Digg It

Check out my sexy new Digg button!! ---------->>>>>>>

I'm not entirely sure what it does. I think it is for bookmarking useful things, so I can't imagine the Captain's Blog ever getting Digged (Dugg?) for any reason. I actually don't really know what Digg is. It just looks so damn official to have it in the post. I feel like a blogger now. Though the "0" is kind of making me self-conscious.

I also had a mini-crisis yesterday because I made the mistake of Googling "Captain's Blog," and accidentally plumbed the depths of my lack of creativity. There are over two million results for "Captain's Blog," many of which are, in fact, on Blogger and many of which, true enough, are not this blog. Sadness. If you google "Captain's Blog Martin" I am the third result, which is weird but at least a little comforting. I think I need to change the title to something more unique. Tooch suggested calling it "The Man of Poor Choices." I can do what Emily did and be a "Martin in the Sun." Maybe I'll steal Mat's and be "A Breath of Fresh Martin." The best name, of course, is taken by Fake Steve Jobs , which has been cracking me up nonstop as of late. Perhaps I'll make a blog called "Revenge of the Frigtards."

I don't even talk about Star Trek here. I mean, I love it - if TNG comes on TV, I'm basically shot until it's over (unless it's the episode where Riker jousts with his father, b/c I've seen that one like 13 times). "Inner Light" was a transformational viewing experience. I still maintain "First Contact" is one of the best sci-fi movies out there. But the name "Captain's Blog" just doesn't really fit here anymore, you know? (I can tell you're enraptured by my inner-monologue). It's a play on words from a show that I love but don't talk about. It'd be like naming this blog "Words from Dagobah." I need something that captures the angsty, over-wordish, haplessly revealing nature of this blog. Suggestions welcome.

So, how is 2008? So far it seems like a decent year, no? Today was the first day back to work, and I confess I was excited to be back. It wore off after an hour or so as the reality of just how busy I am settled back in, but I feel like people have realistic expectations and as long as I'm working hard, they'll have no problem with me. I wrote my first 2008 date today. It felt very weird to scrawl the round little "08" at the end of it. I need to find a non-cliche way of saying, "It's hard to believe it's been eight years since high-school," but, as we learned earlier about me and two million other people, I'm not that creative. (Also, Blogger is trying to spell-check "cliche" as "cloche," and I don't see how that is any better.)

I saw $15 man last night. I was in the car, and Jess got out to run into the apartment for something, and he was walking up the street, dressed in nice khakis which my stupidity must have bought him. He asked her if she knew anything about Virginia, Maryland, and "Damascus," and she said no and ran inside. I watched as he approached an older couple in my rear-view mirror, unfolded the paper he carries around with numbers written on it of the fares to Damascus, MD. I tell you I have never been more tempted to take my car and run over somebody. I wished I had watched more CSI so I knew how not to get caught. The only thing that stopped me from getting out and saying something, the only thing that stayed my lips, was the fact that he played me, and I lost. Jess told him "no" this time and he left her alone. That was all I needed to do, but because I am a sap who wants to save the world one poor little person at a time, I got duped. It was like buying the speakers out of the van, only the only thing I bought was a crushing sense of stupidity. I mean, he's just selling a story, right? I bought his story. Paid $15 for his story. His bullshit story. I'm having fun fantasizing about what I'll say if I see him again. If he doesn't recognize me, maybe I'll pretend to be really concerned about everything he has to say, let him go through his whole shpiel, open my wallet, and then look him in the face and go, "Look, why don't you case someone else's block before I hit you in the face with this metal trash can?" Mmm... passive aggressive rage expression... I was so pissed to see him again, and even more so at my complete lack of action. I kept thinking of the words, "All that is necessary for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing." And I realized I am totally that good person who does not want the job of kicking the ass of bad people, even though secretly I wish that I did.

So, new adventures abound. Dave would be proud - I got locked out of my apartment today and so I got creative with a credit card. Good thing, too, because it was cold outside. I waited until all the cars had passed and foot-traffic was at a minimum.

You know, just in case. Who knows who I would have thrown $15 at in a vain attempt to save the world?

Your,
Martin