Archive for August, 2005

Re: Don’t read this, it’s stoopid

Saturday, August 27th, 2005

[Note: Read part 1 first, or your children will be ugly!]

On Mar 17, 2002, at 3:50 AM, Keaka Jackson wrote:

Hey Kids,

I never thought it would happen, but I am happy to announce that some idiot has finally stolen the rusting hunk of metal that I called a bike. It was stolen sometime between 10:30pm on Friday the 15th and midnight tonight (Saturday the 16th).

According to my meticulous notes of all the dates thrown in for the Grand Bike Theft Bet, the winner is…

MAGGIE, who put her money on March 13th!! If you don’t know who Maggie is, you didn’t win, so don’t come banging on our door begging for the prizes.

Speaking of the prizes, some of them are no longer available. The cookies have disappeared. Either Mikey mistook them for something edible after a long night of drunken foosball, or Cricket finished them off during his 3-day long symphony performance in our room. I hate Cricket.

Onny stole all the coupons for Mikey’s famous oral foot massages, so those are no longer available either. It doesn’t really matter anyway, because Mikey’s tongue is exhausted after hours of sucking on the foosball men. (Completely true. When you ask him about this, be sure to ask him how his clothes got stuck in a 25ft high light fixture suspended from the ceiling.)

Mikey and I would never go 3 days without sending a stoopid email to the list, so I’m sure you all knew that prize never existed in the first place.

So Maggie, that leaves you with two prizes: You get to do my laundry while enjoying a curiously strong mint. Please come claim your prizes soon, as Keaka is in dire need of some clean boxers.

I would also like to congratulate the biggest losers of the Grand Bike Theft Bet. Kelly Wilson lost hands down with his bet of May 33, 2078. He was educated in Canada, so none of us are too surprised by his last place finish. I was second to last, betting that my bike wouldn’t get stolen until the last day of the school year. Christina was third in the loser line, betting that it would get stolen the night I sent out the original email. Come on Christina, even thieves have standards (which my bike definitely didn’t meet).

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who assured me that you wouldn’t be able to distinguish between Keaka before and after taking the hallucination-inducing, mood-changing Malaria pills. I have to admit the pills have been disappointingly ineffective. I have confirmed, however, that they do in fact ruin your ability to read. I haven’t been able to study all weekend, and I’m positive that it’s because of the Malaria pills.

Love,
Keaka

[Editor’s Note, August 27, 2005: I love Canada, Canadians, and Canadian beer. I’ve spent both of my vacations this year in Canada. I only rag on Canada because my friend Kelly and several other friends are Canadian, and I have to harass them about something, so why not their nationality? I learned it from South Park, so don’t blame it on me, blame it on TV. Don’t you see, I’m a victim of these brainwashing entertainment devices!]

Don’t read this, it’s stoopid

Monday, August 15th, 2005

On Mar 5, 2002, at 11:04 PM, Keaka Jackson wrote:

Hey Kids,

A few days ago I stopped locking my bike in the hopes that somebody would steal the piece of crap so that I would have an excuse to buy a new one (a new bike, not a new piece of crap). So far, my mission to get robbed has failed. Today I even rode around with a big sign on my bike that said “STEAL ME!” Unfortunately, somebody stole the sign and left the bike.

Anyway, I’m taking bets on how long it will take for somebody to actually steal my bike. The person who comes closest to guessing the date of theft will win the following:

GRAND PRIZES:

  1. A plate of home-baked, stale cookies that we found under Mikey’s dirty underwear while we were “cleaning” our room yesterday. I had one of the cookies last month, and it was pretty good.
  2. A coupon redeemable for one of Mikey’s famous oral foot massages.
  3. One (1) Altoid (It’s curiously strong, just like Mikey).
  4. The opportunity to fold my laundry. If you guess the exact date, you will also win the opportunity to wash my bed sheets. This is not an automatic prize, because I washed them last year so it’s not really necessary yet.
  5. Three (3) days with no emails from Keaka and Mikey.***

OFFICIAL ENTRY RULES:

  1. Tranconians, or friends and family of any Tranconians, are not allowed to steal my bike.
  2. If Mikey wins, the above prizes will be replaced with slaps.

***Offer void in Hawaii, California, and Mars.

Love,
Keaka and Mikey

[Note: Read part 2 next, or else the suspense will keep you awake all night.]

So long, and thanks for all the Starburst…

Friday, August 12th, 2005

On May 6, 2005, at 3:51 AM, Keaka Jackson wrote:

Dearest Ticklers, ex-Ticklers, and a few other random people that I probably included in this email by accident,

I will be hosting a gathering at the Irish Bank on Thursday, May 12 at 5:55pm.

And when I say I’m “hosting”, I mean I’ll let everybody buy me drinks! There will be two sets of tables, one for people mourning my departure, and one for people celebrating. I will be in whichever section offers to buy me the most drinks. This probably means I’ll be sitting by Sarner. For a sales guy, he sure seems to do a lot of buying! I think I already owe him 17 times more than I’ve ever donated to his charity fundraisers.

Anyway, the way I figure it, if everybody buys me 1/2 of a drink, I’ll end the night quite happy, or in a ditch, or both, and the average person will only be out 2.5 bucks! Wow, I should be in sales.

The engineers aren’t allowed to head downstairs until 8pm, because I’ve been watching you slackers and it seems like some of you don’t get into the office until around 10! And there’s one weird guy I’ve seen wandering around barefoot! Good thing they keep those nuts in their own section of the office.

