NOTE: If you are a prospective employer of mine, please skip the following paragraph. It is a boring story about something that reveals nothing of my ability to excel, put in a lot of hours, or work on a team.

Ok, now that we have only my confidants reading, I can speak freely. I was thinking the other day that a lot of employers like to see your web page, if you have one. I then “connected-the-dots,” and realized that if any of my prospective employers stumbled upon this page, they would immediately run my resume through the shredder. All I talk about are how many late days I take, and how bad my organizational skills are. So I figured I would “seed” this entry, similarly to how real estate dealers used to place gold nuggets in a mine that was for sale, or how Stanford University controls the weather during profro weekend to make sure the prospective frosh come. I’m pretty sure no profro in his right mind could pass up Stanford after a weekend like this. Which is why my profro might pass it up… Even as I type, he is sitting over on the couch, staring into space, which he seems to do a lot, when he’s not hurrying from one place to another with a downward stare so as to avoid eye contact. I tried to bring him out of his shell a little bit, but I guess when we locked him out of the room last night, and he had to sleep in the lounge without his sleeping bag, pillow, and stuff, I pretty much lost all influence I might have otherwise had. (It was an accident, really). Oh yeah, seeding.

Ok, glad to have you back, all you pro emps (Prospective Employers). I’ll continue with my random anecdotal thoughts that reveal elements of my character. I was thinking the other day how much I like to be productive, be self-motivated, and work well with others on large projects. Then I got this tickly feeling in my stomach, and I wondered what it was - it turned out to be creative energy driving me to succeed. Imagine that! Just the other day, I was talking to my friends Victoria, Aiko, and Anna (while we were steam tunneli.. ahh, working on a group programming project for fun). They always give me very candid evaluations of my stable character traits. So, they reached a consensus that I was goal-oriented, and did a very good job making my superiors feel intelligent and well-informed. It was a fun evening, and concluded with Victoria saying “Brad, you always get projects done on time! Bye!”

Ok, I figure employers will probably be very busy, and won’t make it to this paragraph, so I’ll return to my normal self now. I got a couple’a big booboo’s thanks to an attempted (failed) bike trick today. It was actually a routine curb jump (off the upward sloped part of a sidewalk exit), but I took it at too sharp of an angle, and landed leaning 45 degrees to one side. This resulted in the immediate expulsion of me from my bike. Fortunately, the asphalt broke my fall, and I only sustained a couple of bloody flesh wounds. I succeeded in having three bystanders ask me if I was all right (one even ran over to me!)

I drove up to hillside manor sometime after 2 AM, and talked a little while about the year. I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower, and makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her…

Sometimes Stanford Administration really sucks. Like when they got the brilliant idea to try and steal the huge, beautiful palm tree that is, no, used to be, sitting in the eating clubs lawn, and which I can, no, used to be able to see from where I am sitting now. Apparently the tree was planted in honor of the birth of the eating clubs, by the eating clubs. There is a lot of history associated with the EC’s, and that tree… well, that tree pretty much summarized it all, in a grand, tree-metaphor thing. So, the university is running short on palm trees for placement in their landscaping projects, and they cost $30,000 a pop full grown. One day at lunch, here comes a backhoe, and starts digging up the tree. The eating club managers make a valiant effort to save the tree, even going so far as to wave some official looking papers in the face of the foreman, but to no avail. Next came in a weird looking machine, kind of like a huge pair of forceps. The people in the know (those operating the machine) called it the “big-tree-grabber-thing.” So they proceed to grab the tree and snap it in half. Satisfied with a good day’s work, they leave without so much as an apology. If anyone with skills in the black arts, or with their own excercise video, is reading this, please put a hex on these people!

On a final side note, please be on the lookout for my shampoo. It has been missing for over two weeks now, but we haven’t given up hope. Please also be on the lookout for ChingWin Pei, alias CWP. She is wanted in connection with a case of vandalism on Toyon’s wall (it was “tagged” (gansta’ for painted) with CWP), which had to be repainted. Housing services must have imported hand blended paint from the slopes of the himalayas, because, like everything they charge us for, we were charged something outrageous. $200 per roof tile? And they have hundreds of them just sitting in the basement? Give me a break facilities dept!

Quote of the enlightened guru:

Professor Khuri-Yakub, on the subject of connecting a resistor in the lab to an extremely high voltage: “One femtosecond and you start to smell it.”

Danke Schoen, darlin, danke schoen. Auf Wiedersehen!