First things first: If you haven’t heard any of , I highly recommend it. He’s got a blues/funk/soul/hip-hop beat that I really enjoy. Check out if you’re interested.
I’m still waging war with my cold/flu. The only good thing I can come up with about being sick is the fact that it’s a great excuse to be lazy. Besides coming to work I haven’t done much except watch movies, eat soup, drink O.J., play on the computer, and sleep. Normally I feel guilty for having such a lackadaisical routine, but not this week.
Speaking of waging war, it’s going to be hard to stay off my telemarketer soapbox in this online journal. Matter of fact, I could open up an entirely new journal dedicated to blow-by-blow instant-replay of telemarketer stupidity; I’ll try not to go that far. I get anywhere from 4-6 telemarketing calls a day. I recently got fired up enough to track down the , which is now posted next to the phone in my apartment. When I get bored I’ll answer a telemarketer call (in varying accents- Bavarian is my personal favorite) and give them a hard time. Yesterday I informed someone that I would indeed like to purchase a new cellphone; the lady was obviously excited until I informed her I was a Mongolian Sheep Herder and would only be able to pay with wool. I know that by answering and talking to them it confirms that my phone number is valid, but it’s worth it in my book. Maybe telemarketers used to have normal jobs until they got inundated with telemarketing calls and decided to take up the profession to exact their revenge, who knows. Sounds like the chicken before the egg, though, so I guess that theory’s out.