Jeff Carter: dude seriously, everyone i can think of (except you) is on myspace…its a big fuck cult. so when are you making an account?

Stonebraker: I can’t make an account….I’ve stood firm for a long time

Jeff Carter: yeah, ok, i can respect that

Stonebraker: i just dont get what the big deal is…

Jeff Carter: leanne summed it up well. she said: “myspace is like running into someone you havent seen in a long time (and perhaps dont want to run into) and getting to tell them all the great things that are happening in your life and showing them how great you look w/o having to actually run into them”

Jeff Stonebraker: …but I fucking hate people

Jeff Carter: haha, i’m blogging that.

Jeff Stonebraker: fine but don’t just write this just in “Stonebraker fucking hates people”

the only thing i hate more than hearing people talk about how “hard” the Mac is to use is helping those same people do something on the mac…over the phone.

i can’t begin to tell you how glad i am that “american idol” is finally finished. i can now enjoy a few months without everyone insisting that televised karoke is the best of what’s around. besides that, isnt the format getting a little old? i just don’t see the appeal of mediocre performers singing songs i didnt like when they were “hits”, while a grumpy british guy tells them how crappy they are as the drunk ex-cheerleader sits there and tries to remember her name.

enough.

in other news, i’m becoming obsessive over my myspace profile. mandy thought it would be fun to call on her minions of floridians to be her “friend” on myspace in a feeble attempt to out popularize yours truly. what she doesnt realize is that i’m simply in the development stages of what will be the greatest myspace destination in all the land.

no amount of pandering to her blog audience will provide her with the numbers to surpass me. soon i shall revolutionize myspace much the same way i changed the blogosphere.

oh and yes, i am on medication for my delusions of grandeur.

so i know that burt reynolds is a crazy plastic-surgery-freak, but those miller lite “man law” commercials are fuck funny.

so lately i’ve been trying very, very hard to figure out this whole myspace thing. leanne’s been trying to get me caught up on what all the kids are into these days but i’ve admitedly resisted the myspace phenomenon at every step.

however, after talking with friends, it appears that everyone in my little circle snorts the crack that is myspace.

ok fine. i can be a follower too. so, i’ve got a myspace profile and leanne’s going to show me how to post those annoying questionnaires and glitter graphics etc. i fear this is the beginning of my first mid-life crisis.

i’m now the old guy on myspace.

if you’re a vegetarian/vegan, then new studies indicate that you’re 5x more likely to have twins–if you’re a woman of course. this is the first compelling reason i’ve ever heard to start downing meat…by the truckload.

how stupid does hbo have to be to cancel what could be its best show at the height of its creativity and popularity?

next week at this time, i’ll be in miami beach staying at this rock-star hotel. can you believe they’re paying me to go?

sorry for the lack of updates the past couple of days.

i’ve been playing with the new love of my life.

oh how i do love glossy-white-plastic.

these pages are thicker than most. but he can wait them out.

he can fill the air with blue smoke and lie still so that the night does not find him here.

alone.

it was the only way he could write.

listening to the melody that led him to her.

but to say that he sought her out would be unfair.

he didnt believe in destiny. but she was the antithesis.

it’s warmer now in his winter jacket. the one she picked out. the one he promised would take them on the trip she had longed to take.

but he still found excuses. still found ways of making their world a carbon copy of what he had grown up with, with what he had known.

i am so sorry for that.

the haze carries itself effortlessly in the late night draft, unaware of any greater purpose.

just
like
the
rest
of
us.

it’s friday, so you’ll never read it anyway.

in the morning, she would giggle while lying in bed.

not too loudly.

just enough to wake him before the sun could pull him from sleep. it was her way of starting their day. her way of never wasting a minute that they would soon share.

they would watch as their little one ran into their bedroom, jumping up into the bed and insisting on attention.

without saying a word they both knew that this was their life.

theirs to live.

theirs to love.

theirs to lose.

“…the way i used to laugh with you was loud and hard.“

faced with the reality that nothing exciting is happening in my life and unwilling to resort to the “i had toast for breakfast this morning” style of post, i’m going to embrace my lack of excitement and bore all of you to death w/ science-speak.

yep. i’m that desperate for content.

but seriously, when you spend 14hrs a day at school/lab there’s not a lot of time left for craziness. so instead, i’ll just share some exciting images coming out of our little lab.

