When I went to see avatar last Friday, I was expecting to laugh my ass off at the "funny blue monkey people" I had seen on the previews. I was looking forward to the 3D effect which I had heard was impressive, but for the most part I was planning to enjoy it for its bad-ness. Corpus Christi was I wrong. It was like I was expecting a 3rd grade school play (terrible, but cute) and accidentally saw Cirque de Soleil juggling sloths while balancing on Megatheriums*. It kicked my ass so hard I'll be crapping out my mouth for a week. High Points;
Amazing Mech Vs Tiger-snake-thingy action
Hands down the most beautiful movie I've ever seen
Best battle scenes since LOTR
Coolest fake animals ever
Neytiri can have my babies
I want to ride a dragon bird
*Spell check suggests "Woolgathering" as the correct spelling of "Megatherium". This is what I am actually talking about though, Best animal of all time right here; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megatherium
Now various people are saying the plot is unoriginal, since it copies "dances with wolves" and some other movies. Know what? I've never SEEN "dances with wolves" or some other movies, so to ME, it was original. I mean geez, I'm in my 20's, its not as though I'm an infant... but when reviewers are mentioning movies I've never heard of, I can't help but feel that they must be REALLY out of touch with the world. I've seen it 3 times now, and plan on seeing it as many more times as my budget will allow.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Stuff, part seven
My firefox temperature add-on says its -3 degrees right now, meaning that the ground is frozen solid. I'm not the most skillful driver under even the most ideal weather conditions, so watching me drive in the snow is equivalent to watching a blind toddler repair a wood-chipper; slightly hilarious, and constantly terrifying.
A few days ago, I was meandering down the road with all the traction of a greased alligator on ice, doing my best to obey the traffic laws in slippery conditions. I made a routine left turn on a green arrow, onto a two lane street... I completed the turn WITHOUT sliding out, and was very pleased with my success. Just as I started to get the idea that I might NOT be the worlds least skilled driver, a car slammed into my side, knocking me out of my wild fantasy and back into reality. The car had made a right turn (on a red light) and crossed both lanes without looking. We pulled off the road, and the crone that stepped out of the other car greeted me with a haggard smile, ten thousand years old if she was a day. So ravaged by the winds of time was she, her appearance was closer to that of a tree-stump than a human being. As proof of her extreme age, she was even wearing glasses with a strap to hold them in place, and had one of those blanket/shawl thingies wrapped around her shoulders. If ONLY she had been knitting, the tri-fecta of old lady stereotypes would have been satisfied. When we actually began talking, our conversation went something like this;
Wizened crone: Oh, it seems we've had a little slip up haven't we?
Me: Well, I was obeying the rules of the road, and you ran into me because you weren't looking.
WC: Oh... what happened?
Me: You drove into my lane and ran into me
WC: Oh dear... should we exchange our... (puzzled look)... then?
Me: All it will do is make my insurance rates go up, and since this accident is YOUR fault anyway, I would prefer if we just didn't report it at all.
WC: (looking extremely uncomfortable) Oh my... so... we just let this one slide then?
Me: I think its for the best.
I just saw an add for the movie "Legion". It seems the plot is "God decides to destroy the earth with an army of angels, small-town sheriff single-handedly defeats them and saves mankind". This has so many improbabilities that I can hardly begin to explain them all... I am no longer the most religious of types, but I read the bible quite a bit back in the day, and from what I remember, isn't God kind of... All seeing, all knowing and all powerful? I can't imagine there is any shotgun-based defense that can effectively repel the creator of all things, But maybe Mr. Sheriff also pulls out a nightstick? Thoughts?
A few days ago, I was meandering down the road with all the traction of a greased alligator on ice, doing my best to obey the traffic laws in slippery conditions. I made a routine left turn on a green arrow, onto a two lane street... I completed the turn WITHOUT sliding out, and was very pleased with my success. Just as I started to get the idea that I might NOT be the worlds least skilled driver, a car slammed into my side, knocking me out of my wild fantasy and back into reality. The car had made a right turn (on a red light) and crossed both lanes without looking. We pulled off the road, and the crone that stepped out of the other car greeted me with a haggard smile, ten thousand years old if she was a day. So ravaged by the winds of time was she, her appearance was closer to that of a tree-stump than a human being. As proof of her extreme age, she was even wearing glasses with a strap to hold them in place, and had one of those blanket/shawl thingies wrapped around her shoulders. If ONLY she had been knitting, the tri-fecta of old lady stereotypes would have been satisfied. When we actually began talking, our conversation went something like this;
Wizened crone: Oh, it seems we've had a little slip up haven't we?
Me: Well, I was obeying the rules of the road, and you ran into me because you weren't looking.
WC: Oh... what happened?
Me: You drove into my lane and ran into me
WC: Oh dear... should we exchange our... (puzzled look)... then?
Me: All it will do is make my insurance rates go up, and since this accident is YOUR fault anyway, I would prefer if we just didn't report it at all.
WC: (looking extremely uncomfortable) Oh my... so... we just let this one slide then?
Me: I think its for the best.
I just saw an add for the movie "Legion". It seems the plot is "God decides to destroy the earth with an army of angels, small-town sheriff single-handedly defeats them and saves mankind". This has so many improbabilities that I can hardly begin to explain them all... I am no longer the most religious of types, but I read the bible quite a bit back in the day, and from what I remember, isn't God kind of... All seeing, all knowing and all powerful? I can't imagine there is any shotgun-based defense that can effectively repel the creator of all things, But maybe Mr. Sheriff also pulls out a nightstick? Thoughts?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thankgiving, Sci-fi... other?
おひさしぶりですね。。。
I'll give an example of an ideal sci-fi plot-line;
Crew: Oh no! some alien thingy is trying to kill us!
alien thingy: graaar we keeels you now
Crew: Ah! it was so simple! by crossmodulating the phase discrepencies on our transkapamophic microtelebobers, we were able to unpolarize the quasi-molecular bonds and liquefy the enemy! also, SPLOSIONS EVERYWHERE!!!!
alien: gaaaaa me is dead-ed.
Now the plot of all Stargate: Universe episodes
Character1: I like that girl so much, does she like me back? I wish I wasn't so fat!
Person2: My wife is cheating on me!
Individual8: My daddy doesn't love me, now I'll never achieve my dreams! Oh yeah and we're all in space.
Ive officially given up on the new stargate. Its better to re-watch GOOD sci-fi (starwars, startrek tng, firefly, sg1) over and over than watch this shit ONCE. Seriously, they might as well call this piece of crap "Stargate: Purgatory" because nothing ever happens there... its just monotonous, ponderous torture. Even when its being horrible, it does it slower than a 5 year old walking to the kitchen to get "the big spoon" because he ate all the dog-treats again. If you are going to be BAD, do it quickly, like "League of Extraordinary Gentleman", not like "Where the Heart Is".
Thanksgiving day was amazing, as always, due to the high-caliber of my family members and the high-deliciousness of my mothers cooking. She makes this pretzel jello stuff that LOOKS nasty, but is fulfilling enough to be eaten with (or as) every meal of the day. The only food better than thanksgiving dinner (although it came down to a toss up between this and frozen pizza, I'll admit) is LEFTOVER thanksgiving dinner. For the past 2 days I've been eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I haven't had it this good in roughly 360 days.
Another thanksgiving tradition for many families, mine included, is football. I'm not the biggest fan (I really only follow the NBA) but its always fun to watch if I'm with family. I noticed something this year, however, that led me to the conclusion that there is something terribly wrong with Professional sports. while watching, I saw an athlete of unusual size (AOUS) run to the sideline and hold his mouth open. This was confusing until a squirrely looking deformed dude (Really he could have been Gollum's younger, downs-syndrome brother) gleefully squirted water into his mouth, whereupon the sparkly Goliath tromped off to wreak mayhem on his enemies. This brings up a NUMBER of objections;
1. Why are there 6'8 men running around in shiny outfits hitting each other? Is this cirque de soliel meets the NBA? Since when are these guys nearly monolithic in stature?
2. How come this man can't be bothered to pick up a water bottle? Isn't it his JOB? Can you imagine if an accountant hired someone else to pick up his stapler for him every 30 seconds, or if that priest-dude from the temple of doom had someone just DROP a beating heart into his hand to crush, rather than wrench it from the ribcage himself?
3. WHY IS SOMEONE BEING PAID TO SQUIRT WATER AT A GIANT, SHINY MAN IN A HELMET?!?! I mean cmon... wait... Actually, come to think of it, I'd take that job in a heartbeat.
I've had dozens of interesting stories and anecdotes to share with you fine people, but for some reason I've been battling with writers block of late. Hopefully I will get back into rhythm and post with frequency again.
P.S. - I haven't checked here in a while, and I just noticed the anonymous comment on my PREVIOUS post about getting friend-dumped... but really, can I be expected to understand something after being told just FIVE times? No. Thats madness. Its like telling a kitten "BAD KITTY! DOWN!" when its climbing on the screen. No matter how loud you shout, Will it ever stop? Of course not. It just. Doesn't. Under. Stand. But blast the little son-of-a-bitch in the face with a spray bottle just ONE time, and it will learn right quick that climbing is a no-no. I NEED the spray bottle, people. I might not be so quick in the head, but I'm not insane.
I'll give an example of an ideal sci-fi plot-line;
Crew: Oh no! some alien thingy is trying to kill us!
alien thingy: graaar we keeels you now
Crew: Ah! it was so simple! by crossmodulating the phase discrepencies on our transkapamophic microtelebobers, we were able to unpolarize the quasi-molecular bonds and liquefy the enemy! also, SPLOSIONS EVERYWHERE!!!!
alien: gaaaaa me is dead-ed.
Now the plot of all Stargate: Universe episodes
Character1: I like that girl so much, does she like me back? I wish I wasn't so fat!
Person2: My wife is cheating on me!
Individual8: My daddy doesn't love me, now I'll never achieve my dreams! Oh yeah and we're all in space.
Ive officially given up on the new stargate. Its better to re-watch GOOD sci-fi (starwars, startrek tng, firefly, sg1) over and over than watch this shit ONCE. Seriously, they might as well call this piece of crap "Stargate: Purgatory" because nothing ever happens there... its just monotonous, ponderous torture. Even when its being horrible, it does it slower than a 5 year old walking to the kitchen to get "the big spoon" because he ate all the dog-treats again. If you are going to be BAD, do it quickly, like "League of Extraordinary Gentleman", not like "Where the Heart Is".
Thanksgiving day was amazing, as always, due to the high-caliber of my family members and the high-deliciousness of my mothers cooking. She makes this pretzel jello stuff that LOOKS nasty, but is fulfilling enough to be eaten with (or as) every meal of the day. The only food better than thanksgiving dinner (although it came down to a toss up between this and frozen pizza, I'll admit) is LEFTOVER thanksgiving dinner. For the past 2 days I've been eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I haven't had it this good in roughly 360 days.
Another thanksgiving tradition for many families, mine included, is football. I'm not the biggest fan (I really only follow the NBA) but its always fun to watch if I'm with family. I noticed something this year, however, that led me to the conclusion that there is something terribly wrong with Professional sports. while watching, I saw an athlete of unusual size (AOUS) run to the sideline and hold his mouth open. This was confusing until a squirrely looking deformed dude (Really he could have been Gollum's younger, downs-syndrome brother) gleefully squirted water into his mouth, whereupon the sparkly Goliath tromped off to wreak mayhem on his enemies. This brings up a NUMBER of objections;
1. Why are there 6'8 men running around in shiny outfits hitting each other? Is this cirque de soliel meets the NBA? Since when are these guys nearly monolithic in stature?
2. How come this man can't be bothered to pick up a water bottle? Isn't it his JOB? Can you imagine if an accountant hired someone else to pick up his stapler for him every 30 seconds, or if that priest-dude from the temple of doom had someone just DROP a beating heart into his hand to crush, rather than wrench it from the ribcage himself?
3. WHY IS SOMEONE BEING PAID TO SQUIRT WATER AT A GIANT, SHINY MAN IN A HELMET?!?! I mean cmon... wait... Actually, come to think of it, I'd take that job in a heartbeat.
I've had dozens of interesting stories and anecdotes to share with you fine people, but for some reason I've been battling with writers block of late. Hopefully I will get back into rhythm and post with frequency again.
