September 2003 Archives

...ish

Well, that was rather prophetic of me. I inadvertently predicted that the new trailer for The Return of the King would be coming out. As though my day weren't good enough, though, I also realized that the Matrix: Revolutions trailer has also come out. I only have one word:

Damn!

Now I grant you that these two movies are vastly different, but there's something about an epic struggle of good vs. evil that rocks my face off! (Oh, and lots of sweet special effects/fights scenes are good too. I mean, duh, of course you have to have that as well.) Here we have, within the span of a little over a month, the conclusions to two epic trilogies going back to 1999. Sweet sassy molassy!

Ok, I'm better now.

I hope you appreciate my blog. I really do. Not because I put a great deal of effort to make sure a quality entry gets to you on-time everyday (riiiiiiiight) but that my fingers are killing me today. Specifically both of my index fingers. You see, I'm a piano performance major, and as such I try and make sure that my fingernails are always quite short. Unfortunately, in my zeal for short fingernails, I accidentally cut my index finger nails just a wee bit too short. Now, for an ordinary person, this would be but an inconvenience. But, if you haven't realized this by now, I'm not even remotely what most people would classify as normal.

(But what is normal, anyway? I mean, really, no one is totally normal. We all have our 'normal' faces that we put on at work/school and maybe we let a few friends see a bit of our weird side, but really, who is honestly normal? Let's say you're good friends with someone who is by all standards normal, wouldn't that be more than a little bizarre? In fact, wouldn't you then consider this truly normal person to be weird? What? This isn't helping my cause? I'm still weirder than the vast majority of the population? Most people don't eat a bag of popcorn everyday? Pft!)

Right, so as I was saying, for regular people (see, isn't that a much better word) this wouldn't be much of a big deal, but yesterday I played the piano for about four hours. Now, given the choice, I would have lightened up a bit with my practicing to give myself some recoup time. Unfortunately, Tuesdays I have both my weekly piano lesson and piano studio class, which did not afford much of a break. Thus today I find that most physical contact with my fingers is pretty painful.

Ok, you know what? I'm a little tired of your attitude. First you deride my 'normal' argument, now you tell me to go cry about my little finger problem. Well, fine.

*Goes off to cry*

*sniff*

Ok, I'm better. Not because my fingers feel better or that my feelings are better (meanie), but rather that I just watched the übertrailer of the new Matrix movie. I've said it once but I'll say it again:

That movie is going to rock my face off!!

Isn't that a wonderful phrase. I personally cannot take credit for it. Indeed, it seems to be quite unique to my campus. But we're going world-wide now. I just hope that someday, when I'm in China I'll overhear a conversation were someone says "Rock my face off!" Then my life's purpose will be fulfilled.

Thought for the Day

If you are from the Midwest at all you'll understand this predicament, maybe even some east coasters as well. As far as you people in California go, bite me!

There seems to be something about the weather around here. We rarely get a nice fall. This year wasn't too bad, though. We got about a week of awesome upper 60's weather. This week, however, things have taken a turn for the worst. Oh sure, they say that the high is in the upper 50's, but damn if it only gets to that temperature for about 2.4 seconds everyday. That whole upper 50's thing does me a lot of good when I have to walk to class with weather in the upper 30's. And how exactly am I supposed to dress for this sort of a day. In the mornings and evenings I need some layers and a jacket if not a winter coat, but by mid-afternoon or so, I look pretty silly walking around with my coat on.

And I'm certain that looking silly has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my coat has Care Bears all over it. Yeah, that couldn't be it.

is coming out in December...

Hello to all of you out there in blog land. Oh, the stories I have to tell.

Let's jump right in.

So the first bit of big news, which I mentioned yesterday, is that the violinist and I are now officially a couple. I realize that mentioning this two days in a row is somewhat pedantic, but darn it if that isn't the main focus of many of my thoughts. This is me, grinning like an idiot at the excitement of the situation. (No, I have absolutely no idea who that guy is, why he's making the peace sign and holding a package, or why level 1 is now complete. I just did a google image search for "grinning idiot." I figured I'd run with it.)

I would like to mention, at this point, something for the ladies who may be in the audience. It is a list of things that all guys do early on in a relationship.

Every guy must rehearse several times what he is going to say when asking out a girl. If he doesn't, it will end up sounding like gibberish. Oh, and I'm not talking about saying it a few times right beforehand. Oh no, I'm talking state-of-the-union type of rehearsal, although even that doesn't always work.

Second, if the girl says yes, then he will do a celebratory dance afterwards. It may be brief, and it will most likely will be in private, but it will be done nonetheless.

Finally (and this is what sparked this whole train of thought), there is nothing is quite as nice as coming back home after spending the evening with your significant other, just to notice that your clothes still smell like them. (Everyone now, "Awwwwww.")

This weekend was a very busy one. I was absent from campus a grand total of 53 hrs, of which 16 were spent on the road. Thankfully I met up with my family and we all went down to Oklahoma together, because driving that entire distance would have been a real bear. Hey, that brings me to alluded topic #1: The Jetson's Bathroom...in Kansas.

For any of you who have had the misfortune of driving any significant distance in Kansas, you know that everything is boring. The landscape is flat and barren, what few settlements there are hardly count as civilization, and frankly, it's Kansas. So we stop at a rest stop once while in Kansas (hey, as bad as that is, no one has that large a bladder). You know the kind: Free Maps/Info on Kansas, Bad souvenir shop, McDonalds/Hardees/generic fast food, restrooms, etc. All in one convenient package. Well, let me tell you about these bathrooms. Everything was automatic. I mean everything. (Ok, so the doors weren't, but work with me on this one.) Now I'm sure that pretty much all of you have experience the joy that is an automatically-flushing toilet, and toiled with the automatic faucet, but how many of you have had the pleasure of using an automatic paper towel dispenser. Anyone? I didn't think so. Ha! Yessireebob. Kansas has 'em a fancy-shmancy bathroom (read: every Misophobia-sufferer's dream).

So that was the bathroom.

The whole purpose of this trip, of course, was to go see my brother in Oklahoma City University's production of Kiss Me Kate. He was excellent (I have to say that, he reads this blog :)

I did learn some fun jokes on the way, as well. So it was also an educational experience.

• Joke #1: What's the difference between the trash and girls in Oklahoma?
  The trash gets picked up on Friday
• Joke #2: What's the difference between a divorce and a tornado in Oklahoma?
  Nothing, either way someone loses a trailer home.
• Joke #3: Why is the dirt in Oklahoma red? (It really is, in case you were wondering.)
  Because even it is ashamed to be in Oklahoma
• Joke #4: Why is Oklahoma OK?
  Because they can't spell mediocre

After the play the whole family, as well as my aunt and uncle who came up from Houston, got together at the hotel for wine and cheese. As it turns out, my alcohol tolerance has dropped considerably.

Oh, now that's the start of a good story. Unfortunately I don't have anything to follow it up with. No embarrassing situation where I suddenly find myself without my pants. No story about waking up with the Latin-American maid the next morning. And certainly no story about kissing a hamster. Yeah, no way did that happen. Not at all. Never.

...ish

Oh, but the point about all this is that since coming back up to college, approximately 5-6 weeks ago, I have consumed basically no alcohol, while my consumption over the summer was much greater. Now, you may be asking yourself, "Isn't that a bit bass ackwards?" To you I would respond, "yes," but there is an explanation. First, when I was home this summer, my parents were buying the beer/wine/etc, and I'm a bit of a cheap skate. Second, I live on campus, on a dry campus. While I do know that a lot of people violate that rule, I just haven't gotten up the nerve to sneak some into my room.

So anyway, to make all this drivel come to a point, after 2 1/2 glasses of wine I was suddenly feeling much better than I expected. While this simply meant that I was even more clumsy with eating than usual and was generally more good-humored and fun to be with, it just isn't a good idea to drink to much around your younger, underage siblings, and your parents. Yeah, bad call. At least I slept like a rock that night.

I arrived back on campus around 9:15 p.m. on Sunday. The high that afternoon in OK had been about 76 or so. It was quite warm. When I got back up to northeastern Missouri, the temperature had dropped to a staggering 42 degrees. So here I am, hauling my weekend packing around the parking lot, in a short-sleeve shirt, while others were walking about with winter jackets on. I finally make it back to the dorm, walk up the flight of stairs to the lounge on our floor, and prepare to take the first steps into my hall when I hear someone say, "You don't want to go in there."

"Pardon me?"
"Trust me, you don't want to go in there."
"Um, I do have to get to my room."
"Well then, keep your eyes closed."

