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July 20, 2004 // 7:55 a.m. // Every which way
I had an email exchange with someone yesterday that involved far too much sharing. Sharing of hidden links. Sharing of hidden stories. Sharing of hidden thoughts. I think like everyone who uses these (online journals or blogs of any kind), I share as much as I choose to. I pick the parts of my day that are interesting or funny or pertinent or even what makes the best story (like the KFC story a week ago). Speaking of KFC, I'm often accused of making the most inappropriate comments in real life. If you only knew the things I *didn't* say. For example, when I heard that Dale Earnhardt Jr. (who shills product for KFC) was involved in a fiery car accident, my first comment was, "it looks like he'll be promoting more extra crispy than original recipe chicken. Yeah, you could argue that it's in bad taste, but you could also argue that NASCAR is in bad taste too. I also had a long phone conversation with Stewie. For one, my cell phone speaker is horrible. I can never hear well in it. It used to be that I could talk on a bumpy bus with road noise with no problem. But now I can't even talk on the phone while the fan in my room is on. I bought one of those geeky headsets, not to talk while driving, but to talk while around the house. I look like I'm on some kind of important confrence call when I do it, but it's neccessary to avoid the problem of not being able to hear people. Well, I can hear people when I put them on speaker phone, but people don't seem to like that. I'm guessing it's because of the echo it creates. The first time I used it was with Chantilli and she audibly shrieked. But anyway, it's hard to hear Stewie when I talk to him, because he tends to mumble and his sentences change direction mid-sentence. Our conversations are much like Seinfeld, as they're generally about nothing. We talked for 38 minutes and I can't really tell what the conversation was about. I remember we mentioned Rhian, and I just know I'm going to accidentally mention or type her real name, whether it be here or in a conversation. Although I've known her by the name she goes by now for eight years and only knew her by the name I always think of when I see her for two years in junior high, it's still stuck in my head. Boy is this entry jumbled... My phone has this memo feature which allows you to record an audio message between fifteen and twenty seconds. I used this feature within days of getting my phone (as we only had a week or two left of the semester) while talking to Chantilli. I wanted to see if it could pick up a voice from a few feet away, because I knew it was good at recording me speaking directly into it. Recently, I accidently bumped the memo button, which still had all of these short audio clips of Chantilli stories and Chantilli-ism's and listened to them. I had forgot they were there since I recorded them more than eighteen months ago. It gave me a good laugh. I haven't talked to Chantilli in ages, and in this time of switching cell phone numbers like crazy, the number I have programmed in is probably someone else's. Easily 70% of my calls (though I've had my phone for as long as I have) are people asking for someone else. I especially liked the one for a guy named Mike that basically said, "we're at the club. Where the hell are you? Don't bail on us." I suppose it's time to call some of the people I have programmed into my phone, because my assumptions about why Britt hasn't called and why we haven't talked since October are starting to get to me.