Shyzer.com

Before I start, I’ve begun sending out e-mails that I promised I would. If you didn’t get one, then you didn’t give me your e-mail address, so no bitching from your corner of the room. If you did give me your e-mail address and still didn’t get one, then let me know. And just a fair warning, you might from time to time find exact quotes from the e-mails here in a Shyzer post (like the AMERICA’S HONOUR! part) so don’t think you’re having deja vu or watching the Matrix reset itself or anything. Just me being lazy as normal.

A fellow Yank has loaned me his power converter until the one me mum sent me arrives, which translates into me being able to sit here and type until my heart’s content. Being able to power my laptop also equates to being able to power my iPod, thereby allowing me to flood my corridor with my wonderful taste in music! (It’s a corridor, not a hall. See, I’m picking up the lingo already) In related news, I don’t know if I’ll be able to maintain the whole “only one post a week” promise that I made earlier. I simply miss writing that much. It’s not even that I miss the Internet so much, it’s just the writing. I brought along a notebook with me and I’ve already filled countless pages with random sentences, paragraph, and entire posts that along the way I though “Hey, that’d be something good for Shyzer.” Now that I have my laptop back, I’m gonna start trying to pump out a few more posts a week. Maybe two or three because in all honesty, I have heaps of material to go on here. (You never hear “a lot”, “a bunch”, or “a ton”….it’s heaps. Look at me here, pretty soon I’m gonna be talking like Steve Irwin.) And of course, this change has “nothing” to do with the dwindling number of visitors Shyzer is receiving since I’m only updating here once a week. My ego is not involved in this decision whatsoever!

After about two weeks away from my computer and the net, I’m surprised at the things I miss and even more surprised at the things I don’t. For instance, I don’t miss AIM one bit. Not a single, miniscule, tinny bit. I can’t even count the hours days I’ve pissed away on that tool of the devil and now that I don’t have it, it’s quite refreshing. I don’t miss sitting around and aimlessly surfing the net to no avail. Sure, you can find some pretty interesting shit that way, but when you add up all the time you lose doing so, it just doesn’t seem worth it in the end. Besides, it’s really hard to meet people when you are in the computer lab surfing the Net all day long.

That being said, I do miss some things. There are some exceptionally well versed authors on this here In-tra-net and reading their ramblings always brought a certain level of joy to this here kid. Doc, Simmons, Dooce, USS Mariner, etc, etc. It’s rare to find a person on the Net who can string sentences together poetically, much less correctly. So when you go find them, you tend to hold on for dear life and refuse to let go. I’ve already gone back and read all their entries made since I left and have loved every minute of it. Screw the newspaper. Give me a daily paper with all my favorite bloggers newest posts and I’m set.

In fact, here’s an example of what I’m talking about. Remember how last week I posted a running log of my trip over here to Aussie? Well Simmons was doing the same thing virtually at the same time of his trip from LA to Denver. And he was able to come up with these gems that I only wish I had written:

Friday, 8 a.m. PST, Los Angeles: The Sports Gal drives me to LAX and starts the token “Fight on the way to the airport,” as required in Rule 43B in the “Code Of Females” guidebook.

8:45 a.m. — Thanks to a comedy of errors, I didn’t make my plane reservation until three days ago, which is relevant for three reasons. First, if my airline for the weekend was an NBA player, it would be Michael Olowokandi — bad reputation, perennial underachiever, but a strangely palatable option since it’s impossible to find a serviceable big man at a reasonable price. Everyone who flies this airline ends up feeling like Kevin McHale, the last NBA GM to sign Olowokandi, and someone who would DEFINITELY never do it again. For the purposes of this column, we’ll be referring to this weekend’s airline as Olowokandi Air.

Second, I’m flying to Vegas and catching a connection to Denver, with a scant 86-minute difference between flights, so I can’t afford any delays … and it’s pouring rain right now. And third, thanks to the passenger-friendly setup at the Olowokandi Air terminal, I’m currently standing outside — in the freezing rain, along with dozens of other passengers, with a guy blowing cigarette smoke in my face — waiting to pass through the metal detectors inside. I feel like I’m in an episode of “Fear Factor.”

9:35 a.m. — On the bright side, I just bought about 20 magazines and newspapers. Which reminds me, why do they sell porn mags in airports? Am I supposed to read Penthouse at the gate? Take it into the men’s room? Save it for the plane so I can read it next to some horrified lady? I never understood this.

10:40 a.m. — After wondering why my flight hasn’t pre-boarded yet, I notice other passengers screaming at the overwhelmed OA guy behind the counter. As it turns out, my plane took off at 10:30 — that’s right, took off — because there was a brief window with the weather conditions. Normally this would be great, except for the fact that A) I’m not on the plane; B) they told everyone we were leaving at 11:15; C) they left behind 15-20 passengers who paid for tickets and checked in; and D) I was sitting 15 feet away and never knew the plane was leaving. According to the weasel behind the desk, it was our fault for not hearing the announcement over a sound system that was so muffled, it sounded like Moses Malone was making the announcements. Has an airline ever used the “You were asking for it” defense before?

10:50 a.m. — It’s just starting to dawn on me that MY EFFING PLANE LEFT WITHOUT ME. I’m screaming louder than anyone right now; it’s like I turned into Stephen A. Simmons. If this was an episode of “Lost,” Jack and Locke would be handcuffing me to the wreckage of the plane until I calmed down.

11:15 a.m. — They’re putting us all on “standby” for the noon flight to Vegas … on a flight that’s already oversold. Can I get a complimentary full-body cavity search with that?

11:55 a.m. — Now the noon flight is “delayed for an hour at least.” Worried about missing my connecting flight — putting the Shaq game in jeopardy — as well as turning into Tom Hanks in that “Terminal” movie, I head over with a few others to Southwest Airlines, which has a noon flight to Vegas with room. Total cost? $108.57. Within five minutes, I’m sitting on the plane. That was easy. Really, is it that hard to run an airline?

12:25 p.m. — You won’t find a happier group of people than the ones on a Southwest Airlines flight from L.A. to Vegas — no first class, no egos, sit where you want, everyone itching to gamble, even applause after the landing. My favorite thing about Southwest? How they always have those sarcastic stewardesses in their 50s with Southern accents, the ones that remain strangely sexy because they all look like they joined the Mile High Club with Burt Reynolds back in 1975. Good times all around.

1:15 p.m. — Well, until the landing. We just skidded for about four miles. I think we’re in Reno.

1:30 p.m. — As everyone heads off to clean the puke off their shirts, I head over to Olowokandi Air and learn…”

See what I mean?

Other than reading my favorite writers, I miss Shyzer itself. I miss talking with all the readers who come here, updating all the sub pages and working on Shlyrics (which never did get finished. I guess I have to try and find a way to work on it from here. Haha Fellner, you have to wait even longer for it!)

But you know what? My daily hour limit is up.