P.S. - I haven't checked here in a while, and I just noticed the anonymous comment on my PREVIOUS post about getting friend-dumped... but really, can I be expected to understand something after being told just FIVE times? No. Thats madness. Its like telling a kitten "BAD KITTY! DOWN!" when its climbing on the screen. No matter how loud you shout, Will it ever stop? Of course not. It just. Doesn't. Under. Stand. But blast the little son-of-a-bitch in the face with a spray bottle just ONE time, and it will learn right quick that climbing is a no-no. I NEED the spray bottle, people. I might not be so quick in the head, but I'm not insane.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Yoyakusuru
I had my braces tightened again today. On my way back to boulder I hit traffic on the I25, AND highway 36... took me about 4 hours when it normally takes me about an hour and a half. Traffic sucks, especially when every single radio station is playing that Taylor Swift song where she is like "I like you more than your girlfriend likes you, but im ugly and boring" on repeat.
In excellent news though, my orthodontist told me I should have my braces off "Soon". His exact word. "Soon". I'm excited, but don't want to get my hopes up. "Soon" can mean anything, after all. The Christians in 1 AD knew that Jesus would return "soon", And I know that a guy who drinks a quart of ipecac will vomit "soon". Whether its 6 weeks or 6 months, I can't wait to finally get these things off. I can see it now... flossing in under 30 minutes... eating corn straight off the cob... kissing a girl without the nagging fear that something gets snagged and rips... ah. It will be heaven.
I've managed to own a car for nearly four years without knowing the first thing about how it works, or how to maintain it. When minor problems arise, I ignore them until the car completely breaks down and becomes unusable, forcing me to actually learn something about vehicle maintenance. Its the same stratagem I employ in my personal life; assume everything will be perfect, ignoring all minor and major problems until they culminate with a massive explosion and shattered self-esteem. Cars, fortunately, don't make you feel nearly as worthless and lonely when they break.
Ever been friend dumped? its like getting regular dumped, except more insulting and less emotionally traumatic. Normally when you get dumped, the girl/guy conveys a message something like "You're a great person, but I just don't see this working out." The message in a friend breakup however, is more of a "I don't want to look at you, hear you, or think about you ever again. Go away."
I'm going to the Colorado beer festival on Saturday! woot woot!
In excellent news though, my orthodontist told me I should have my braces off "Soon". His exact word. "Soon". I'm excited, but don't want to get my hopes up. "Soon" can mean anything, after all. The Christians in 1 AD knew that Jesus would return "soon", And I know that a guy who drinks a quart of ipecac will vomit "soon". Whether its 6 weeks or 6 months, I can't wait to finally get these things off. I can see it now... flossing in under 30 minutes... eating corn straight off the cob... kissing a girl without the nagging fear that something gets snagged and rips... ah. It will be heaven.
I've managed to own a car for nearly four years without knowing the first thing about how it works, or how to maintain it. When minor problems arise, I ignore them until the car completely breaks down and becomes unusable, forcing me to actually learn something about vehicle maintenance. Its the same stratagem I employ in my personal life; assume everything will be perfect, ignoring all minor and major problems until they culminate with a massive explosion and shattered self-esteem. Cars, fortunately, don't make you feel nearly as worthless and lonely when they break.
Ever been friend dumped? its like getting regular dumped, except more insulting and less emotionally traumatic. Normally when you get dumped, the girl/guy conveys a message something like "You're a great person, but I just don't see this working out." The message in a friend breakup however, is more of a "I don't want to look at you, hear you, or think about you ever again. Go away."
I'm going to the Colorado beer festival on Saturday! woot woot!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Misadventures
I've been a Laker fan for as long as I can remember, and some of my best memories from childhood are watching the playoff games on TV with my dad (my OTHER fond memories of youth mostly consist of building dams with my cousin in the wash behind my uncles house, and annoying the shit out of my older sister (flush the toilet to make the shower hot! nice!)) In any case, pretty much the only reason I ordered cable TV was to see the Laker games.
When I went to watch the opening night game, however, I discovered to my dismay that my cable wasn't working properly. Everything from 21-50 was just static, I was only getting the local/national channels... OH, and lifetime and MTV, thank god. I don't know what I would do with myself If I couldn't watch womens liberation propaganda and horrible reality TV every second of every day. I called up the Comcast guy to complain, and it turns out.. I don't have basic cable. I have sub-basic cable, which is just the local channels plus 8 more, and they PURPOSEFULLY pick the channels that no one would ever deliberately watch.
Needless to say I was pissed. Its like buying a discount car at a great price, but then discovering that the engine and wheels have been removed, replaced by a small orphan boy sitting under the hood making motor boat sounds and a half dozen moldy bagels. Cheap? Sure. Useful for any purpose other than little rascals nostalgia? No.
The oh-so-helpful man then told me I could just upgrade my package to the next one up, and then I would get ESPN. It would cost just fifty five bucks a month. FIFTY FIVE? I would deliberately jam metal antennae into random places in my brain in the hope of picking up satellite reception in my eyeballs before I would pay 55 dollars a month. I don't have enough money to buy toilet paper (you don't want to know how I've managed), much less order 50 more channels when I only want exactly one of them. Which brings me to my next point; Job hunting.
I've applied every place I can think of, with no success, so I've started cold-calling potential employers to remind them that I am still here. Just in case they, you know... forgot somehow. The calls are generally pretty straightforward, I say something like "Hello, I applied here XX time ago, and wanted to reaffirm my interest in the position" and get the response "Ah thank you kind sir, your interest has been duly noted, and might I add that you sound both rugged and manly? If you would care to copulate behind the dumpster later, please inform me so that I may schedule my break accordingly."
...Ahem. In any case, the calls often end up being quite awkward, and I start feeling like a complete moron who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Nothing for it but to keep trying though, I figure if I keep it up, I will either annoy someone into giving me a job, Or maybe sire a bastard or three. Its a win-win either way.
When I went to watch the opening night game, however, I discovered to my dismay that my cable wasn't working properly. Everything from 21-50 was just static, I was only getting the local/national channels... OH, and lifetime and MTV, thank god. I don't know what I would do with myself If I couldn't watch womens liberation propaganda and horrible reality TV every second of every day. I called up the Comcast guy to complain, and it turns out.. I don't have basic cable. I have sub-basic cable, which is just the local channels plus 8 more, and they PURPOSEFULLY pick the channels that no one would ever deliberately watch.
Needless to say I was pissed. Its like buying a discount car at a great price, but then discovering that the engine and wheels have been removed, replaced by a small orphan boy sitting under the hood making motor boat sounds and a half dozen moldy bagels. Cheap? Sure. Useful for any purpose other than little rascals nostalgia? No.
The oh-so-helpful man then told me I could just upgrade my package to the next one up, and then I would get ESPN. It would cost just fifty five bucks a month. FIFTY FIVE? I would deliberately jam metal antennae into random places in my brain in the hope of picking up satellite reception in my eyeballs before I would pay 55 dollars a month. I don't have enough money to buy toilet paper (you don't want to know how I've managed), much less order 50 more channels when I only want exactly one of them. Which brings me to my next point; Job hunting.
I've applied every place I can think of, with no success, so I've started cold-calling potential employers to remind them that I am still here. Just in case they, you know... forgot somehow. The calls are generally pretty straightforward, I say something like "Hello, I applied here XX time ago, and wanted to reaffirm my interest in the position" and get the response "Ah thank you kind sir, your interest has been duly noted, and might I add that you sound both rugged and manly? If you would care to copulate behind the dumpster later, please inform me so that I may schedule my break accordingly."
...Ahem. In any case, the calls often end up being quite awkward, and I start feeling like a complete moron who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Nothing for it but to keep trying though, I figure if I keep it up, I will either annoy someone into giving me a job, Or maybe sire a bastard or three. Its a win-win either way.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Snow Ultimate
How hard do you think it is to play Ultimate Frisbee in a blizzard? Harder than free climbing a rock wall using only your teeth and knees. Harder than sitting though "Where the Heart Is" without gouging your eyes out with a melon baller. Harder than eating one Reeses Piece, and not immediately proceeding to eat 30 more.
You can barely see, you can't feel your hands, and you're trying to catch a wet disk that blends into the snow flying towards you at a bazillion feet per second. Also the disk itself is being pelted and having its flight-path altered, there are giants in blue clothing trying to tackle you, and the ground is slippery-er than than a python lathered in astroglide chasing a penguin in an ice-rink.
These conditions were simply too much for the stalwart Mighty Bucks, who were defeated in the second round of the tournament today. A moment of silence for their valiant efforts. More to come, mood permitting.
You can barely see, you can't feel your hands, and you're trying to catch a wet disk that blends into the snow flying towards you at a bazillion feet per second. Also the disk itself is being pelted and having its flight-path altered, there are giants in blue clothing trying to tackle you, and the ground is slippery-er than than a python lathered in astroglide chasing a penguin in an ice-rink.
These conditions were simply too much for the stalwart Mighty Bucks, who were defeated in the second round of the tournament today. A moment of silence for their valiant efforts. More to come, mood permitting.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
thoughts...
When I finished writing that last blog, I tried to go to sleep.
Then realized that there could be a malevolent entity standing over me, just WAITING for me to fall asleep so he could rub his dirty paws all over me. ewwwww. While I may not have too much success with the ladies, I'm sure to the demonic world there is nothing more appealing than a 21 year old virgin. I am a very rare specimen... There aren't many of us LEFT you know (as long as you don't count mormons). I'm like a hotcake covered in crack and then rolled in 1000 dollar bills to these guys.
So I can't sleep. Apparently the movie was better than I thought, at least 3/5.
If I get dragged off tonight and disappear, no-one look under my bed. seriously there is nothing there.
Then realized that there could be a malevolent entity standing over me, just WAITING for me to fall asleep so he could rub his dirty paws all over me. ewwwww. While I may not have too much success with the ladies, I'm sure to the demonic world there is nothing more appealing than a 21 year old virgin. I am a very rare specimen... There aren't many of us LEFT you know (as long as you don't count mormons). I'm like a hotcake covered in crack and then rolled in 1000 dollar bills to these guys.
So I can't sleep. Apparently the movie was better than I thought, at least 3/5.
If I get dragged off tonight and disappear, no-one look under my bed. seriously there is nothing there.
Paranormal Activity
As the title suggests, I just saw paranormal activity with a friend. It was... ok. There were quite a few moments where I was scared/excited, but it always seemed to dissipate without anything really "happening", as though I was getting pulled up to the top of a roller coaster... and then just coasting straight, instead of dropping. The most entertaining moment was when a guy in the back of the theater yelled "Take the god-damn camera!"
Normally I oppose gore, but this movie needed some. A few gobs of it here and there (especially at the very end) would have improved it significantly. If this movie had reached some kind of crescendo, I would give it 5 stars... as it stands it gets a dismal 2/5 from me.
Today I got a call from a company that wanted to hire me! Not only that, they wanted me to start immediately! as in today! Of course I was thrilled, because this would mean that I would finally have a reliable source of income (not that I don't LOVE taking out an additional $500 loan every month...)
However, something seemed... odd... when I called the woman back. She mentioned that I had had an excellent interview, but she was confused I could not work afternoons since she did not remember me being a student. I had never interviewed with them. Turns out, they somehow attached MY name and number to a completely different dude. I asked if I could work some other shift, but it turned out the job they had open was for a delivery driver, and I don't have the license needed to drive the truck.
I am getting pretty frustrated here.
The day wasn't a TOTAL loss though... at least I'm out 10 bucks.
Normally I oppose gore, but this movie needed some. A few gobs of it here and there (especially at the very end) would have improved it significantly. If this movie had reached some kind of crescendo, I would give it 5 stars... as it stands it gets a dismal 2/5 from me.
Today I got a call from a company that wanted to hire me! Not only that, they wanted me to start immediately! as in today! Of course I was thrilled, because this would mean that I would finally have a reliable source of income (not that I don't LOVE taking out an additional $500 loan every month...)
However, something seemed... odd... when I called the woman back. She mentioned that I had had an excellent interview, but she was confused I could not work afternoons since she did not remember me being a student. I had never interviewed with them. Turns out, they somehow attached MY name and number to a completely different dude. I asked if I could work some other shift, but it turned out the job they had open was for a delivery driver, and I don't have the license needed to drive the truck.
