Posted 2:43 AM by Anonymous

Knock, knock. Hello? It’s been quiet around here lately.

What with our creator taking a leave of absence, some writers leaving and yet others (me) being too caught up in our own lives, this page feels a little lonely.

I’ve had quite a bit going on. And this time in a rather good way. Very quickly, I almost broached the subject of a relationship but pulled back before I let myself get embroiled in an another sticky mess. (Thank God for my sane mind and ability to be alone, not always half of a pair). But I’m left with a good friend, someone to help me make my days here a little more meaningful.

I spent an inspiring, rejuvenating weekend, reuniting with my best girl friends from college. For the first time in 3 years, I realized that any petty scraps we’d had, any barriers I still put up with them were gone. And all I felt was an amazing calm, a perfect connection with the people who knew me at my worst and still loved me, with the people I’d spent 4 of my most defining years. The myriad of memories we have seem unattianable now with anyone else and I’m left in a sort of funk – unwilling to adjust to the thought of having anyone else in my life except these few perfect soulmates.

What I marveled at is the fact that we’d each gone our separate ways in those 3 years; each chosen different vocations, each had different trials come our way – death, break ups, moves to new countries and cities. But somehow, when we were together, we were all the same people we’d been before. It was so ... EASY. I needed no inhibitions around these people, no uncomfortable silences, no readjusting my wavelength to suit theirs. It was, well, it was like being with family.

It’s taken me several tragedies, a whole year of feeling out of place and a lot of growing up. But I’ve finally come to truly appreciate the friends I’d been blessed with when I first stepped onto Cornell’s grounds. Ok, I’ve just made myself all melancholy and emotional again. I need to go write these girlies and tell them exactly how much I love and appreciate them.

In the meanwhile, I hope it doesn’t get too lonely here. In a way, we’re all searching for that connection again. And perhaps this page can be our stepping stone to that.

Lates people .

Posted 3:15 PM by Blah blah

Why Amanda Marsh Broke Up with Alex Michel. Alex Enters Soft Porn.

For all who keep coming to this site looking for "Amanda Marsh," here is why she broke up with Alex Michel, The Bachelor from the first ABC TV version.

- BACHELOR-RAT (NY Post): "A 'bitter' Amanda Marsh says she ended her relationship with The Bachelor star Alex Michel when she discovered he had slept with runner-up Trista Rehn during the reality show last spring."
- Bachelor Breakup (Entertainment Tonight): "She was shocked to discover that her 'San Francisco-based management consultant' was desperate for fame, and had even auditioned for Survivor before turning his sights on The Bachelor for his big Hollywood break. Amanda concludes, 'I guess I really don't know him well at all.'...Amanda still speaks to Alex, but says she could see that without the cameras, the romance was growing strained."
- Winner Of First 'Bachelor' Talks About Life After The Show (Kansas City Channel).

Not only was Alex a jerk, he has now entered the world of soft porn disguised as independent film. Looking through my favorite independent film site, AtomFilms, my jaw dropped when I found Alex Michel's film debut: Our Very First Sex Tape. You may watch it on the Net if you wish. No nudity, dumb script, and tasteless.

Way to go with your Harvard and Stanford education, Alex!

Posted 10:31 AM by Blah blah

More of my friends are getting laid off. Boy do I feel lousy. In that spirit, here's a great San Francisco ad from Craigslist:

You checked out my ass, how about my resume?

Me: thin young white guy 25, 6', 150lb; muscular, sexy, unemployed

You: manager/HR/executive looking person on the N Judah, 6 PM today

You checked me out as I got on, and stared at my ass from Embarcadero to Civic Center. You kept looking at my face and hands as I stood nervously, seeking your approval. Would you contact me? Can we meet up?

I think I've emailed you; at least the chances are good. I've sent my resume to most every valid email address on the 415 side of the Bay Area's OC-3's. I'm hungry for work. I do IT. I can network most anything. I can design web pages. I can reboot NT boxes, though I would rather work with Mac OS X. But hell, who says my needs are important? I want to serve yours.

Rendezvous with me for a casual interview. I can fulfill all your fantasies. I'll whisper in your ear sweet promises: "you can have a Macintosh on your desk. I will make it happen; I will make it work. I'll show you how."

I'll load up your computer with software I picked up from my last employer. Heck, I won't even roll my eyes when you open macroviruses in Outlook. I'll just be glad to keep busy serving your needs. I need you, really I do. I miss being in a relationship. Being needed. Being courted by employees in search of backup retrievals, regardless of the reason. Being honored and lauded after solving the simplest of problems for end users. Yes, I can get back your bookmarks. I can get that screwed up Word file to print. Yes, I can set up a secure VPN to your home so you can check Outlook email over your DSL connection.

I will shake your toner cartridges with passion; I will replenish your consumables. I will crawl under your desk and gently straighten your cables, all if you let me. Choose me from the thousands of resumes that fall off your desk. I am special. I am proficient. And I am a hot young man who will excite you every time you call me over for assistance with your palm pilot.

But you have to make the first step. I can only help you if I have a place in your company. I long for it; I yearn to be needed by you and to fulfill your demands. Hire me, promote me, send me emails asking for help and I will solve your problems.

But first you must read my resume and be impressed. Please, take the leap, reach out and grasp those sheets of earnest sincerity, the outpouring of my strengths, optimized for OCR scanning. Let me shower you with my experience; meet with me and ask me about my weaknesses and all those other hard interview questions that no one has asked me for so long.

I've ejaculated more this week than I've interviewed in the last year. I am so inexperienced. Take my hand and help me through it. You can stare at my ass the whole time. I won't complain. I won't even file a grievance. Not for the first six months. You can even walk up to my desk and touch my hand as you ask for help with your PowerPoint slides. Massage my neck as I install service packs on your laptop.

