkel gear + $100 cash! How could we say no? Okay, we'll go, listen, then split, right?

Wrong!

We bought into the Tahiti Village Resort (above, right) in sunny Las Vegas! It actually is a decent place. We took the boys there last year on a family vacation. However, who wants to go to Vegas once a year? Sure you can trade your week and go someplace else, but it costs more. Plus, three days in Vegas is enough for me, let alone a full week! Can't we just sell this thing already?

You wouldn't believe how many phone calls I get asking me to sell our timeshare. It's ridiculous! I believe it all started when I actually put it up for sale on one of these Web sites you see advertised on TV (first red flag).
Little did I know, there are companies out there that surf the timeshare sales Web sites and contact the sellers and offer to put your property in front of "prospective buyers" instead of just some Web site that nobody's going to see. Of course, their fee is about double what you just paid to Company A. This non-refundable "marketing fee" is bogus and a scam!

Sad to say, I think I got taken. The jury is still out on that though. If they don't bring me an acceptable offer in 180 days, I get a full refund. Let's just hope the company still exists in 180 days!

In these times, owning a timeshare is like owning a Hummer when gas is $4.50/gallon. It is a luxury and a draining one at that. With the maintenance fees alone, I could take the wife to the coast for the weekend and stay in a really nice room at the Inn at Spanish Head or someplace comparable. So why do I still own this thing you ask? Why haven't I sold it? I'll tell you why: nobody's buying!

So I just continue to make my payments and hope that the economy shores up and I can get rid of this thing before it eats me alive. It's in Las Vegas, so it shouldn't be that hard to unload you'd think. In the meantime, until I sell a few trade show exhibits, like some larger 20' hybrid displays, I'm pretty much praying that this thing doesn't kill me.

If only we would have went to Lahaina to rent snorkel gear...
I could be telling you stories about the fish we saw, not the sharks!

Travis and Coraline

Seeing friends you haven't seen in a while is a good thing. Seing them two nights in a row is even better. Being part of a historic night for said friends is even better than that.
My friend Travis sacrificed 3 years of his life in making a wonderful bit of film that is Coraline. For once my mind wasn't on hybrid displays, or trade show exhibits, but rather taking my family out for a night they would never forget.
What a movie. Revolutionary. To think, it all started out in 7th grade when Trav built a road from his sand castle to mine on our beach retreat. From there we have built a relationship that will never die. I am proud of my friend. His talent never ceases to amaze me.