Not knowing what this random stranger meant by his enigmatic warning, I ventured onward, for I was tired, cold, and really, really had to pee. This brings us to alluded Topic #2: Chip n' Dales and Togas.

Had the warning I received seconds ago been more specific, I would have waited in the lounge and suffered the embarrassment of urinating on myself, rather than have witnessed this sight. (Actually, the urination would have solved the being cold problem at the same time. Everyone now, "Ewwwwww.")

There standing in the hallway were a few guys dressed only in speedos and boe ties. Also in the hallways were a few guys in togas. Now, I'm hoping against hope that this was some sort of fraternity thing, or they were really drunk, because if they did that without being forced to and/or without being in a clear state of mind, well, I don't even want to think about it. Oh, here's the kicker. They were carrying my RA around chanting, "Swirly! Swirly! Swirly!" I did not remain present long enough to witness the ceremony, if any.

On a more random note, how long can Chicken Tetrazini last in the fridge? Is eight days a bit much? I guess I'll be able to tell you definitively tomorrow. It tasted pretty good, though.

So, I can't come up with a good segue into alluded Topic #3: Italian Prime Minister largest anti-PC advocate, very easily, so here we go.

I may have mentioned once that I'm not a big fan of political correctness, making this guy my biggest advocate. Here's a quote:

"Italy is now a great country to invest in... today we have fewer communists and those who are still there deny having been one," he was quoted as saying.
"Another reason to invest in Italy is that we have beautiful secretaries... superb girls," he added.

That is simply too beautiful for words. Mr. Berlusconi, you have my vote (if I could read the ballot, that is).

Hmm...what else has been going on. Oh, I registered for the GRE today. I also began taking a practice test today. Now, I am of above-average intelligence (as most of my peers would tell you), but some of this vocabulary is ridiculous. I have the equivalent of 5 semesters of Latin under my belt and still some of these words are completely foreign to my eyes. Oh well. I'm going to be seeking a Masters in Music Performance, so test scores aren't too big of a deal.

Seeing as how this post still isn't long enough, I've decided to revive...

Google's Walking Stick

In this segment I highlight some of the more...interesting searches that have come this way.

How to kill a hamster painlessly - Ohmygosh. What sort of scenario is involved that someone has to put their hampster down? Did they break all of its legs or something? Oh man, I shouldn't have said that. Now I'm picturing this truly adorable hamster that is unable to move because its limbs have been disabled. Oh, and there's his little electric wheelchair. Isn't it cute how he still runs in the wheel, even with the wheelchair?

Jelly Doughnut Sex Position - I have no comment. Actually, I have no idea what that would even be like. I'm sorry to whomever was searching for that information that I could not be of service. Ew ew ew ew ew.

Thought for the Day

Um seriously, how long can that Chicken Tetrazini stuff last?

On a side note, I think I'm going to post links to my favorite 10-20 entries. If you've been reading for a while, or have one that you particularly enjoy, then feel free to offer your input via email or commenting.

Oh, and shout outs to Germany, Belgium, Russia, and Taiwan.

Wow, it is fast approaching a week since my last post, for which I must apologize. I've been a bit busy lately with driving 16 hrs this weekend round-trip, spending time with my new girlfriend (it's official) and other general I-probably-should-blog-but-am-too-tired stuff.

Tomorrow's post should have all sorts of goodies. A quick preview -

Italian Prime Minister largest anti-PC advocate

Chip n' Dales and Togas

Jetson's bathroom in...Kansas.

Plus your Thought for the Day (which is becoming more and more like the Thought for the Week)

Tomorrow, people. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait. (Maybe, actually, I don't think anything to this point has yielded anything worth waiting anxiously for a week for. Yeah, on second thought, tomorrow's post will simply be marginally more interesting than the usuall drivel. Nothing like getting your hopes up only to have them dashed violently against a conrete barrier to brighten your day.)

Oh, and there will definitely be an edition of Google's Walking Stick for tomorrow. There are some freaky people out there, that's all I've got to say.

Night all.

On an unrelated note, I'm never going outside again. Ever.

Oh baby this poison ivy thing really sucks. There is no end to the torment that is constant, persistent itching. The worst part is that you aren't supposed to scratch it. Then let's say that you actually violate that rule, then what? It should feel better, right? That's how these things work, something itches, I scratch it, it feels better. Not so with poison ivy. No, in fact scratching it only seems to making the itching more intense, causing to you scratch harder, causing you to itch more, causing you to scratch to the point where you have either made the area numb or have broken the skin. Neither being particularly desirable scenarios.

But, not thinking about it does help. So I'm going to change the subject.

Taste. I said once that I would like to keep my sense of taste, assuming that one of my five senses had to be abandoned. Yet I have a very picky sense of taste.

For instance, I don't like coffee, milk, tea, most all fruits and vegetables, or pizza.

Dude, I was totally kidding about the pizza. I mean, c'mon. I am in college, right? Without that and beer I'm not sure what I would sustain myself with.

But this is what gets me about my predicament. People like to act as those I had some conscious decision in what I do and do not like. "What you don't like coffee? Why?" "Um, it tastes bad." "You're weird." It's not my fault! Really, people, I'm not sure what causes people to like certain foods over others, but I really have no control over my gag reflex when I smell green beans, do I? So what if I can't even stand banana flavoring? And I don't care what you say, that doggie treat ain't no picnic either.

So, I guess that's all I really wanted to say for today. A remarkably less busy day today, but I think I'm still in stress detox mode or something. My brain hasn't been workin' too good lately.

Ugh, I can't stand it when people misuse adjectives and adverbs. I also wish more people understood the differnce between "who" and "whom," but that may be pushing it a bit. Subject-verb agreement I think is a good place to start.

Thought for the Day

Why is it even necessary for the Poison Ivy plant to exist? From what I've read, most animals don't seem to have a reaction to the "poison," so it can't be a defense mechanism. I mean, honestly, the only significant purpose that plant serves is to irritate as much of the 90% of the population that has an allergic reaction to the plant.

Someone once asked me if I could ask God one quesiton, what would it be.

I'm officially changing my answer.

You should probably just blame someone else for the situation

Right, so these last two days have been extremely busy, especially given my relatively easy schedule this semester. That being said, I will also be heading to Oklahoma City this weekend (yes, on purpose) to see my brother in his first major musical theater role, so don't be expecting too many updates this week.

But I'm here now, so I might as well talk about something.

How about singing in the shower? (Tough, that's what I picked and you're going to have to deal with it. If you can't, you can take it up with my lawyer. Opening up a can of 100% Litigation ass-whopping on your sorry complaints, biatch.)

I was walking down our hall and heard a sound coming out of the bathroom. It was singing. Now, everyone for one reason or another probably has at some point in their life sang in the shower. The acoustics are nice and no one is around to ridicule you...because of your singing, yeah, that's, um, what we're talking about.

But when was the last time you were singing Handel's Messiah, on the first day of fall, and loudly enough to be heard in the hallway? He wasn't even singing the Hallelujah chorus as one would expect, rather he was singing, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a child is given."

So what did I do? Well, naturally, I quietly entered the restroom to hear this performance emanating from the showers. As I listened it took a great deal of self restraint to sing the next line, as apparently the above quote was the only section he knew. Imagine that. There you are in the shower, singing a random song about an event to be celebrated three months from now quite loudly, when someone else suddenly joins in. No, I'm not talking about in the shower. Ick. I'm talking about singing. Ew.

Ew ew ew ew ew. Pervert.

In lieu of that embarrassment, though, I opted to simply turn on the water so that it was obvious that someone was within earshot. The singing, needless to say, ceased at that very moment.

Frankly, I really wish I knew who it was, if for no other reason than to be able to chuckle whenever I see him for the next week or so. But alas, he will have to remain anonymous. But that doesn't mean that I can't name him. Hmm...what to go with...Goltar, that's sounds good.

Thought for the Day

Once a friend came over to visit and was telling me that everything could be related back to sex. I then proceeded to play the Hallelujah Chorus from Beethoven's Christ on the Mount of Olives. (click on the preview for the first track of this CD.)

She was right.

Finally, an entry about a deer carcass, booty, poison ivy, and a date. All unfortunately far too related.

Folks, I am so sorry for the absence this weekend. I have been busy doing both playing and working from about the time I got up until I went to sleep (which was never early enough). I did, however, have a fabulous weekend. I'm sure you'll understand.

Regardless, I promised you a good story yesterday, and all you received were unfulfilled expectations. I realize how heartbreaking that must have been for you all, but plus understand that my neglect of your entertainment had no malicious intent behind it. I mean, c'mon, if I really wanted to be mean, not only would I post an entry saying that I was going to post and not follow through, I would probably drone on and one during my next post, further delaying your finally seeing the incredible stories promised. Now that would be cruel.