I can do anything. I'll set up a wireless network for you. I will add sets to your PBX. Shoot, I'll set up IP Telephony phone sets if you want me to. I'll videotape meetings and stream them on the Intranet for telecommuters. I am a genius. I am pretty attractive. And I have nice abs.

Posted 9:32 AM by Blah blah

Christina and Mt. Lu Shan Pictures

My friend Christina just returned from a four-day trip to Lu Shan. Mount Lu Shan is one of China's most famous mountains, in the Jiangxi province of southern China. I roughly translate what she wrote. Correct me, Jane:

"I came back dirty from travelling to Mount Lushan. Was black and thin too. Because we are weary, my heart is extremely tranquil. Now if someone specially heavy attacks me, I think I can withstand it. All of us felt we did not have the strength to smile.

Mount Lushan loves or I very small time looks. I vaguely remembered Zhang Yu the lens which swims in the water, has romantic which that the select action comes out. The year before last, my mom stayed there one week. I hadn't heard a good description from her about what to see there. Only when I went myself, I discovered that although Mount Lushan is famous for greatly realistic condition actually endless people's desires, we found something we could not have imagined. Walking down hungry and without enough sleep, walking with the tourguide's buttocks behind, it opens your eyes hugely. Your eyes see, throughout the mountains and plains, the same people (particularly on the first day), the same crowds on the bus. Frequently one person would stop at a scenic spot for a long pose, would observe the periphery---boy I hated that!

But Mount Lushan's night gave me an extremely good impression. In the nighttime sky, visibility is high, everywhere stars glitter, gains ground looks makes the one have the kind soars but the potential."

She posted 59 Lu Shan pix.

Here are all of Christina's photo albums:

- Trip to Mount Lu Shan (Aug. 2002).

- Christina alone

- At the gym

- Grace, Grace's fiance, and Christina (Her best friend, Grace, recently got engaged!)

- Her older pix

- Soccer game

- Friends

- Trip to Thailand (Feb. 2002)

- Business trip to Shanghai

- Nanjing

- Camping, Anhui and Zhejiang provinces

- Sanya, Hainan province (Aug. 2001)

- Tibet (taken from other sources)

All look VERY cute!

Posted 1:17 AM by Blah blah

Here's one of the best radio plays I've ever read. Imagine yourself curled up in bed, in the dark. Agnes Moorehead originally played the main role. Please take your time to read it. Raymond presents:

Sorry, Wrong Number

SOUND: Number being dialed on telephone -- then a busy signal.

MRS. STEVENSON (a querulous, self-centered neurotic): Oh -- dear ... !

SOUND: Slams down receiver impatiently and dials operator. Rings four times.

OPERATOR (on filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Operator, I've been dialing Murray Hill 7-0093 now for the last three quarters of an hour and the line is always busy. I don't see how it could be busy that long. Will you try it for me, please?

OPERATOR (on filter): I will be glad to try that number for you. One moment, please.

SOUND: Operator dials number under following:

MRS. STEVENSON (rambling, full of self-pity): I don't see how it could be busy all this time. It's my husband's office. He's working late tonight, and I'm all alone here in the house. My health is very poor and I've been feeling so nervous all day.

OPERATOR (on filter): Ringing Murray Hill 7-0093.

SOUND: Telephone ringing. All clear. Mrs. Stevenson sighs in relief. Rings four times. The receiver is picked up at the other end.

MAN'S VOICE (filter) (heavy, tough voice): Hello?

MRS. STEVENSON: Hello...? (a little puzzled): Hello. Is-is Mr. Stevenson there?

MAN'S VOICE: (as though he had not heard): Hello? (louder) Hello?

2ND MAN'S VOICE (filter) (also over telephone but farther away. A very distinctive quality): Hello.

1ST MAN: Hello. George?

GEORGE: Yes, sir. This is George speaking.

MRS. STEVENSON (louder and more imperious): Hello. Who's this? What number am I calling, please?

1ST MAN: I'm here with our client.

GEORGE (pleased): Oh ... good. Is everything okay? Is the coast clear for tonight?

1ST MAN: Yeah, George. He says the coast is clear for tonight.

GEORGE: Okay, okay.

1ST MAN: Where are you now?

GEORGE: In a phone booth. Don't worry. Everything's okay.

1ST MAN: Very well. You know the address?

GEORGE: Yeah, yeah, I know. At eleven o'clock the private patrolman goes around to the bar on Second Avenue for a beer.

1ST MAN: That's right. At eleven o'clock.

GEORGE: I will make sure that all the lights downstairs are out.

1ST MAN: There should be only one light, visible from the street.

GEORGE: Yeah, yeah, I know. At eleven-fifteen a train crosses the bridge. It makes a noise, in case her window's open and she should scream.

MRS. STEVENSON (shocked): Oh! ... Hello? What number is this, please?

GEORGE: Okay. I understand, I tell you. That's eleven-fifteen, the train.

1ST MAN: Yeah. You remember everything else, George?

GEORGE: Yeah, yeah, I make it quick. As little blood as possible ...

MRS. STEVENSON gasps in horror.

GEORGE: ... because ... (as if amused) our client does not wish to make her suffer long.

1ST MAN: That's right. You'll use a knife?

GEORGE: Yes. A knife will be okay. And afterwards I remove the rings and the bracelets and the jewelry in the bureau drawer. Because ... our client
wishes it to look like simple robbery. Don't worry. Everything's okay. I never ma--

SOUND: The conversation is suddenly cut off. Again Mrs. Stevenson hears a persistent buzzing signal.

MRS. STEVENSON (clicking phone): Oh... ! Oh, how awful. How unspeakably awful!

SOUND: She hangs up, then picks up phone and dials, mumbling "Operator" to herself, among other things. Ring thrice.

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON (unnerved and breathless): Operator, I've just been cut off.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. What number were you calling?

MRS. STEVENSON (rapidly): Why, it was supposed to be Murray Hill 7-0093 but it wasn't. Some wires must have crossed -- I was cut into a wrong number and
I -- I-I've just heard the most dreadful thing -- something about a-a murder and -- operator, you simply have to retrace that call at once!