EDIT: ok apparently, i can’t share any of the images from my research project w/ the world quite yet. some fine print about it can’t become public information until its presented at a scientific symposium, etc.

so being that i cant comment on what i’m doing specifically, let’s just say that i’m looking at prostate cancer and am working on new ways of tracking its growth, progression and metastasis. all with the hopes of developing a sexy new treatment modality.
what i can tell you is that when i saw the biopsy pictures under the microscope, i gave a nice loud, “oh fuck, yes!” much to the surprise of my colleagues.

more info once this is all disseminated at this symposium.

something has got to give with customer service.

as you may or may not know, i hate pseudo-corporate-sponsered-kindness. that is, when i walk into a store, i don’t care if i get greeted with an all too phoney “hello sir, how are you today?”

now, i’m all for please, thank you and other pleasantries, but i abhor scripted interest. i’ve got friends. i dont come here for friendship, i come here because you sell coffee for $6.

the second thing that has to change is the number of questions i get asked whenever i buy something at a retail store. for example, today i bought some of this stuff at the local mini mart. i was asked the following questions in the 30seconds i spent at the counter:

1. hello sir, how are you today?
2. did you find everything OK?
3. can i get you anything else?
4. do you have a frequent shopper card?
5. is that debit or credit?
6. is this total OK?
7. would you like cash back?
8. would you like a copy of your receipt?
9. would you like a bag?

ok, so i get that some of these questions are unavoidable but son of a bitch i’m just buying some tea! i dont need my hand held when i’m making a purchase. i’ve done this a million times before and i get how it’s supposed to work.

i remember when i was a kid my grandma always bitching about how cashier’s quit counting back her change the old-fashioned way. she would be so annoyed that they relied on the register and “trusted” the computer to do the math for her.

perhaps this customer service non-sense is my generation’s “counting back the change”.

god am i becoming a cranky old man or does this shit drive you nuts too?

God, how much do i want the rumors of the new MacBook to be true? Papa needs a laptop!

I swear, newspaper subscriptions are the biggest scam.

so it goes like this:

i decide i’m too snotty for the local paper or for that rag the LA Times. this is remedied by subscribing to the New York Times (the nation’s premiere newspaper) and through the wonders of modern technology they deliver the nyt to my socal doorstep each morning.

this priviledge is afforded to me for the low cost of $25 per month. so when i sign-up they give me the super promo price for a month or so and then start charging me the regular $1 per day rate.

a few months go by and gas prices soar and i’m feeling the financial crunch. so i call the nice lady at the times to drop my subscription and she tells me how valuable i am to the times and offers me the same service for $10 per month…for like 6 months. this gets me all happy and i hang up feeling the pride that a nyt subscriber always feels.

then i realize…i’ve been paying the “sucker rate” for like 3 months when i could have had the damn thing for like half? wtf.
moral of this long drawn out story is that subscriptions are for suckers. if you’re paying more than fifty cents for that newspaper you’re getting fucked.

you’ve been warned…now if you’ll excuse me i have to go read my newspaper.

and they’ve all moved on and only a select few look back…

“why am i dealing this feeling? i’m maxed out like a credit card. i continue to be my worst enemy. it’s easy but it seems so hard. you’re near but you really are so far away.”

a night spent alone rarely yields such emotion. tonight is different.

“another night slips away. there are no words i should say. if only time could reappear. something to take it away. don’t let it stay…

he’s moving on with bold refrain, his blatantly bold refrain is moving on.

something to take it away. something to take it away. don’t let it stay. don’t let it…

it starts stopping when it stops stopping. it only starts stopping when it stops stopping.”

ben kweller may be one of the best singer/songwriters that you are not listening to.

change that.

in case you haven’t laughed yet today, that crazy bastard Tom Cruise decided he would look cool if he went on BET…and danced like a white guy…a crazy whacked out scientology white guy, but a white guy nonetheless.

son of a bitch. if i get another email from flowers.com or proflowers or 1800flowers reminding me to buy my mom flowers for mothers day i’m going to lose my mind.

mothers day. got it! thanks mass email.

It seems these days that my life revolves around watching my favorite artists on NBC-variety-shows.

If you missed Pearl Jam on SNL, here’s video of their performance of “World-Wide Suicide”. If you can put up with Lindsey Lohan introducing the band, the rest kicks ass.