Hi, I'm Mike Lee. No, not that Mike Lee. He's someone else. No, not that one either. Me, Mike Lee, from New York, now in California.
Oh, you know a Mike Lee too? Nice. I know a bunch too. There are four at my company. And there were at least twelve at a previous company. Us Mike Lee's are everywhere.
It's finally happened! This site has been redesigned. Oh happy happy joy joy! You can finally let go of your breath now.
This site is now centered on my Rambles, weekly stories on random topics published on Sunday nights (usually, although if life gets busy, I may miss a Sunday). I decided to make my Rambles the main attraction because that's what the vast majority of you seem to want.
(And if not, please let me know what you DO want!) (And no, I'm not going to give you free porn.)
This is based on a true story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. The emails have mostly been kept the same so we can laugh at them.
"Can you show us a practical way in which you use math at your job?" asked one of the high school students. Kent and I looked at each other.
"Oh man, that's a good question," I replied. Kent scratched his beard while I stared at the ceiling, hoping the answer was in the tiles.
"Horny Farm Animals Want You!"
Apparently, there's a herd of lonely but sexually frustrated farm animals out there that have learned how to send emails. Smart horny buggers, aren't they? They've taken photos of themselves and want you to see.
"I forgot who it was who showed me this website; it's got photos of people who are in that culture of tattooing and piercing." She grabbed the keyboard, fingers furiously fumbling through a fickle URL she couldn't remember. "Damn, I can't remember what it was."
"That's all right," I said. "Unless someone's got a railroad spike through his head, I don't have to see anything."
"Oh, but I want to show you this subculture of piercing extremists."
You know what's ruder than someone who stabs your eye with sweaty unshorn armpit hairs?
Someone who makes you wait while they finish an email, online chat or phone call.
2001 was the year Life tore a gash and poured salt and lemon juice into the wound.
Is there anyone who isn't happy to see this sorry year end?
I was 3,000 miles away when it happened. So I can't truly understand how my fellow New Yorkers felt, can I?
My friends tell me how they're constantly nervous, anxious, and depressed to the point of crying. They tell me of the languishing dust and stagnant smell of the dead. They tell me about the relentless rumors of bomb scares and (unfortunately now somewhat justified) bioterrorist attacks.
They tell me all that, and how am I to really understand all the way here in California?
Being chased by a rhino may not be your idea of fun, but hearing Benoit tell it, a rhino chase could just be the perfect vacation.
"There's adventure in South Africa," he cheered. That thought stuck in my mind for a while. And now that I have some free time, perhaps an African Safari would be nice.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA