I am sitting in a row of chairs that face the main terminal C hallway drag here in Atlanta. I am playing a game that Jerald, Nathan
and I discovered while attending Microsoft Tech Ed in Florida last year: If you try to make eye contact with every attractive person that walks by, you will eventually catch someone
checking you out. You have to be really fast about this because another person’s checkout can sometimes only take a second.
The good kind of checkout happens when you catch an attractive person checking you out and they suddenly dart their eyes away, shyly pretending as if they weren’t really checking
you out. The really good kind of checkout happens
when you both make eye contact during the checkout and it holds for an extended period of time. Usually a smile is exchanged. Some lucky folks will even get an inaudible ‘hi’ if your
cards are right.


There is another side of the checkout, of course. While searching passers by to see if they are checking you out, they might wind up catching you looking at them and
mistakenly think that you were checking them
out. This can be good, bad or really bad. It’s good if any of the two aforementioned first paragraph checkout scenarios occur. It’s bad if that person makes a grimace or a
general ”Eeeew!” face upon noticing you were looking at them and possibly checking them out. It’s really bad if that person actually vocalizes their disgust. Something cold and cutting
like ”Don’t look at me!” or ”Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” or ”Hey I have a restraining order!” are particularly painful pills to swallow.


There is one last level of the checkout game worth mentioning. Life is hell if you should accidentally check out someone who is butt dog ugly and they end up showing attraction to you.
It is best to speak with a lisp and tilt your head to the side, possibly impersonating Forrest Gump or that guy from Swingblade if you are confronted and asked to profess your undying
love to the misinformed horsefaced person. Beware of spouses who are on the lookout for people like me playing the checkout game. They have nasty glances and lots of teeth
gritting techniques that are designed to convey the message of, ”Back off! This one’s mine, sucka!”
Maybe this game would be a lot less stressful if I did it with a hidden camera or something.


I didn’t get any sleep on the plane even though I was the only person in my row. I believe I did fall asleep briefly but I woke up with both arms in full-on
painful-tingly asleep mode. That sucked.
I am surprised that I haven’t had to have any limbs removed as my arms have gone to sleep so many times in my life. What exactly lets my arm hold on to dear life
without any blood flowing through it for hours on end? How can I get that same trick to happen should my entire body accidentally freeze up or lose
all my blood or undergo some other catastrophic failure? I’ll pay extra for that.

Been up over 24 hours. Pulled an all-nighter last night to finish my expense report as well as completing end of vacation activities.
Almost started to feel tears well up as I shut the front door, but then I realized an eyelash had gotten stuck in my eyeball. Stupid eyelashes.


I’ve been dreaming recently that I am back in high school. Apparently I made a bet with someone a few dreams back that I could
repeat getting straight A’s my senior year, only with harder classes. I am not sure how long I have been attending high school while I sleep.
This might have been going on for the last two years (or so it seems). I definitely know this is a recurring theme and that I don’t seem
to be too put out about having to spend a year doing something that doesn’t count for jack. As a matter of fact, I recall while dreaming
on Saturday morning that I was such a bad ass by being able to hold down a full time job AND attend high school. They must be piping in
drugs at my dreamland high school. What I can’t figure out is how come I haven’t picked up a high school girlfriend while I’m there.
I think it may have to do with the fact that I can fly while I’m there. I’ve been kind of keeping that trick a secret from the senior class.
Everytime I do it (fly) I don’t realize that this is something impossible. I have a long history of flying dreams. The best kind happen
when you realize you’re dreaming and you can take lucid control. While flying around is a really cool thing, I was never able to get lucky
with any dreamland girls. Something would always happen to put a stop to the action. In one dream, I was on a covered chuck wagon with
five gorgeous girls. I thought this was going to be the dream to end all dreams until all five girls suddenly came down with the flu and
couldn’t stop blowing their noses. Niiiice.


The aforementioned company meeting was not as bad I’d thought. All eServices companies are experiencing mucho pain as they
adapt to the changing market. I have some project ideas that I think will fly if we can sell it to the right people. Of course these are
top secret and only the wise men of our account services practice can pry it out of me. And speaking of the oh so clever and
resourceful account services gods, the person who does my flight itineraries is recused of all further blame for the sudden change in
flight times earlier this month. The email detailing the changes was actually sent, but the mail server I use had a catastrophic failure
the same day the mail was sent. I hereby offer a grande size serving of overpriced Starbucks coffee in order to make amends for my
error. Either that, or a free spanking. Take your pick.


Just for clarification, I’ll be the one giving the spanking, you dirty monkeys.


There is much drama at MarkWahlberg.com as of late. Trolls have been rearing their heads on our message board and posting nasty
and really stupid messages. Some people on there have turned out to be the most trite and petty rumor mongers that I’ve ever met.
However, 99.9% of everyone else rocks the house. Mark’s personal assistant Eric is a frequent visitor, although he now has his own
site. Have you ever seen ”Being John Malkovich” … the scene where John Cusack is performing a rather dirty puppet play while this
father and his daughter watch. The father is offended by the obscene puppet play and punches John Cusack. That guy is Eric, also known
as E-Factor. He has a few cameos in Rock Star, as well as a cameo in the upcoming ”Truth About Charlie” feature starring Mark and
directed by Jonathan (”Silence of the Lambs”) Demme. I believe he’ll be playing a french revolutionary. It’s all about the beret.


I have come up with an idea for a short 60 minute feature that I am going to try to film in Philly over the next month or so. I am finally
going to put my Digital 8 camera to good use. Remember how I said I was going to write a new article on my site at least once a week?
I think I may stand down on that threat. Maybe later. I’ll work on my three minute comedy routine first. New York is only 70 minutes away
and I might as well take a stab at getting discovered and joining the cast of Saturday Night Live. It will be a hard life, of course, and I will
have to make new friends once I join Saturday Night Live. But I will endure and of course, I will not forget my friends. Especially if they
give me really cool presents this Christmas. Come on, don’t you want to be friends with a celebrity? How about if I
let you ride the Batmobile?


Need to get on a serious starvation diet regiment soon. I feel puffy, and again, this is not the Shawn Combs kind of puffy. Exercise sucks.


Laurita, I think you should go with the piercing. You can always remove it if you want. Although a nice big tattoo on your back that
says, ”Mark Shields: Super Genius” will also garner brownie points as well as the aforementioned free ride in the batmobile. I’ll even
throw in a trip around the block in the DeLorean. Hey, let’s make it more fun. How about if we chase each other in the two cars? Who wouldn’t
want to see that in the middle of the mall parking lot at 4 AM in the morning? Oh, did I mention we had to be naked?


Okay, I’m probably scaring her off now. More later. I am going to grab a couple of Zzzzs before they load my ass onto the plane. Somehow
I got business class (AKA first class) again. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? Someone must want me to retract the
AirTran sucks motif that recurs in this log. Okay, I may do that. Keep checking back. Keeping check front, too, while you’re at it.