So, Friday I had a date. In the afternoon we went out to Thousand Hills State Park to do some hiking. (Personally, I'm not sure who counted the thousand or so hills, but that job would have definitely sucked. I doubt I could have made it past 30 or so before saying, "Screw it! Let's just round up to a thousand." Hopefully whoever did do the counting at least made it to about 45 or so before giving up. Otherwise, it would be just an arbitrary number.)

The trail we took was the aptly-named "Thousand Hills Trail", which covered approximately five miles according to the map. The walk itself was pretty nice. I would have liked it a bit more if more of the trail ran alongside the lake, but I'll take it. It was a perfect afternoon, high around 68, barely a cloud in the sky, light breeze. Great day for a walk.

Also a great day to get killed, apparently. As we were walking along we came across a dead deer right dab smack in the middle of the trail. Now, the spot was such that we didn't actually see the deer until we rounded the corner and it was but a few feet from us. The weird thing about the situation, aside from the fact that this mature doe was dead in the middle of the path, was that it didn't smell.

Neither of us, even when standing right by it (taking pictures) noticed a stench. Also, there were less than five flies around the carcass. Since the pictures have been developed yet, and I didn't have my digital camera with me *sigh*, I will have to describe the scene. The animal was lying on its side, with the head and neck tilted up and back. The jugular was the most severe wound, with the internal muscles, etc. clearly exposed. The blood was still red. There was also a slight wound to the belly, but not very substantial. The skin was little penetrated. Now, there are few hypotheses about how this situation could have come to be.

• Number 1: The animal could have died of natural causes, and some other predator/scavenger began work on the carcass. The problem with this scenario is that the main wound to the neck implies that there was a kill involved, rather than simply scavenging, which would probably have only a belly wound.
• Number 2: The animal could have been sick, and thus a predator, seizing the opportunity, finished the animal off and set to work.
• Number 3: This was a perfectly healthy full-grown deer that was taken down by a predator. The problem here is that it would take a pack of coyotes or one mountain lion (yes, there are a few 'mountain' lions in Missouri) to do the trick. Maybe I just don't want to think that such was the case.

Why was the animal abandoned with only a few bites taken out?

The only plausible explanation that I can come up with, which actually scared me quite a bit once I realized it, was that something had scared it off during its meal. More specifically that two someones came noisily up the path, causing whatever had been enjoying a fresh meal to hide. There is evidence for and against this scenario.

For

• The blood was still red.
• There were hardly any flies present.
• There was no foul odor

• Animals usually defend their kills, even when the odds are against them.
• We noticed nothing to imply that another animal was still around (noise, movement).

What? You honestly think I would consider myself and my date merely regular cat food. What sort of a person do you think I am? Seriously. I should just stop telling the story right now.

Damn. That one's already done. Might as well move on.

So, after the long walk we went to go see a local funk band known as Hazard To Ya Booty. Let me just say, those guys know how to put on a show. It of course helped that I had classes with about half of the band at one point or another.

This otherwise excellent date was marred by one unfortunate circumstance: I wasn't wearing pants on the hike.

Ok, so I was wearing shorts, but that sounds a lot more intriguing, doesn't it? Yes, that is why I originally thought I had gotten poison ivy. Actually, I could post pictures of that. Hang on a few minutes. Gotta take the photos, load 'em up, etc.

Actually, I finish this post, and then re-edit with the pictures included. You can thank me later.

(All done. Picture 1. Picture 2.)

My date on the other hand, was wearing pants, but still managed to get poison ivy on her feet as I had. Go figure. To the best of my knowledge, neither of us took off our shoes at any point. Although, to the best of my knowledge there could have been a puma stalking us, looking for a meal. So basically I think I'm saying to take everything that I've written so far with a grain of salt. And my everything I mean every single post.

I'm looking at the experience as a bonding moment, though. Now we have one more thing in common - really, really itchy feet and legs. And a nasty rash to boot.

Man, things just keep moving right along in our relationship. My how the time flies...

Thought for the Day

How on earth did they do the research on preventing a puma attack? As bad as the counting-the-hills job must have been, at least that guy never had to experiment with methods of preventing a puma attack. Actually, I should probably say guys. I sincerely doubt that just one man was able to gather all that data without being torn limb from limb in a violent and bloody scene.

Ooooo. I think I'll leave you with that image for tonight.

Hopefully things will be getting back on a regular schedule, but I make no promises.

Sorry about no post yesterday folks, I was extrodinarily busy. I can tell you, though, that they'll be a nice long post for today. Lots of great stories.

Until then...

Think of the most boring and literal connotation that phrase conveys, and that is this entry

I figured you guys would appreciate the double entry today considering I slacked off yesterday. Thankfully, inspiration has been easy to come by once again.

I don't like to get dirty. At all.

I don't wash my hands exactly 54 times a day or anything, it's just that if I can avoid getting dirty, I do. A lot of people seem to enjoy going out in rainy weather (which invariably equals mud) to play sports or just have fun in the mud. (I'm talking about normal fun in the mud, not the kind that is a spectator sport. Honestly people, let's try and keep this clean. Er...clean as in morally clean, obviously I'm still talking about mud. You should just consider yourself luck I didn't find a picture of a really fat guy mud wrestling, which would have been linked under the phrase "fun in the mud." You would have clicked it, either because you are compulsive about link-clicking, or for some other reason, and would have been greeted by an "unexpected" surprise. Bwa ha ha ha ha. My plan was perfect, aside from the whole not finding a picture of a fat guy mud wrestling. Oh well.)

Anyway, I am not one of those people. It isn't necessarily the getting muddy part so much as the clean up is such a bear. I would have to have immediate access to a shower before going out and getting muddy. Otherwise the mud dries in your hair and clothes. Blech.

I am also very weird about my hands. Now, I am a piano performance major, so I can claim that I'm just "eccentric," but really the problem stems far back into childhood.

My mom likes to tell a story about me eating pancakes, or any breakfast food that involved syrup for that matter. If I got any syrup on my hands, I would immediately stop eating and cry "ands! ands! ands!" (apparently I couldn't pronounce the "h" yet) until mom came to the rescue with a wash cloth. That's right, no napkin would suffice, for my hands needed to be clean. Now, I have no personal recollection of that memory, but considering how well it fits into my persona, I have no choice but to accept its validity. (Right, so I have no idea why my vocabulary has become so aloof lately. I honestly have no explanation for the sudden shift in word choices.)

So that's me. I'm a pansy. I don't like getting dirty, I don't like playing in the rain, I don't care for sticky things. It's just not my bag, baby.

I think that's about all of that for now. Oh, what's that you ask? What about the violinist, the great date? Well, because you asked, I will say that we have another date for this weekend. However, I don't know that I'll be giving you much more than impersonal updates about the situation for the time being. I'm imagining her finding out about the blog before I tell her, not liking the fact that some random guy in Australia knows that some guy in America is dating someone who plays violin, and the whole situation being ruined. Granted, that's a worst case scenario, but given my track record, I'm trying to minimize potential pitfalls.

Thought for the Day

While doing the mud wrestling search, I came across this article, which I think you all should read. It is both humorous and thought-provoking, a rare combination anymore. (Certainly not one particularly associated with this blog.) Anyway, happy reading.

(Oh, and when you see 11:59 p.m. as the post time, you'll know I didn't get it in before midnight. That'll probably happen a lot.)

...like a mullet...

Sorry about last night, folks. I spent several hours yesterday talking to friends (far more than my daily quota) and when it came right down to blog time, I was at a loss for anything to say. Normally during the day I try and take note of particularly interesting and/or bizarre things that happen, all for the sake of your entertainment. I'm sure there were some interesting occurrences that with a little creativity could be made into a hilarious (or at least mildly humorous) blog entry, but my creativity was spent. My mojo depleted.

But I have found my inspiration, in the most unlikely of places:

A bad haircut.

No, I'm not talking about the awesome haircut I got a while back. No, the haircut I saw defies description.

Actually, now that I've browsed some googled photos, I see what he was going for: The Bozo the Clown Cut.

Now, that is not so that his hair is red or defies gravity, but rather that he decided to shave the top portion of his hair off while leaving the sides and back quite long. Now imagine someone tall, scruffy, overweight, with that haircut taking a smoke break, and that is pretty much what I saw. The truly sad part, though, was that this haircut was probably given to him at least a week ago, because the part on top is starting to grow back. It truly is pathetic. If it was cleanly shaven then at the very least he was putting some effort into it, but as it is, it's more of an apathetic Bozo look.

