Owl's blog: "Life as a Freakonature"

I chalk a lot of the messages I get to having an orange name. That comes with the territory. The nature of the internet, and by virtue of which, the nature of being on a social networking site, assumes that most, if not all, of the users are literate in English -- that is, able to read and write in the English language. In addition to the stock messages you can set as your status ("Online," "Stuffing my face," etc.), members may set their own custom ones after attaining level 2. I use this feature a lot to let the membership know what I'm doing, if I'm available, and why I may not be responding immediately. Why, then, do I still get shoutbox messages demanding immediate response? Remember my blog from last August? "Passed Out" () is understood to mean "Asleep." Sometimes, instead of Passed Out, I use a custom message like "I'm asleep" or something that I understand to be a bit clearer. Unfortunately, this appears to some members as "I'm HERE! Send me all of your questions that you couldn't go to the Support Lounge or read the fubar Bible to get answered!" I say this because it seems like I get more shoutbox messages about the Fu when I'm not at my computer than when I am. On the help page, members are encouraged to shout at a bouncer if they need help, usually after attempting to find it in the support lounge. They are also advised, "Make sure the bouncer you are shouting is online." I'm convinced that, despite the fourth-grade reading level this language is written in, many people fail to read this bit of information (yet can skip to the point where they're shouting bouncers). I have attempted to call this fact to the attention of some members who have pelted me with bible/FAQ questions. I've tried to be diplomatic about it: "Sorry to take so long to respond, as I was at the doctor's office (see status message)..." And, thankfully, one or two have acknowledged it ("OH! I didn't read that properly... Sorry"). The sad fact is that the other 98% of the people I say this to would brush it off -- or get offended ("If you didn't want to be bothered, you should have just resigned"). One old-school internet meme was "RTFM," which is short for "Read the Fubar Manual" (well, the 'F' doesn't actually stand for "Fubar," but you get the point). I wish more people would. It means shorter wait times when trying to find the answer to a question. It means we don't have people going around saying we ignore members when the reality is that we're actually off doing something else with our lives at the present moment. I don't mind answering shouts... but please, make sure I'm here first.

Here's one you can point and laugh at. So, while I was asleep, one of of the random shouts I got was from a green member with the obligatory picture of the blonde, big-breasted model as her display pic. She's a level 7, posting as a 22-year-old female.

New rule

If you're going to make fun of the way I look, have a valid salute photo up, and don't have an obviously fake picture of yourself up. Otherwise, not only will I not take you seriously, and not only am I going to laugh at you, but I will post a blog about you so that other people can laugh at you, too. :P - Owl

The key to survival on any social networking site is your ability to keep a healthy level of detatchment from the people you only know from the online world. I had an opportunity to think about this today as I was sitting in my living room, watching Judge Judy... or Judge Alex... or Judge Mathis... or one of those people who dispenses justice with Wapneresque efficiency. There was no particular case to cite; however, the constant reminder that I was watching these shows on television on a couch in a room by myself (again) led me to think hard about what got me here. Am I really still in Texas? As many of you regular readers (*snicker*) know, I moved out here in 2006. There were three main surface reasons: I followed a job, I wanted to get away from my mother, and I wanted to see how well I'd fare by myself. However, there was something deeper. I had made a few friends in Texas before moving down here. Two were in the Houston area, and one was right in the Dallas suburb of Garland. All of them seemed anxious to meet me when they heard I was finally moving here (in fact, two of them offered me sex). Then, I got down here. Wow, what a difference 1,600 miles makes. The Garland chick met me once, then decided we'd be better off just online friends. Houston chick #1 vanished and I didn't hear anything from her until about four months after I'd gotten here. She had relocated to Las Cruces, New Mexico, and left Fubar. Houston chick #2 finally met me after I'd been here nearly 8 months. Her attitude towards me changed from "I'll do you myself" to "Come down to my show and I'll introduce you to someone," which didn't happen because the "someone" left before I got there. And after I left and came back here, I never heard from either of them again. Since that time, I've also noticed how many of my interactions here have turned into unmitigated crap because of the expectation and the need to meet. From the chick who wrote a global mumm asking Fubar whether or not to remove me from her friends list, to the girl who is married but still wanted me to leave the state to hang out with her, to the young mother who griped that my attitude changed because she cancelled our own meeting last-minute. Those are just three losses out of... I stopped counting. One person who remains on my family is still on good terms with me, despite living within the one hour mark of me. The secret? I promised her several months ago that I would never, ever try to meet her. We're not exactly best friends, but I can't think of a single awkward moment or argument with her since then. As much as I hate being alone out here, I hate getting into fights with people over it even more. In the end, I wind up losing out (mostly because they still have friends nearby). So, it seems that keeping my distance is the only real safe bet. The awkwardness of the assumption that one of us has an agenda is eliminated; I don't have to burn any more fuel on someone who doesn't want me around; and, most importantly, I don't risk any more stories of some lonely Fubar Bouncer floating around the site.