I am getting pretty frustrated here.
The day wasn't a TOTAL loss though... at least I'm out 10 bucks.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Ode to Failure
I woke up early to finish (ok fine... begin) my Analysis homework. Now, Analysis has "Anal" in the name for a reason; Everything must be done exactly perfect on the first try, or Archimedes will personally descend from heaven (or ascend from hell, who knows) and kick your ass 12th century style. Medieval beatings aside, I wasn't too worried about getting a good grade, as I have a long track record of doing well on half-assed work... but I discovered that the homework was due yesterday by 6pm. Its complete crapballs, but on the plus side, I'm AWAKE at 5:15, which is my very favorite-est thing in the whole world.
I was recently informed that my favorite beer, Bud Light Lime, is girly. For about 30 seconds I was appalled, and considered attempting to find a NEW favorite beer... then I came to my senses and realized that I like it because it tastes good, not because anyone else likes it. Clearly, "Girly" means "Delicious". I should grind up a couple my little ponies into a spreadable powder to put on my eggs, or maybe try putting some franks sauce on a poster of a dolphin (jumping out of the water, a moon in the backround) and eating it with some french fries.
I was recently informed that my favorite beer, Bud Light Lime, is girly. For about 30 seconds I was appalled, and considered attempting to find a NEW favorite beer... then I came to my senses and realized that I like it because it tastes good, not because anyone else likes it. Clearly, "Girly" means "Delicious". I should grind up a couple my little ponies into a spreadable powder to put on my eggs, or maybe try putting some franks sauce on a poster of a dolphin (jumping out of the water, a moon in the backround) and eating it with some french fries.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Days... of our lives.
A few days ago I was sitting down (as I often do), and decided that I would rather be standing up. Little did I know that this seemingly innocuous decision would ultimately make the next few days of my life an exercise in ouchiness. When I first began to stand, everything felt fine, when I became fully erect however... It was as though my spine was made of funny bones in place of vertebrae, and I had hit all of them simultaneously.
The pain lancing through my lower back brought me to the floor, where I remained for about 30 minutes. When I finally mustered enough courage to attempt movement, I discovered that I could actually get about just fine, so long as I didn't bend, twist or breathe. I also discovered a new skill; I possess the ability to make AND eat ramen with my upper-body parallel to the ground.
I skipped class the next day, since traveling at even snail-like speeds made me feel like there was an industrious dwarf mining my coccyx for mithril. Who the hell named the coccyx the coccyx? Could they possibly have chosen a more ludicrous spelling? No, it is the stupidest word ever. In any case... The day off was a good idea, as I am pretty much OK now. I'm still getting an occasional twinge of pain when I practice my back hand springs, but for the most part I am healed.
Friday night me and a couple friends went out to partake in the mirth and the merry-making, but The friend who knew where we were going (she shall remain nameless, but her name rhymes with "guy-sha") apparently did NOT know where we were going. We walked in circles for a while, asking directions twice, before I saw something I can only describe as a "mass exodus". About 60 super-model-caliber women filed past us in flocks of 8-12, fleeing like rats off a sinking ship. One of them overheard that we were looking for (man)'s party, and explained that she was just leaving, and gave directions. Naturally, I was thrilled about this, since the BEST way to get enthusiastic about an event is to see dozens of gorgeous women leaving just as you arrive.
We get to the party (though I use the word loosely) to find just ONE girl, forlornly sitting on the stairs and holding her head. She was surrounded by a dozen neanderthals cavorting about in animal skins, flinging their own shit at each other in drunken glee. Ok, maybe thats a slight exaggeration, but... no, actually thats pretty accurate. We left that sorry event like they were giving mandatory aids shots, and went to IHOP. Pancakes and chicken strips were eaten, fun was had, and a potentially horrendous night was salvaged.
Tonight I went to a hibachi restaurant for my dads birthday, and I decided it would be a great chance to use some of the Japanese I've been learning. I ordered using the phrase "Niwatori to hebi onegai shimasu". We went about our business, my food arrived, and I continued to talk to the waitress in Japanese, saying things like "Could I have some more tea" and "Thank you, it is very good". about 15 minutes later, I said to her "Sumimasen, kyoo wa watashi no chichi no tanjyoubi desu" (excuse me, today is my fathers birthday) to which she replied "I'm sorry... I'm not Japanese." I then realized that I had ordered "Chicken and Snake" not "Chicken and shrimp". At least there was no one there to call me out on it.
The pain lancing through my lower back brought me to the floor, where I remained for about 30 minutes. When I finally mustered enough courage to attempt movement, I discovered that I could actually get about just fine, so long as I didn't bend, twist or breathe. I also discovered a new skill; I possess the ability to make AND eat ramen with my upper-body parallel to the ground.
I skipped class the next day, since traveling at even snail-like speeds made me feel like there was an industrious dwarf mining my coccyx for mithril. Who the hell named the coccyx the coccyx? Could they possibly have chosen a more ludicrous spelling? No, it is the stupidest word ever. In any case... The day off was a good idea, as I am pretty much OK now. I'm still getting an occasional twinge of pain when I practice my back hand springs, but for the most part I am healed.
Friday night me and a couple friends went out to partake in the mirth and the merry-making, but The friend who knew where we were going (she shall remain nameless, but her name rhymes with "guy-sha") apparently did NOT know where we were going. We walked in circles for a while, asking directions twice, before I saw something I can only describe as a "mass exodus". About 60 super-model-caliber women filed past us in flocks of 8-12, fleeing like rats off a sinking ship. One of them overheard that we were looking for (man)'s party, and explained that she was just leaving, and gave directions. Naturally, I was thrilled about this, since the BEST way to get enthusiastic about an event is to see dozens of gorgeous women leaving just as you arrive.
We get to the party (though I use the word loosely) to find just ONE girl, forlornly sitting on the stairs and holding her head. She was surrounded by a dozen neanderthals cavorting about in animal skins, flinging their own shit at each other in drunken glee. Ok, maybe thats a slight exaggeration, but... no, actually thats pretty accurate. We left that sorry event like they were giving mandatory aids shots, and went to IHOP. Pancakes and chicken strips were eaten, fun was had, and a potentially horrendous night was salvaged.
Tonight I went to a hibachi restaurant for my dads birthday, and I decided it would be a great chance to use some of the Japanese I've been learning. I ordered using the phrase "Niwatori to hebi onegai shimasu". We went about our business, my food arrived, and I continued to talk to the waitress in Japanese, saying things like "Could I have some more tea" and "Thank you, it is very good". about 15 minutes later, I said to her "Sumimasen, kyoo wa watashi no chichi no tanjyoubi desu" (excuse me, today is my fathers birthday) to which she replied "I'm sorry... I'm not Japanese." I then realized that I had ordered "Chicken and Snake" not "Chicken and shrimp". At least there was no one there to call me out on it.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Live that funky liiiiiife white-boy
This morning I was walking to class, and a dude with a clipboard (those guys that want your money to save the environment, or to help send their niece's scout troop to Azerbaijan to build bird-houses or some BS) asked me
Dude - How are you doing today sir?
Me - Shitty, thanks for bringing it up
Dude - *gets nervous look on his face* I'm sorry to hear that... could I have five minutes of your time?
Me - *dirty look, derisive snort* No.
Have you ever been in a bad funk and couldn't get out of it no matter how you tried? You find yourself just drifting along, taking pleasure in nothing? Normally innocuous events send you into a murderous rage, or cause you to burst into tears?
Over the last few days I've not been acting my usual witty, charming, hilarious self. I elbowed a guy on the bus because he made accidental physical contact with me. I tried to play some Halo, and began to cry when a grunt begged me for mercy. Now to any sane person, the desperate groveling of a doomed alien would elicit maniacal laughter, quickly followed by a melee to the head, or a "just for fun" grenade stick. But no. Gut-wrenching sobs.
I tried to cure my funk by smothering it in booze, deliberately imbibing three times the daily recommended value in the hope of erasing bits of my mind. Instead of making things better, I made an ass of myself by committing the most grave of all possibly party offenses. Yes, the great taboo of taboos, evil of all evils; I misquoted the Princess Bride. I can never show my face to those people again... not now that they know what my innermost self is capable of. Like a pardoned pedophile... I can't just go back to how it was before. Former friends gaze on me with distrustful eyes, carefully hiding their copies of "The Holy Grail" behind locked doors when I come to visit.
Another folly of recent days was when I ordered 3 pizzas and a dozen hot wings, thinking that some of my favorite food would improve my mood. My room-mate was offered none of this cheesy deliciousness... forced instead to sit in on the floor in darkness, timidly eating his meager gruel with a crust of stale bread while I feasted less than ten feet away. In communist Russia (or modern day Africa) I would have been publicly stoned for such wanton selfishness...
Yes, I've been in a funk most funky. Music sounded cacophonous and empty simultaneously, sleep wasn't restful, I had no desire to eat peanut butter. France wasn't even funny. Something was horribly wrong with me. About 3 hours ago, this all changed. I saw this video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeP1Klmk0ng&feature=player_embedded#
(copy-paste it, I can't get it to be "clickable")
And began laughing harder and more honestly than I have in days. Upon realizing that this song somehow said everything I was thinking, I also realized that my thoughts are completely ridiculous. I was able to laugh at myself... proving for all time that laughter really is the best medicine (or at least better than booze and hot wings). Things are good. I'm an idiot, but NOT a hopeless idiot. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Dude - How are you doing today sir?
Me - Shitty, thanks for bringing it up
Dude - *gets nervous look on his face* I'm sorry to hear that... could I have five minutes of your time?
Me - *dirty look, derisive snort* No.
Have you ever been in a bad funk and couldn't get out of it no matter how you tried? You find yourself just drifting along, taking pleasure in nothing? Normally innocuous events send you into a murderous rage, or cause you to burst into tears?
Over the last few days I've not been acting my usual witty, charming, hilarious self. I elbowed a guy on the bus because he made accidental physical contact with me. I tried to play some Halo, and began to cry when a grunt begged me for mercy. Now to any sane person, the desperate groveling of a doomed alien would elicit maniacal laughter, quickly followed by a melee to the head, or a "just for fun" grenade stick. But no. Gut-wrenching sobs.
I tried to cure my funk by smothering it in booze, deliberately imbibing three times the daily recommended value in the hope of erasing bits of my mind. Instead of making things better, I made an ass of myself by committing the most grave of all possibly party offenses. Yes, the great taboo of taboos, evil of all evils; I misquoted the Princess Bride. I can never show my face to those people again... not now that they know what my innermost self is capable of. Like a pardoned pedophile... I can't just go back to how it was before. Former friends gaze on me with distrustful eyes, carefully hiding their copies of "The Holy Grail" behind locked doors when I come to visit.
Another folly of recent days was when I ordered 3 pizzas and a dozen hot wings, thinking that some of my favorite food would improve my mood. My room-mate was offered none of this cheesy deliciousness... forced instead to sit in on the floor in darkness, timidly eating his meager gruel with a crust of stale bread while I feasted less than ten feet away. In communist Russia (or modern day Africa) I would have been publicly stoned for such wanton selfishness...
Yes, I've been in a funk most funky. Music sounded cacophonous and empty simultaneously, sleep wasn't restful, I had no desire to eat peanut butter. France wasn't even funny. Something was horribly wrong with me. About 3 hours ago, this all changed. I saw this video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeP1Klmk0ng&feature=player_embedded#
(copy-paste it, I can't get it to be "clickable")
And began laughing harder and more honestly than I have in days. Upon realizing that this song somehow said everything I was thinking, I also realized that my thoughts are completely ridiculous. I was able to laugh at myself... proving for all time that laughter really is the best medicine (or at least better than booze and hot wings). Things are good. I'm an idiot, but NOT a hopeless idiot. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Epic Struggle
Sometimes, a man just doesn't know what he wants in life. What is best for the man, and what the man "thinks" he wants, are only vaguely similar things. Double cheeseburger and strawberry shake, or chicken sandwich? $700 banjo, or RENT for 2 months? Do homework, or watch LOST*? In case you couldn't tell, the man is me.