OPERATOR (filter): I beg your pardon? May I help you?

MRS. STEVENSON (frantic): Oh, I know it was a wrong number, and I had no business listening, but these two men -- they were cold-blooded fiends -- and
they were going to murder somebody, some poor innocent woman, who was all alone in a house near a bridge and we've got to stop them -- we've got to --

OPERATOR (filter) (patiently): Uh, what number were you calling, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, that doesn't matter. This was a wrong number. And you dialed it for me. And we've got to find out what it was immediately!

OPERATOR (filter): What number did you call?

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, why are you so stupid? What time is it? Do you mean to tell me you can't find out what that number was just now?

OPERATOR (filter): I'll connect you with the Chief Operator.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, I think it's perfectly shameful. Now, look. Look -- it was obviously a case of some little slip of the finger. I told you to try
Murray Hill 7-0093 for me. You dialed it but your finger must have slipped and I was connected with some other number -- and I could hear them, but they
couldn't hear me. Now, I-I-I simply fail to see why you couldn't make that same mistake again on purpose -- why you couldn't try to dial Murray
Hill 7-0093 in the same sort of careless way --

OPERATOR (filter): Murray Hill 7-0093?

MRS. STEVENSON: Yes!

OPERATOR (filter): I'll try to get it for you.

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, thank you.

SOUND: Operator dials -- then the busy signal.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. Murray Hill 7-0093 is busy. I'll call you in twenty minutes--

MRS. STEVENSON (frantically clicking receiver): Operator! Operator! Operator!
Operator!

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: You didn't try to get that wrong number at all. I asked you explicitly and all you did was dial correctly.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. What number are you calling?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, can't you, for once, forget what number I'm calling and do something for me? Now I want to trace that call. It's my civic duty and it's your civic duty to trace that call and to apprehend those dangerous killers -- and if you won't...

OPERATOR (filter): I will connect you with the Chief Operator.

MRS. STEVENSON: Please!

SOUND: Rings four times.

MRS. STEVENSON (under her breath): Oh, dear ...

SOUND: The phone picks up.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): This is the Chief Operator.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, uh, Chief Operator. I want you to trace a call, a telephone call, immediately. I don't know where it came from, or who was making it, but it's absolutely necessary that it be tracked down. Because it was about a murder that someone's planning -- a terrible, cold-blooded murder of a poor innocent woman, tonight, at eleven-fifteen.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): I see.

MRS. STEVENSON (high-strung, demanding): Well, can you trace it for me? Can you track down those men?

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): I'm not certain. It depends.

MRS. STEVENSON: Depends on what?

CHIEF OPERATOR: It depends on whether the call is still going on. If it's a live call, we can trace it on the equipment. If it's been disconnected, we can't.

MRS. STEVENSON: Disconnected?

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): If the parties have stopped talking to each other.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, but of course they must have stopped talking to each other by now. That was at least five minutes ago and they didn't sound like the type who would make a long call.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): Well -- I can try tracing it. May I have your name, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Elbert Stevenson. But, listen --

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter) (interrupting): And your telephone number, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Plaza 4-2295. But if you go on wasting all this time --

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): Why do you want this call traced, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Wha--? I-- Well -- no reason. I-I mean, I merely felt very strongly that something ought to be done about it. These men sounded like killers -- they're dangerous, they're going to murder this woman at eleven-fifteen tonight and I thought the police ought to know.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): Have you reported this to the police?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well ... No. Not yet.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): You want this call checked purely as a private
individual?

MRS. STEVENSON: Yes, yes. But meanwhile --

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry, Mrs. Stevenson, but I'm afraid we couldn't make this check for you and trace the call just on your say-so as a private individual. We'd have to have something more official.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, for heaven's sake. You mean to tell me I can't report that there's gonna be a murder without getting tied up in all this red tape? Why, it's perfectly idiotic! (beat) Well, all right. I'll call the police.

CHIEF OPERATOR (filter): Thank you. I'm sure that would be the best way to--

SOUND: She slams down receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON: Ridiculous! Perfectly ridiculous!

SOUND: She dials Operator. Rings five times.

MRS. STEVENSON (under her breath): The thought of it! ... I can't see why I have to go to all this trouble... (impatient at the third ring) Oh ...!

SOUND: Operator finally picks up.

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: The Police Department. Get me the Police Department -- please!

OPERATOR (filter): Thank you.

SOUND: Operator dials.

MRS. STEVENSON (frustrated): Oh, dear! Do you have to dial? Can't you ring them direct?

OPERATOR (filter): Ringing the Police Department.

SOUND: Rings three times. Mrs. Stevenson keeps muttering under her breath.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter) (bored with his night duty assignment): Police Station, Precinct 43, Sergeant Martin speaking.

MRS. STEVENSON: Police Department? Ah, this is Mrs. Stevenson -- Mrs. Elbert Smythe Stevenson of 53 North Sutton Place. I'm calling up to report a murder. I mean (fumbling for words) -- the murder hasn't been committed yet but I just overheard plans for it over the telephone -- over a wrong number that the operator gave me. I've been trying to trace down the call myself -- but everybody is so stupid -- and I guess in the end you're the only people who can do anything.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter) (not too impressed by all this): Yes, ma'am.

MRS. STEVENSON (trying to impress him): It was a perfectly definite murder. I heard their plans distinctly. Two men were talking and they were going to murder some woman at eleven-fifteen tonight. She lived in a house near a bridge. (beat) Are-are you listening to me?

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Yes. Uh, yes, ma'am.

MRS. STEVENSON: And there was a private patrolman on the street. He was going to go around for a beer on Second Avenue. And there was some third man -- a client who was paying to have this poor woman murdered. They were going to take her rings and bracelets and-and use a knife... Well -- it-it's unnerved me dreadfully -- (reaching the breaking point) -- and I'm not well -- and I feel so nerv--

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): I see. (Stolidly) When was all this, ma'am?