The tricky part about seeing this haircut is not laughing. Now, there are two different reactions that I imagined were possible if I had visibly chuckled while walking by. There is the off chance that he would take offense, at which point I'd probably want to hand him a mirror. Regardless, I may be tall, but I'm...let me say that the adjective "lanky" is most commonly associated with me. This guy is taller and easily has a hundred pounds on me, so offending him would be right along side tugging on superman's cape and spitting into the wind on my to-do list. (If you got that reference give yourself +10 points...for being old. I'm just kidding. Actually, it's +8 for the reference and +2 for being old. Sorry for the confusion.)

Ah yes, the second reaction. He would enjoy my amusement. After all, assuming he did this to himself on purpose (although I cannot fathom a scenario where that is possible), he is probably doing it for the shock factor and to draw attention to himself (somebody's daddy didn't hug him enough...*sniffle*). If that is the case, then I have absolutely no desire to encourage such behavior. There are enough idiots in the world, the last thing that we need to do is encourage them to wallow in their idiocy. (I love the word wallow. It possesses such great connotations.)

Although, if everyone displayed their idiocy so flagrantly, society could only benefit. It would be like a sign saying, "It would be advisable for you not to place me in a position of responsibility or to rely on me for anything important, for I am a moron." Of course, the sign could also read, "Do not feed the morons," cause I think we've all been there before.

You know how it is. You're walking home one day and come across a moron looking sad and hungry. You give it something to eat, maybe play with it for a while, but it won't go away. It follows you all the way home, looking at you with those big, sad eyes that seem to say, "Please love me." And despite all your willpower you find yourself taking the moron in, giving it its regiment of shots, and even naming it. Of course, when you get home from work you find that the moron ripped anything that was made of fabric in your house to shreds and urinated on your new couch, which is probably how it ended up lost, lonely, and hungry in the first place.

Yeah, on second thought, maybe I should do everything in my power to encourage him and his behavior.

Thought for the Day

What's the big deal with tugging on superman's cape anyway? I can understand the spitting into the wind, demasking the lone ranger scenarios, but not tugging his cape. I mean, heck, even Jesus had his cloak tugged, and he was pretty cool about it. (Right, so if this blog suddenly stops being updated, you'll know that I was smitten, in a bad way, not like a twitterpated kind of way.)

Help me find a parking place.

After all the personal stories of the past few days, isn't it time for some nice, refreshing, random thoughts? (Read: Today was boring.)

Let me start by saying this: Parking on campus is a bear. It didn't use to be. The dorm I was living in freshmen year was apparently blessed with a plethora of nearby parking spaces. The dorm I currently live in, however, has a truly anemic allotment of spaces. Consequently, I often have to park on the street a few blocks away from campus during the week. Today I had a few errands to run that brought me by my parking spot. Feeling lucky, I suppose, I decided to take the car and search for greener pastures. I was initially optimistic, perhaps due to my terrible luck in finding a spot in the past (you know, because I was obviously due to find one), but as I weaved between the rows of cars, I was unable to find a single vacant space. I even watched people come out of the dorm and walk through the parking lot, only to find that they were walking somewhere off-campus or their cars were off-campus as mine had been.

So, after about ten minutes (or at least what seemed like) of searching, I decided to go find a spot on a nearby street. Well, as luck would have it, it was on the same street that I was before. Even more amazing, it was the exact same spot. Kid you not. Personally, I think that was the worst possible scenario. If I had found a spot off-campus that was somewhat closer, then my efforts would not totally have been in vain. If, however, I had to park even further away than before, why then this was but a lesson to teach me contentment. Instead, I got the same stupid spot as I did before. Nothing gained, nothing lost. I couldn't even justifiably give the situation some sort of a moral. After all, I did at least get the spot back, might as well try again, eh?

A second thought.

After having re-parked my car in the same spot, I came across a dog that was chained up in a yard. The poor dog had just about the saddest expression on its face. I first found out how far that chain stretched, and then decided to pet him for a few seconds. My instinct, though, was to unchain him and throw him a frisbee or something. At the very least just wrestle with him a bit.

Then I came across a stray cat. It was looking somewhat emaciated, and had no collar, so I was assuming it was a stray. My instinct, though, was not to pet it or give it food. No, instead I felt the desire to run at it making a hissing noise. Anything to give it a good scare.

Why I had these instincts, I have no idea. What I am now able to say with confidence, though, is that I am a dog person. No question about it.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Thought for the Day

Have you heard of that stuff (I won't dignify it by calling it cologne) called Axe? Well apparently there is some sort of effect associated with its use, and one of the guys in my hall discovered it.

You too, can enjoy the "Axe Effect" by simply spraying a decent portion of the cologne in your hand and then lighting it on fire. It will burn blue and can be extinguished before your hand is injured. Logic dictates, however, that the same effect would occur no matter where you spray the stuff on your body. Therefore, use caution when going for the "Axe Effect" and try not to use it on parts of your body that you, um, might need later.

Well, my sickness seems to have gotten worse over the past 24 hrs instead of better. Today I made like a koala and slept for most of the day. Hopefully tomorrow I will feel better and will thus be able to give you the humor and/or drama that you missed out on today. Well, technically you didn't miss anything, I was in bed, remember.

Until tomorrow then.

Well, not me specifically, more like you. Maybe. But if it really is killing you, then I'm flattered and all, but you really need some professional help, dude. Seriously.

The date went extremely well. I even impressed myself with how relaxed and personable I was. Normally on dates, especially first dates, I am very tense, and I'm not talking normal anxiety about a stressful situation, I'm talking a full-blown fight or flight adrenaline response for most of the evening. I'm a decent conversationalist and all, but put me in a pressure cooker and I just crack. But as I was saying, that was not the case this evening. I was very relaxed, still somewhat nervous, but simply the first date jitters, nothing more.

I even went so far as to do a few things that I had never attempted on a first date. First was the hand-hold which came during the movie.

Now, I know what you're saying. Dude, you're 21 years old and holding someone's freakin' hand is something you've never even tried on a first date. "Ha!" I would respond. "Don't you see, I'm...well...um...it's more like...uh...how should I put this?...hmmm...I'm a prude and an extremely shy one at that." So yes, this was my first attempted hand-hold on a first date and, since I know that you are all so curious, it was reciprocated. I may have had to psych myself up for that since about Tuesday or so, but when the time came, I went for it. Booyah!!

On a side note, Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star is really, really funny. I enjoyed it immensely. Perhaps not a typical date movie, but it worked out well.

(If you are still reading this entry, the story continues, somewhat anyway.)

The goodnight, though was more than a little awkward. We got back to her house, and not only were her roommates home (which itself was a bit of a surprise), but several of their friends were over as well. She did not seem to be expecting that. So, as it turns out, my Casanova self turned into a walking pile of fear. No amount of pre-psyching up could have prepared me for that scenario, so alas, I returned to the world of awkward goodnights.

On the plus side, I did see her again today (in the music building, surprise), and she was very amiable. (+10 points for using the word amiable in a sentence. Rock!) She even went so far as to say, "Hey, if you aren't busy later this evening, give me a call." Unfortunately, I am quite busy, as being out of town, the date, and several meetings today has left me little free time. Plus, I haven't slept well and I am sick, so I've got to get to bed early.

Oh, but there's a great reason why I'm tired. (No, had nothing to do with the date, fellas.) I get back to my room after the date and the phone rings. A girl asks me, "Hey, is Mike there?" Now I live by myself, but just to make sure I did a quick scan of my 14'6" x 11'8" room to confirm that, no, Mike was not there. She seemed surprised that this was the wrong number. Well, apparently she didn't quite get the message, because she called back a few minutes later with the same question. Now, that is actually somewhat understandable. She probably thought that she misdialed the first time around. Well, what followed later that evening made no sense whatsoever.

I get a phone call at two in the morning. Normally, on a Saturday night, that wouldn't be that late, and the caller may even find me up. But after a few weeks of little sleep, I was ready to get lots of it. So, needless to say (but I'm going to say it anyway), I was far away in dream land with the phone started to ring. My first thought was that it was the same confused girl, but a call that late can also be extremely important news. In my state of semi-consciousness, I then devised a plan to figure out which it was. I'd let my voice mail pick up, that way, if they wanted to talk to Mike, they'd realize that there was no Mike mentioned on the message. If it was urgent news, they'd call back to wake me up. Well, they called back, twice. I jumped out of bed (well, not jump, since it took me two more times phone calls to get me out of bed) and answered the phone.

"Hi, is Mike there?"