*I've noticed something odd while watching LOST... the women are always perfectly clean, and have skillfully applied makeup. How are they managing to find eye liner and lipstick on an island that barely even has food? Also... How are they keeping their armpits and legs shaved with NO RAZORS? I suppose this is one of those times I just have to accept the lack of realism. After all, Do I really WANT to see a woman with mud in her hair and a carpet on her legs? Realistic? Yes. In any way attractive? uhhh no. Thank you, artistic license.
So what influences my decision making? excellent question reader! I have exactly five motivators that determine everything I ever do. They are, in order of strength;
Laziness
Cowardice
Curiosity
Hunger
Horniness
Anything I do can be easily attributed to one of these forces. Why do I eat every day? I'm too lazy to let myself die (takes WAY too much work). Why do I do my homework? My dad gives me food in exchange for good grades. Why did I wait until I was nearly 21 to drink? That has... a different sort of answer. I'd like to think that it was due to a finely tuned "Moral Center", and my inner sense of justice... but this is simply not the case. In reality, I was scared shitless of trying something new. In fact, there are many, many things I have wanted to do, but simply been too terrified to attempt.
I am leaving college in about a year, give or take a semester. When this happens, I will have my pick of dozens of prestigious job opportunities, each paying me an exorbitant salary to travel to exotic places accompanied by gorgeous women. Also, I will be told that the summer I spent indoors unlocking every medal in Star Fox 64 was actually training to become The Last Starfighter, and that I am the last hope of defending the galaxy.
In any case, once this future becomes a reality, I will have lost my opportunity to do... many things. Hopefully I can become a bit more open minded, and get the balls to do what I want before its too late.
*I've noticed something odd while watching LOST... the women are always perfectly clean, and have skillfully applied makeup. How are they managing to find eye liner and lipstick on an island that barely even has food? Also... How are they keeping their armpits and legs shaved with NO RAZORS? I suppose this is one of those times I just have to accept the lack of realism. After all, Do I really WANT to see a woman with mud in her hair and a carpet on her legs? Realistic? Yes. In any way attractive? uhhh no. Thank you, artistic license.
So what influences my decision making? excellent question reader! I have exactly five motivators that determine everything I ever do. They are, in order of strength;
Laziness
Cowardice
Curiosity
Hunger
Horniness
Anything I do can be easily attributed to one of these forces. Why do I eat every day? I'm too lazy to let myself die (takes WAY too much work). Why do I do my homework? My dad gives me food in exchange for good grades. Why did I wait until I was nearly 21 to drink? That has... a different sort of answer. I'd like to think that it was due to a finely tuned "Moral Center", and my inner sense of justice... but this is simply not the case. In reality, I was scared shitless of trying something new. In fact, there are many, many things I have wanted to do, but simply been too terrified to attempt.
I am leaving college in about a year, give or take a semester. When this happens, I will have my pick of dozens of prestigious job opportunities, each paying me an exorbitant salary to travel to exotic places accompanied by gorgeous women. Also, I will be told that the summer I spent indoors unlocking every medal in Star Fox 64 was actually training to become The Last Starfighter, and that I am the last hope of defending the galaxy.
In any case, once this future becomes a reality, I will have lost my opportunity to do... many things. Hopefully I can become a bit more open minded, and get the balls to do what I want before its too late.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
What I say, o?
(mundane topic, mildly amusing analogies throughout, possible sci-fi reference)
(ironic segway)
Every once in a while, when things are going (relatively) well, the powers that be think to themselves "How can we screw with Zach today?" Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that I am the most important guy on the earth, so special that the creators of all things take time out of their schedules to meddle in my affairs.
Have you ever been walking, and seen a pebble or a can on the path, and kicked it? Sure. Why? because you were bored. The object did nothing to anger you, and its not as though you have a personal hatred of discarded trash (assuming your father was not killed by homicidal refuse before your eyes at a young age*). It was just something to do to make your journey from A to B slightly less saw-me-in-half-with-a-nailfile boring. What will happen to the trash after you forcefully evict it from its cozy little dwelling place? You don't care.
*If you actually witnessed your fathers murder at the hands of evil garbage, I don't mean to offend. You have my sincere condolences.
To a supreme being, I am a piece of trash in the road, punted skyward for no purpose other than a moments amusement. I'd like to think that I am least something awesome like a balled up bit of foil, and not something lame like a "Diet Rootbeer" can. Who drinks diet rootbeer anyway? Does anyone ever go into a safeway, down the soda aisle, and think "Man, I've just got a terrible strong hankering for some sweet, bubbly drink. Oh look, Praise the Lord! DIET rootbeer! I'm saved!"? Anyone that buys a diet rootbeer, for any reason, ever, is less interesting than a piece of bread bobbing up and down in a pond, so soggy even the ducks won't eat it.
We, as human beings, have no control over the boot-clad toes of the gods. At any given moment they may strike us in our rears, displacing us from our comfort zones. All we can do is rub our sore derrieres, futilely shake our fists at the sky, and try our best to adapt to our new surroundings. Confucius once said "Shit happens", And it is by those wise words of wisdom that I try to live my life.
(ironic segway)
Every once in a while, when things are going (relatively) well, the powers that be think to themselves "How can we screw with Zach today?" Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that I am the most important guy on the earth, so special that the creators of all things take time out of their schedules to meddle in my affairs.
Have you ever been walking, and seen a pebble or a can on the path, and kicked it? Sure. Why? because you were bored. The object did nothing to anger you, and its not as though you have a personal hatred of discarded trash (assuming your father was not killed by homicidal refuse before your eyes at a young age*). It was just something to do to make your journey from A to B slightly less saw-me-in-half-with-a-nailfile boring. What will happen to the trash after you forcefully evict it from its cozy little dwelling place? You don't care.
*If you actually witnessed your fathers murder at the hands of evil garbage, I don't mean to offend. You have my sincere condolences.
To a supreme being, I am a piece of trash in the road, punted skyward for no purpose other than a moments amusement. I'd like to think that I am least something awesome like a balled up bit of foil, and not something lame like a "Diet Rootbeer" can. Who drinks diet rootbeer anyway? Does anyone ever go into a safeway, down the soda aisle, and think "Man, I've just got a terrible strong hankering for some sweet, bubbly drink. Oh look, Praise the Lord! DIET rootbeer! I'm saved!"? Anyone that buys a diet rootbeer, for any reason, ever, is less interesting than a piece of bread bobbing up and down in a pond, so soggy even the ducks won't eat it.
We, as human beings, have no control over the boot-clad toes of the gods. At any given moment they may strike us in our rears, displacing us from our comfort zones. All we can do is rub our sore derrieres, futilely shake our fists at the sky, and try our best to adapt to our new surroundings. Confucius once said "Shit happens", And it is by those wise words of wisdom that I try to live my life.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Conversation?
This took place, and is continuing to take place, moments ago and now. It is just further evidence of the jacked-up-icity of facebook.
Zach 1:33pm
Hey Elaine
how are you doing?
Elaine 1:34pm
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:35pm
Love you too! you shouldn't go on facebook at work!
1:35pmElaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
1:45 pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:13pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:14pm Zach
Stop telling me that!
you sent it 15 times already!
2:15pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:15pmZach
...
2:16pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:22pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:33pm
Hey Elaine
how are you doing?
Elaine 1:34pm
cant chat - at work. love you!
Zach 1:35pm
Love you too! you shouldn't go on facebook at work!
1:35pmElaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
1:45 pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:13pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:14pm Zach
Stop telling me that!
you sent it 15 times already!
2:15pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:15pmZach
...
2:16pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
2:22pm Elaine
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
cant chat - at work. love you!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Eeetoooo...
As I stated in "The merits of never sleeping" I am world class slacker. I am aware that the outside world views the slacker sub-culture as adventurous, glamorous and exciting (commonly comparing us to Rock-Stars [though we get twice the tail]), but the title doesn't come without its fair share of responsibilities. Put yourself in my shoes for just a moment. Imagine spending two weeks in my life;
You are told Monday that you have an assignment due the following Friday. It could involve anything from a powerpoint presentation, to turning in a few score workbook pages, to organizing a resistance movement of renegade marsupials into overthrowing the Australian government (you know, same ol' same ol')
You desperately want to begin the assignment right away, but you can't. You just don't have time, your duties can NOT be ignored. Unfortunately to maintain your status as a slacker, you are forced to watch a minimum of 5 hours of TV daily, frequently taking breaks to play the James Bond theme on the banjo by ear, check the entirety of wikipedia for accuracy, and re-rearrange your sock drawer. That tantalizing work is sitting in front of you, calling like a siren, just begging to be done, but you cannot, must not, begin before it is time.
After miraculously managing to avoid the temptations of productivity for 13 full days, the inevitable Thursday night rolls along. The time has come. You can FINALLY begin the task. You pull an all-nighter, half assing, guesstimating and BSing your way though 12 hours of work. You show up to class with eyes more bloodshot than a van of stoners on 4/20, spouting dozens of excuses (all lies), barely managing to squeeze a (very generous) c+ from the professors stone-cold heart.
Doesn't seem so glamorous now does it? I mean sure, all the TV and banjo you could ever want but... Is it worth it? Being a procrastinator is not for the faint-of-heart. Unlike those lazy-bums who do their work right when they get it, It takes true commitment to be a skilled slacker.
Someone recently professed their love of "Avenged Sevenfold" with more enthusiasm than a man jumping onto the last helicopter out a 'nam. This was enough to motivate me to look them up, and discover that they are the artists behind the song "Beast and the Harlot" from Guitar Hero II!
A surefire way to get me interested in almost any subject is to put it into video game form. In the days before Guitar Hero, My music library consisted of (literally) Video game .midi files, and the LOTR soundtrack. Really. I'm not joking at all here. Until I was 18. I swear. Ok moving on.
I decided to stick them into Pandora, and see if I could actually broaden my musical appreciation. Bad. Idea. For every awesome/decent song from Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu or Bullet for my Valentine, I get at least 4 or 5 songs which consist of nothing but 10 base guitars, 25 drummers and man with a box of tacks lodged in his larynx screaming profanity. The only lyrics I manage to understand are about raping women or tearing the wings off of parakeets to jam down the throats of orphans. Seriously? At least when Avenged Sevenfold sings about killing someone, they have interesting guitar melodies and vocals going on in the background.
Makes me want to dropkick a puppy, wear eye-liner and brag about how hardcore I am to a bunch of 13 year olds.
You are told Monday that you have an assignment due the following Friday. It could involve anything from a powerpoint presentation, to turning in a few score workbook pages, to organizing a resistance movement of renegade marsupials into overthrowing the Australian government (you know, same ol' same ol')
You desperately want to begin the assignment right away, but you can't. You just don't have time, your duties can NOT be ignored. Unfortunately to maintain your status as a slacker, you are forced to watch a minimum of 5 hours of TV daily, frequently taking breaks to play the James Bond theme on the banjo by ear, check the entirety of wikipedia for accuracy, and re-rearrange your sock drawer. That tantalizing work is sitting in front of you, calling like a siren, just begging to be done, but you cannot, must not, begin before it is time.
After miraculously managing to avoid the temptations of productivity for 13 full days, the inevitable Thursday night rolls along. The time has come. You can FINALLY begin the task. You pull an all-nighter, half assing, guesstimating and BSing your way though 12 hours of work. You show up to class with eyes more bloodshot than a van of stoners on 4/20, spouting dozens of excuses (all lies), barely managing to squeeze a (very generous) c+ from the professors stone-cold heart.
Doesn't seem so glamorous now does it? I mean sure, all the TV and banjo you could ever want but... Is it worth it? Being a procrastinator is not for the faint-of-heart. Unlike those lazy-bums who do their work right when they get it, It takes true commitment to be a skilled slacker.
Someone recently professed their love of "Avenged Sevenfold" with more enthusiasm than a man jumping onto the last helicopter out a 'nam. This was enough to motivate me to look them up, and discover that they are the artists behind the song "Beast and the Harlot" from Guitar Hero II!
A surefire way to get me interested in almost any subject is to put it into video game form. In the days before Guitar Hero, My music library consisted of (literally) Video game .midi files, and the LOTR soundtrack. Really. I'm not joking at all here. Until I was 18. I swear. Ok moving on.