MRS. STEVENSON: About eight minutes ago. (relieved) Then-then you can do something? You do understand --

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): What is your name, ma'am?

MRS. STEVENSON (impatient): Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Elbert Stevenson.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): And your address?

MRS. STEVENSON: 53 North Sutton Place. Five-three North Sutton Place. That's near a bridge. The Queensboro Bridge, you know and -- and-and we have a private patrolman on our street... and Second Avenue --

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): And what was that number you were calling?

MRS. STEVENSON: Murray Hill 7-0093. But that wasn't the number I overheard. I mean Murray Hill 7-0093 is my husband's office. He's working late tonight and I was trying to reach him to ask him to come home. I'm an invalid, you know, and it's the maid's night off and I hate to be alone, even though he says I'm perfectly safe as long as I have the telephone right beside my bed.

SERGEANT MARTIN (stolidly) (filter): Well, we'll look into it, Mrs. Stevenson, and see if we can check it with the telephone company.

MRS. STEVENSON (getting impatient): But the telephone company said they couldn't check the call if the parties had stopped talking. I've already taken care of that!

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter) (a faint hint of sarcasm): Oh, you have?

MRS. STEVENSON (high-handed): Yes. And, personally, I feel you ought to do something far more immediate and drastic than just check the call. What good does checking the call do if they've stopped talking? By the time you tracked it down they'll already have committed the murder.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter) (giving her the "brush off"): Well, we'll take care of it. Don't you worry.

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, I'd say the whole thing calls for a search, a complete and thorough search of the whole city. Now, I'm very near the bridge and I'm not far from Second Avenue -- and I know I'd feel a whole lot better if you sent around a radio car to this neighborhood at once!

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): And what makes you think the murder's going to be committed in your neighborhood, ma'am?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, I -- Oh, I don't know. Only the coincidence is so horrible. Second Avenue -- the patrolman -- the bridge.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Second Avenue is a very long street, ma'am. And you know how many bridges there are in the city of New York alone?

MRS. STEVENSON: Yes, I know--

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Not to mention Brooklyn, Staten Island, Queens, and the Bronx.

MRS. STEVENSON: I know that!

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): How do you know there isn't some little house on Staten Island on some little Second Avenue you've never even heard about? How do you know they're even talking about New York at all?

MRS. STEVENSON: But I heard the call on the New York dialing system.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Maybe it was a long-distance call you overheard.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, don't--

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Telephones are funny things. Look, lady, why don't you look at it this way? Supposing you hadn't broken in on that telephone call? Supposing you'd got your husband the way you always do. You wouldn't be so upset, would you?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, no, I suppose not. Only it sounded so inhuman -- so cold-blooded.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): A lot of murders are plotted in this city every day, ma'am. We manage to prevent almost all of 'em.

MRS. STEVENSON: But--

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): But a clue of this kind is so vague -- it isn't much more use to us than no clue at all.

MRS. STEVENSON: But, surely, you --

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Unless, of course, you have some reason for thinking this call was phony and -- that someone may be planning to murder you.

MRS. STEVENSON: Me? Oh -- oh, no -- no, I hardly think so. I -- I mean, why should anybody? I'm alone all day and night. I see nobody except my maid, Eloise, and -- she's a big girl, she weighs two hundred pounds -- she's too lazy to bring up my breakfast tray and -- the only other person is my husband, Elbert. He's crazy about me -- he-he just adores me. He waits on me hand and foot. He's scarcely left my side since I took sick, well, twelve years ago....

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Well, then, there's nothing for you to worry about. Now, if you'll just leave the rest of this to us, we'll take care of it.

MRS. STEVENSON (not completely mollified): But what will you do? It's so late ... it's nearly eleven now!

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter) (more firmly): We'll take care of it, lady.

MRS. STEVENSON: Will you broadcast it all over the city? And send out squads? And warn your radio cars to watch out -- especially in suspicious neighborhoods like mine --

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Lady, I said we'd take care of it. Just now I've got a couple of other matters here on my desk that require immediate attention. Good night, ma'am, and thank you.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, you--! You--!

SOUND: She slams down the receiver hard.

MRS. STEVENSON: Idiot! Oh, now, why did I hang up the phone like that? He'll think I am a fool! (Pause) Oh -- why doesn't Elbert come home? Why doesn't he? Why doesn't he come home?

SOUND: She sobs, mutters, and dials the operator. Rings five times.

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Operator, for heaven's sake, will you ring that Murray Hill 7-0093 number again? I can't think what's keeping him so long!

OPERATOR (filter): I will try it for you.

SOUND: Operator dials under following:

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, try! Try! (to herself) I don't see why he doesn't answer it...

SOUND: Busy signal.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. Murray Hill 7-0093 is busy. I will--

MRS. STEVENSON (nasty): I can hear it. You don't have to tell me. I know it's busy...

SOUND: She slams down the receiver and sighs.

MRS. STEVENSON (nervously querulous): If I could only ... get out of this bed for a little while. If I could get a breath of fresh air, just lean out the window and see the street ...

SOUND: The phone bell rings. She picks it up instantly.

MRS. STEVENSON: Hello, Elbert? Hello? Hello? Hello?! Oh, what's the matter with this phone? HELLO! HELLO!

SOUND: She slams down the receiver. A second's pause. The phone rings again, once. She picks it up.

MRS. STEVENSON: Hello? Hell--? Oh, for heaven's sake, who is this? Hello, Hello, HELLO!

SOUND: She slams down receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself): Oh, who's trying to call me ... ?

SOUND: Dials Operator. Rings four times.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself, on the second ring): Why doesn't she answer?

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Hello, Operator, I don't know what's the matter with this telephone tonight, but it's positively driving me crazy. I've never seen such inefficient, miserable service. Now, now, look. I'm an invalid, and I'm very nervous, and I'm not supposed to be annoyed. But if this keeps on much longer...