I was livid. I couldn't believe it. The same person, to whom I had already explained Mike's absence, was calling at two in the freakin' morning. Unbelievable. My response was curt, and I dare say even angry-sounding, "No." "Are you sure he doesn't live there?" Gee, let me look around, oh hey Mike. Sorry, that's actually my computer, looked a lot like Mike though, is what I wanted to say. Although, what I came up with wasn't that bad, "No, he doesn't, and I have no idea who it is that you are talking about." "But, he called and left a message with this number." "I'm sure he did, but I am still absolutely certain that Mike does not live here."

To her credit, she at least apologized.

Poor Mike.

The sleep that followed was plagued by a bizarre nightmare. I dreamed that all kinds of people were coming up to me and saying, "Hey Mike," but no matter how much identification I showed them, they remained convinced that I was Mike. Only later did I discover that I had a split-personality disorder, and Mike was my evil side. Unfortunately, whatever I did as "Mike" I had no recollection of. Weird huh?

Well, that about wraps it up for me. I hope that you were not disappointed. And if you were, take it up with Mike.

Thought for the Day

What if the world you lived in, everything you experienced wasn't really real? Yeah, kinda like the matrix, but instead of being controlled by some creepy robots your body is instead actually locked in a padded room, and you are unable to free your mind from your imaginary world? That no matter how much the doctors try, they cannot bring you back to the real world. Right at this very moment, your spouse is filing for divorce after waiting several years for your recovery, and your kids have grown up and gotten married. But you can't be bothered with that right now, you're reading this silly blog. Interesting to think about isn't it? That sort of ended up being the end of my dream.

I was able to convince myself that such was not actually the case with one simple fact: If I was imagining this whole world, I would definitely make my life a whole lot cooler.

Oh, one last thing, I need to give a shout out (I think that's what they're called, I'm not that sure being as white as I am) to some peeps who visited from Germany and Finland. Hope your native lands are treating you well. A thousand blessing on you and your household? I don't know where I was going with that. Really all I care about is expanding the list of countries out of my own vanity. If you were wondering.

"Honey, you're never going to believe this, but..."

I'm going to be out of town tonight and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow I have to not only drive back into town, but try and get my battery replaced before my date. Yup, the battery is quite shot, so we'll see if I can manage to remove it and replace it without burning my skin and/or eyes.

Yes, I thought of random point number two. I'll have to be brief though.

Yesterday morning in Lifetime Health and Fitness (I'm definitely too old to be in this class) was STD (or STI's as their now calling them) day. That means I got to hear about enough diseases to make me want to never have sex, ever...or at least until class was over. Oh, and the condom demonstration was interesting. No bananas here, only one realistic looking phallus. Gee, I wonder why no one wanted to demonstrate the procedure. Oh, but the random thought was this:

Being a senior in college, I've heard most all of this stuff before, but I was able to walk away with some new information. Apparently, cats and dogs love latex. Yes, what you're thinking if most likely correct. We were given the tip that when we throw a used condom away that we should make sure to put it at the bottom of the trash, out of reach of household pets. Because, really, who wants to find their dog/cat chewing on that or worse, having to take said pet to the vet to have the problem rectified (bad pun, I know). Yeah, that would be an awkward moment.

There's your second thought to chew on.

(Oh man, that's a horrible and unintentional pun, but I think I'm going to have to leave it there. Sorry. It's not like I ever claimed to have a classy blog or anything.)

And I guess this would be a bad time to ask you to wish me luck on my date...

Ew.

Two words unfortunately not found in the same sentence, maybe next time

Ok folks, this whole working out thing is a total drain on my energy. Actually, I shouldn't say that, because I feel great for most of the day, but around 10 or so I feel dead tired, and I definitely need more than the 6-7 hrs of sleep I've been getting lately (which is really good for a college student, I might add.) So, here are some random thoughts.

First, though (sorry, I just remembered this), for those of you who have been following things, you know that my car has been less than cooperative lately, i.e. the battery died. Well, I finally got it jumped today, and everything worked great. I then proceeded to drive around for about 45 min or so to get that baby charged up again. My mistake was deciding to take some county roads for my journey. Now I enjoy taking winding roads pretty fast, but Highway N got the best of me. The speed limit was 55, and I don't think I hit that once. If I had, either my tires or my stomach would have probably given way. But hey, it was an adventure. Of course, I suppose that the real test will be tomorrow when I try to start it without the aid of a friend. I'll keep you posted.

Oh yes, random thoughts.

There is a urinal in our bathroom that has some issues. I flushed the urinal only to have it spill - or rather spit - water back at me. Thankfully, this happened during the refilling stage rather than the flushing stage. Even more thankfully, my cat-like reflexes saved me the ickiness of urinal water splashed on my leg. It was more than a little weird. Now whenever using our urinal, I make certain to back away as soon as I've finished my manly duty and, let's say as soon as I'm packed away. Of course, I still watch the urinal protest the velocity of the replenishing water by spitting back at he who sent it there. It's kind of amusing, in that sick, totally unsanitary, reason #489 why I don't want to be a janitor kind of way.

Point number two. I swear to you there was a second point a minute ago. Really.

I probably should be getting to bed soon, but unfortunately I'm pretty sure it's against campus policy for any student to go to be before midnight, which leaves me about 2 hrs to go.

Yeah, not going to make it. I do promise you, though, that if I think of that second point, I'll post it. Aside from that, I'd better give you your...

Thought for the Day

I don't want to go ballistic on me and kill my hamster* or anything.

Weird thing about the date that fast approacheth. As soon as I asked her out, I started getting nervous about seeing her in the music building, on campus, whatever. I have to consciously think about what to start the convesation with before I even say, "hi." That wasn't a problem before. I'd just say, "hi" and thing would flow from there, no worries**. But not anymore. Unbelievable. Perhaps that is what led Shakespeare to write in As You Like It, "What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? / I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. / O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!" (#8).

Why is it that even the most intelligent, articulate men are reduced to mumbling idiots around someone who they are romantically interested in?

Anyone?

Do girls suffer from the quandary? Hmmm... Chew on that while I get some sleep.

*wishes he had a hampster.
**Originally "no problem." Changed by censor due to FCC regulations requiring integration of other cultures in broadcasting.

You have no idea when I posted this

Yes, as most of you have probably already discovered, there are several new features that have been added to the blogger posting service. Two jump out immediately, the spell-checker (thank God!) and the time-stamp-faker. You can now manually adjust the time stamp if, say, you are posting at 3 in the morning, but want it to be on yesterdays post. Sweet. I guess I can finally change my settings back to Central Time from Mountain Time (think I wasn't having trouble posting before midnight?)

Well, I think this one is going to have to be a bit short. It's been a busier day than I was expecting, and I don't want to bog you down after yesterday's post. So here we go.

I was talking with some friends about what sorts of qualities one looks for in a girlfriend/boyfriend. (For those of you students of logic, the "girlfriend/boyfriend" was definitely an exclusionary or. I don't even want to think about being both at the same time. I'm not sure what that would take, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to think about it or picture it in my head.) The usual traits come forward - similar interests, values, easy to talk to, honest, trustworthy, respectful, blah blah blah. Now, I should clarify that these were girls I was talking to. I, of course, had to say, "Well, what about looks?" They proceeded to say something about how that can be overlooked for the other traits, etc, etc, which really began to irritate me. Now, I am not denying that looks play a somewhat lesser role in attraction for girls, but I think they try to deny any judgment based on looks.

Puh-lease.

What's the first thing that you notice about someone? Sorry, it isn't there personality, it's how they look. Now, as you get to know someone, the level of attraction will increase or decrease based on personality, but the starting point is always looks. Apparently they didn't buy that and started to call me superficial for saying that which is fact, but is taboo to talk about. They said it was ridiculous that I was placing so much value on looks, which wasn't what I was saying at all. I think that emotional and "cerebral" attraction is very important (the "cerebral attraction" was a funny quote I had to include). Everyone is going to get old and ugly, so eventually that's going to have to be the focal point of the relationship. :)

Then I made the major mistake of saying that, "it would be very difficult for me to date someone that I did not find physically attractive." That set them off. Before they got in too many eye rolls and "typical male" comments in, though, I did tell them this, "What? Would you want to date someone who didn't find you attractive, someone who had no desire for physical intimacy?" Judging by their silence they hadn't considered that scenario.

Well, anyway, I think that'll have to do for today. In lieu of a Thought for the Day, I'm going to direct you to this Japanese website for your viewing pleasure. I know that The Mighty Geek already posted this link, but I thought it was more than worthy of passing along.