I decided to stick them into Pandora, and see if I could actually broaden my musical appreciation. Bad. Idea. For every awesome/decent song from Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu or Bullet for my Valentine, I get at least 4 or 5 songs which consist of nothing but 10 base guitars, 25 drummers and man with a box of tacks lodged in his larynx screaming profanity. The only lyrics I manage to understand are about raping women or tearing the wings off of parakeets to jam down the throats of orphans. Seriously? At least when Avenged Sevenfold sings about killing someone, they have interesting guitar melodies and vocals going on in the background.
Makes me want to dropkick a puppy, wear eye-liner and brag about how hardcore I am to a bunch of 13 year olds.
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Merits of Never Sleeping.
I pulled an all nighter last night. This was done out of necessity, because I am a slacker on the competitive circuit, and my training regimen requires that I not begin assignments until 8 hours before they are due. As part of the athletic process, I waited until about 10 pm to start all of the homework for the next day, AND to start studying for a midterm. This means I've been up for about... huh, 38 hours now? Childs play for some of you I'm sure, but I'm a relative newcomer into this area. I've made some observations of my experience
If you normally shower right after you wake up, and then you DON'T wake up, your body does not automatically clean itself. It will smell like ass.
Just because you feel great coming out of a test, does not mean the test went great. It is conceivable that the answers that made perfect sense at the time were actually the ravings of a loon.
You can skip a meal OR skip a nights sleep with no negative effects, but skipping BOTH makes you feel all wobbly.
If it seems like everyone is annoying you on purpose... they probably are, actually. Go ahead and punch them in the face. No fate but what we make right?
Side note: How did the Terminator series get so crappy? I mean, How in the WORLD did adding RIVER TAM to TERMINATOR not equal pure gold?
Where was I? Ah yes, I am considering getting some kind of furry beast to accompany me at my house. A cat would be ideal (They don't give a shit what you do so long as you feed them and keep their litter clean, unlike puppies which get manic depressive if you don't give them walkies every 5 min) but several of my friends are allergic to cats. I would be all but banishing them from my abode for all time.
Options:
Capture and domesticate a Skunk (supposedly hypo-allergenic and fond of small children, plus an excellent deterrent to invaders)
Glue some of my facial hair to a rock, tie a string around it and drag it behind me when I feel lonely (name it "Theodore")
Screw those friends! Kitties are awesome!
If you normally shower right after you wake up, and then you DON'T wake up, your body does not automatically clean itself. It will smell like ass.
Just because you feel great coming out of a test, does not mean the test went great. It is conceivable that the answers that made perfect sense at the time were actually the ravings of a loon.
You can skip a meal OR skip a nights sleep with no negative effects, but skipping BOTH makes you feel all wobbly.
If it seems like everyone is annoying you on purpose... they probably are, actually. Go ahead and punch them in the face. No fate but what we make right?
Side note: How did the Terminator series get so crappy? I mean, How in the WORLD did adding RIVER TAM to TERMINATOR not equal pure gold?
Where was I? Ah yes, I am considering getting some kind of furry beast to accompany me at my house. A cat would be ideal (They don't give a shit what you do so long as you feed them and keep their litter clean, unlike puppies which get manic depressive if you don't give them walkies every 5 min) but several of my friends are allergic to cats. I would be all but banishing them from my abode for all time.
Options:
Capture and domesticate a Skunk (supposedly hypo-allergenic and fond of small children, plus an excellent deterrent to invaders)
Glue some of my facial hair to a rock, tie a string around it and drag it behind me when I feel lonely (name it "Theodore")
Screw those friends! Kitties are awesome!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Can't judge a book by... oh wait
Hearken to me, dear readers. Remember, if you will, the glory of ages past, long long ago in the before time.* This fabled, nay, mythic era of peace and bliss has become nothing more than a shadow of a dream, forgotten by all but the most stalwart and devout. Listen now to tales of yesteryear, listen to the anthem of hope and truth once sung by all, which slowly transformed into a dirge of lament.
What is this event that so rocked the foundations of the earth, Causing the very gods to tremble in terror, and every man, woman and child alike to weep in despair? Not war, plague or famine. They pale in comparison to the horrors we faced. Not the arrival of the Antichrist, no, nothing that tame. It is, of course, Facebook going F*@#ing mainstream.
*Anyone who can tell me this reference, I owe you a cookie, or piece of fried chipmunk, whatever I've got on hand at the time
I swear I'm done talking all epic-like. Really, I'm done. Forsooth.
When I first got on Facebook, about a month into my freshman year, I had just switched over from MySpace, and I remember explaining to my parents "Its not the same thing at all, its JUST for networking and making study groups and such". The site was sleek, functional and elegant. Any red-blooded American man would feel ten feet tall walking into a party with that hot piece of code on his arm, the jealous stares of his peers confirming what he already knew: Facebook was the shit.
flash forward 4 years: The hot, sexy site has taken up cocaine, and all that remains of its once vibrant beauty is a bloated, hollowed out husk, devoid of substance. Its myriad features are as plentiful and annoying as body hair. It walks, talks and behaves vaguely like its former self, However its constant sniffling is really getting on your nerves, and you can't help but wonder why its nose bleeds like a faucet every time there is so much as a gentle breeze. You've become too ashamed to even look at it, much less take it out in public with you, and you can't even remember what you saw in it in the first place.
You used to be able to confide your deepest thoughts and desires to it, but now it relays anything and everything you say to every person you know. Plus, it won't stop telling you THEIR secrets, even if you don't want to know them.
Ok, ok, sorry. I'll talk less, and say more. I have been trying to work a cocaine analogy into this thing for a while now, and if you don't answer when opportunity knocks, it will go to the next house and give them YOUR pizza for half price. If... opportunity is the domino's guy.
SO. Facebook brought in apps, I wasn't worried. "Its been so great, I'm sure it won't go all wrong!" Facebook started having ads that weren't related to college, I was unperturbed. "ok sure why not?" Facebook started letting highschoolers join. I was anxious "um... well... I guess they will be in college eventually right?" Facebook let ANYONE join. I was angry. "grr." Then they put in this "chat" thingy, and it went all to hell.
The thing is virtually useless. Half the time it doesn't even work, and when it DOES work, its buggier than that Pixar movie where the dude goes to the city to hire fighters to defend his hometown from the thugs that steal their grain every year, and then they build a giant bird out of sticks and... kay.
Whenever I receive a message, my entire computer freezes for a fraction of a second. If I am typing, the letters I hit are ignored. If I just clicked a link, the page will freeze. If I picked a new song on Itunes, it will stall. Sometimes, the "freeze" becomes permanent, and the only way to fix it is to close facebook and open a new window. I could be a website critic. This feature is bad.
P.S. - Margaritas have TWO drinks in them, not one. Just cause they are fruity does NOT mean they will not f*** you up.
P.P.S. - If you want to watch a horrible, but AWESOME movie, you can't do better/worse than "Black Christmas". Twisted. Ive seen some seriously depraved shit in my life (I had access to the internet when I was 13) But this movie... omg. Just... omg. I died a little inside. You want eyeballs, sorority girls, eyeballs and Christmas-themed eyeball death? Look no further. Also eyeballs.
What is this event that so rocked the foundations of the earth, Causing the very gods to tremble in terror, and every man, woman and child alike to weep in despair? Not war, plague or famine. They pale in comparison to the horrors we faced. Not the arrival of the Antichrist, no, nothing that tame. It is, of course, Facebook going F*@#ing mainstream.
*Anyone who can tell me this reference, I owe you a cookie, or piece of fried chipmunk, whatever I've got on hand at the time
I swear I'm done talking all epic-like. Really, I'm done. Forsooth.
When I first got on Facebook, about a month into my freshman year, I had just switched over from MySpace, and I remember explaining to my parents "Its not the same thing at all, its JUST for networking and making study groups and such". The site was sleek, functional and elegant. Any red-blooded American man would feel ten feet tall walking into a party with that hot piece of code on his arm, the jealous stares of his peers confirming what he already knew: Facebook was the shit.
flash forward 4 years: The hot, sexy site has taken up cocaine, and all that remains of its once vibrant beauty is a bloated, hollowed out husk, devoid of substance. Its myriad features are as plentiful and annoying as body hair. It walks, talks and behaves vaguely like its former self, However its constant sniffling is really getting on your nerves, and you can't help but wonder why its nose bleeds like a faucet every time there is so much as a gentle breeze. You've become too ashamed to even look at it, much less take it out in public with you, and you can't even remember what you saw in it in the first place.
You used to be able to confide your deepest thoughts and desires to it, but now it relays anything and everything you say to every person you know. Plus, it won't stop telling you THEIR secrets, even if you don't want to know them.
Ok, ok, sorry. I'll talk less, and say more. I have been trying to work a cocaine analogy into this thing for a while now, and if you don't answer when opportunity knocks, it will go to the next house and give them YOUR pizza for half price. If... opportunity is the domino's guy.
SO. Facebook brought in apps, I wasn't worried. "Its been so great, I'm sure it won't go all wrong!" Facebook started having ads that weren't related to college, I was unperturbed. "ok sure why not?" Facebook started letting highschoolers join. I was anxious "um... well... I guess they will be in college eventually right?" Facebook let ANYONE join. I was angry. "grr." Then they put in this "chat" thingy, and it went all to hell.
The thing is virtually useless. Half the time it doesn't even work, and when it DOES work, its buggier than that Pixar movie where the dude goes to the city to hire fighters to defend his hometown from the thugs that steal their grain every year, and then they build a giant bird out of sticks and... kay.
Whenever I receive a message, my entire computer freezes for a fraction of a second. If I am typing, the letters I hit are ignored. If I just clicked a link, the page will freeze. If I picked a new song on Itunes, it will stall. Sometimes, the "freeze" becomes permanent, and the only way to fix it is to close facebook and open a new window. I could be a website critic. This feature is bad.
P.S. - Margaritas have TWO drinks in them, not one. Just cause they are fruity does NOT mean they will not f*** you up.
P.P.S. - If you want to watch a horrible, but AWESOME movie, you can't do better/worse than "Black Christmas". Twisted. Ive seen some seriously depraved shit in my life (I had access to the internet when I was 13) But this movie... omg. Just... omg. I died a little inside. You want eyeballs, sorority girls, eyeballs and Christmas-themed eyeball death? Look no further. Also eyeballs.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Job Hunt
Some time ago, I went to my ultimate frisbee practice, and my fearless leader was trying to teach the team a defensive maneuver called a "force". I couldn't let a golden opportunity like this go to waste, so of COURSE every time someone caught the disk, I would shout "The force is with you, my son" and whenever they dropped it "You are weak in the ways of the force". Even the very FIRST time I did this, I don't think a single team-mate so much as chuckled, but I continued on for my own amusement for at least 45 minutes. It really speaks to the high caliber of my friends/teammates that no one tried to hit me in the throat, breaking my voice-box and preventing me from ever making such horrible "jokes" again. Really, speaks to their character.
It has come to my attention that I have about -infinity dollars. This means I need a job, ANY job, right away. I went to the CU job postings area, and sent in my resume to every single listing. Some of them made sense, like mail-room clerk or receptionist, but I ALSO applied for jobs like "Ballroom Instructor" * and "Girls Varsity Tennis Equipment Manager". I am not playing favorites here, my abilities be damned; if someone is going to pay me to teach ballroom dance, I'm teaching some god-damn ballroom dance.
*this is totally serious. I really did apply to be a Ballroom Dance Teacher, Yoga Instructor, JuJitsu Sensei... etc. Rec center stuff.
I got a few responses to my emails right away, most saying something like "Thank you for your interest in this position, but we can't give you money, just false hope in the form of emails from potential jobs". However, I did receive this gem as well (names have been altered to respect the privacy of involved parties).
The only position I have is posted on C.U. Connect, giving explicit
direction and instruction for applying. It is the first step in the
interview process. Successful candidates for an interview must be able to follow direction and instruction.
JANE JACKSON, Manager
Operator Services, I.T.S.
After hours of intensive scrutiny, I've managed to translate this message into the common tongue: "You fail at life you freaking moron, have a crappy day". Why even SEND this email? I'll admit, in my haste to apply at as many places as possible... I MAY not have fully read every single job posting. In fact, I may have read only the job titles. Meaning if there WERE some specific instructions... I didn't see them.
Anyway, I did get a person to offer me an interview next week, some kind of receptionist/clerical position on campus. Totally sweet. I'll rock the interview like a cashbox.
Authors Note: I just realized I can make things bold and italic!