OPERATOR (filter): What seems to be the trouble, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, everything's wrong! I haven't had one bit of satisfaction out of one call I've made this evening! The whole world could be murdered for all you people care. And now my phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing every five seconds and when I pick it up there's no one there!

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. If you will hang up, I will test it for you.

MRS. STEVENSON: I don't want you to test it for me! I want you to put that call through, whatever it is, at once!

OPERATOR (filter): I'm afraid I cannot do that.

MRS. STEVENSON: You can't?!? And why -- why, may I ask?

OPERATOR (filter): The dial system is automatic.

MRS. STEVENSON gasps in exasperation.

OPERATOR (filter): If someone is trying to dial your number, there is no way to check it if the call is coming through the system or not -- unless the person who's trying to reach you complains to his particular operator.

MRS. STEVENSON: Well, of all the stupid -- and meanwhile I've got to sit here in my bed, suffering every time that phone rings, imagining everything ...

OPERATOR (filter): I will try to check the trouble for you.

MRS. STEVENSON: Check it! Check it! That's all anybody can do! Oh, what's the use of talking to you? You're so stupid!

SOUND: She slams down he receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself): Oh, I'll fix her! Of all the impudent ... How dare she speak to me like that? How dare she?

SOUND: Dials Operator.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself): Call the operator ...

SOUND: Rings five times.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself, on the second ring): Oh, why does it take so long?

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Young woman, I don't know your name. But there are ways of finding you out. And I'm going to report you to your superiors for the most unpardonable rudeness and insolence it's ever been my privilege-- Give me the business office at once!

OPERATOR (filter): You may dial that number direct.

MRS. STEVENSON: Dial it direct? I'll do no such thing! I don't even know the number...

OPERATOR (filter): The number is in the directory or you may secure it by dialing Information.

MRS. STEVENSON: Listen, here, you-- Oh, what's the use!

SOUND: Slams down the receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, dear ...

SOUND: Almost instantly the phone rings.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm going out of my mind! Out of my--

SOUND: She picks up the receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON: Hello?! HELLO! Stop ringing me, do you hear? Answer me! Who is this? Do you realize you're driving me crazy? Who's calling me? What are you doing it for? Now stop it! Stop it! Stop it! HELLO! HELLO! I-I-If you don't stop ringing me, I'm going to call the police, do you hear?! THE POLICE!

SOUND: She slams down the receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON (sobbing nervously): Oh, if Elbert would only come home!

SOUND: The phone rings again sharply, seven times under the following:

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself): Oh, let it ring. Let it go on ringing. It's a trick of some kind. I won't answer it. I won't. I won't. I won't, even if it goes on ringing all night. Oh, you ring. Go ahead and ring.

SOUND: The phone suddenly stops -- then silence.

MRS. STEVENSON (a terrified note in her voice): Stopped. Now, now what's the matter? Why did they stop ringing all of a sudden? Oh... (hysterically) What time is it? Where did I put that ... clock? Oh, here it is. Five to eleven ... oh, they've decided something. They're sure I'm home. They heard my voice answer them just now. That's why they've been ringing me -- why no one has answered me --

SOUND: She picks up the phone.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself): I'll call the operator again.

SOUND: She dials Operator. Rings five times.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself, on the second ring): Oh, where is she? Why doesn't she answer? Why doesn't she answer?

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Where were you just now? Why didn't you answer at once? Give me the Police Department.

SOUND: Operator puts call through. Busy signal.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. The line is busy. I will call you--

MRS. STEVENSON: Busy? But that's impossible! The Police Department can't be busy. There must be other lines available.

OPERATOR (filter): The line is busy. I will try to get them for you later.

MRS. STEVENSON (frantic): No, no! I've got to speak to them now or it may be too late. I've got to talk to someone!

OPERATOR (filter): What number do you wish to speak to?

MRS. STEVENSON (desperately): I don't know! But there must be someone to protect people beside the police department! A-a-a -- detective agency -- a --

OPERATOR (filter): You will find agencies listed in the Classified Directory.

MRS. STEVENSON: But I don't have a Classified! I mean -- I'm-I'm too nervous to look it up -- and I-I don't know how to use the--

OPERATOR (filter): I'll connect you with Information. Perhaps she will be able to help you.

MRS. STEVENSON (agonizedly): No! No! (Furiously) Oh, you're being spiteful, aren't you? You don't care, do you, what happens to me? I could die and you wouldn't care.

SOUND: Hangs up receiver. Phone rings.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I can't stand any more.

SOUND: She picks up receiver.

MRS. STEVENSON (yelling frenziedly into phone): Hello! What do you want?! Stop ringing, will you?! Stop it...!

3RD MAN (filter): Hello, is this Plaza 4-2295?

MRS. STEVENSON (in a more subdued voice): Yes. Yes, I'm .. I'm sorry. This ... this is Plaza 4-2295.

3RD MAN (filter): This is Western Union. I have a telegram here for Mrs. Elbert Stevenson. Is there anyone there to receive the message?

MRS. STEVENSON (tying to calm herself): I'm ... I'm Mrs. Stevenson.

3RD MAN (filter): The telegram is as follows: Mrs. Elbert Stevenson, 53 North Sutton Place, New York, New York. Darling. Terribly sorry. Tried to get you for last hour, but line busy. Leaving for Boston eleven P.M. tonight, on urgent business. Back tomorrow afternoon. Keep happy. Love. Signed, Elbert.

MRS. STEVENSON (breathlessly, almost to herself): Oh, no --

3RD MAN (filter): Do you wish us to deliver a copy of the message?

MRS. STEVENSON: No. No, thank you.

3RD MAN (filter): Thank you, madam. Good-night.

SOUND: Western Union hangs up.

MRS. STEVENSON (mechanically): Good-night.

SOUND: She hangs up.