I don’t want anybody escaping the farewell festivities with lame excuses along the lines of “I couldn’t find the Bank”, so I’ve created a handy little map to ensure that you don’t get lost. If you aren’t the map reading type, I’ll summarize the directions here:

  1. Go 75 feet down vertically
  2. Go 10 feet straight horizontally

At some point in the near future, each and every one of you is going to realize how horribly dismal your life is without me. When that happens, feel free to give me a shout for any activities including but not limited to: movie-watching, hiking, surfing, snowboarding, breathing, drinking, yoga, salsa dancing, finding particularly elegant solutions to complex engineering problems, or all of the above at once.

You can find me at any of these addresses for the rest of my life:

  • Stanford CS address removed for my own protection
  • Other Stanford CS address removed for my own protection
  • Stanford alumni address removed for my own protection
  • mac.com address removed for my own protection
  • keakaj.com address removed for my own protection

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If you’re still reading this, then you don’t work nearly hard enough and Stan says he needs to see you in his office.

We’ve shared laughs, we’ve shared tears, we’ve shared water rations from the “improved” water cooler… and I hope to see you all downstairs to share blah blah blah I’m tired of writing this email but you get the picture.

Love,
Keaka

p.s. I just realized I didn’t use the BCC field for a mass email, which is an egregious sin, but my laptop battery is dying and I can’t change it now, you know how it is, thanks for your understanding.

Bank map

On May 5, 2005, at 5:46 PM, Evan Pon wrote:

Unfortunately, our relentless smack-talking, inferior intelligence, and Stanford-inferiority-complex has been too much to handle for one of our Tickle members.  All the rumors are true. Keawesome is a foosball machine. Keaka looks simply dashing in everything from jeans to scuba gear. And Keaka will be venturing beyond Tickle after May 12.

I, Evan Pon, would like to take a moment of silence to remember our most valuable employee, Keaka “Hawaiian Supaman” Jackson. Keaka was my personal hero, my idol, my inspiration! My coding will only be worth half as much without his approval.

Translation with all the verbosity removed — unfortunately, Keawesome is leaving the company to pursue some other interests. I don’t know who will teach me the finer points of foosball from here on out, but we all miss Keaka with all of our hearts.

I’m Moving!

Tuesday, August 9th, 2005

On May 2, 2005, at 9:42 PM, Keaka Jackson wrote:

Hey all,

I’m moving to the Presidio in June!

Whenever I say that, everyone asks me why the hell I would do such a thing. My sister describes the Presidio as “a military base under the Golden Gate Bridge where elves and hippies live.” I’m here to set the record straight…

The Presidio is a 1,480 acre chunk of land that is part of a national park (the Golden Gate National Recreation Area). I like it because there are a few trees, fields, cliffs, beaches, and elves. A 4 minute drive gets me back into city surroundings, and a 10 minute drive gets me back to where I live right now. The Presidio has a few running/biking trails, a golf course, a bowling alley, a pool (with a master’s program), a gym, a squash court, a basketball court and tennis courts.

http://www.presidio.gov/About/Tour/RecreationalResources.htm
http://www.presidio.gov/Visiting/Trails/

And now that the propaganda is over, my sister is right, it was a U.S. army post for 150 years and I will be living in an abandoned barrack! It is surrounded by miles of coastline that people call beaches, but in reality they are cold, fog-covered, wind-swept, dirty sand dunes. One of the Presidio’s main attractions, Crissy Field, is named after a pilot who valiantly tried to leave the Presidio but crashed and died shortly after takeoff. The Presidio is a National Historic District, which means that the majority of the buildings are dilapidated, designed to collapse immediately in the event of an earthquake, and probably constructed with asbestos.

I was going to include my new address in this email, but I can’t seem to find the slip of paper where I wrote it down. Anyway, you enter at the Lombard Gate, turn left, then bear right, then continue straight for 0.3 miles, then get hopelessly lost and call me on my cell to ask for directions: 650-283-xxxx.

As always, if you want off this email list then you should set up a rule in your Spam filter, because you won’t be getting any help from me.

– Keawesome

Leprechauns!

Monday, August 8th, 2005

On Mar 17, 2005, at 1:43 PM, Keaka Jackson wrote:

Hey all,

In order to stem the obscene number of phone calls I’ve received this week (ok 3), and to continue my tradition of sending out an incoherent mass email to everybody in my address book once a month, I’ve decided to whip out an update.

I went snowboarding last weekend and the mountain gave me a funny look, so I tried to kick its ass with my collar bone. It didn’t really work out very well. Now I have a broken clavicle and over a 140 Vicodin pills (seriously! I think Kaiser is trying to kill me), but I showed that mountain who’s boss!

I’m also proud to say that my doctor exclaimed “Wow! Wow! Wow!” when he saw my x-rays. Of course, he might just have been stalling for time while trying to remember where the clavicle is located. The nurse couldn’t figure out how to take my blood pressure (she gave up and never finished) and asked me “Which side is broken?” when I came in wearing a big sling on my right arm. Inspires confidence 🙂

Anyway, I’ll be wearing a fashionable sea-blue sling for 6-12 weeks, I’ll be emitting high-pitches squeals whenever I try to put on a shirt, I’ll be starting a bit of physical therapy on Monday, and I’ll be dealing Vicodin out of my apartment starting immediately.

If you would like to contribute to the “Keaka’s Snowboard Needs More Wax” fund, I’m accepting:

  • Smooches, massages, and sponge-baths from the ladies
  • Food
  • Beer (I hear it mixes well with Vicodin and livers)
  • Money

~~~~~~~~~~
“No matter how much your friends dare you, don’t ever try an inverted backside fakie 360 tailgrab.”
— Keaka