It has come to my attention that I have about -infinity dollars. This means I need a job, ANY job, right away. I went to the CU job postings area, and sent in my resume to every single listing. Some of them made sense, like mail-room clerk or receptionist, but I ALSO applied for jobs like "Ballroom Instructor" * and "Girls Varsity Tennis Equipment Manager". I am not playing favorites here, my abilities be damned; if someone is going to pay me to teach ballroom dance, I'm teaching some god-damn ballroom dance.
*this is totally serious. I really did apply to be a Ballroom Dance Teacher, Yoga Instructor, JuJitsu Sensei... etc. Rec center stuff.
I got a few responses to my emails right away, most saying something like "Thank you for your interest in this position, but we can't give you money, just false hope in the form of emails from potential jobs". However, I did receive this gem as well (names have been altered to respect the privacy of involved parties).
The only position I have is posted on C.U. Connect, giving explicit
direction and instruction for applying. It is the first step in the
interview process. Successful candidates for an interview must be able to follow direction and instruction.
JANE JACKSON, Manager
Operator Services, I.T.S.
After hours of intensive scrutiny, I've managed to translate this message into the common tongue: "You fail at life you freaking moron, have a crappy day". Why even SEND this email? I'll admit, in my haste to apply at as many places as possible... I MAY not have fully read every single job posting. In fact, I may have read only the job titles. Meaning if there WERE some specific instructions... I didn't see them.
Anyway, I did get a person to offer me an interview next week, some kind of receptionist/clerical position on campus. Totally sweet. I'll rock the interview like a cashbox.
Authors Note: I just realized I can make things bold and italic!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
School?
English is NOT the primary language of my Econ professor. This isn't really a big deal, I can understand almost everything she says, but sometimes things come out strangely hilarious.
"I am giving extra homework, but is not because I am bitch"
"If you get bad grade, do not think "I am worthless, I now hang myself""
I was recently told that a classmate of mine badmouths me to my other classmates before I get there. Specifically, that I am "Arrogant and Condescending". I don't know what I did to incur this persons malice towards me, but now that I know it is there, I am not sure what to do about it. Does he hate me because I am better looking? Better dressed? Or just because I am more likely to go to heaven (assuming it exists), as well as stronger, faster, funnier and more popular? In any case, I have no CLUE why he would call me arrogant. None. Condescending though? Yeah, I probably shouldn't pat people on the head and say "oooooh you adorable little person, good try" and then scratch behind their ears whenever they make mistakes... gotta WORK on that, damn. Hees got me there.
We got our bathroom door replaced today, it was about the equivalent of replacing a dropped ice-cream-cone with an entire Baskin&Robbins. The frame was being held on with duct tape, and split in two pieces every time you closed it, making a sound like a distant giant snapping tree trunks in two (you know how giants are, no courtesy for their neighbors). NOW, however, that sweet baby closes like a charm, and there is NO duct tape in sight. I'm moving up in the world.
I watched House last night, dang good show. Lie To Me though? cmon, multiple personalities is totally lame. That was the least entertaining episode I've seen of the show yet, It was BARELY more fun than doing *shudder* homework. Whats the point?
I want it to be friday...
"I am giving extra homework, but is not because I am bitch"
"If you get bad grade, do not think "I am worthless, I now hang myself""
I was recently told that a classmate of mine badmouths me to my other classmates before I get there. Specifically, that I am "Arrogant and Condescending". I don't know what I did to incur this persons malice towards me, but now that I know it is there, I am not sure what to do about it. Does he hate me because I am better looking? Better dressed? Or just because I am more likely to go to heaven (assuming it exists), as well as stronger, faster, funnier and more popular? In any case, I have no CLUE why he would call me arrogant. None. Condescending though? Yeah, I probably shouldn't pat people on the head and say "oooooh you adorable little person, good try" and then scratch behind their ears whenever they make mistakes... gotta WORK on that, damn. Hees got me there.
We got our bathroom door replaced today, it was about the equivalent of replacing a dropped ice-cream-cone with an entire Baskin&Robbins. The frame was being held on with duct tape, and split in two pieces every time you closed it, making a sound like a distant giant snapping tree trunks in two (you know how giants are, no courtesy for their neighbors). NOW, however, that sweet baby closes like a charm, and there is NO duct tape in sight. I'm moving up in the world.
I watched House last night, dang good show. Lie To Me though? cmon, multiple personalities is totally lame. That was the least entertaining episode I've seen of the show yet, It was BARELY more fun than doing *shudder* homework. Whats the point?
I want it to be friday...
Monday, September 28, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Video Games
Recently, the subject of video games has been coming up in my day-to-day life with increasing frequency. Just a few hours ago, I was walking behind two women in their late 50's or early 60's, and being the total creeper that I am, I had no moral qualms about listening in on their conversation.
Grey Hair: ... and it is quite frustrating
White Hair: I know! I am sitting on a pile of nukular* missiles, and throwing rocks at a tank!
GH: That happens to me too, I never want to use my big guns because I might need them later
Me: (thinking)... WAIT A SECOND, I've heard this all before!
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/zero-punctuation/231-Mercenaries-2
*Dad, if you read this, I misspelled Nuclear on purpose.
I ASSUME that these women were talking about video games (otherwise... they are terrorists? should I call someone?) but since when do sweet old ladies play games where the objective is to burn everything in sight? I thought old(er) people only played Wii fit and solitaire. When did this happen? I am not sure whether to think "Yeah! you go old ladies!" or "wow... one of my hobbies is enjoyed by people whose only other interests are games of bridge and scolding hoodlums"
I'm sitting in the library typing this up, and I haven't eaten in about 3 years. The guy sitting right next to me is eating ribs. RIBS. In the LIBRARY. It is confirmed: The gods are tormenting me. for cereal.
Scribblenauts is a game I have been hearing a lot about recently. Basic Idea: You type in a word, and the thing you typed appears and does your bidding. I have yet to play it, but supposedly you could summon a giraffe to lift you to the top of a building, and a squad of animal-masseuses (spelled right in one try, holy shit) to placate said beast into happiness/obedience. A guy sitting next to me in a hallway was playing the game with an audience the other day, and he said (quote) "I should make God fight Darwin!" to the raucous agreement of his entourage.
What is the world coming to? Also, will I ever stop sitting in hallways?
Grey Hair: ... and it is quite frustrating
White Hair: I know! I am sitting on a pile of nukular* missiles, and throwing rocks at a tank!
GH: That happens to me too, I never want to use my big guns because I might need them later
Me: (thinking)... WAIT A SECOND, I've heard this all before!
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/zero-punctuation/231-Mercenaries-2
*Dad, if you read this, I misspelled Nuclear on purpose.
I ASSUME that these women were talking about video games (otherwise... they are terrorists? should I call someone?) but since when do sweet old ladies play games where the objective is to burn everything in sight? I thought old(er) people only played Wii fit and solitaire. When did this happen? I am not sure whether to think "Yeah! you go old ladies!" or "wow... one of my hobbies is enjoyed by people whose only other interests are games of bridge and scolding hoodlums"
I'm sitting in the library typing this up, and I haven't eaten in about 3 years. The guy sitting right next to me is eating ribs. RIBS. In the LIBRARY. It is confirmed: The gods are tormenting me. for cereal.
Scribblenauts is a game I have been hearing a lot about recently. Basic Idea: You type in a word, and the thing you typed appears and does your bidding. I have yet to play it, but supposedly you could summon a giraffe to lift you to the top of a building, and a squad of animal-masseuses (spelled right in one try, holy shit) to placate said beast into happiness/obedience. A guy sitting next to me in a hallway was playing the game with an audience the other day, and he said (quote) "I should make God fight Darwin!" to the raucous agreement of his entourage.
What is the world coming to? Also, will I ever stop sitting in hallways?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Anything you can like...
I bought bread, so I am adding Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches into my meal rotation of Ramen -> Oatmeal -> Ramen -> Trail Mix -> Ramen -> Squirrel. I am now truly eating like a King.
It turns out I am NOT the only soul in existence that does not care for coffee. go figure. Also, my track record of terrible venue choice continues unobstructed.
Had a job interview, but the hours don't work out. Why did they ask me in to interview for a job that has 50+ hours a week, when I clearly indicated I could only work part-time? Why? The gods toy with me.
Some people are of the opinion that popular = lame, and obscure = amazing. You know these people. It is very likely that some of you, dear readers, ARE these people. This is what I mean. Someone says to you "Man, I love Styx" and you say "I only listen to independent artists, anything mainstream is shit". Someone says "I like Old Chicago" and you say "There is this place in Denver that only seats 5 people at a time, I waited outside for three hours and drop kicked a pregnant mother of two to get in. AMAZING appetizers."
Maybe I like Bleach cause it has like, big swords and explosions and demons and cat-people and a little kick-ass pervy stuffed lion thingy, NOT cause everyone else likes it. Maybe I eat at Chipotle because the chicken burritos are the edible form of joy. Ever consider this? Why do people feel the need to tell me that THEIR thing is better than MY thing?
Why am I required to justify my love of sloths? They are the best animal ever people. Cmon.
It turns out I am NOT the only soul in existence that does not care for coffee. go figure. Also, my track record of terrible venue choice continues unobstructed.
Had a job interview, but the hours don't work out. Why did they ask me in to interview for a job that has 50+ hours a week, when I clearly indicated I could only work part-time? Why? The gods toy with me.
Some people are of the opinion that popular = lame, and obscure = amazing. You know these people. It is very likely that some of you, dear readers, ARE these people. This is what I mean. Someone says to you "Man, I love Styx" and you say "I only listen to independent artists, anything mainstream is shit". Someone says "I like Old Chicago" and you say "There is this place in Denver that only seats 5 people at a time, I waited outside for three hours and drop kicked a pregnant mother of two to get in. AMAZING appetizers."
Maybe I like Bleach cause it has like, big swords and explosions and demons and cat-people and a little kick-ass pervy stuffed lion thingy, NOT cause everyone else likes it. Maybe I eat at Chipotle because the chicken burritos are the edible form of joy. Ever consider this? Why do people feel the need to tell me that THEIR thing is better than MY thing?
Why am I required to justify my love of sloths? They are the best animal ever people. Cmon.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Swine Flu
On Monday, I was sitting in a hallway, waiting for a class to get out,* when a man sat directly across from me. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily, and smelled like he had not showered in days. I will now refer to him as Mr. Bob. I have a great desire to end the post here, just to post one paragraph for once. I will not.
*I spend more time sitting in hallways than I do eating, sleeping, and studying combined.
I heard a sound like a camel with a dozen railroad spikes lodged in its throat trying to yodel. It was so startling (no exaggeration here) I yelped in surprise, only to realize that the sound had come from Mr. Bob's gullet. I looked up, and he was sitting motionless, calmly sweating away and making no indication that he had produced any such sound. I watched a moment longer, and he wiped his nose with his hand, and then after keenly scrutinizing the results, wiped the mess onto his pants. I was appalled. He continued to cough in myriad ways (hacking, wheezing, wet-sounding and dry-sounding), but began to sneeze, and sniffle as well.
I moved to a different hallway.
*I spend more time sitting in hallways than I do eating, sleeping, and studying combined.
I heard a sound like a camel with a dozen railroad spikes lodged in its throat trying to yodel. It was so startling (no exaggeration here) I yelped in surprise, only to realize that the sound had come from Mr. Bob's gullet. I looked up, and he was sitting motionless, calmly sweating away and making no indication that he had produced any such sound. I watched a moment longer, and he wiped his nose with his hand, and then after keenly scrutinizing the results, wiped the mess onto his pants. I was appalled. He continued to cough in myriad ways (hacking, wheezing, wet-sounding and dry-sounding), but began to sneeze, and sniffle as well.
I moved to a different hallway.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Miyazaki's Mononoke Review
About 2 weeks ago, my japanese teacher suggested that watching a few of Miyazaki's movies might help me learn japanese, because they are entertaining, and make good use of the language. I obviously couldn't say no, since it was CLEARLY a direct command, and I didn't want to be rude. I quickly managed to find Howl's moving castle and Spirited Away Online, but my teacher had specifically recommended Princess Mononoke. Even though I tried my hardest, I simply could not locate it for free anywhere. after hours of painstaking search, and many less-than-pleasant discoveries, I finally decided to admit defeat, and just buy it, and so the story begins.
