Ginger is on top of a stuffed rabbit with a squeaker, looks like she’s sodomizing it. The rabbit has a cartoon eye, looks nonplussed. Ginger thrashes it to break the neck, sniffs its underside, walks off distracted, comes back. I… Read More ›
humor
Maps aren’t routes, just destinations
We sat Indian style in the dorm room listening to a band called Fugazi. We took it seriously; we were on to something. I read H.P. Lovecraft and woke from dreams about hidden passageways beneath my bed. Summer, 1990: surrounded… Read More ›
Applying group policy drive maps policy: rant on IT projects
I get to work and the repetition starts: unlock the filing cabinet, dock my laptop, CTRL + ALT + DELETE, enter password, wait. Scratch the days off the calendar, watch the script on the screen that explains why I’m waiting:… Read More ›
Life is a special occasion
I had a $150 gift card I got from work, for a high-end steak restaurant in Bellevue. It’s not the kind of place I would normally go, but figured we would make the best of it; it was a nice… Read More ›
A mouthful of slurry: on faking it
Fake It Till You Make It. That’s the best advice I got out of college, and it came from a guy selling knock-off perfume. He put an ad in the paper that got me to show up, along with a… Read More ›
Caught between the slide alder and Charybdis
Brad over-estimated my climbing abilities and I didn’t know enough to know I had, too. We got the idea to climb a couple peaks in the Olympic mountains in early November, which is hard because you have about half the… Read More ›
When a blogger dies, does anyone notice?
There are many parts of my life I can’t remember and there are many reasons for that. I’d like to think of my brain as a well-organized refrigerator: I can reach in there with my eyes closed, and know where… Read More ›
When nice guys fail
So I’m a nice guy, and I’m a project manager. If you can be both, I haven’t figured it out yet. Today I wasn’t a nice guy. I put the vendors on mute during an 8 AM conference call while… Read More ›
Sunbreak
Unsteady steps on a Saturday, counting the days down. Sunday’s trash night. Monday’s swimming, Tuesday’s soccer. I’ve grown to hate the pedestrians out here. Everything about the west coast I love but it’s the pedestrians, the way they gloat, the… Read More ›
Punk rock play in the suburbs
I don’t fit in here and I don’t want to. But I catch myself wearing my work badge on my belt and strolling out of the grocery store with my six-pack, and I bet the kids who bag and collect… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 