I realized tonight that what I want for Christmas I can't get here. By "here," I mean... my apartment complex, my town, my state, Fubar... I ask for too much. I remember back in October of 2006 when I packed everything that would fit in my car and drove 1,800 miles across country and settled in Plano, Texas. In the months that came, I lost my girlfriend, my social circle, and any hope of meeting people. I became a slave to the workplace... and was either there or home. Where are the friends? Where are the women? Where are the people I can call on the phone and carry on conversations well into the night? I'll tell you where... They're elsewhere. Christmas is coming again... It's this Thursday, in fact. I wish I could say something's improved. It hasn't. Hold your loved ones close. You don't realize what you have until it's gone. Happy holidays.

"No phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury..." So, earlier this week, my landline phone joined my cell phone in the lovely state of disconnected-ness. Aside from internet access, I am now completely shut off from the outside world (unless I actually go outside). My electric bill is next up, and the only reason my lights are not off is that I was promised by Direct Energy that a supervisor would call me regarding not being contacted before when I was having trouble paying this bill before. However, without a phone, someone over there is liable to say "He's being a smartass" and shut me off anyway. I'm still one payment away from owning my car outright, but with my Debt-to-Income ratio being what it is, I'm on that treadmill that makes it impossible for me to even have $200 available to pay the damn thing off. So... Anyone in the North Dallas area have any gigs they need done during the day? I'm willing to travel as far out as a 20-mile radius from Allen, Texas (or telecommute if the gig allows it). The only thing I request is that whatever gig you suggest to me meet the following criteria:

1. It is legal. I'm a legal US citizen with no criminal record. I don't need that status changing anytime soon.
2. It doesn't require telemarketing. My full-time job at night tethers me to a headset. I don't need to be strapped to a phone all day, too, trying to get people to part with their money.
3. If it's not something you would do, I probably wouldn't want to do it, either. Yes, times are tough, but it's going to be a while before I resort to selling blood, sperm, or body parts. Also, shoveling elephant dung is slightly lower on my list of priorities than the aforementioned.
4. It is part-time. My current work hours are Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and alternate Wednesdays, from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. I have obligations Monday and Tuesday nights after 6 p.m., in Lewisville. Basically, whatever you suggest should fit neatly into the day, without killing me at night.
5. If you can't describe what the job is, but instead talk up how much money I can easily make doing it... then it fails, automatically.
6. It isn't a get-rich-quick or pyramid scheme. It makes no sense if I have to put up money to make money back. I'm not looking to open a business or start my own IBO. I need to pay bills.

I'll go out on a limb and give some added incentive. If you send me a lead and it results in me getting a paycheck, I will buy you a 25-credit Bling Pack (or something equivalent).* Yes, I'm this desperate. PM me with the appropriate contact information or suggestion. I'll take the rational ones seriously.

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* Disclaimer (PLEASE READ): This is not an official Fubar contest. Fubar.com is not responsible for, nor does it support, this blog in any way. Any action you take as a result of this blog is at your own risk. While I will do my best to ensure the lead is good and will make a good-faith effort to be a good employee (show up on time, follow directions, adhere to dress code, be polite to customers/staff, etc.), I will only award the bling pack when and if I get a paycheck from this gig. Please do not go to Fubar Support complaining about not receiving the bling pack - Fubar is NOT involved in this blog or its "prize fund" at all.

This would be about the point where I could use a guardian angel... Somethimes, things get rough. Unexpected things happen, and they take a toll on you. People you considered friends decide they have other ideas. Your old, reliable car decodes it wants to be problematic. Every bill collector in the lower 48 states suddenly has your phone number... and uses it regularly. In the past month, three different, unrelated women (ironically all in their early-mid 20s) have fooled me into thinking they were interested, only to decide they are interested in some other guy maybe a week later. I lost one to her ex, another to some random soccer player, and a third to some guy she originally wanted to hook up with before she started talking to me. Hey, no problem. Lesson learned: I'm nobody's second choice. If I'm destined to be single, so be it - not my loss. Last week, my car decided to leak both oil and brake fluid at the same time. $523 later, I get a pressure switch and one caliper replaced, and realize I got taken at the garage my roommate recommended. I'm not dripping fluids out of the underside of my car anymore, but now there's a new leak: in my bank account. The check for my electric bill finally got to Direct Energy... several days after they turned in a disconnect notice. Imagine my surprise when, at about 4:30 yesterday afternoon, all my lights went out. Two minutes later, a text message arrives from my roommate: "Dude, did you pay the electric bill?" So, while on the phone with Direct Energy, they see the payment is posted... but still made me wait an entire day before turning me back on. To add insult to injury, they still charged me $10 as a reconnect fee. I'm disputing that, naturally. I got paid last Friday. I had money left over from the paycheck before this one. I looked into my account today... and I see I'm in the red by nearly two hundred dollars. Good thing the rent check and the electric bill cleared. Bad thing is, I'm still getting calls about my car (they want $200 BEFORE my next paycheck arrives) and my cell phone (shame I can't change my number). So much for paying bills on time, yes? All in all, life's peachy. Now, hopefully, I'll have enough gas to make it home in the morning. And then, on October 21, when I get paid, maybe I'll be able to eat something again (since all my food is now spoiled).