MRS. STEVENSON (suddenly bursting out): Oh, no. No -- I don't believe it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. Not when he knows I'll be all alone. It's some trick -- some fiendish trick --

SOUND: She dials Operator. Rings five times.

MRS. STEVENSON (to herself, sobbing): ... some trick .. why doesn't she ...?

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON: Operator, try that Murray Hill 7-0093 number for me, just once more, please.

OPERATOR (filter): You may dial that number direct ...

SOUND: Mrs. Stevenson hangs up.

MRS. STEVENSON (wretchedly): Oh ...

SOUND: She picks up and nervously dials the number direct, sounding out the numbers under her breath. It goes through, ring after long ring. Seven times. No answer.

MRS. STEVENSON: Oh ... He's gone. He's gone. Oh, Elbert, how could you? How could you --?

SOUND: She hangs up the phone.

MRS. STEVENSON (sobs, pitying herself): How could you? I-I can't be alone tonight. I can't. If I'm alone one more second, I'll go mad. I don't care what he says -- or what the expense is -- I'm a sick woman ... I'm entitled ... I'm entitled ...

SOUND: She dials Information. Rings three times.

INFORMATION (filter): Information. May I help you?

MRS. STEVENSON: I-I want the telephone number of Henchley Hospital.

INFORMATION (filter): Henchley Hospital? Do you have the street address?

MRS. STEVENSON: No. No. It's somewhere in the seventies. It's a very small, private, and exclusive hospital where I had my appendix out two years ago. Henchley -- uh, H-E-N-C --

INFORMATION (filter): One moment, please.

MRS. STEVENSON: Please hurry. And please -- what is the time?

INFORMATION (filter): You may find out the time by dialing Meridian 7-1212.

MRS. STEVENSON (irritated): Oh, for heaven's sake ... I've no time to be dialing ...

INFORMATION (filter): The number of Henchley Hospital is Butterfield 7-0105.

MRS. STEVENSON: Butterfield 7-0105.

SOUND: She hangs up before she finishes speaking, and dials number even as she speaks. Rings four times.

WOMAN (solid, firm, practical) (filter): Henchley Hospital. Good evening.

MRS. STEVENSON: Nurses' registry.

WOMAN (filter): Who was it you wished to speak to, please?

MRS. STEVENSON (high-handed): I want the nurse's registry, at once. I want a trained nurse. I want to hire her immediately for the night.

WOMAN (filter): I see. And what is the nature of the case, madam?

MRS. STEVENSON: Nerves. I'm very nervous. I need soothing -- companionship. You see, my husband is away and I'm--

WOMAN (filter): Have you been recommended to us by any doctor in particular, madam?

MRS. STEVENSON: No. But I really don't see why all this catechizing is necessary. I just want a trained nurse. I was a patient in your hospital two years ago. And after all, I do expect to pay this person for attending me.

WOMAN (filter): We quite understand that, madam. But these are war times, you know.

MRS. STEVENSON: Well--

WOMAN (filter): Registered nurses are very scarce just now -- and our superintendent has asked us to send people out only on cases where the physician in charge feels that it is absolutely necessary.

MRS. STEVENSON (high-handed): Well, it is absolutely necessary. I'm a sick woman. I'm-I'm very upset. Very. I'm alone in this house -- and I'm an invalid -- and tonight I overheard a telephone conversation that upset me dreadfully. In fact (beginning to yell) if someone doesn't come at once, I'm afraid I'll go out of my mind!

WOMAN (filter) (calmly): I see. Well -- I'll speak to Miss Phillips as soon as she comes in. And what is your name, madam?

MRS. STEVENSON: Miss Phillips? And when do you expect her in?

WOMAN (filter): Well, I really couldn't say. She went out to supper at eleven o'clock.

MRS. STEVENSON: Eleven o'clock! But it's not eleven yet! (She cries out) Oh -- oh, my clock has stopped. I thought it was running down. What time is it?

WOMAN (filter) (pausing as though glancing at wrist watch): Just fifteen minutes past eleven....

SOUND: Telephone receiver being lifted on the same line as Mrs. Stevenson's.

MRS. STEVENSON (crying out): What-what was that?

WOMAN (filter): What was ... what, madam?

MRS. STEVENSON: That -- that click -- just now, in my own telephone. As though someone had lifted the receiver off the hook of the extension telephone downstairs.

WOMAN (filter): Well, I didn't hear it, madam. Now, about this--

MRS. STEVENSON (terrified): But I did. There's someone in this house. Someone downstairs in the kitchen. And they're -- they're listening to me now. They're --

SOUND: Mrs. Stevenson hangs up.

MRS. STEVENSON (in a suffocated voice): I won't pick it up. I -- I won't let them hear me. I'll be quiet and they'll think... (with growing terror) Oh, but if I don't call someone now while they're still down there, there'll be no time... .

SOUND: She picks up receiver and dials Operator. Ring three times.

OPERATOR (filter): Your call, please?

MRS. STEVENSON (in a desperate whisper): Operator. Operator. I'm in desperate trouble.

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry. I cannot hear you. Please speak louder.

MRS. STEVENSON (Still whispering): I don't dare. I -- there's someone listening. Can you hear me now?

OPERATOR (filter): I'm sorry.

MRS. STEVENSON (desperately): But you've got to hear me. Oh, please. You've got to help me. There's someone in this house. Someone who's going to murder me. And you've got to get in touch with ...

SOUND: Click of receiver being put down on Mrs. Stevenson's line.

MRS. STEVENSON (bursting out wildly): Oh -- there it is. There it is. Did you hear it? He's put it down -- he's put down the extension phone. He's coming up... (her voice is hoarse with fear) He's coming up the stairs. Give me the Police Department ... the police department ... police department ... give it to me ...

OPERATOR (filter): One moment, please -- I will connect you.

SOUND: Call is put through.