See you tomorrow. (Sorry, it just didn't seem appropriate to end this post on the last sentence of that paragraph. Maybe I think of something funny and/or witty to insert there at a later date.)

At least I didn't have to try and remember a time I found a guy attractive.

Well, do I have an interesting post for you guys out there in blog land. First of all, Charlie, of Where the Hell Was I? has graciously decided to interview yours truly. To rehash what I read here, basically Charlie was asked five questions by a fellow blogger, the answers to which he posted on his website. In turn, those who read his blog have the opportunity to ask him to interview them with five questions. Theoretically this then goes on ad infinitum. Before I get to his questions, though, I have some important news.

I have a date with the violinist. We will be having some chinese food this Saturday, for those of you wanting to know particulars. There's not really much else to say on the subject, aside from one interesting bit to make you say, "huh?" (Or "what the f#*$", depending on your personality.) If you look here, you'll read about why I thought then that my life was truly ironic. Well, go there, read it quickly, and then think about this. The violinist used to live with Kate. Odd that 1 1/2 years later she would say yes.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

Here's your entertainment, then. Behold!

Well, rather than give you a straight answer (because I don't have one yet), I'll let you follow my stream-of-semi-consciousness. The first thing I thought of were my favorite movies. The Usual Suspects is awesome, and who wouldn't love to have the reputation of one Keyser Soze (I've found different spellings. I picked that one because it was first, deal). On the other hand, there's so much killing and violence. I don't think that's me.

Then there's As Good As It Gets, but the character choices in there are pretty slim. I don't particularly want to be a homosexual, not that there's anything wrong with that ;), nor do I want to have tremendously bad psychological problems. Moving on.

There's the Shawshank Redemption, and heck, the lead character is named Andy. But again, there's that whole anal rapage, decades in prison thing that doesn't appeal to me.

Ah, then there's the Lord of the Rings. Rock! So many good characters to choose from. (No I don't want to be freakin' Frodo. I'm over six feet tall, so becoming a hobbit would be a real adjustment.) Aragron is a total bad-ass, any way you look at it. Plus, he has two chicks that totally dig him (one of which would keep that young body forever, what a deal). There's also Legolas, and he has his own disctint advantages. Will never die of natural causes, super-keen senses, and he could probably get some elf chicks if he wasn't running around all over the place. Finally, then, there is Gandalf, who is probably a little old to be getting laid, but he is immortal, has wicked-cool powers, and is an all around nice guy. So he'd be closest to myself, personality wise, that is.

I think, though, I'm going to have to go with Aragorn. I've always wanted to be a bad-ass. (Plus the two chicks thing is pretty cool.)

2. You contract a rare (okay, so previously unknown) disease and are going to sprout a second head atop your left shoulder. It will talk, think, and feel exactly like a 'normal' person. Who's head do you want to have as your new constant companion?

Where he gets this stuff I'll never know. My first thought was Albert Einstein, but that German accent would start to wear on me. Bill Cosby would probably be cool to hang out with, although I'd never be considered funny again. Ever. At all. So maybe I don't want someone who will upstage me so much...

Hmmm... I think I can rule out girls, cause that'd be weird in all sorts of scenarios. Yeah, I don't think I need to elaborate on that point much further.

This is a really difficult question. To be perfectly honest, I'm going to have to go with my friend Tom. We get along exceptionally well, are very much alike, and I don't think he'd get too annoying. Sorry, I know that you were hoping for a beter answer. Would it help if I said that Bill Watterson was a close second?

3. If animals could suddenly talk, which kind would you seek out first for a conversation, and why?

It would probably have to be a squirrel. Think about it, have you ever seen a squirrel that didn't look like it was having fun and/or being mischievous. I seriously doubt they have some incredible insight into the universe, but I'd just like to chat with one. I'm sure it would be entertaining.

4. You have access to a machine that will let you replay one three-minute snippet of your life over in your mind, any time you like. What's your movie gonna be?

Oooh, tough one. See, my problem with my writing is that I try and make it coherent and logical. Silly habbit. That turns out to be far less humorous. Now, I've thought of an answer, but I'll lead you through my thought process.

It's difficult to think of something that will be relevant throughout your lifetime. Sure, there are some cool memories that would be awesome to have perfectly replayed, but in 10 years they may be totally inconsequential. So I started focussing on memories that should last a lifetime and I was drawn to my trip to Australia (envy me). There is this particular spot at the entrance to Sydney Harbor that is hands down the most incredible sight I have ever seen. Sheer cliffs down to the ocean, clear blue water, sounds of the waves crashing against the rock, and you could see for miles on end. But, this would be just a memory, albeit a perfectly accurate one, and I don't know that this machine could truly do it justice. Then I came to my conclusion.

There was a concert I saw here on campus two years ago; it was the Chamber Orchestra Kremlin. They performed an arrangement of Tchaikovsky's Souvenir de Florence. The three-minute snipet that I would like this machine to play is that last three minutes of the second movement. It was practically orgasmic, kid you not.

Ok, now that I've revealed way to much about myself (which I suppose is the point of this thing anyway), I'll move on.

5. You spin the 'Wheel of Ridiculous Afflictions' and lose. One of your senses will be painlessly -- but permanently -- taken away. Which one is it?

Another difficult question. Let's go through all five before reaching a conclusion.

• Sight: wanna keep it. Being blind would really be a pain in the ass, I think. Best case scenario is that you have a dog running you around all over the place. What if you dog get's really sick of hanging out with a blind guy and decides to run out in traffic? Oh, and that stick thing is such a fashion faux pas.
• Hearing: Um, I just chose for my one memory a music performance. That'd be a no.
• Touch: Well, I still have not gotten laid yet, so we'll keep that around for a little bit longer, at least.
• Smell: This might be a possibility. There are a lot of good smells out there, but also a lot of bad ones as well. I would be able to miss out on stinky guy who lives down the hall, but then again, I'd never know what was for dinner until I went into the kitchen.
• Taste: This could be difficult to part with, but if I choose to keep it, isn't smell a really big part of tasting? I really like food. Then again, I would be able to eat a really healthy diet.

Well, this will have to be brief, because this is easily the longest post I've written.

Actually, I've got nothing. Um...........

Ok, here's something. Think about how Australia was founded. It was originally a prison colony. These guys who commited crimes in the cramped, dark, dirty city of London were transported half-way around the world to an island with incredible scenery, beaches, and best of all, weather. Yeah, no way does it rain as much in Australia as it does in England. So, what was going throught the prisoners' minds as they approached Australia? I can think of a word: Upgrade.

I almost forgot. Should any of you wish to be interviewed by yours truly, leave a comment, and I'll get back to you.

So I was bragging about the international hits in the last posts, when really, most of those counties have tuned in once, maybe twice. Then, the first hit on the new post I get is from...Canada!

Wow, I get excited over the lamest things!!

As though Monday's weren't bad enough

Today even started out well. (Yes, I'm just launching right in.) I'm taking a lifetime health and fitness course, which I may have mentioned before, and today we actually began doing real nautilus workout. This was good for several reasons. First, working out releases endorphines, making you less bitchy. Second, I found another skinny guy to be my partner, and we are well matched in strength. Third, I'm not as much of a wimp as I thought I was. Finally, I'm going to be less of a wimp when I'm done, plus I'll have a workout routine to contine with. So the day was off to a good start.

Then, as is the case with most bad days, procrastination caught up with me. I spent most of the day working on stuff that was due, well, today. Then I went to my scholarship job, being a professor's bitch office helper. Actually, the job is pretty laid back, mostly mailing and copying stuff. This can suck, however, when the copier refuses to cooperate. I had to make 26 copies of a 20 page document, double-sided. Oh, why oh why must it have been double-sided copies? That is what will kill any copy machine. I swear to you, and this is no exaggeration, that I ended up fixing a paper jam at every conceivable point in the machine. The whole ordeal lasted about one and a half hours. Major suckage. All I have to say is, I completely understand.

Oh, but the story gets better. Later on this evening, I was scheduled to meet with someone. I was late not because of my own laziness, but because my car wouldn't start. It didn't even make a noise when I turned that key. It was just like the car said to me, "Sorry, buck-o, end of the line. I don't give a damn where you think you have to be, I ain't goin' nowhere." (What, like all inanimate objects have impeccable grammar?)

Joy of joys.

So those are some of the highlights of my day. Frankly, I'm ready for it to be tomorrow.

One thing that is pretty cool is the international reach of this blog. I now have hits from Canada, England, Australia, France, the Netherlands, Denmark, Belgium, and the Czech Republic, and there may be a few that I didn't catch in my stats. To them I say, Welcome eh?, Good Day, G'day, Bonjour, Welkom, Dav, Dav, and Vítat. Sorry if I screw up gender/number, the internet isn't too great at these things.