Things in your past remain in your past for a reason. About a year and a half ago, I met a girl here who was a bit too interested in me. We hung out, fooled around, did whatever. I made three trips on my own dime to go see her. Then, almost as quickly as the fire began, it got extinguished, and she wouldn't tell me why. I had to find out from her aunt that she had found some other guy and she'd basically forgotten about me. I left that alone, thinking I'd never see her again and life would go back to normal. Recently, she popped up on Fubar again, spouting her "hi, sexi" and her "I'm sorry I did that to you so long ago." She seemed very apologetic... Apparently, the guy she dropped me for got her pregnant three months later. She now has a daughter... and the baby's father disappeared from her life two months into the pregnancy. Naturally, she wants to talk to me again. I was skeptical. Did I really want to be hurt again in case her fragile, wishy-washy little mind decided she wanted to flip the script again? Against my better judgment, I decided to give this another try. And, tonight, I learned why ghosts should stay in the past. Almost as suddenly as she showed up again, she decided she wants to mess with this other guy she likes. 6'4". A soccer player. They have lots in common. See you in 18 months, T. Of course, I doubt I'll have anything for you when you get back.

The irony of this blog is that the people who will get the most out of it will never be able to read it -- because they're blocked. Just like everyone else on this site, I am bound by paragraph 7 in the Terms of Service. A link to that can be found at the bottom of (literally) every page that loads in Fubar. Instead of providing a link to it from here, I am going to quote that paragraph:

Member Disputes. You are solely responsible for your interactions with other fubar.com Members. fubar.com, Inc. reserves the right, but has no obligation, to monitor disputes between you and other Members.

This applies to everyone. This paragraph is what keeps me from playing referee whenever two of you decide to get into some petty squabble. This is why bouncers seemingly won't do anything about a "stalker" except tell you how to use your privacy settings. This is also the golden key that allows bouncers to block you when you are being a tool. No, you cannot block bouncers. However, if we are doing something that would warrant us being blocked, we probably shouldn't be bouncers in the first place. Now, onto the reason for this blog... I'm starting to notice the return of a scourge plaguing Fubar.com. People get involved in contests and suddenly feel the need to be in my shoutbox begging for votes. Others have just opened a new lounge somewhere and drop a blind link, expecting me to follow. I'm sure I'm not going to be the first to say it, but if that happens to be the case, allow me to be the first to say it: It's fucking rude. Stop. Keep your crap out of my shoutbox. I get enough messages from people who legitimately need help. I don't need to weed through your unwanted red text and false affection to get to the people who actually want to talk to me. Not for the sake of you leveling up. Sorry. Now, if you're asking me for legitimate help, or simply saying "hi," then there is nothing wrong with that. It's cool. I may not respond back immediately, but I won't be annoyed with you. (I'll probably even buy you something.) Last week, someone sent me a shout with a blind link while I was away from my keyboard (one day I'll rant about people who don't read status messages yet want immediate responses anyway). I asked him what he was sending me and why I should follow some random link from some guy I never met who doesn't even have a salute photo posted. He then mouthed off and cussed like a sailor at me... because, he explained later, he said I was being rude to him. In the past week, I have had to block four people because they don't seem to know how to use basic people skills in the shoutbox. People like these are the reason I sometimes wish Fubar was a paysite.

I've lived in Texas since October of 2006. When I first moved down here from New York, I lived in Plano for six months. I now live in Allen, and I have realized that things are the same: people are not friendly. In the bar I go to, I'm getting recommendations from people to start going to Starbucks. I realize I don't get along with people down here. Maybe the issue is that my mindset is still the "Yankee" one... so when I don't get to talk to anyone nearby, that's probably it. I've never been able to adapt to the Southern way of life, so as time goes by, I realize I don't belong here. Tonight, some silly bitch chick from Euless gave me the whole "Yankee" talk, telling me that I "whine and cry" about not getting conversation down here. Well, maybe that's the case, but I'm sure that blowing me off and generally treating me like garbage isn't the solution. So, after all that was said and done, I wound up placing her on ignore on Yahoo (just as well), and now I'm right back where I started. This night will end as it began: I'm going to drink beer until I die of alcohol poisoning, and I'm going to sit in my apartment until something like that happens. The difference is, I am now fully aware of how Texas people see me... and I no longer care.

Apparently, someone on my block list took offense to a blog I wrote, so it's gone. However, there was a quote in there that I don't want to forget... and it will remain here.

Chivalry is not dead. Occasionally he can be seen hanging out with his retarded cousin, Ignorance.

Remember, kids, play nice. Truth is an absolute defense.