It’s kind of funny: actually those are my middle names.
Along with Danger.
My brand-new Roller Derby Name is Action DominateHer.
Take MIA PSYCHO’S ROLLER DERBY NAME GENERATOR today!
Created with Rum and Monkey‘s Name Generator Generator.
Category Archives: raincoaster
drunkblogging FTW!
What, exactly, does it say about me that I make more sense, using more complex syntax and a more sophisticated vocabulary, when I’m drunk than when I’m sober?
The proof:
Once I sober up from the cheap Cab Sauv, I’ll come back with something useful, but for now think of it like this:
I have both the Manual of Afghani Jihad and the Japanese Kamikaze Manual documents, and I have done a presentation around the fact that both of these put technology in a spiritual context. The central thesis of that presentation is that if Western, secular military forces had something that spiritually compelling we would have no recruiting or morale problems.Apple, for good or ill, offers that spiritual dimension, and has done so since the “do you want to sell sugar water or do you want to change the world” days.Respect.
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raincoasterrolled
via Valleywag and cross-posted to TeenyManolo
So that’s twice in my life. I think that’s a respectably low number of times, and I still owe AA for the first one. That’s not Alcoholics Anonymous (where would *I* ever encounter such people?) it’s Aquarian Angel. As with many of my good friends, I don’t know her actual name; well, I know 50% of it, but I also know she’s both extremely closety about her online life and armed with a shotgun she calls “Betsy.” Why do they always give them girl’s names? Is it like hurricanes or something, where you just look at it and know it’s a “Louisette” or “Martha” or something?
Where was I? Oh, yes: on painkillers.
Mention should be made (today I was out at a client’s, teaching them all about blogging and you just KNOW that mention was made of avoiding the passive voice) of the fact that today my fine heinie is featured over at the Grassy Knoll Institute. Where he got the photo I have no idea, but what can I say? After the winter we’ve had, the tramp stamp needed to be let out for some fresh air.
And this concludes our coverage of April 1, 2008.
Quiz: what will the movie of your life be called
Here we present a soothing balm to the surprisingly incendiary in a Cute Overload sort of way quiz: which movie do you belong to? featured earlier.
Stolen from Mia’sMadness
There, isn’t that just so much better?
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I found my dream job!
But before I get into that, let me tell you about raincoaster.
Not this one.
This one:
Username: raincoaster19 Jan 2008
Gender: Man Income: Please ask me Age: 55 Located in: Abbotsford, NA, Canada Title:
New register member of nudistfriends.com. – http://www.NudistFriends.com/
Just for the record and so there is no confusion, that is not me. Nor is the one in the Tiffany Pollard sex tape.
No, for realz.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, pontificating about having found my dream job. Longtime raincoaster fans (at least, fans of THIS raincoaster, not those ones) will know that the liquor cabinet (okay, safe) at global HQ is not quite as full as it could be, owning to a tragic lack of prosperitousness; indeed, it could well be said that, most remarkable among my many in-and-of-themselves-remarkable talents is the ability to avoid so much as the very appearance of capitalizing on any of the other skills and abilities, let alone the actuality of theredoing.
Even my marvelous tits.
Consequently, I have pursued many strange and increasingly bizarre job opportunities. There was the time the Russian Mafia wanted to hire me to write high school essays to be sold online; it took quite a bit of doing, including the doing of threatening an EI officer with arrest, which is, frankly, something I do not generally restrain myself from when it is good and warranted, and, indeed, enjoy, to get the dadgum gummint to admit that I couldn’t be thrown off EI for refusing to accept an illegal job with the kneecappers from Moscow. There was Occupational Pursuit, the magazine for job hunters, which commissioned several months’s columns in advance of publication and then went belly-up before opening its doors. There was the Spiderwick resume, of which I am still justly proud and convinced that thing wouldn’t be DOA if they’d hired me. There was the pitch for an online Daily Prophet, complete with really-quite-amusing-and-pitch-perfect-if-I-do-say-so-myself columns from Snape and Hagrid which I note I have failed to post on this blog, an omission which shall soon be rectified for lo, they are very funny.
There was this.
But, at last, there was The Manolo. And he said unto me, go forth and post! Save the little chillens from the scourge of Crocs! And he saideth also unto moi, ayyyy, I tire of sifting through Britney’s crotch shots and we all know what your standards are like, so would you manifest thy superfantasticness and take this spiritual burden off my hands? and so it came to pass.
But it was not enough.
Soon, very soon, I shall be babysitting a blogging lab on behalf of the Fearless City project, although what I shall do if it happens to fall on the 21st of February I do not know, for verily it is completely unthinkable that I shall miss a tiki party, particularly one with a buffet. But it’s money, blog money, which is better than blood money if a few orders of magnitude less lucrative.
But, alas, today my very favoritest kind of client, the kind who is nice and friendly and dutiful and who thinks I am a genius and who always pays in cash, immediately, bailed fifteen minutes before the meeting. So there goes the budget for this week.
So, today I find a dream job posted. Really, truly: a dream job. God knows, I’m agnostic when it comes to riches, so they don’t factor into the equation here. But it’s an incredibly high-profile, paid, full-time blogging gig at a place where I’m already somewhat known (Denton was my first follower, although whether that’s good or bad is anyone’s guess) where I know about the management and staff, and it is a site that I adore. That’s the good news.
The bad news is, anyone taking this position is essentially stepping over the still-twitching corpse of Mark Lisanti, perhaps the best writer in the blogosphere. Maybe it was murder; maybe it was suicide. Maybe he’s following his dream and the Sanjaya tour bus to strip malls across the continent. Who knows?
But the net effect is, rather than slavering over my keyboard as I frantically surf through the blogs for writing samples of the very cleverest link roundup in the history of gossip blogs as I have done for so many other Gawker Media openings, I find myself wishing for a monstrously large bottle of Jack Daniels to drink down and then crawl inside and sob.
So, fuck that with a chainsaw.
I’m going for this job instead.
Job specs: work vampire hours, take no shit, bust balls, wear fabulous clothes, attack people inferior to me, then tie them up and ignore them and get paid $185 per hour plus tips. And since it looks like one of their staff will be away on hiatus for 5-15, it’s got a solid future.
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raincoaster 