Finally, your...

Thought for the Day

There is a sign on our bathroom, asking residents to please find another bathroom to use while this bathroom is being cleaned. Now, I've occasionally started to go brush my teeth, but seeing the housekeeping cart outside, opted to wait. I'm just wondering what someone did to have the word "please" bolded, italicized, and underlined on our door. I'm guessing some cleaning lady got a little bit more than she bargained for. That dude must have really had to go, bad.

Sometimes it just come up and bites you...on the ankles and waist, specifically

Arg. My browser just pooped out on me, killing half this post. Normall I copy and paste it into a blank document as I write, for just such an occasion, but damnit if I wasn't on a roll and couldn't be bothered with backing it up.

Oh well.

Take two.

Actually, take two is going to have to wait a few minutes, it's time to swap my laundry.

I'll be back, in the meantime, think happy thoughts, like Baby Turtles being lured to a Disco Death.

Alrighty, I'm back.

These last few days have been interesting, what with most of my brain power being devoted to evaluating what's been going on with myself and the violinist. I also didn't feel like posting stuff that was too personal, especially after browsing my site stats and searches that came my way. Plus, that stuff can get pretty boring. When I get some really good stories, I'll probably put them here, but otherwise it'd just end up becoming the kind of blog that I dispise.

So I tried thinking of other topics.

One that I will mention is speech class. The first round of speeches were given Friday. They were simply little, itty-bitty, speeches about yourself that lasted about 3-4 min. (The diet coke of speeches, just one calorie, not speech enough.) Mine went fine (thanks for asking), but it is a friend's speech that I'd like to focus on.

You see, she was a bit of an "ummer."

I never noticed her having trouble with the "um" word in her normal conversation, but darn if she didn't say "um" at least twice each sentence. It was really quite amusing. I started counting them, but stopped when I went over 25 inside of a minute. Besides, counting just made me want to laugh more, which I figured would not go over very well with either her or the professor. I also determined that I had better avoid eye contact. That was a mistake. That simply allowed me to focus on the "um's" even more easily. The truly funny thing, though, was that every single "um" was repeated in the exact same manner. Same volume, pitch, duration, etc. I couldn't have made it funnier if I spliced the same "um" into her speech, repeatedly. That was fun. I'm sure I had to have turned red, though, from trying so hard not to laugh.

But all that wasn't what you came here to read. (Although most of you have absolutely no idea how you came here. Afterall, you just wanted an aid to help you in your hiking adventures. Poor saps.)

No, the reason that you are still reading is to find out what the heck I meant by this "inspiration." Well, it has a very specific form.

Fleas.

Yup, I have now joined the elite crowd, which includes the Osbornes, of people that have had fleas. As it turns out, the violinist and her roommates have a flea problem (stupid pets) and as of yesterday bombed their house. I was warned of said fleas, but, being male I was willing to face any danger for a lady, whether that be war, dragons, or fleas.

Well last night as I was going to bed, I was scratching my ankle when it dawned on me. I've been bitten by fleas. A few bites on my ankles and a few on my waist I would soon discover. And let me tell you, those puppies can itch, bad. So that's why laundry day got moved up a few days. Of course, I did more than just what was dirty. (Which is uncalled for with college students, mostly I'm just lucky if I get all the dirty clothes washed. You know, there are only two open washers, you have a few clothes leftover, you smell 'em, think, "what the hell" and hang them back up in your room.) Uh, that being said, I did five loads of laundry, dirty clothes, any clothes that were near the dirty clothes, all bedding. Good times. I may even have to vacuum today. Say it ain't so!

See, wasn't that more entertaining than, "OMG, why can't I tell if she, like, likes me." Thought so.

Now it's that time, again. Time for your...

Thought for the Day

I seriously doubt that this is original, but it's been bugging me as I type.

Look at the word ain't. Normally contractions make sense. For instance:

it's = it is
don't = do not
it'd = it would (that's a real one, isn't it?)

But ain't? What the heck does that mean? If we follow the example then it means "ai not," which doesn't make too much sense. Now that I've gone and looked it up, I see that is short for "am not." That still doesn't explain how it became "ain't" though. I'll be that Alabama had something to do with it. No, not these guys or this terrible movie, although I doubt they helped.

I really have no idea where the heck that came from

This post is probably going to be a bit short. Today I received a package from Amazon.com which included The Da Vinci Code and have read 259 pages so far, today. Needless to say, I'm hooked.

Quick update on my personal life. I'm still trying to figure out if I am in the friend zone and my relationship with a violinist continues to evolve. (I could link to the post, but it's just two below, so linking would be a bit silly, wouldn't it.) So today happened to be an absolutely perfect, and I do stress perfect day for being outside. Highs in the mid 70's, moderate breeze, clear sky...the kind of day makes even vampires want to venture outside, and consequently turn into a smoldering pile of ashes.

Side note, if you notice that I'm linking a lot in these posts, that probably means I don't have any good material for today and I'm stalling for time. Or looking for inspiration google style. That sounds dirty, do you suppose "google style" made it into the kama sutra (no way I'm going to try and link that).

So, the mysterious violinist about whom I've given little personal information stopped by today. Which, in the time I've known her, has never happened. Like I said before, we've never socialized outside of the academic environment, so this was a first. Secondly, she brought me some of my favorite candy, sour skittles. (What's with the guy in the upper left hand corner of the page. Personally, I think that isn't exactly the message a candy company wants to be sending about dental hygiene. Ok, so he does have a tooth brush, be he definately needs to see an orthodontist at the very least. Click me.)

As I was saying, this was a very thoughtful gesture, and she only recently learned of my favorite candy (when we stayed up way to late talking). (And no, that's not what kids are calling it nowadays.) Unfortunately her visit was short and I couldn't figure out how to work a back rub or making out for that matter (some feminist out there just got pissed off at me without even trying to consider that this is a (somewhat) humorous blog). So we shall see how this weekend turns out.

Oh, um, I guess there's still the...

Thought for the Day

A humorous look at terrorism. (Don't look at me that way, you laughed.)

Well, at least the Peter Gibbons Dream

Five points to the first person to name the movie reference, without google.

Yes, today I just did a whole lotta nothin'. I was having difficulty trying to think of what I would write about, considering that my day was so completely uneventful. Oh sure, I ate food, chilled outside for a while with my iPod (envy me!!), but really nothing happened all day.

I suppose I could talk about how much naps really suck. Oh sure, you lay down for a nap, you feel great. You think, yeah, now I can catch up on my complete and utter lack of sleep, but then you have to wake up from the nap, and it's all downhill from there. First of all, your body was really excited to be getting some sleep, and probably had every intention of sleeping for several hours, but no, you have get up. Then you feel worse for the rest of the day, existing in a state of semi-consciousness. Or lets say you indulge yourself and nap for a few hours. Then you might not feel quite as bad for the rest of the day, but you can't get to sleep until about four in the morning, causing the cycle to repeat itself. If it wasn't for the weekend, you'd never catch up.

Such is the paradox of naps. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Actually, that turned out to be a pretty decent topic, for this half-assed attempt at a blog entry, that is.

Here's another subject. Freshmen boys. Like I may have mentioned before, I'm a senior living in the dorms on campus. The reason being that it's free. Well, the guys that live on my floor are almost exclusively freshmen. I had forgotten what it was like to be 18 (he says as though he weren't only 21). I had forgotten how strong one's hormones are at that age. I can remember when I was 17. I was horny. No seriously. I'm pretty sure for that entire year I was just rearin' to go. (What am I, from Texas now?) I could maybe focus on something else for a while (a while being about 5 min) but eventually I'd be horny again. That's not to say that I'm not a 21 yr old male, still in my prime, but things have waned slightly since then.

Right, so I was during a search for something appropriate to link Texas too, but was unable to find anything quickly. Although I was able to find a few "stars and bars" pictures. That in turn reminded me of a bumber sticker I saw recently that was very similar to this. Now, aside from the disgraceful Jane Austen reference (snap! that's the fifth literay reference, 20 points if you can name the other four), I just had to laugh. Oh, I'm not saying that the 'gentleman' with said bumper sticker was a racist or anything, but...

Slavery was an issue of the civil war. Frankly, it wasn't really so much about that as perhaps money and power. But please, please don't give me that states rights crap. You honestly think that your average southerner during the civil was actually had a clue about states rights or the 10th amendment? Do you actually think that your average southerner in this century has a clue about states rights or the 10th amendment? (Yes, that was below the belt and horribly stereotypical, but there aren't many groups I can pick on without being sneered at and/or fired, so I have to have some fun.)

