Canoodling the Negative

Canoodling the Negative

Another day gone by, another week spent in the quaint town of Franklin, TX.  I might as well take out a 2nd mortgage for my (ostensibly) 2nd home here.  Although, there is a faint, meagerly discernible splinter of daylight fracturing through the ominous stratus clouds.   My time here will progressively (hopefully?) diminish with each coming visit over the course of the next few months.  Like all business trips, I’ve gone through my Ike and Tina love/hate relationship with this assignment.  I’ve gone from feeling loathsome to growing acclimated to my surroundings out here.  Would I rather be in Atlanta?  “Hellz yeah” would be a massive understatement.  But, rather than canoodling the negative, I’ve chosen to fondle the positive.  The main positive being that this is a fairly important project of a larger scale – and I’m the lead engineer on it.  So, the better the project goes, the better it makes me look as an engineer.  So, I’m willing to be out here as long as they (reasonably) need me to be.

Kobe Hatin’.  It’s been all the rage ever since the fugly splitup between Shaq-Kobe-Phil took place years ago.  Once again, after Kobe having reached the NBA Finals for the 2nd consecutive year SS (Sans Shaq), the Kobe haters have resurfaced.  Anyone who knows me knows how much of a staunch fan and supporter I am of Kobe.  He is the most lethal asassin in the NBA.  No one matches his competitive drive.  Is he arrogant?  Yes.  At times selfish?  Yes.  Too predictable?  Yes.  Too corporate?  Yes.  Lacking in street cred?  Yes, yes, and yes.  But…so what?  These are the SAME adjectives that were sometime used to (quietly) describe Michael “His Airness” Jordan.  Yet, NBA fans globally were (and to an extent still are) enamored with him.  How folks LOVED Jordan, but hate Kobe is beyond me.  They are practically the same player.  Both have gone through controversial episodes in their lives (Kobe with the Colorado case and Jordan with the gambling and infidelity).  Both possess unmatched competitive drive that exemplifies their attitude toward opponents and, to a greater extent, what they expect out of their teammates.  People chastise Kobe for the way he berates teammates demanding perfection out of them.  Jordan was exactly the same way, if not more demanding of his teammates.  Jordan was the most arrogant (and obnoxious) player I have ever seen – but I was a big fan of Jordan, just as I am of Kobe.  Do not allow your rational opinion of Kobe to be diluted by his arrogant attitude,  competitive demeanor, and unrelenting insistence (and expectation) of perfection from his teammates.  Maybe folks feel the same way about Kobe that I do about Ryan Reynolds:  there’s something indescribably repugnant about him that I don’t like.  Or…they may feel the same contemptuous and venomous hate for Kobe that I do for Dane Cook.  Then again, even I’m capable of rescinding a marginal fraction of hate for Dane Cook if I was actually shown something where his performance DIDN’T defecate on the overall quality of the involved production.  So, maybe Kobe does have some hope after all.

T-Minus 2 1/2 weeks ’til I get my joint redecorated (phalanges intertwined).  I’ve grown slightly fatigued of inhabiting a joint with a dearth of furniture and an excess of echo.

Oddly enough, I had an odd sequence of dreams last night.  In short, during the course of my shut-eye solitude last night, Kobe failed to reach the first game of the NBA Finals, my green walls looked completely tan with reflected light, and my significant squeeze stood me up on a date (cold feet, maybe?).  As if it wasn’t enough to get anally raped in reality, I get chopped and screwed in my dreams too?  Oy vey.  Ay yi yi.  No worries, since I’m scrapin’ crust out of my eyes at around 5:30 every morning out here in Texas, these dreams are rather terse and lack any consequential longevity.  Regardless, an odd set of REM thoughts.  My eyes must’ve been horizontally gliding in opposing directions; intermittently darting back and forth under my eyelids.

I am a valence electron on the perimeter of the atom of cultural relevance.  Society and pop culture is gradually passing me by.  I don’t seem to keep on keepin’ on with nobody nor nothing.  I just heard about this whole Air France deal a few days ago – and still don’t know all the associated details.  The only reason I even knew about this was because a co-worker brought it up at the plant yesterday.  Then again, I’m the same cat who didn’t know that Lindsay Lohan was switch hittin’ until after she went back to tappin’ her cleats on only one side of the batter’s box.  I am definitely living OTP when it comes to having any knowledge of what’s happenin’ in the world of entertainment and pop-culture.

I just glanced over at the clock and realized that it’s 11 O’ Clock (Central Standard Time).  What exactly does that mean?  Bed time.  Time to enumerate Z’s.  A sign of the current times (no pun intended) and circumstances, I suppose.  I never thought I’d be consistently suckin’ face with my pillow at such a deliberately premature bedtime.  Then again, life on the road doesn’t exactly lend itself to a productively nocturnal lifestyle either.

Buenas noches.  ‘Sta luego.

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