(side note - I think there is something wrong when you find Jack Sparrow/Will Turner yaoi hentai on accident with every stray keystroke, but cannot find a 15 year old movie (about animals and princesses!) on purpose)
I went to target to buy it, but the only copy they had said only had "English and French Language Tracks" listed on the back. Obviously, the merits of buying a movie to learn Japanese are somewhat lessened, when that movie is available only in french. I avoid the french language (and france in general) like its a baseball headed for my crotch and I'm not wearing a cup, and I was CERTAINLY not going to spend 17 dollars on a movie only to find that I couldn't turn the frogspeak off. (I don't actually hate France, but when I need a solid joke, I can always look to the French people to supply one with their ridiculous actions and hilariously depressing history)
I decided to try and find it online, and make sure it was in my language of choice. I found it on amazon for 11 bucks, then went ahead and ordered it, counting down the days until its arrival. there were nine of them. The days. till its arrival.
In the meantime, I had to amuse myself by watching the first 23 episodes of "Rurouni Kenshin" online. I tried my hardest to watch "Babylon 5", but even with my unhealthily rabid fandom for sci-fi... the pilot episode was so awful I couldn't force myself to even finish it. I was afraid that someone might break into my room to rob and murder me, and upon seeing what I was watching, laugh hysterically and leave to find a less pathetic victim to persecute. Babylon 5 might just be the worst thing I've ever watched, with the obvious exception of "Where The Heart Is". Moral of the story: Just cause its on HULU does NOT mean its ok to watch it. Even if you think no one will ever find out... God will know, dear reader. And... You will know. you. will know.
after a long and arduous process of watching various free entertainments, I finally get the email from amazon saying "Your package was delivered today at 9:34 am!"
I glance at the clock
10:46
I walk outside, and find no package outside my door. I called my property manager, thinking perhaps there was a special place for larger deliveries. Nothin. I finally realized I had shipped it to my previous address! it was waiting for me at Hallett hall. I road my bike there, uphill, dodging flaming arrows to find that...
When Hallett received the package for Zach Giardini, They knew there was no Zach Giardini living there (obviously, a man with a name THAT awesome would never live in such a place) They then sent it to my previous address, in Baker Hall.
I went to baker, to find that the package room was closed, and would reopen the next day at 4. Seriously?
Come back at 4 the next day, after tossing and turning in anticipation the whole night, get the package. I was forced to eat sir robins minstrels. there was much rejoicing.
So I get home and FINALLY, open the long, long anticipated parcel. It was the exact same DVD I had seen at target. Shucks. anyhow, Here is my review.
its 'aight.
(side note - I think there is something wrong when you find Jack Sparrow/Will Turner yaoi hentai on accident with every stray keystroke, but cannot find a 15 year old movie (about animals and princesses!) on purpose)
I went to target to buy it, but the only copy they had said only had "English and French Language Tracks" listed on the back. Obviously, the merits of buying a movie to learn Japanese are somewhat lessened, when that movie is available only in french. I avoid the french language (and france in general) like its a baseball headed for my crotch and I'm not wearing a cup, and I was CERTAINLY not going to spend 17 dollars on a movie only to find that I couldn't turn the frogspeak off. (I don't actually hate France, but when I need a solid joke, I can always look to the French people to supply one with their ridiculous actions and hilariously depressing history)
I decided to try and find it online, and make sure it was in my language of choice. I found it on amazon for 11 bucks, then went ahead and ordered it, counting down the days until its arrival. there were nine of them. The days. till its arrival.
In the meantime, I had to amuse myself by watching the first 23 episodes of "Rurouni Kenshin" online. I tried my hardest to watch "Babylon 5", but even with my unhealthily rabid fandom for sci-fi... the pilot episode was so awful I couldn't force myself to even finish it. I was afraid that someone might break into my room to rob and murder me, and upon seeing what I was watching, laugh hysterically and leave to find a less pathetic victim to persecute. Babylon 5 might just be the worst thing I've ever watched, with the obvious exception of "Where The Heart Is". Moral of the story: Just cause its on HULU does NOT mean its ok to watch it. Even if you think no one will ever find out... God will know, dear reader. And... You will know. you. will know.
after a long and arduous process of watching various free entertainments, I finally get the email from amazon saying "Your package was delivered today at 9:34 am!"
I glance at the clock
10:46
I walk outside, and find no package outside my door. I called my property manager, thinking perhaps there was a special place for larger deliveries. Nothin. I finally realized I had shipped it to my previous address! it was waiting for me at Hallett hall. I road my bike there, uphill, dodging flaming arrows to find that...
When Hallett received the package for Zach Giardini, They knew there was no Zach Giardini living there (obviously, a man with a name THAT awesome would never live in such a place) They then sent it to my previous address, in Baker Hall.
I went to baker, to find that the package room was closed, and would reopen the next day at 4. Seriously?
Come back at 4 the next day, after tossing and turning in anticipation the whole night, get the package. I was forced to eat sir robins minstrels. there was much rejoicing.
So I get home and FINALLY, open the long, long anticipated parcel. It was the exact same DVD I had seen at target. Shucks. anyhow, Here is my review.
its 'aight.
Friday, September 18, 2009
George Martin
I was sitting in my room, contemplating possible distractions from homework, when I glanced at my bookshelf and saw the "Fire and Ice" series, sitting there. I quickly remembered what great books they are, and why I like them so much. I considered starting up the first book again, but then stopped myself, remembering "Oh yeah, the story isn't finished yet."
George martin released the first book in the series, "A game of thrones" back in 1996. Sometime around the year 98~99, my Dad bought me this book for... unremembered reasons. Basically, I devoured it. Its a solid read, interesting characters, unusual story, all kinds of crazy political shit goes on... Its great. So were the next 3 books in the series, each released about a year and a half apart, with the last one, "A feast for crows" coming out in 2005. The next book was supposed to come out in 2006. It did not. In fact, it is still not out.
2005. thats nearly 5 years ago. five. years. The series is not finished. it has FOUR BOOKS LEFT IN IT. And I want to see what happens to the Starks, and Tyrion, and Jon Snow. For five years. what the hell. In any other area, would a FIVE YEAR WAIT be acceptable? and I'm not talking about buying broncos season tickets here.
Just to put this into perspective... since the last book was released;
The TV show "Star Trek: Enterprise" was pitched, produced, casted, aired 3 seasons and canceled.
George bush was elected for his second term, served it, and was replaced by Obama.
A monkey with a typewriter reproduced the lifetime works of Williams Shakespeare and Hung
Lets say I am giving a presentation on a method to end world... bad thingy. I get about halfway through, and then say to the gathered leaders of the world "Ah, could you all wait here for just a moment? I want to go buy an egg, incubate it, hatch the chicken, raise it, and then slaughter it for my dinner next spring. BRB AFK"
This is madness. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENSZZZZZ. But I can't. He is too busy turning the story into a show for HBO. in fact, Georgy boy is far, FAAAAR too busy. Doing... god knows what. Taking up the zither? wearing 1920's sailor caps? contemplating existence while stroking his massive... Van-de-kamps beard?
Check out this dudes website.
http://www.georgerrmartin.com/
He is making the book series into a video game. due out in 2011. I WILL BET $5 WITH ANYONE, RIGHT NOW, THAT THE VIDEO GAME COMES OUT BEFORE THE NEXT BOOK.
Takers?
P.S. - Am I right about the dudes beard or what? Is he trying to be a Scottish nobleman or some nonsensical crap? I bet the ladies love it.
P.P.S. - Yes, I am totally jealous of the beard. when I am old, and disappointing thousands worldwide every day, I want my beard to look half that good.
George martin released the first book in the series, "A game of thrones" back in 1996. Sometime around the year 98~99, my Dad bought me this book for... unremembered reasons. Basically, I devoured it. Its a solid read, interesting characters, unusual story, all kinds of crazy political shit goes on... Its great. So were the next 3 books in the series, each released about a year and a half apart, with the last one, "A feast for crows" coming out in 2005. The next book was supposed to come out in 2006. It did not. In fact, it is still not out.
2005. thats nearly 5 years ago. five. years. The series is not finished. it has FOUR BOOKS LEFT IN IT. And I want to see what happens to the Starks, and Tyrion, and Jon Snow. For five years. what the hell. In any other area, would a FIVE YEAR WAIT be acceptable? and I'm not talking about buying broncos season tickets here.
Just to put this into perspective... since the last book was released;
The TV show "Star Trek: Enterprise" was pitched, produced, casted, aired 3 seasons and canceled.
George bush was elected for his second term, served it, and was replaced by Obama.
A monkey with a typewriter reproduced the lifetime works of Williams Shakespeare and Hung
Lets say I am giving a presentation on a method to end world... bad thingy. I get about halfway through, and then say to the gathered leaders of the world "Ah, could you all wait here for just a moment? I want to go buy an egg, incubate it, hatch the chicken, raise it, and then slaughter it for my dinner next spring. BRB AFK"
This is madness. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENSZZZZZ. But I can't. He is too busy turning the story into a show for HBO. in fact, Georgy boy is far, FAAAAR too busy. Doing... god knows what. Taking up the zither? wearing 1920's sailor caps? contemplating existence while stroking his massive... Van-de-kamps beard?
Check out this dudes website.
http://www.georgerrmartin.com/
He is making the book series into a video game. due out in 2011. I WILL BET $5 WITH ANYONE, RIGHT NOW, THAT THE VIDEO GAME COMES OUT BEFORE THE NEXT BOOK.
Takers?
P.S. - Am I right about the dudes beard or what? Is he trying to be a Scottish nobleman or some nonsensical crap? I bet the ladies love it.
P.P.S. - Yes, I am totally jealous of the beard. when I am old, and disappointing thousands worldwide every day, I want my beard to look half that good.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Events
While waiting for the class before me to let out, two guys sitting near me and I were intently watching a beetle scurry about in the middle of the hallway. As the untold multitudes of semi-educated persons left the classroom, we were all surprised when no one stepped anywhere near the critter. after about half of the ~300 people had left, we were all watching, jaws dropped, as the beetle managed to avoid foot after life-extinguishing foot, a ninja of the insect world, seemingly untouchable with its nigh precognitive dodging skill. He was scurrying in elaborate and increasingly frantic zig-zag patterns, several times coming so close to expiration that I was sure that I would be holding a tiny memorial service any moment. I swear I saw him backflip over a croc and then wall run along a sketcher, acrobatic feats worthy of a bug with Jackie Chan like agility. Just when it seemed that his survival was assured... disaster approached in the form of a vile, murderous witch of a girl. Just to glance upon her despicable cell-phone-holding form was to glimpse into the depths of hades itself. She shook the very earth beneath her with her pachyderm-esque gait... rather than walk in a straight line, she tap danced in a sweeping pattern from left to right, occasionally hopping in place or backtracking, seemingly intent on crushing anything and everything before her into utter oblivion. As the destroyer drew closer, I glanced in trepidation at the ninja bug, fearful that he had finally met his match. He tried to dash left, with no success. He juked right, but the girl trod onwards, seemingly taking no heed of his spirited evasive maneuver. In desperation, he tried to ricochet his tiny form off the floor and into the air, to avoid the deadly co-ed... but instead sprained a limb due to the complexity of the daring move. As he lay motionless on the floor, It became clear to both of us that his fate was sealed, that there was no escape from the menace that drew ever nearer. I made eye contact with the brave, stoic beast, and nodded a final farewell, just as the demonic presence clad in Uggs put out the spark of his valiant life.
Bug-from-the-hallway-of-Hale... You will be missed.
By the way, there MAY have been some slight elaboration. I'm avoiding homework. sue me.
Bug-from-the-hallway-of-Hale... You will be missed.
By the way, there MAY have been some slight elaboration. I'm avoiding homework. sue me.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Xbox
These are 100% real, undoctored message correspondences I've had through XBOX live
From XxPhilDaKillaxX, after a game of Call of Duty
Pk - Pray and spry bich
Me - um... I'm sorry?
Pk - use a rel gun not a (expletive) ppsh get some skill (expletive) noob
Me - Get some skill? I could try learning the Violin, I hear that's tough. Or stone-masonry... good for the arms. Is there something particular you were recommending?