I'm just not sure what there is to be proud of? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the south lose? If I was from, say, Georgia I'd be downplaying that whole war as much as possible. Although, here's an interesting point to think of: if the south had won (God helps us all) then they'd call the war the Confederate Revolution and we'd be calling it the southern rebellion and skip over it in history class as the British do the American Revolution. Weird thought, isn't it?

What would be the official language of the confederate nation? Hmm... I don't know, but I highly doubt it would resemble anything remotely like the English we speek today.

Ok, I think I've stepped on enough shoes for one day. Moving on to the...

Thought for the Day

Why do I need a key to get into the male bathroom down the hall (yes, the dorm has 'community' bathrooms)? I mean, I can understand why it would be necessary for girls to have locks on their bathrooms, but why on our bathroom?

First of all, I can't think of any female that would actually want to go into a bathroom that was being used by close to 20 guys (not all at once, perv). Second, I can't think of any guy that would actually mind.

Just something to think about before going to bed.

May flights of angels sing you to your rest. (#6)

Warning: The entry you are about to read is of a more personal nature than usual, and as such, may be considered boring. If you fear that may be the case, go browse the archives.

I consider myself a student of the sexes. I am constantly trying to understand the language of females, which is so vastly different from our own. Some things, however, just don't make much sense.

I think there is a great discrepancy between how attraction builds between the sexes. For guys, initial attraction is very important, but even that can grow as a guy gets to know a girl better. Indeed, the closer friends a guy and girl become, usually the more attractive the guy finds the girl (assuming she's physically attractive). Girls seem somewhat different. Initial attraction is not given as high a priority as what follows in subsequent interactions. Yet there becomes a point where things change. Friendship seemingly negates attraction. This is the situation known as the "Friend Zone."

Theoretically, escape from the friend zone back to the dating world is possible, but such accounts are rare and are now considered merely folklore by most scholars. Therefore, it is of the highest importance that guys avoid this situation at all costs.

Now to my current situation.

I've known this girl for quite some time (I'm avoiding using her name because I'm still trying to keep this blog fairly anonymous), a couple of years now. Yet, our relationship has always been on a 'professional' level, i.e. all of our interactions were based around classes or the music program. Yet things have changed. I've gotten a cool new haircut, and we've begun to hang out outside of the academic environment. Sunday night, in fact, we rented a movie, had some drinks, and then played poker with some friends. All in all, a good situation for moving into a dating scenario. What followed however, was a gross error of judgment.

We ended up staying up till 4:30 talking.

Yup.

Three drinks was enough for rational thought impairment, and didn't realize what I was getting myself into. On the plus side, the telltale topic of ex-boyfriends was avoided.

Then tonight I ran into her in the music building, and had a great excuse to hang out. (See, I had written a string quartet, and she is a violin player, so I asked her to listen to it and see what she thought.) So we hung out this evening and had a lot of fun. Conversation was very light, although I still ended up being there about three hours in total.

Here's the kicker.

She mentioned on more than one occasion that she has had fun hanging out with me and offered to stop by my place some time to listen to music or watch a movie. But I have no freakin' idea if I have stepped headlong past the point of no return, or if there's some chemistry here.

Personally, I'm feeling like something has changed between us, that there is something there. There is definitely flirtation as well. I just have no idea if this is simply my perception, due to the fact that I have known her for a while, although we really have never hung out before.

I don't know. I think I'm going to have to up the ante. Perhaps offer her a back rub. (My back rubs are famous. Think about it, piano performance major, really strong hands. Plus I've read a book on the subject and put the knowledge gained into practice. I also do foot and hand massages. I have trouble counting all the marriage proposals I've gotten while giving back rubs.)

Anyway, I need to increase the amount of physical contact somehow, just to see what happens. Frankly, we are both shy individuals, so everything is difficult to gauge.

Sorry, can't even manage to give you a Thought for the Day as I am so preoccupied with this subject.

We shall see. All I know is that in the past three days something has changed between us, but I don't know if for good or for bad.

May the gods of music smite Bobby Gosh

Oh what a weekend this has been. I've tried to keep a list of things I want to talk about, which over the course of the weekend has grown to be rather long, so please bear with me.

1) Rain

Kansas City has been under an extreme drought for the greater part of this summer. That all changed when I decided to visit. I rained basically nonstop from Friday night until sometime in the later afternoon yesterday. Literally. I was beginning to understand what the rainy season must be like in countries with considerable amounts of rain forrest. It was ridiculous. Of course, my biggest problem was that I was getting marginally wet between the time I got out of the door and my umbrella open. Or perhaps when sharing an umbrella, causing one side of my body to get wet. These are not big problems, mind you, just really, really annoying problems. Like getting poked constantly. It doesn't hurt, but it really begins to bug the hell out of you after a while.

2) Funny phrases

There are two phrases that people say frequently, that are actually quite amusing. The first is, "oh, ok," said with feigned enthusiasm, and now that I'm pointing it out you'll begin to notice how often everyone says it. Let me give you an example from a random conversation:

Guy: Hi, I don't believe we've met before, my name's John
Girl: Hi, I'm Ashley.
Guy: Nice to meet you, Ashley, where are you from?
Girl: I'm from the Kansas City area
Guy: Really? Me too. Where abouts?
Girl: Park Hill.
Guy: I'm from Raymore.
Girl: Oh, ok.

Yeah, the "oh, ok." Which really means, "I know what you're talking about and will acknowledge that with a polite comment, but frankly I really don't give a damn."

If you're lucky, the conversation doesn't end up going in the direction of, "So do you know (fill in the blank)," because nobody likes that situation.

Secondly, the "not that there's anything wrong with that" phrase.

This one is a personal favorite of mine, and can often be heard in conversations with politicians and otherwise politically correct people, of which I am neither.

Here's an example:

Guy 1: Dude, you shouldn't wear a black belt with navy pants.
Guy 2: Who cares? And what are you, gay?
Guy 1: No way man, that's gross. I mean, not there's anything wrong with that.

Listen for that phrase, and I promise you won't be disappointed.

3) The Sharper Image

How this place stays in business is absolutely beyond me. Some people must have way the heck too much money, that's all I can think. Oh sure, everything in that store is wicked cool, but does anyone honestly, honestly need a robot vacuum cleaner or an Info Globe Scrolling LED Message Center with Caller ID, whatever that is.

4) FAO Schwarz

Now, I personally don't have anything against this store. After all, if I had a five foot stuffed animal in my dorm room, preferably a giant ape, I'd be the coolest kid on campus. No, my personal beef with this company is their theme song, or as I like to call it, their torturous-brain-washing-song. I looked hard to find an mp3 of it somewhere on the internet, but I don't think anyone wants that horrible 'music' disseminated on the world-wide-porn...er...web. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the same stupid phrase over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. "Welcome to our world, welcome to our world, welcome to our world of toys." It was incessant. Never-ending. And frankly I thought it would have been the perfect background music for this guy. It was only through imagining Bobby Gosh, the composer of that song, suffering eternal damnation at the hands of lucifer that I was able to escape the store with my sanity.

(Wow, don't ever make me do that search again. I think I'm going to have nightmares tonight.)

4) Monkeys, Down Syndrome, and the Pope.

This is what happens when you stay up too late with your friends talking. To give you an idea about the conversation direction, here is brief rundown.

First topic (that I can recall) was personality tests. Then career idea tests. A friend said that she took one and it said that she should take up the accordion (no joke). That reminded someone of the little monkeys that collect money for street musicians. Which caused someone to make this face (I promise I'll have a link up shortly). We laughed about that for a good 45 minutes, with each of us giving our own interpretation. (I was laughing to hard to try.) (The pictures will come, honest). Then some said that it looked like someone with down syndrome. So someone more PC than myself changed the subject to anything that wasn't the current topic. Unfortunately they chose the Pope. That soon lead to laughing about the pope with down syndrome with a monkey on his shoulder that kept stealing communion wafers.

Whew.

I was literally beginning to feel sick to my stomach from laughing so hard.

But enough of that. You've been so diligent to stay with me for this long that I'll move right into the...

Thought for the Day

Why is it that auto mechanics have to adjust every single aspect of your car to drive it about 30 feet in and out of the garage? Can anyone explain this? I don't think I've ever gotten my car back after an oil change or whatnot where the seat, steering wheel, and mirrors were totally out of whack. I can understand moving the seat a little bit to best reach the pedals, but is the rest of that absolutely necessary?

Oh, and would it be too much to ask that they wash their hands before using my car. I'm also very tired of having my hands turn black from touching my steering wheel.