MRS. STEVENSON: I can -- I can hear him. He's nearer. (weakly) Oh, I hear him, I hear him. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

SOUND: As Mrs. Stevenson becomes incoherent with fear and begins to scream, a train approaches and roars over a nearby bridge. As it fades, we hear a body thump to the floor. Then it passes and we hear the phone still ringing at the other end. The telephone is picked up.

SERGEANT MARTIN (filter): Police Department, Sergeant Martin speaking ... Police Department. Sergeant Martin speaking ... Police Department. Sergeant Martin speaking ... Police Department. Sergeant Martin speaking.

GEORGE (same distinctive voice as in beginning of play): Police Department? Oh, I'm sorry. Must have got the wrong number. Don't worry. Everything's okay.

MUSIC: Up and out.

Posted 12:10 AM by Blah blah

Job Openings in Hollywood: Heroes Wanted (NY Times):

"The action film is changing, and so are its he-men. They are multicultural and smart, still hunky but also moody....

'It used to be that a lot of action stars were there for their physical skills, but The Matrix really killed that,' Mr. Garner said. 'You can't now just go up to a guy and hit him with a stick and that's enough. Movies like The Matrix have opened up this world where anything is possible. So you don't need action stars who can really do those things. You can hire people for their acting skills instead.'

That is why, Mr. Garner said, this next generation of action stars will much more likely be in the Ben Affleck or Tobey Maguire mold: accomplished performers who build their characters and then let the computer do the stunts.

And finally, some people see in movies like The Matrix, a tendency toward greater thematic and character complexity in the action genre and away from the simplistic revenge plots that drove the genre for most of the last 15 years. This may be wishful thinking, of course."

Posted 8:56 AM by Blah blah

China: Bursting with brainpower (ZDNet):

"The abundance of manual labor is legendary in this country of 1 billion people, but brainpower is quickly catching up.

While many technology giants are expanding manufacturing plants in China, a significant number of multinationals are increasingly combing the mainland for engineers and researchers to handle projects for global applications that, in recent years, would have been performed in labs in the United States or Europe."

Added a new link: Dayv, that Asian guy with the abs from BlindDateBlog. EE student at Cal Poly. Good writer and elegant blog.

Posted 8:25 AM by Blah blah

Using Blogs in Business. It's a chapter from the new book We Blog: Publishing Online with Weblogs, by some of the founders of Blogger.

Much of this is an interview with John Robb, president and COO of Userland Software. Speaking of Top Gun, he was a pilot for seven years in the U.S. Air Force Special Operations, with an MBA from Yale. Very impressive background.

Here's what he says about "K-Logs." This is interesting, because my last two companies kept talking about "knowledge management," but we never really effectively used it in our groups:
__________________
Now, what's a K-Log?

A K-Log is a tool for an expert or employee to publish insight, a point of view (POV), links to resources, important documents and e-mails with annotation, and other thinking to an intranet where it can be archived, searched, and browsed. Unlike a simple weblog tool, K-Logs also include functionality for creating long-term connections (RSS news as knowledge streams from specific K-Logs), and for fostering interchange between contributors (community tools to encourage discourse). The result is a low-cost, knowledge-sharing network based on Internet standards.

How do K-Logs differ from general weblogs?

A K-Log is a tool that leverages an intranet of an organization. It's private. It deals with information that is specific to the organization that sponsors it. The tools and functionality differ. Here are some attributes of K-Logs that weblogs don't generally share:

* Subscriptions and aggregated news

* The ability to forward e-mail or add documents to a K-Log

* Structured corporate-specific community tools (to generate interaction and provide managers with a means of monitoring knowledge transfer)

* The ability to post while disconnected, and post to multiple role-specific K-Logs in different locations (a desktop tool provides this)

* (Longer term) The ability to connect to Web services to extract data that can be analyzed and posted to a K-Log with annotation

How did you become interested in K-Logs?

My experience with weblogs began with my search for tools that could leverage the expertise of analysts working for me to generate additional revenue from clients. The essence of the research business is to take everything of quality an analyst produces, package it, and deliver it to clients in a format they can use. Unfortunately, at most research firms, so much important information (interviews, news analysis, and so on) is left unused between report cycles. Analysts are domain experts. They spend a tremendous amount of time looking at all the data developing within their area of focus, structuring it, and presenting the findings. Everything they think about in a structured way is valuable to clients. I quickly latched onto the concept that weblogs could provide a vehicle to capture this "thinking," package it in an easy-to-use form, and provide clients with a service they would pay big money for.

When I joined UserLand, it occurred to me that corporations are increasingly filled with experts that have specific domain expertise, and that to win in the marketplace they need to leverage that expertise. Weblogs, renamed K-Logs in this context, are an excellent way to foster the creation, distribution, and accumulation of knowledge generated by these experts.

Do K-Logs have a place in an organization that's already implemented a formal knowledge management process?

Sure. Almost all knowledge management systems in place today center on one of two things: document management or discussions. Both have serious flaws. Document management systems are exceedingly complex and difficult to use. As a result, few people use them. K-Logs are easy-to-use for both the publisher and the reader. Additionally, K-Logs recognize the fact that knowledge is usually tied to a specific person and isn't something that exists on its own. Knowledge is a continuous process of learning and analysis—it isn't static. By providing a means of publishing the process an expert goes through to build knowledge, K-Logs provide much more value than a relatively static, taxonomy-based document system. Furthermore, K-Logs provide organizations a way to identify, grow, and showcase experts.

Many organizations use discussion groups. Unfortunately, as most have found, discussion groups are typically dominated by a few talkative individuals that drown out people that actually have value to contribute. K-Logs change that dynamic by providing every contributor with a forum. Through subscriptions and community-monitored traffic, the valuable contributions and contributors can be identified. Additionally, discussions groups usually are topic-based. One thing that I have found (and this is universally applicable) is that my method of organizing topics is different than everybody else's. We all structure the world differently. K-Logs organize information around individuals and time, both of which are universally understood.