Pk - wtf you (expletive) jst stop being so gay and actaully aim
Me - But I can't help being so happy to play call of duty with you, friend!
Pk - omg you suck
From diabolicalshrew after a game of Soul Calibur
DS - omfg you noob stop spamming lows (expletive) spammer.
Me - Maybe you could try blocking once in a while instead of using ->Y over and over... however, your point does have SOME validity. Perhaps if you agree to a rematch, I can spam high and beat you?
DS - wtf screw you im reporting your cheating ass
Me - A shame. good luck with ->Y comrade. FOR THE MOTHERLAND
From x0xMalcomRenoldsx0x after Halo III
MR - Dude you suck ass, I (expletive) killed you 11 times and you only got me once. Just give up loser. You must have toothpicks jammed in your eyes to suck that much.
ME - You are mistaken. There was a secret objective to see who could get the most consecutive deaths in a row. I kicked your ass man. No contest.
MR - Dude wtf?
ME - Yeah. Better luck next time noob. I'll destroy you every single time.
From XxPhilDaKillaxX, after a game of Call of Duty
Pk - Pray and spry bich
Me - um... I'm sorry?
Pk - use a rel gun not a (expletive) ppsh get some skill (expletive) noob
Me - Get some skill? I could try learning the Violin, I hear that's tough. Or stone-masonry... good for the arms. Is there something particular you were recommending?
Pk - wtf you (expletive) jst stop being so gay and actaully aim
Me - But I can't help being so happy to play call of duty with you, friend!
Pk - omg you suck
From diabolicalshrew after a game of Soul Calibur
DS - omfg you noob stop spamming lows (expletive) spammer.
Me - Maybe you could try blocking once in a while instead of using ->Y over and over... however, your point does have SOME validity. Perhaps if you agree to a rematch, I can spam high and beat you?
DS - wtf screw you im reporting your cheating ass
Me - A shame. good luck with ->Y comrade. FOR THE MOTHERLAND
From x0xMalcomRenoldsx0x after Halo III
MR - Dude you suck ass, I (expletive) killed you 11 times and you only got me once. Just give up loser. You must have toothpicks jammed in your eyes to suck that much.
ME - You are mistaken. There was a secret objective to see who could get the most consecutive deaths in a row. I kicked your ass man. No contest.
MR - Dude wtf?
ME - Yeah. Better luck next time noob. I'll destroy you every single time.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Da baaaars
Something I have not often commented on publicly (lack of a proper forum perhaps being a valid reason) is my dislike of a certain night-time activity popular in my social circle.
Going out to to "The bars" (as this phrase is uttered, you can actually see glee and satisfaction manifest physically and drip down the speakers chin, pooling into a puddle on the floor.)
Now don't get me wrong. I am all for social interaction. Ask me any time of the week if I want to go play some pool, or ultimate, or halo, or dwarf-tossing, and there is only one answer you will receive. I am by no means a recluse (brown, or otherwise.) However, when someone asks me to go to "the bars" (their rabid eyes glowing with an eerie inner fire while rolling upwards into their skulls) warning lights go off in my head.
Ah, is this going to be a pleasant evening of humorous conversation, perhaps mingled with drunken attempts to scale tall buildings in a single bound and a heated game of tic-tac-toe? Perhaps ending in a enthusiastic Irish drinking song? OR... will this be a despicable night filled with shame and loathing, awash with that most horrible of human traditions... Dancing.
I cannot dance. I do not like to dance. I do not like to watch others dance. This is the ultimate trifecta of reasons why I avoid it like a STD. I can have... Mild fun, dancing in a circle of friends. As long as the circle stays a circle. As soon as some jack-ass decides "Hey, Im gonna be an ass and force everyone else to follow me into the circle!" I panic. Lets say I am 5th in line to "show my moves" like captain falcon.
Dude1: goes into circle, does some random breakdancey move
me: Shit. Crap. Shit. wtf am I supposed to do when Its MY turn?
Girl1: Pulling an invisible rope to her bff outside the circle (lucky bastard)
me: Crap. Thats not bad. I could do a move like that. The sprinkler!
Dude2: Does the mother F*&$@$ sprinkler
Me: ah... ah... ah... (hyperventilates)
However circles are still the very best kind of dancing that can EVER occur in a bar. God forbid people start pairing off, and... grinding each other. Sweet. Jesus. No. Here I am, dorkily dancing in peace... then out of nowhere OMG WTF WHY IS YOUR CROTCH ON HER LEG? WTF. LOL NO WAI (reference)
When this situation occurs, my only defense is to curl into the fetal position and rock myself back into sanity. The wounds I sustain from being trampled by the inebriated, writhing masses I can later show proudly as battle scars to my grandchildren. "See here sonny, I got this one back in '09, when a wee gel* rubbed 'er ass against me at The Foundry... 50 men went into the ba'... 19 men came outta the ba'... and not a one of 'em can speak o' the day."
*I have no idea what accent this is supposed to be. I think... Scottish sheepherder/British Pleb?
In conclusion... the next time I am invited to go to "The Bars" by a hypersalivating friend, the words seeming to bring a sense of euphoria every time they are uttered... I will still go, (fo' sho') But I will be much more cautious of that disgusting menace, that destroyer of purity... The dance floor.
Going out to to "The bars" (as this phrase is uttered, you can actually see glee and satisfaction manifest physically and drip down the speakers chin, pooling into a puddle on the floor.)
Now don't get me wrong. I am all for social interaction. Ask me any time of the week if I want to go play some pool, or ultimate, or halo, or dwarf-tossing, and there is only one answer you will receive. I am by no means a recluse (brown, or otherwise.) However, when someone asks me to go to "the bars" (their rabid eyes glowing with an eerie inner fire while rolling upwards into their skulls) warning lights go off in my head.
Ah, is this going to be a pleasant evening of humorous conversation, perhaps mingled with drunken attempts to scale tall buildings in a single bound and a heated game of tic-tac-toe? Perhaps ending in a enthusiastic Irish drinking song? OR... will this be a despicable night filled with shame and loathing, awash with that most horrible of human traditions... Dancing.
I cannot dance. I do not like to dance. I do not like to watch others dance. This is the ultimate trifecta of reasons why I avoid it like a STD. I can have... Mild fun, dancing in a circle of friends. As long as the circle stays a circle. As soon as some jack-ass decides "Hey, Im gonna be an ass and force everyone else to follow me into the circle!" I panic. Lets say I am 5th in line to "show my moves" like captain falcon.
Dude1: goes into circle, does some random breakdancey move
me: Shit. Crap. Shit. wtf am I supposed to do when Its MY turn?
Girl1: Pulling an invisible rope to her bff outside the circle (lucky bastard)
me: Crap. Thats not bad. I could do a move like that. The sprinkler!
Dude2: Does the mother F*&$@$ sprinkler
Me: ah... ah... ah... (hyperventilates)
However circles are still the very best kind of dancing that can EVER occur in a bar. God forbid people start pairing off, and... grinding each other. Sweet. Jesus. No. Here I am, dorkily dancing in peace... then out of nowhere OMG WTF WHY IS YOUR CROTCH ON HER LEG? WTF. LOL NO WAI (reference)
When this situation occurs, my only defense is to curl into the fetal position and rock myself back into sanity. The wounds I sustain from being trampled by the inebriated, writhing masses I can later show proudly as battle scars to my grandchildren. "See here sonny, I got this one back in '09, when a wee gel* rubbed 'er ass against me at The Foundry... 50 men went into the ba'... 19 men came outta the ba'... and not a one of 'em can speak o' the day."
*I have no idea what accent this is supposed to be. I think... Scottish sheepherder/British Pleb?
In conclusion... the next time I am invited to go to "The Bars" by a hypersalivating friend, the words seeming to bring a sense of euphoria every time they are uttered... I will still go, (fo' sho') But I will be much more cautious of that disgusting menace, that destroyer of purity... The dance floor.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Drivin'
When I was a but a wee lad, I had a terrible habit of falling asleep in the car. Even on extremely short drives (less than 5 minutes) and after getting a full nine hours of sleep, I would nod off almost instantly once the car had started, without any kind of warning. I would only realize that I had slept because suddenly the car stopped.
This childhood habit is one of many that carried over into my semi-adulthood. Even more unfortunately... It doesn't seem to matter whether I am the driver, or passenger of the vehicle. This leads to situations like the following;
driving down a road - Ah, Look at the clouds. How pleasant they are.
right turn - Hmm what do I want for lunch...?
going straight - ...
looks up - umm why am I driving half on the curb?
One time while on the highway, I looked up only to realize that the side of my car was UNDERNEATH a semi truck, the driver of which was honking furiously and swearing out his window while being forced well off the side of the road.
I now pound energy drinks before, and during any extended journey, repeatedly bite my cheek, and pinch my inner-thigh to the point of bruising (side note: ouch) and deliberately DON'T use the restroom before I leave. It also helps to constantly cycle through radio stations, and sing at the top of my lungs with any and all songs I recognize.
About once a month I am obliged to travel to Colorado Springs to get my braces* tightened. This involves a 2 hour drive down the I25, fraught with peril and danger at every slow, gentle curve. On the most recent trip, A girl in a yellow civic was clinging to my bumper like it was a barrel going over Niagara Falls, clearly desiring that I change lanes. She passed me, then slowed down to 50 mph. I passed her. she got behind me, and road my ass like she was Jesus riding into Jerusalem. I changed lanes. You should be able to see where I am going with this. Rather than get annoyed by this process, I was thrilled that I had someone willingly entertaining me. It was disappointing when she eventually accelerated out of my sight, But since I saw her getting pulled over about 10 minutes later, all was well. I took a break from writing this to shave, and in my haste, put more gashes in my neck than there are anti-Obama demonstrators.
*Braces are wonderful things. Not only do they make me look 5 years younger, and impair the eating process, they force me to take my life into my hands on a monthly basis in order to maintain their painfulness.
This childhood habit is one of many that carried over into my semi-adulthood. Even more unfortunately... It doesn't seem to matter whether I am the driver, or passenger of the vehicle. This leads to situations like the following;
driving down a road - Ah, Look at the clouds. How pleasant they are.
right turn - Hmm what do I want for lunch...?
going straight - ...
looks up - umm why am I driving half on the curb?
One time while on the highway, I looked up only to realize that the side of my car was UNDERNEATH a semi truck, the driver of which was honking furiously and swearing out his window while being forced well off the side of the road.
I now pound energy drinks before, and during any extended journey, repeatedly bite my cheek, and pinch my inner-thigh to the point of bruising (side note: ouch) and deliberately DON'T use the restroom before I leave. It also helps to constantly cycle through radio stations, and sing at the top of my lungs with any and all songs I recognize.
About once a month I am obliged to travel to Colorado Springs to get my braces* tightened. This involves a 2 hour drive down the I25, fraught with peril and danger at every slow, gentle curve. On the most recent trip, A girl in a yellow civic was clinging to my bumper like it was a barrel going over Niagara Falls, clearly desiring that I change lanes. She passed me, then slowed down to 50 mph. I passed her. she got behind me, and road my ass like she was Jesus riding into Jerusalem. I changed lanes. You should be able to see where I am going with this. Rather than get annoyed by this process, I was thrilled that I had someone willingly entertaining me. It was disappointing when she eventually accelerated out of my sight, But since I saw her getting pulled over about 10 minutes later, all was well. I took a break from writing this to shave, and in my haste, put more gashes in my neck than there are anti-Obama demonstrators.
*Braces are wonderful things. Not only do they make me look 5 years younger, and impair the eating process, they force me to take my life into my hands on a monthly basis in order to maintain their painfulness.
Monday, September 7, 2009
I hate my room
So, I have a pool outside my room. Today, a very attractive woman decided to sunbathe, aprox. 8 feet from my window. I managed to contain myself for about 30, minutes, but then finally caved in, and stood up to peek out my window. It was at this inauspicious moment, that she turned, and made eye contact with me. The events that followed this fateful meeting of gazes were horrible, shameful, and intensely embarrassing. I hope to never again replicate this experience as long as I live.
I hate the location of my room. How many guys in my position, Could manage to not even take ONE PEEK at an almost naked, very attractive woman lying down, literally at eye level, not even a dozen feet away? This is just not fair.
In other news, anyone know where I can buy enough bricks to fill in a 7'X3' window?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