Posted 4:49 PM by Blah blah

A Tough Job in a Tough Job Market (BusinessWeek Online):

"Matthew Merrick sure has a keen sense of timing. The Harvard Business School MBA [class of '96] took the reins of his alma mater's career-services office in December, 2001 -- just as the worst MBA job market in years arrived. BusinessWeek Online's Brian Hindo recently spoke with Merrick about his placement experiences in the current tough environment and what he expects to face next year. Following are edited excerpts of their conversation:...

Q: Last year, Harvard placed about 60% of its students in the financial-services and the management-consulting industries. Those are two industries that have really cut back on hiring. How has that changed the dynamics of recruiting this year?

A: Consulting companies took the mid- to upper-30s [percent] of last year's class, and they're going to be in the lower- to mid-20s this year. Students are being more thoughtful and creative in their searches and are looking at other opportunities as well.

The number of general-manager opportunities and marketing opportunities have increased. Last year, about 10% of our students went into general-manager[-type jobs]. This year, the number is 15%. Marketing last year was about 8%. This year it's 12%.

Q: What other industries are hiring?

A: Mid- and large-size [corporations] are picking up some of the slack. And our numbers for venture-capital and private-equity firms won't be dramatically different this year. What has become much more popular is investment management, which is close to 10%, which I think is double last year.

When it comes to functions, I think that marketing [placements] increased by 50% this year, and so did general manager [placements]....

Q: Do you think MBA students have placed too much emphasis on landing consulting and finance jobs, simply because of the big payoff and the prestige?

A: It's a great question. Some people probably argue yes. But look at what those opportunities offer people -- not just compensation, but experience, exposure, association with smart people, a chance to learn about a variety of industries, and having good managers to work for, which we think is real important.

Those are attractive jobs, and they've been very popular with students because they help you in your career over the long run. There are a lot of senior leaders today in Corporate America who came from consulting and investment banking. It's a logical choice if you want to be a leader of an organization -- a really good stepping-stone.

Now, there are lots of other ways to get to the same place. Going directly to work for a big [corporation], and rising through the ranks is another way to do it.

Q: That said, do you feel that the current state of the economy has taken a bit of the luster off finance and consulting?

A: I don't know if I'd say that. I think that just as the venture-capital boom and the entrepreneurial and technology booms were attractive to students, there'll be other opportunities that will be very attractive."

Funds Give Up on 'Best Picks' of Analysts (Reuters):
______________
Wall Street's high-profile stock analysts once carried so much clout with investors that the leading investment houses proudly built mutual funds around their "best ideas."...

But now, Wall Street faces mounting scrutiny over allegations that juicy bonuses and pressure from executives have driven its analysts to issue overly rosy reports favorable to their firms' banking clients, or potential clients.

Mutual fund firms and other big investors lack those inherent conflicts. Compensation for fund analysts and managers depends largely on their stock-picking ability, not whether they steer profitable investment banking deals to their firms....

The Goldman Sachs Research Select Fund and the Morgan Stanley Competitive Edge "Best Ideas" Fund announced in documents filed with U.S. regulators that they are giving up on their original mandates, depending now on their traditional fund managers and in-house analysts, rather than brokerage analysts.

Posted 12:28 PM by Blah blah

Classic Action Movies

To counter my thoughtful and sensitive nature, I've decided to forcefeed myself with testosterone-filled action movies. I rented all classics and all ones I have not seen.

So far, I've seen Top Gun (1986) and Speed (1994), and these are absolutely breathtaking! Complete joyrides. I feel like I've just bungee-jumped off of a bridge and want to go back for more!

I usually don't think of guys as "hot" or "sexy," but I make an exception for Tom Cruise in Top Gun. This was the role that catapulted him to world fame. He is incredibly sexy in this movie, and I found myself taking notes on his technique (hehe...) Yeah, it's a blindly patriotic film for the U.S. Air Force, and yeah, Cruise himself tried to counter this film by starring in the anti-war Born on the Fourth of July. Anthony Edwards (of ER) actually had hair here, and Val Kilmer looks like such a stud too. Top Gun is an eye candyshop for gay men and straight women. I also love the infectious music which continuously feeds the movie and causes the hairs to stand on your skin. Flowing effortlessly, this is a joyride of a fairy tale in the same way as Pretty Woman.

Speed is one of THE best pure action movies I've ever seen. Perfection. I liked but didn't love The Matrix. But THIS is the role for which the laconic Keanu Reeves was made. I now see why he became a star. Speed grabs you by the throat from the first few minutes and never lets go till the end. Incredibly well choreographed action sequences. It is simple, was made for only around $30 million, and feels more like an indie film too, instead of a star-driven studio vehicle. It makes me want to see Die Hard next.

From E! Online: Speed is based on a 1975 Japanese film, Shinkausen Daibakuha, directed by Junya Sato. A terrorist seeking a huge ransom places a bomb on a bullet train that will detonate if the train goes below 80 km/h.

Other movies rented: The French Connection (Gene Hackman), In the Line of Fire (Clint Eastwood), and The Jackal (Bruce Willis and Richard Gere). I loved Frederick Forsyth's thriller The Day of the Jackal, which is based loosely on the actions of Carlos, who was the world's most famous terrorist.

Posted 11:05 AM by Blah blah

Calling for NEW COWRITERS. Halo and Jasmin are leaving as a cowriters:(

Halo and Jasmin are leaving Tiger Cafe. Of course I regret you both are leaving. You have very unique points of view and are a cornucopia of interests and contradictions. In the meantime, I am looking for new cowriters! Thank you to my current cowriters for doing a fantastic job of starting witty, amusing, and soul-searching discussions.

If you:

1. Are a good writer or love to write (if you are on my link list here, I already think you are good or interesting!)
2. Would like to write for an audience of at least 100 people/day
3. Have time to do at least a few entries a week

do let me know!

For example, Elen, now in Vienna, used to work for the Philippine Daily Inquirer. I WANT YOU!